Shadows at Stonewylde

22



Yul strode into the Stone Circle, his long legs covering the distance quickly; he wanted to be here for the sunset and it was almost time. He took a great leap onto the Altar Stone and stood there, tall and powerful, both hands raking his dark hair back from his face as he turned towards the golden pool of light that was the setting sun. It was already a month since the Solstice but as yet there was little noticeable difference in the days’ length. As he stood waiting, Yul noticed the charcoaled designs on the stones and frowned at the thought of Imbolc. He was still angry that Leveret had been chosen, and that he’d had to give in and agree to let Sylvie lead the forthcoming ceremonies when she wasn’t completely well.

But at least things were finally improving between them. For three nights now they’d eaten dinner together, actually talking to each other and then moving to the fiery hearth to make love. It wasn’t maybe quite as spontaneous and passionate as in the past, but was a big improvement on the situation in recent months. As they started to relax in each other’s company again hopefully they’d return to their former happiness. He grinned suddenly, thinking that whatever happened he felt a damn sight better now than he’d done for ages. It was a shame it was now Dark Moon.

A great cloud of black starlings flew overhead blocking the light, and as the shadow passed over Yul he shuddered involuntarily. He felt a tremor of green magic below his boots, a glimmer of the energy that had once doused him completely. Why wasn’t it coming back to him? Surely now he and Sylvie were united again, the equilibrium had been restored and the magic could once again seek him out? Yul was convinced that his role as magus and his ability to channel the earth energy was somehow linked to his relationship with Sylvie. None of it had started until she’d come to Stonewylde and he’d fallen in love with her, and it hadn’t stopped until recently when things became so bad between them.

He thought suddenly of her moondancing – perhaps that held the key to his problems too. Maybe he’d been wrong to stop her going last month He’d encourage her to go to Hare Stone next Moon Fullness and see if that helped. But he was sure that at the heart of it all was their passion for each other, and when that was fully restored the Earth Magic would return as well. He’d just have to work at it a bit harder.

The sun had now disappeared completely and the clouds were darkening. Then Yul felt a thrill of a different nature – the Dark Moon. He breathed deeply, filling his chest, and tipped back his head to the skies. A sinuous thread of power stirred within him; it had always been like this at the Dark Moon. His fingertips tingled with this dark energy, the delicious sensation of power and control over everything around him. He smiled to himself and leapt off the Altar Stone, his boots landing with a thud in the soft earth. But as he strode back across the great Circle towards the Long Walk he sensed a movement, something stirring behind him. He spun around, seeing nothing.

‘Who’s there?’ he called, his deep voice bouncing off the stones in faint echoes. There was no reply so he continued to walk, but the hairs on the back of his neck had risen, and try as he might he couldn’t rid himself of the notion that he hadn’t been alone in the Stone Circle. He jumped at the sound of a sudden mew and looked up to see a great buzzard with barred wings circling overhead.

Leveret stood with her back to the Hare Stone, also watching the sun set. She’d spent a long time thinking about where to go and decided that this was the special place for her. There was also symmetry in the fact that this was where Sylvie used to dance at the Moon Fullness. Leveret had no Dark Moon dance but she felt sensations coursing through her. She closed her eyes and concentrated hard.

‘Mother Heggy, are you here with me? Or are you out there in the night?’

She sensed no answering reply but still the magic tingled in her fingertips. Her stomach knotted with excitement – should she cast a circle after all? Clip had admitted that he didn’t really know what to do for the best and maybe he’d been wrong to advise against it. The spell of protection she’d cast for Magpie seemed to be working, for nobody had harmed him yet, so perhaps calling Mother Heggy tonight would work too, especially now she had her own spirit guide. Leveret looked up into the skies where the light was fading fast now the sun had gone, hoping to see a raven or crow as a sign. But there was none – only the call of a jay from the distant woods at the bottom of the hill, and a jay was no good at all.

Sighing, Leveret realised she didn’t have the tools for circle casting with her anyway – the salt for protection and the objects to represent the elements she’d summon. So that was that. She began to walk slowly down the hill but then thought better of it. Retracing her steps, she started to move anti-clockwise, moon-wise, widdershins around the stone at the summit. It was growing dark and of course there was no moon, but the stars were emerging now, twinkling and flickering, and she sensed the great stone to her left emanating some sort of energy of its own.

