The Wind of Southmore Page 4

  “Hey!” she cried, and ran quickly towards the beach, flailing her arms and yelling at the top of her voice, followed by Alice. But someone was there before them. And that someone, brandishing a broom, was doing a fairly good job of fighting off the attack. He had clunked several birds in the face with the pole end of the brush, and was now waving the weapon in the air like a trusty sword.

  As the twins drew up on the pier, stopping with a skid, all the birds rose up in one movement, wings flapping loudly, with a shrill, almost human, cry of pain that shattered the otherwise still beach. And they dispersed and flew – and disappeared.

  Sweeping a damp elflock from her brow, Arlen turned to face the old man, worry in her eyes. “Are you alright?”

  “Och, hen, fine.” He smiled at her and, as he turned to see Alice standing behind her sister, his eyes warmed suddenly with what seemed like tears, and a strange, deep sadness crossed over his face. Alice almost took a step back. She had seen those eyes somewhere before. “And so,” he said, his soft northern accent brushing the words like ferns, “the two of you are together at last.”

  Alice looked puzzled, and Arlen fingered her charm, remembering his words of the day before. “But how did you know?” she asked, her voice tense, the curled gold still warm to her touch.

  But once again, the old man didn’t have a chance to answer.

  “That was amazing! How did you do that with the birds?” The boy had been watching them quietly. He was now leaning easily over a barrel, one foot resting lightly on an old box. He was a tall boy, good looking, with dark hair and very blue eyes, such as his grandfather must have possessed in his younger days.

  And suddenly Alice knew whose eyes she had been reminded of. She had seen that face and figure before. He bore an amazing resemblance to the mysterious, silent cart driver of that first strange night in Southmore. But this boy was younger, and his eyes were shining blue with life and laughter. They did not know the speechless death of the phantom driver.

  “How strange,” she muttered softly. But no one noticed her reaction.

  “Now, lassies, this is Robert, my grandson,” the old man winked. “Robbie, the Misses Arlen and Alice of Penmorven,” and he doffed his cap in a regal salute.

  Arlen stiffened. She usually didn’t mind Mac’s teasing, but not in strange company.

  “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance,” Robbie spoke seriously, sincerely, and his voice was very low. And suddenly Arlen felt a grip somewhere inside her, almost as if she had known him before but couldn’t remember where. The whisper tugged at her, but she fought it down as best she could and looked mutinous.

  The scene before them shuddered and darkened then, and a huge black cloud loomed threateningly overhead.

  “It’s alright,” Arlen said quickly, noticing her sister jump. “It always gets dark very early here in winter.”

  “Aye, lassie,” Mr MacKenzie agreed, rising with the help of his grandson. “But it’ll be getting darker before long with the likes of them about,” and he jerked his thumb sharply back at the beach. Alice looked at Arlen and shivered.

  “You’d best be gettin’ home, girls,” the old man advised, glancing at the sky. “It looks like it’s going to be a very dark night. Keep yourselves indoors.” And then he was gone, disappearing into his small cottage without another word.

  “Don’t mind Mac,” Robbie said easily, thinking the twins were startled. He began to lope along with them towards the street. “He likes to play around with spooks.”

  “I don’t think your grandfather’s belief in ‘spooks’ should be easily undermined,” Arlen remarked stiffly, annoyed by Robbie’s seeming assumption that because they were girls they needed an escort. “And we’re quite capable of seeing that we arrive home ourselves,” she said firmly, disentangling herself from the hand he had lightly placed on her shoulder.

  He stopped, and seemed to reconsider. Alice sensed he didn’t want to push himself where he wasn’t wanted. He seemed so nice, she wanted to apologise for Arlen’s rudeness. “Well,” he said finally, reluctantly. “If you’re sure you’ll be OK.”

  “We’re sure,” Arlen told him sharply, and marched off.

  “Oh, and tell your grandfather goodbye,” Alice called back into the darkness.

  A shadow of a salute met her parting words as she hurried to catch up with her sister. Arlen was stalking angrily down the road.

  “Arlen, we could have done with him,” she chided softly. “I don’t like walking alone at night.”

  “We’re not alone,” Arlen said curtly. “We’re together.”

