The Warrior's Princess Page 7

  Dan appeared in the doorway, his hand wrapped in a tea towel. ‘Sorry, folks. The glass slipped. We seem to be having a bad time, don’t we!’ He handed Rhodri his drink and strolled over towards the hedge, his hand still wrapped in the towel. The others followed him. ‘Look at that view,’ he said at last. ‘It’s sensational, isn’t it.’ Beyond the hedge the ground dropped away towards the valley bottom. The sun was beginning to set now in a pearly haze which rimmed the northern hills with gold.

  ‘It’ll rain tomorrow.’ Rhodri was staring across the hedge. ‘You’re a painter, Mum tells me.’ He glanced down at Jess.

  ‘Only an amateur.’ She couldn’t keep the frostiness out of her voice. He sounded patronising and bored and even the fact that he was a head taller than her and therefore was looking down on her irritated her hugely.

  ‘But a damn good one,’ Dan put in amiably. ‘This place is inspirational, isn’t it. I reckon if I lived here I would finally write my novel.’

  ‘What novel?’ Jess said, amused. ‘Is that before or after you get your headship?’

  He grinned. ‘After, probably. But before I get to be Minister of Education!’

  Rhodri gave a snort of laughter. ‘Well, my friend, while you plan out your future I regret I shall have to leave you. Thank you for the drink, Jess.’

  He turned and headed back towards the house. In the doorway he paused. ‘Are you sure it was only a wine glass you broke?’ he called back over his shoulder.

  The floor of the dining room was covered in glass. The three of them stood gazing down at it. Dan shook his head. ‘I don’t understand. I picked it all up. That’s how I cut myself. It was in the kitchen. Oh God!’ He broke off as he caught sight of the table. ‘Oh Jess –’

  Her book of drawings was covered in red liquid. The pages were crumpled and one of the pictures had been scribbled all over. Jess reached for the light switch. ‘Who would do that?’ she whispered. ‘Dan –?’

  ‘No! Not me. I swear it! How could you even think it?’

  ‘Is it wine?’ Rhodri leaned over the table and touched the picture with a fingertip. ‘It’s sticky. Oh my God, it’s blood!’ Shocked, he stood back. ‘It was you!’ he accused Dan. ‘You’re the one bleeding all over the place!’

  ‘I told you it wasn’t!’ Dan replied angrily. ‘I would say if it was me, for goodness’ sake! I never went near the pictures.’ He strode over to the door. ‘Someone else has been in here. Look, the front door is open.’

  ‘That was me,’ Rhodri said. ‘Steph always leaves it open. I’m afraid I didn’t think.’ He took several steps out into the hall, looking round. ‘But who would do such a thing?’ There was real anger in his voice. ‘And why?’ He strode out into the courtyard. ‘There’s no one out here!’

  Jess shook her head miserably. ‘Well, the drawings weren’t that special, I suppose. Nothing I can’t do again.’

  ‘That’s hardly the point!’ Dan said sternly. ‘Should we call the police?’

  ‘No.’ Jess shook her head. ‘They have long gone, whoever they were. Or at least –’ She broke off, glancing back towards the staircase.

  ‘I’ll go.’ Rhodri strode back inside and stood with his hand on the newel post, looking up. They all listened. Taking the steps two at a time he vanished across the landing. They heard doors opening and closing and his heavy tread across the floorboards. ‘There’s no one up here.’ His voice floated down to them. Reappearing he ran down. ‘I don’t think anything’s been touched up there. You’ve left some gold bangles on your dressing table, Jess. They wouldn’t still be there if anyone had gone upstairs. I suppose it must have been some deranged kid who popped in for some quick vandalism. It sounds unlikely but can you think of anything better?’ He shrugged. ‘You sometimes get strangers walking or biking on the tracks up through the woods.’

  Jess glanced at Rhodri thoughtfully. It felt oddly unsettling suddenly to think of him peering round her bedroom. She pushed the thought aside. ‘But why? Why do that? Why spoil my pictures?’ She realised she had started to shake. She turned back into the dining room and stood looking down at the table. The sky outside had blushed deep red with the sunset and filled the room with a warm glow. Only the pool of electric light on the table was harsh. Reaching out to the blood stains she dabbed them gently. The blood was already dry.