It was an ancient energy, very powerful, and Leveret wondered why this huge monolith was here on top of this particular hill. Had it been some kind of marker stone to guide people? If so, what was it marking? As she walked, her feet sure on the stiff, cold grass, her breath pluming out into the January night air, she began to feel a rising, a creation. It was similar to the sensation she’d experienced when walking around her circle on the Green at the last Dark Moon. She was raising something without even trying to. Round and round she walked, gazing up at the brilliant stars, thinking of the dark magic that surrounded her. Then suddenly she stopped dead. Something had joined her in the darkness.

‘Mother Heggy?’ she cried hopefully. ‘Are you here?’

But again there was no answer and she felt the fine hairs on her arms start to rise.

‘Is it you, Mother Heggy?’

There was a whispering in the still air, a stirring of very slight movement like leaves sighing in the trees. Except that there were no leaves in the trees.

Leveret started to go back down the hill, still tingling all over and not sure if she were terrified or exhilarated. What had she raised? Who or what had joined her by the Hare Stone? She refused to panic and run, for the grass further down was too long and tussocky and she could fall. She made herself stop when she reached the rocks, just to prove she wasn’t frightened. Leveret sat on a boulder and looked up at the stars sparkling in the blackness. She felt a little strange, not just with the dark magic but something else. She started to get the prickling sensation that she knew preceded her absences, the funny turns her mother so dreaded. She felt the world start to spin too fast but for the first time she was aware of it and fought the feelings, struggling to remain conscious. Her tongue felt too big in her mouth but she swallowed hard, staring at the stars and concentrating on staying there and not letting her mind disappear.

Suddenly her head was filled with the image of a serpent, a great viper with slashing zigzags black on his silver skin. He writhed slightly, his flickering tongue tasting the air, and she saw the vertical slits of the black pupils in his eyes, which gleamed like jewels. He was all around her and as he moved, she could see other vipers beneath him, a writhing mass of snakes, hundreds and hundreds of snakes. Snakes of destruction, of venom, of attack, writhing and hissing and …

‘Raven!’ she shouted. ‘RAVEN!’

Her raven shimmered into her head, banishing the image of the snakes. Its bright eye regarded her steadily, then it blinked and cocked its head.

‘Raven, why am I seeing snakes? What’s happening?’

But the raven only cawed loudly and flapping its massive wings, it flew off.

‘Beware of walking blind into the vipers’ nest. Beware the snake that sheds one skin to return in another.’

And then the starry night was back in focus and Leveret felt very cold. How long had she been sitting on the boulder? She rose stiffly, finding her feet numb, and walked briskly down the hill and into the woods. She wasn’t scared in the darkness for she knew these woods so well; Yul had brought her here almost daily as a child, teaching her the names of the trees, birds, flowers and creatures, and she felt safe here away from any threat that the hill had posed. Leveret was feeling elated – that was the first time she’d ever gone into a trance and remembered what happened. Maybe she was learning to control her strange absences after all. And she remembered the message clearly – but what on earth did it mean?

As she approached the fork in the path near the Village, Leveret decided to take the right-hand route and make a detour up around the other side of the river to Mother Heggy’s cottage. Her mother had given her permission to go out tonight and would be late back herself, so Leveret knew she wouldn’t be waiting impatiently at home getting worried. Leveret felt a little guilty that she’d allowed her mother to assume she was with Clip, but pushed that qualm aside – she hadn’t actually lied. Her stomach gurgled with hunger and it almost prompted her to change her mind and go the other way, the way straight back home where her supper was waiting warm on the range.

But it was the Dark Moon, the special night, and this might be her last chance for a whole month. If she called into the tumbledown cottage and just sat there for a while maybe she’d feel the crone with her. Leveret was sure someone had been there on the hill with her but wasn’t convinced it was Mother Heggy. There’d been nothing since the last Dark Moon and the unexpected return of the gathering knife. She so longed for contact with her and the answer she’d been given during her journey with Clip had filled her with hope.

But as Leveret skirted around the back of the Village close to the river she began to feel uneasy. She had the strangest feeling that someone was behind her, and plucked up the courage to look around. She could see nobody but the feeling persisted, and then she started to lose her nerve. She began to hurry, her boots clattering on the cobbles as she walked faster and faster, breaking into a run. Something was closing in on her. She heard voices and laughter up ahead and almost sobbed with relief, quickening her pace still further. And then the voices were clearer and she saw torchlight swinging, and just as she stopped being scared, stopped panicking about the shadow in the darkness behind her, she realised with terrible clarity whose voices they were. But too late.