  Nevertheless, the two hurried as quickly as possible without actually running. The scene had grown steadily darker since their departure from the village, and the air before them was so thick and black that they could almost touch it. The wind was cold, and growing wilder, singing and whistling in their ears in a shrill, mad song. Alice could feel its cold fingers run along her spine, and her hair bristled, like an animal’s.

  “Here, hold my hand,” Arlen clasped her sister’s tightly in her own, “and we’ll run. Look, there’s the castle before us already. I can see the light shining.” But she stopped in confusion as soon as she had uttered the words, peering into the blackness with narrowed eyes.

  It didn’t look like the castle, but the light was certainly coming from that direction, a strange, bobbing light, which moved as though someone were holding it. Arlen stopped at Alchemist’s Block, and her fingers rested on the cool stone as if for strength. The darkness had fallen heavily around them, dousing the sky in a velvet drape, and a thick, soupy mist was rolling in from the shore in curling wreaths, winding around the girls like snakes. Alice could feel their cold kiss on her face and hands and she tried to brush them off furiously, her fingers grasping only cold air as it wrapped around her in clammy, phantom sheets.

  “It’s coming from the ruins,” Arlen said then, and her voice was small. “There’s someone poking about down there.”

  “I wonder if Aunt Maud knows,” Alice remarked, shivering. “You said she didn’t like anyone around there.”

  “No,” Arlen agreed, frowning, and she motioned for Alice to move forward with her, two dark figures, cloaked by the fog. Her feet were steady as they approached the castle, although she kept tight hold of Alice’s hand as the light snapped off abruptly, the only sound to be heard the low moaning of the wind around the ancient stone.

  Alice glanced at her sister, her face pale and starry amidst the curling tongues of mist. “Where do you think they’ve gone?”

  But she had no sooner finished speaking when a cold hand clasped her shoulder in a heavy grip. It was like ice water dripping through her, and her heart seemed to stop completely until she heard Arlen’s voice cut through the darkness.

  “Aunt Maud?”

  It was indeed Aunt Maud, almost swallowed in a dusky black overcoat, her wispy, dishevelled hair floating around her face in the cloudy air like Medusa’s snakes. The thin shard of moonlight hid half her face in darkness, accentuating the length and hollowing out the corners and crevices, until the strange contrast of pallor and shadow made her face appear almost skeletal.

  “Girls, what are you doing out here?” Her voice was tense and impatient. “I’ve told you before, Arlen, to take note of the weather. If you can’t behave responsibly, then you won’t go out at all.”

  “I’m sorry, Auntie,” Arlen answered, and from the tone of her voice, Alice suspected that she hadn’t heard this line from Aunt Maud before. “It came on very suddenly.”

  “That’s as may be,” Aunt Maud replied, “but you should know the signs by now.” As if in answer, the wind rose around them, weaving a path through the fog, leading towards the castle. Aunt Maud stared at them, exasperated. “Come on. Inside, both of you.” And she marched them up the path and through the kitchen door into the cold stone room.

  When Aunt Maud removed her coat, the girls could not help but notice the smudges of dirt and sand upon her apron and in h
er fingernails. “Light the stove, Arlen,” she ordered, disappearing into the cellar for some fish.

  Alice edged closer to her sister. “What do you suppose she was doing out there?” she asked in a whisper.

  “I don’t know,” Arlen blew on the flame and stood up, dusting her jeans. “But I think she knows more than she’s letting on. And I think we’d better keep an eye on her, too.”

  “And they always say everyone is friendlier in villages,” Alice sighed.

  Arlen gave a wry grin as Aunt Maud’s heavy footsteps were heard mounting the stairs. “Welcome to Southmore.”