  ‘I really do have to go,’ Rhodri called from the hall. ‘I’m so sorry this has happened. If there is anything I can do …’

  ‘You’ve done enough by leaving the door open,’ Dan retorted curtly.

  ‘Dan!’ Jess was indignant.

  ‘No, he’s right. And I am sorry.’ Rhodri moved towards the front door. ‘Look, I’ll leave you now, but if you need anything from the farm you know where I am.’

  Dan grimaced as the door slammed behind him. ‘Tosser!’

  ‘It wasn’t his fault,’ Jess retorted sternly.

  Dan sighed. ‘No, it wasn’t.’ He gestured at the sketchbook. ‘What do you want to do with this, shall I chuck it out?’

  ‘No!’ She spread her hands over it protectively. ‘No, leave it!’

  ‘At least let me clear up the glass.’ He glanced up at her. ‘No? OK, I’ll tell you what. Let’s have another drink before we go to bed.’

  Jess froze. She stood for a moment unable to move then at last she looked up. ‘Dan –’

  He glanced up enquiringly, eyebrow raised and she looked away, embarrassed. He hadn’t meant it like that. Of course he hadn’t. She smiled uncomfortably. ‘No more for me, thanks. I think I’ll go up now. I’m a bit tired …’ Refusing to catch his eye as he moved towards her, obviously intending to give her a goodnight kiss, she stepped back sharply. ‘Goodnight, Dan. Can you turn all the lights off for me.’ In seconds she had dodged round the table towards the stairs, leaving him looking after her with a puzzled frown.

  Hours later she woke with a start. The latch on the door had clicked up. She stared across the room in the dark, her heart hammering. The house was totally silent.

  ‘Dan?’ She whispered the name soundlessly. But there was no further noise. Quietly she slipped out of bed and tiptoed across to the door, pressing her ear against the oak panels. There was no movement from the other side as she ran her fingers gently over the small brass bolt she had found there. Without wasting time to wonder why Steph had thought fit to put bolts on her bedroom doors she had been almost ashamed to find herself drawing it closed against Dan. She did not have to ask herself why she had been overwhelmed by this sudden feeling of revulsion at the thought of anyone coming to her bedroom, or why she had even for a second suspected Dan would suddenly be interested in her that way. He was, after all, a married man she had known for years as a friend. There had never been anything between them. It was an instinct; self-preservation. An automatic response to violation and fear.

  She tensed at the sound of a slight creak from the landing and almost unconsciously she ran her fingers over the bolt again, pressing it in place, reassuring herself that it held, her cheek pressed against the warm wood of the door.

  She stood there for a long time, aware of the silence which had settled over the house. Outside the starlight was slowly veiled by the drifting mist. In the darkness raindrops began to fall.

  Jerking awake with a start she realised she had fallen asleep on her feet, leaning against the door. The house was quiet. The drumming rain on the studio roof outside her window was a steady background to the inner silence. With a groan she stumbled away from the door towards her bed and threw herself down on it. Within seconds she was asleep again.

  The woods were dark and filled with the noise of the wind. Rain drummed on the leaves and somewhere nearby a fox gave a sharp angry bark. Gwladys lay huddled against her little brother, trembling.

  ‘Togo?’

  He didn’t reply

  ‘Togo? I’m scared.’

  She could see nothing; the ground was cold and hard and the roots of the trees hanging round them dug into her. ‘I don’t like playing
this game. I want Mam.’ She began to rock backwards and forwards, humming to herself. ‘Where’s Eigon? Why doesn’t she come? She’d sing to us.’ She was near to tears. ‘I’m hungry. Are you hungry, Togo?’

  Still he didn’t answer. She put out a hand to him. He was warm and solid, fast asleep in his own little world of dreams. Suddenly making up her mind she crawled away from him and stood up. Away from the shelter of the overhanging ditch the wind was very strong. The noise it made was frightening. No one would hear her if she called. She turned round, confused. Which way should she go? Where were the others?

  ‘Eigon? I don’t like this game. Can we stop playing now?’ Making up her mind, she set out down the track, her back to the wind, her pale hair blowing round her head, her eyes fixed on the bushes in front of her. ‘Eigon? Mam? Where are you?’ In seconds she was completely lost.