Leveret actually ran straight into the bulk of Sweyn, who caught her with a shout of laughter.

‘Here she is! She’s found us!’

‘That’s amazing!’ cried Gefrin. ‘We called into the cottage looking for you, Hare-brain, but you weren’t there! Fancy your coming looking for us – how did you know?’

She struggled in Sweyn’s grip but of course it was useless for he was adept at holding her when she wriggled. Then she heard the third voice that made her heart sink even further; there’d been the slight glimmer of hope that it was only her brothers out in the darkness.

‘She enjoys all the fuss we make of her, don’t you, Leveret? We make you feel special and you are so special to us – the Maiden of Imbolc!’

They roared with laughter at this.

‘You are so going to wish you’d never been picked!’ cried Gefrin. ‘Just you wait!’

‘I didn’t want to be picked,’ she said desperately. ‘I don’t want to be the Maiden.’

‘Oh yeah!’ said Jay in disbelief. ‘Of course you do – all the girls do. You can’t wait to stand there showing off to everyone, all tarted up again and thinking you look pretty when really you just look like some ugly little weasel in a party dress.’

Leveret hung her head; that was exactly what she’d been thinking.

‘Your friends are really pissed off with you, Leveret.’

‘I haven’t got any friends.’

Gefrin laughed. ‘I’m not surprised.’

‘Except my half-wit cousin,’ sneered Jay. ‘He’s all you can manage.’

Leveret bit off her retort, not wanting them to dwell on Magpie. She stood silently and hoped that once they’d finished laughing at her they’d let her go home. In the darkness she heard the glug-glug of a bottle.

‘Pass it over,’ growled Sweyn, ‘and hold on to her while I have some more.’

She felt Jay’s hands on her arms and shrank under his touch. She could smell him – a mixture of cider, sweat and smoke – and it made her recoil further.

‘I have to get back,’ she said. ‘Mother’ll be wondering where I am. She’s waiting for me.’

‘No she ain’t – she’s up at the Hall till late. She told us and that’s why we went back to the cottage to find you,’ said Gefrin.

‘And how come you’re out on your own?’ asked Sweyn suddenly. ‘You’re not allowed out at night on your own.’

‘I’ve been up at the Hall too.’

‘No you haven’t. You’re lying again!’

She felt Jay’s grip tighten on her arms and realised she’d tensed up.

‘Clip was with me,’ she said desperately.

‘No he weren’t! We saw him as we left.’

Sweyn’s face loomed into hers and she caught a blast of his foul breath.

‘Back to your old tricks, eh, Lev? Lying to Mother, deceiving her? You won’t get away with it – I’ll tell her and she’ll be so upset with you.’

‘No!’ she cried. ‘It’s none of your business what I do and I’m sick of you and your bullying, you stupid, thick oaf!’

He punched her in the stomach just as he’d seen Jay do at the dance, but harder. She felt as if her guts were exploding and bent over double with the pain, retching into the grass. Jay had let her go, knowing she couldn’t run, and she slowly straightened, wiping her mouth with her sleeve and relieved now that she hadn’t yet eaten. She clutched her stomach and groaned with pain.

‘Nice one!’ said Jay, taking a swig of the cider and passing it round.

‘Mother’s going to see that,’ whispered Leveret when she could speak again. ‘She’s fitting me for my Imbolc dress and she’ll see what you did to me.’

‘Shit!’ muttered Sweyn.

‘I’m going home now,’ she said quietly, turning away from them and starting to walk.

‘Not so fast!’ barked Jay, grabbing her arm and swinging her round. ‘Did we say you could go? We ain’t finished with you yet.’

‘What are we going to do with her?’ cried Gefrin, capering about excitedly. ‘Make her drunk again?’

‘Nah, done that,’ said Sweyn. ‘I wish we could put her in the well like your granny said.’

‘Yeah!’ laughed Jay. ‘But it’s still early and people are about in the Village. Pity, though, ‘cos that would’ve been a laugh.’

‘The river!’ yelled Gefrin, beside himself with glee. ‘Let’s dunk her in the river like we used to!’

Leveret stood there whilst they discussed her fate, sharing the cider around as they egged each other on. She didn’t dare argue in case one of them punched her again and she couldn’t run; her stomach was agony. She started to curse them silently, calling on the Dark Moon magic, calling on Mother Heggy to help her. It didn’t seem to work because they dragged her towards the bridge.