  That night the sky changed. The clouds blew up and released their downpour, and the waves hurled themselves against the twins’ tower, as if hoping to knock it down with the force, the tempest-tossed tide churning and spewing forth the hulks of shipwrecks and the bones of long forgotten seamen, mermaids, and tales of the old land. Lightning cracked and spattered, forming a blazing hue of brilliance through the night as it flung itself towards the tower, its momentary flash illuminating the little room and throwing a pattern of strange dancing shadows on the cheeks of the sleeping pair. The war waged outside as the two slept within, and some of the forgotten yearns and hopes of those voices lost at sea so long ago found their way into the bedroom through the unguarded window and crept into the twins’ memories, their plea for life and help and hope so desperate that they couldn’t help but disturb the dreams of those whose thoughts they invaded. Arlen and Alice drifted uncomfortably in their sleep, although neither knew why, and they heard the whispers raging faintly to their very souls, until at last the storm died down, the clouds drained of their fury, and the stinging spits of rain softened to a slow drizzle. If the twins had been awake, they would have sensed a perturbing chill in the air – the scent of an unwelcome presence that had been and gone, but had left some sign of itself behind, like an unpleasant smell.

  As it was, both girls tossed and turned more than was usual that night. The clouds drew together over the dark, brooding sea, now slowly lapping the damp, black shore. And a long white hand, adorned by a glowing red ring, slid back beneath the dark surface.

  Chapter Five

  The next morning was heavy and overcast. A thick bank of cloud hung menacingly over the village, and any faint glimmer of sun would have had a hard time trying to break through its dense barriers.

  Aunt Maud appeared just as brusque as ever as the girls descended, her back to them, one hand tightly clutching the saltcellar as she sprayed the fine, white contents over crisp, fresh tentacles. Alice felt the contents of her stomach heave.

  Yet when she turned to hand the girls their breakfasts, she seemed changed. Gentler, softer, somehow. She seemed genuinely interested as she sat down conversationally at the table opposite the twins, coffeepot in hand – a most un-Aunt Maudlike gesture in itself – and enquired as to what they were going to do today. Arlen half wondered if it really was her aunt and, with a quick gulp of coffee, a “most likely into the village”, and a shove for her sister, she had Alice out of the door and down the path in the matter of a few minutes. But instead of following the Beach Road towards the small hub of houses and village shops, Arlen turned off onto a small path that led past the Alchemist’s Block towards the beach.

  “Are you crazy?” Alice questioned, her heart beating rapidly. It was all too weird.

  “Oh, we’re not going there,” Arlen explained quickly. “We’re going to the grotto. It’s right down on the other side of the beach.” She led the way down a narrow sandy path, over a tiny hump of land that Alice hadn’t even noticed, and through a small forest of flowering gorse. “This is my spot,” Arlen told her half shyly, as they walked. “I’ve always come out here, just to be by myself. No one else knows of it. I couldn’t stand it if they did.” She half laughed.

  “Then – why are you showing me?” Alice asked softly.

  “I don’t know,” Arlen confessed. “Somehow you just seem to be a part of it all, I suppose.” She shrugged and stopped, and Alice followed her gaze curiously.

  They had come to the edge of a small wall of cliff, which fell to the rocks below in a steep, jagged drop. The path continued down the rocky side, and as they descended the going grew much rougher. Alice looked down once and decided not to do it again.

  “You’ve got to watch your step here,” Arlen warned, nimbly leaping over a crevice, her feet steady through years of practice. Alice wasn’t so sure, however, and several times required her sister’s assistance. “One wrong move and you could end up down there,” Arlen told her, panting. Alice shuddered, and looked away. She could hear the restless waves beating endlessly against the rocks below, and had no desire to join them. She moved closer to Arlen, and was glad when they suddenly veered off the path that led down, climbing over a jutting rock into a narrow space behind. Surprised, she found herself standing in a deep, cleverly secreted cut in the stone. “Come on,” Arlen said, grinning at her sister’s astonishment, and led her through the craggy groove.

  It was like walking through a slanted maze. The cliff face was littered with similar rude paths. Cracks and passages crossed and threaded throughout the rock like a crazy crossword puzzle, menacing looking holes and gaps leered from every direction, some open and widely gaping, others hidden and covered by crawling moss or lichen, or puddles of lank seaweed fronds. More than once she had been about to place her foot on a seemingly safe spot, when the ground broke from underneath her and fell, shattering into the waves and rocks below. “Test every spot first,” Arlen cautioned her constantly, and Alice followed her advice with a white face.

  Strange marine life jigged and danced in naturally made ponds and puddles all around them, constantly watched by the carnivorous sea anemone, waiting to make its kill. Even stranger were the weird rock formations, which loomed around them like malformed, unfinished statues. Alice had the awful feeling that they were watching her as she passed, and was careful not to look at any of them too closely.