  Behind her Togo woke suddenly in the darkness. He put out his little hand for his sister and found himself alone. Frightened, he began to cry.

  Jess woke up late to the sound of the steadily beating rain. Pulling on jeans and a sweater after a hasty shower she ran down to find Dan’s holdall standing by the front door. She glanced into the kitchen. There was a pot of coffee on the table and it was set for two but there was no sign of him.

  ‘Dan?’

  ‘I’m in here.’ His voice came from the dining room. ‘Come and look at this, Jess.’

  Reluctantly she walked over to the doorway and glanced in. He was staring down at the table. ‘It’s gone,’ he said softly. ‘All gone.’

  ‘What has?’ She moved towards him.

  ‘The damage. The scribbles. The blood. Look.’

  He stood back, gesturing at the sketchbook in front of him. His face was white.

  She glanced down and gasped out loud. He was right. The sketchbook was completely undamaged. Hardly daring to touch it she reached out and turned the pages. They were all the same. Her drawings and paintings were pristine.

  ‘I don’t understand.’ She picked up the book and riffled through it. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘You tell me.’

  She turned and stared round the dining room. Nothing had been touched. Everything was as neat and tidy as it had been before Rhodri arrived.

  ‘We can’t have dreamed it, can we?’ She met his gaze at last.

  Dan shrugged. ‘All three of us?’ He shivered. ‘Let’s go into the kitchen. I made coffee before I came in here.’

  She followed him. ‘We can’t all have imagined what happened, Dan.’

  ‘No?’ He grabbed the coffee pot. ‘Look in the bin.’

  With a quick glance at him she peered in. ‘What am I looking at?’

  ‘Nothing. That’s the point. Where is the broken glass?’

  ‘Oh Dan!’ She dropped the lid and went to sit down at the table, ramming her sleeves up to her elbows, then running her fingers through her hair. Two intact bottles of wine stood side by side on the draining board.

  He pushed a mug of coffee towards her. ‘It looks as though we all suffered some kind of hallucination,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I don’t see how or why, but there is no other explanation. If we had all eaten the same thing I could put it down to magic mushrooms or something, but Rhodri didn’t eat with us.’

  ‘And your hand. Where you cut it? Is the cut still there?’ She reached out and touched his wrist.

  He stretched out his right hand and turned it up to face her. There was no mark.

  ‘Oh God!’ She gave an involuntary shudder. ‘What on earth has happened to us?’

  ‘I’m afraid I am not going to be able to hang around to find out.’ He glanced up at her again. ‘I have to leave pretty soon, Jess. I’ve got a long drive ahead. Shall I ring up your mate Rhodri and get him to come over? You shouldn’t be on your own to sort this out, but I don’t know how my being here can help. Whatever it was it’s over now.’ He gave a small sharp bark of laughter. ‘Next time I see you we’ll joke about this!’ Gulping back his coffee, he stood up.

  For a moment she hadn’t moved. She was still staring at his hand. Then she shook her head. ‘Don’t worry about me, Dan. I’ll give Rhodri a ring later and tell him what has happened.’

  She followed him out to his car and watched as he loaded his bag and his books. In minutes she was waving him out of sight as he headed down towards the lane, his car bumping over the ruts. Strangely she felt nothing but relief at his departure. Had he got up in the night and tested her door handle, she wondered? Probably not. She frowned suddenly. He hadn’t offered to kiss her goodbye.

  Walking back inside she went into the kitchen and straight to the sink. Without knowing why she turned on the tap and slowly rinsed her hands and face, then she reached for a towel.

  Have the nasty men gone?

  The voice was very close behind her. With a cry of fright she span round.

  Can we stop playing now?

  ‘Jesus!’ She took a deep breath. ‘Where are you?’

  There was no reply.

  ‘Eigon? Glads? Was it one of you who did that?’ She was suddenly angry. ‘Did you scribble over my drawings?’ She scanned the room. ‘Did you break all that glass?’

  Outside the blackbird began to whistle from the roof of the studio. The rain had stopped and a stray ray of sunlight reflected off the wet paving stones. ‘Did you hear me?’ Jess called out again. She was suddenly every inch the schoolmistress. ‘I want to see you. Now!’ She held her breath, looking round. There was no sound. ‘I mean it!’