‘We’ll grab her ankles and dip her head in,’ said Jay. ‘The river’s very high.’

‘Yeah, and hold her under like we used to! See if we can beat our record.’

‘If we let her go she’ll drown, so hold on tight,’ said Sweyn, and from the way he staggered she realised they’d had a lot to drink. They’d probably been kicked out of the pub as George was very strict about young lads not having too much, but had taken more cider from home when they called in to look for her. Leveret was really frightened now; she could hear the river and it was indeed high. In the winter months the spring flowed fast and was joined by many tributaries until the river was swollen into a torrent, very different to the peaceful, lazy meander of the warmer months. They might well drop her in and she knew how swift the currents were. She began to cry, hating herself for showing her fear but unable to control it.

They reached the low-sided stone bridge which was just wide enough for a cart to cross. The river was really loud now and Leveret sobbed frantically, begging them to let her go, begging them to do anything they liked but not this. The memories of past torture in the water came crowding in; it had always been a favourite because it left no evidence. Many times her brothers had held her under until she thought her lungs would explode and she’d die. And they’d been sober then and not had Jay with them to add his cruelty.

‘She’s shit scared!’ laughed Jay, holding her easily as she struggled in his grip. ‘She’s really trembling.’

He shoved her down onto her knees and made her bend over the low wall so her head hung over the edge. She resisted all the way, struggling desperately to kneel up. Jay pushed his knee onto her back and pressed her down hard onto the stone, which dug into her sore stomach and hurt badly.

‘You two take an ankle each and for goddess’ sake hold on tight. I don’t want to kill her – that’d spoil all our fun. Have you got her?’

She felt her brothers both gripping tightly onto her ankles whilst Jay held her down. She saw glimmers of the dark water not far below, swirling and raging, moving very fast. Jay had to shout to make himself heard over the noise of the water.

‘When I say “go”, lower her down and stop when I tell you!’

Leveret started to thrash about at this, trying to kick their faces, trying to raise her body off the wall. Jay just thrust down even harder making her ribs crunch, and he shouted again.

‘Ready boys?’

She felt the stone scrape her stomach as Jay began to slide her over the edge towards the racing water.

And then it was all gone: the river, the darkness, the three thugs. She was in the bright place before the other realms and the raven was there. It hopped towards her and spoke softly.

‘Be brave, Little Hare, for this will come to an end. They’ll suffer as they make you suffer now. You have a friend who looks out for you and soon she’ll show herself, when the time’s right.’

‘But why must I put up with this?’ she asked. ‘I’ve never hurt them – why do they do this to me?’

‘They envy you. They’re scared of you because you’re different and not like them. They see something in you that’s strange and they try to destroy what they don’t understand. It is ever thus.’

‘Bloody hell! What’s happening?’

Jay felt her go limp, which was odd as she’d been rigid with terror the second before, and then her whole body started to jerk. He hauled her back up and turned her over to see her face.

‘Shine the light on her!’ he yelled and Gefrin fumbled about with the torch and managed to switch it on. He screamed as the harsh beam found her face. It shone from below her chin, so the shadows cast by her sharp bones made the face look like a skull. But more frightening than this was her eyes – they’d rolled up in their sockets and gleamed whitely as she shook.

‘She’s having a fit!’ screamed Jay, who’d seen a boy like this once at college. ‘Quick, let’s get out of here!’

‘We can’t leave her here,’ said Sweyn, scared by the sight of his sister. ‘Look, it’s stopping now.’

Jay felt her go completely floppy in his arms and they saw her eyes return to normal. She screwed them up in the bright light, unable to see a thing. She was utterly confused and thought she was still in the bright place.

‘Where are you?’ she called feebly. ‘I can’t see you anymore. When will she come to me?’

‘Leveret!’ said Sweyn sharply. ‘Snap out of it!’

‘I don’t like it,’ moaned Gefrin. ‘She’s weird.’

‘She’s always bloody weird. Leveret!’

Jay shook her then, not caring that her head bounced back and forth.

‘You’re putting it on now!’ he said harshly, more shaken by her behaviour than he liked to show. ‘Stop it, Leveret! Get that bloody light out of her eyes, Gef!’

The torch moved slightly and she blinked, focusing on the three faces hovering over her.