  Suddenly Arlen stopped, right before what seemed to be a dead end of stone. Alice rushed to keep up with her, sliding precariously on a smooth, damp stretch of rock. A row of brightly coloured sea anemones closed in a flash as her feet finally came to a halt, and she sighed with relief, glancing up to see Arlen’s figure before her, dark hair flying in the morning breeze, before she disappeared from view. Her cry was caught by the wind, and she gulped her heartbeat down as she slowly, cautiously, followed her sister’s footsteps in the wet rock, watching them quickly swallowed by the creeping damp that bled endlessly through the cracks and fissures in the stone. She was starting to panic. Where could Arlen have gone? She hadn’t seen her fall. It was just that one minute she was there, and the next minute she wasn’t.

  When the hand gripped her shoulder she thought that her heart had stopped. As she was pulled into a narrow crevice, she felt all warmth drain from her body in an icy cold waterfall down her spine, and was just coaxing her voice to return and allow her to scream when she realised that it was only Arlen standing behind her, regarding her with a concerned face.

  “Are you alright?” she asked.

  “Yes, fine,” Alice rolled her eyes, her breath returning in large, heavy gasps. “Did you have to disappear like that? I nearly died!”

  “I’m sorry,” Arlen said, surprised, “but I thought you were right behind me.”

  “Oh, that’s alright,” Alice half laughed, wiping the sweat from her brow. She knew Arlen hadn’t meant to frighten her, but she almost felt that she’d rather have faced the beach.

  “Here, splash some water on your face,” Arlen motioned her towards a pool of water in the middle of the cave. “Oh, it’s alright,” she said quickly, noticing her twin’s startled look, “it’s fresh. You can even drink from it. It’s pure.”

  And Alice, although apprehensive about the idea of drinking any sort of water that wasn’t in a bottle, was too hot and thirsty to argue. Before she could talk herself out of it, she cupped her hand and dipped it in the clear
pool. Arlen had been right. The water tasted pure and good, and was cold and fresh to the touch. She drank and drank until she had had her fill, and then suddenly seemed to notice the interior of the grotto for the first time, stepping back in wonder. “What is this place?”

  The tiny dark crevice they had slipped through to enter gave no warning of the splendour that lay within. The room was massive, almost like a theatre or a ballroom in a palace. Glistening stalagmites and stalactites rose from the floor and hung from the roof in frozen growth, sparkling like an arrangement of very large and unusual diamond chandeliers, or marble statues. The deep crystal lake dominated most of the floor. Its rocky bottom was visible beneath the surface, and it appeared that a succession of shallow steps had been cut into the stone, leading down into the water. Small pools of liquid rested on natural ledges all around them, and glowing coral nestled in small curves and depressions in the sandy rock. A little stream flowed from one corner, disappearing into the wall and reappearing from an opening further on, creating a bubbling, frothing waterfall, which tumbled into the pool below. Tiny, delicate, brightly patterned fish swam in some of the small pools, and an odd shaft in the roof, diamond shaped, let in the light, set at such an odd twist that it almost seemed to create a flow of sunlight where there wasn’t any, resulting in the soft, dancing glow of a rainbow streaming around the room, winking and sparkling like gold dust in the air. The scene was amazing. Alice gasped in delight.

  “It’s my grotto,” Arlen said again, proudly. “I found it here when I was six, and I’ve been coming ever since. It’s my own secret room. I’ve even slept here some nights.” She paused suddenly, and the watery music of the waterfall bubbled in the silence. “I’ve always felt at home here. It seemed to be waiting for me when I first found it. I remember, I was only six, and although I was used to being on the beach by myself, I’d never been this far round.

  “And I sort of got lost, even though it wasn’t that far from the castle, and I slipped down the cliff side and twisted my ankle. I remember sitting there in a puddle, my face screwed up in pain, and I suddenly saw a light behind a rock. It seemed to be beckoning me in. And I found this place.” She gazed round her and sighed with satisfaction. “I’ve always believed something guided me here.” She smiled, delighted with Alice’s wonder over the natural mansion. “And now it belongs to both of us.”