  Was that a gurgle of laughter? She ran to the window and stared out, scanning the courtyard. The house was full of sound. The creak of roof timbers, the rustle of leaves, the drip of rain down the gutters, birds, the baaing of sheep from the hillside on the far side of the track. ‘Eigon?’ Jess used the child’s name without thinking, just as her mother, Cerys, had used it. ‘Come here. I want to speak to you.’

  But there was no response, as she had known there wouldn’t be. She shook her head. Wandering back into the dining room she looked down at the table, half afraid that the sketchbook would once more be damaged. It wasn’t. It lay there untouched.

  ‘Shit!’ She went to the phone, overcoming her reluctance to contact Rhodri again. After about twenty rings the answer service picked up. ‘Rhodri? I’m sorry to disturb you, but can you come back here as soon as you can, there is something I need to show you.’ She paused. ‘Dan has gone. I’m on my own.’

  Pulling the car into a gateway at the bottom of the lane, Dan turned off the engine and rested his forehead against the rim of the steering wheel. He was sweating hard. Fumbling blindly for the door handle he stumbled out into the long grass and nettles, dotted with campion, which fringed the trackway into the field and stood leaning on the gate waiting for the wave of nausea to pass. Then he turned and looked at the car.

  It was empty. But someone had been in there, sitting behind him. Almost as soon as he had turned into the lane and pulled away from Ty Bran he had felt it. He could sense a presence. A solid threatening presence. A man. An angry, hate-filled man.

  He had slammed on the brakes, staring into the mirror. Then he had turned, scanning the back seat. Nothing. Of course there was no one there. He accelerated away again, fast, over the roughly metalled lane, bumping the car over potholes and ridges, skidding over patches of red oozing mud which had leaked onto the road from the steep banks, growing more and more afraid until he had spotted the gateway, somewhere to pull up and throw himself out of reach of the malign shadow that was sharing his car.

  Slowly the palpitations slowed. He wiped his face on his sleeve and turned, leaning on the gate, to stare at the vehicle. It sat there in the sunlight, the windows bright with reflections, the door hanging open as he had left it when he jumped out. Pushing himself away from the gate he forced himself to walk over and pull open the rear door. Leaning down, he peered in. Nothing. Cautiously he reached in, clawing at the empty air over the seat with his fingers as though to prove to himself the space was un
occupied. The film of sweat was drying on his face. He shivered, suddenly chilled. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the wild yapping cry of a buzzard, then near it, aggressive and primitive, the deep throaty croak of a raven. He peered up at the sky. It was up there. He could see it. The raven, a black silhouette against the blue, had set its sights on the buzzard. It was flying fast, on the attack, harrying, bullying, its call a sinister throbbing counterpoint to the alarmed yelp of the larger bird. Both birds angled their wings and swooped away over the fields and in a second they were out of sight over the shoulder of the hill.

  Dan found he was breathing fast, as though he had been running. He swallowed hard, slamming the back door shut. Imagination. That was all. That damned haunted house and Jess with all her hysterical stories. They had got to him. He moved his head uncomfortably, his neck suddenly very stiff. For a moment he felt quite dizzy. He blinked. Something on the door had caught his eye. A smear of red. He held out his right hand and stared at it. A deep scar showed across his palm where he had cut it on the glass the night before. The cut that had disappeared. It was oozing blood. He shook his head. This was not happening! He straightened his back and squared his shoulders, furious with himself and with Jess. The sooner he got out of this god-forsaken place the better.

  ‘So, what do you want to show me?’

  Rhodri turned in at the gate just after twelve. He stood looking down at her with a quizzical expression, half irritation, half amusement as he held out a bottle of white wine. She took it with a cautious grin. ‘The wine situation is not quite so dire as it was yesterday. Come and see.’

  He followed her into the dining room and stood beside her, staring down at her sketchbook. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Neither did we. None of it happened. The pictures weren’t spoiled. The glass wasn’t broken. The wine bottles are full. Dan wasn’t cut.’ She glanced at Rhodri sideways. He was frowning as he looked down at the sketchbook. Almost nervously he reached out and turned the page. ‘This is some kind of joke, yes?’