‘This will come to an end and you’ll suffer as you’ve made me suffer.’

They’d finally reached the cottage and Jay let her go, having half-carried, half-dragged her back. His fear had receded and he was just angry with her now.

‘You’ve messed us about tonight, girl,’ he said, shaking her slightly again but careful not to overdo it just in case. ‘You think you’ve fooled us with your party tricks but you haven’t. You wait, Leveret – just you wait!’

‘If you say a word to Mother about this we’ll tell her you were out on your own again,’ growled Sweyn, jabbing her hard in the chest. ‘Do you understand?’

She nodded, utterly exhausted and wanting to get inside the safety of the cottage.

‘How am I going to explain the marks on me?’

She was sure her stomach would be bruised from the punch. It was also scraped sore from where Jay had held her down so hard on the rough stone bridge and then dragged her almost over the edge and back again. Her back felt bruised too from the weight of his knee.

‘You’ll think of something,’ said Jay. ‘Or you’ll make sure she don’t see. Now you’d better get some beauty sleep ready for Imbolc – you need it.’

‘Yeah, and think about the lovely surprise we got for you!’ said Gefrin.

‘Shh! Shut up, Gef,’ warned Sweyn.

‘You’ll regret it,’ she said wearily. ‘I know you will, whatever it is.’

‘Are you trying to threaten us?’ asked Jay quietly.

‘No, I’m warning you. I know.’

‘Well stuff your bloody warnings, you mad bitch! You’ll regret being the Maiden, that’s for sure – you’ll regret that alright. Come on, lads, the three old girls should be finished their Dark Moon stuff now. Let’s go and have a pipe with them and see what they’ve come up with.’

They shoved her in through the garden gate and went on up the lane, laughing.

As Imbolc approached, Leveret became more and more nervous. She somehow managed to conceal the livid bruising and her scraped skin, and Maizie teased her about becoming so modest all of a sudden. She tried not to flinch as her mother fiddled about with the bodice of the dress, pinning and tucking the white material tight so it fitted her snugly over the fine camisole, clucking and tutting and loving every minute of it. Leveret, meanwhile, stood like a stone statue hoping for a miracle to make them choose somebody else at the last minute.

She had to practise the chants and steps endlessly, with the other girls giggling and chattering around her and enjoying themselves no end. Little Celandine beamed at her constantly, desperate for Leveret to notice her special dance and make some comment. But Leveret was so wrapped up in her own despair that she didn’t realise. There were even a couple of practices with Kestrel which she found a terrible ordeal. He was as charming as ever, making all the girls laugh with his jokes, and couldn’t understand why Leveret wasn’t bowled over too.

‘What’s wrong?’ he whispered once, as they stood in the sidelines waiting for their cue. ‘Didn’t you want me for the Archer?’

‘No, no, it’s not that,’ she whispered back. ‘I just wish I wasn’t the Maiden. I hate it.’

He stared at her in complete astonishment.

‘But all the girls want to be the Bright Maiden!’

‘Not me.’

The afternoon before Imbolc just as they’d all returned from the woods after picking snowdrops for the head-dresses, Marigold came bustling in, rosy-cheeked from the bitter wind and searching for Leveret.

‘Ah, there you are, my dear!’ she gasped, relieved at having found the girl. ‘I just had a message from one o’ the painters in the Circle. Can you go up there quick? There’s some trouble with our Magpie and he’s upset. They can’t get through to him and they want you to try and make him understand. They said he’s done the painting all wrong but he won’t let ’em wash it off.’

Afraid for Magpie and glad of the excuse to get away from the stifling excitement and high-pitched anticipation in the Barn, Leveret pulled on her cloak and ran as fast as she could up to the Stone Circle. Poor Magpie – she’d not seen him all week as she’d been so busy, but she’d meant to go and see his paintings and tell him how proud she was of him. She felt terrible for neglecting him and now worried that he’d messed up his chance to be useful in the community. She met Merewen halfway up the Long Walk, puffed out from running most of the way and trying to ignore her stomach and back which hurt badly with every lungful of air she took. Merewen was stomping towards her, cloak billowing out behind her.

‘Ah, Leveret – good! They say you’re the only one he listens to. Come and see if you can talk some sense into the boy.’

‘Has he really messed it up?’ she gasped, in agony now from the great breaths she gulped in. It had been a mistake to run so fast with her injuries.

‘No, no, the boy’s brilliant – perhaps the best artist Stonewylde’s had. Love his style – completely natural. ‘Tis not that. He’s got confused and thinks it’s the Equinox and he’s painted the wrong symbol, right behind the bloody Altar Stone too so everyone’ll see it. He won’t let us clean it off, though, and he’s yowling and guarding it with his body. We don’t want to manhandle the boy – see if you can talk some sense into him, will you?’

When they entered the Circle, Leveret saw a whole group of people gathered around the great stone. As she drew closer she saw Magpie in his painter’s smock facing them all, arms outstretched to shield his painting and screeching in panic.

‘Come on, lad,’ growled Greenbough. ‘Stop making that noise and let us clean it off. Nobody’s angry with you, ‘tis just the wrong picture for Imbolc.’

Leveret pushed her way through the people crowding around him. When Magpie saw her his face crumpled with relief and he flung his arms around her, sobbing into her cloak. She patted his back gently and made soothing noises.

‘Stand back, folk!’ called Merewen. ‘Let Leveret talk to him. You’re all making it worse crowding in on him like this.’

Leveret pulled Magpie gently off her shoulder and wiped his tears with her sleeve.

‘It’s alright, Maggie,’ she said softly. ‘Levvy’s here now and it’s alright. Show me this painting then. Did you get muddled up with the Spring Equinox? Show me.’

He pulled away from the stone and let her see his painting. There was the pattern of snowdrops along the top, interwoven in the design they’d all agreed on. Under this there was an enormous flame outlined in gold and blue and taking up most of the stone, and within that a great bulb of rich brown. The scale was huge as this stone was the largest one in the Circle, and the ladder and paint pots stood nearby. Inside the bulb Magpie had painted a great silver crescent moon, the symbol of Imbolc. This much was perfect and all as it should be; exquisitely done and entirely right for Imbolc.

But instead of the usual single arrow pointing slightly upwards, he’d painted a golden-brown hare leaping across the crescent. It was beautiful, a perfect hare, lithe and long. On its head it wore a tiny silver crescent and it had bright green eyes. Magpie looked at her face anxiously and then beamed when he saw the understanding light up her eyes. Leveret turned to the watching crowd all staring in consternation, and smiled at them.

‘He wasn’t muddled at all!’ she cried. ‘It’s not the Equinox hare. Magpie’s painted the Maiden of Imbolc. The hare is me!’

For a moment there was a stunned silence and then Merewen roared with laughter and began to clap.

‘Well done, Magpie! What a splendid idea! A hare to represent Leveret the Maiden. Why didn’t I see it? ‘Tis obvious now.’

Everyone started talking at once and in the buzz of excitement, Leveret turned back to Magpie and hugged him.

‘You’re a dear friend to me,’ she said quietly, ‘and I love you, Maggie. What a lovely thing to paint for me. Thank you!’

He hugged her back and then took her hand, looking into her eyes. She felt his joy and exhilaration and images started to flow. He was painting the snowdrops. He’d seen snowdrops in the woods all around. He was thinking of the flame and how he’d looked carefully at a candle flame to see the exact shape and the right colours. He’d examined a bulb and peeled it apart. He’d remembered the crescent moon of only a couple of nights ago, and she could see it through him, the bright silver bow glowing in the night sky.

And then the hare. She saw his images of hares in the field, the leaping and dancing they loved to do, the joyous way they stretched their long hind legs and laid back their ears. She saw the image of Magpie sketching rapidly onto the stone with charcoal, saw the hare growing on the stone, turning from a few black strokes into a creature so real and precise. She saw the paint going on quickly before anybody could notice and stop him because he knew they wouldn’t understand. She saw the tiny silver crescent being painted on its brow, and the eyes – not amber as they should be, but green. She saw an image, a memory of herself smiling, her green eyes glowing brightly. She saw all the inspiration and imagery that had built up his painting.

And then Leveret saw something else, his final message to her. He squeezed her hand hard now so she knew this was really important. She saw the face of a very old woman; an ancient face, whiskery and toothless, the nose hooked and a shapeless old hat on the almost bald head. She saw a pair of eyes, sunken and rheumy but peering out intently. She went cold and a shiver chased down her backbone.

‘That’s Mother Heggy?’ she whispered. ‘You saw Mother Heggy?’

He nodded frantically, almost crying with relief that she understood. Then he opened his mouth and said clearly, ‘Heggy.’