The Silver Witch

‘Gorsie?’


‘That’s what the locals call it. Nessie in Lock Ness: Gorsie in Llangors. Everyone around here has heard about our very own deep-water monster.’

‘Have there ever been any … sightings?’

‘A few claim to have seen it, mostly after a late night in the pub. I think there are a couple of dodgy-looking pictures circulating’ He grins. ‘I’ll let you know if I find it.’

Tilda forces herself to return to her list of reasons for venturing out. Despite Lucas’s insistence that it is too early to be certain about the find, she feels there may be something there which will provide answers to what she feared were unanswerable questions. Something connecting the body in the grave to her frightening visions. Even if those answers do involve words like ghost and murderer, and the terrible idea of burying someone alive. It is a start. She glances over at the professor. He is sitting next to Molly, and they are all very busy with something on the laptop. She had been going to ask him for his help, but the thought of fusing that computer, with everyone there, so close. Just because she fixed the lights doesn’t mean she can be certain she won’t adversely affect things again. Instead she turns to Dylan.

‘I wonder, could you do something for me?’

‘Bring you the head of the water horse, perhaps?’

‘Ha ha,’ she responds mirthlessly. ‘A bit simpler than that. My … my computer isn’t working, and I need a couple of books. Any chance you could order them for me online? Here, I’ve written down the sort of thing I’m after. I need to build a wood-fired kiln. That is, I want to build one. I’m trying out a new technique. And new glazes. That’s the name of a ceramicist who works this way. If you search his name, other potters and authors should come up. I did build something similar years ago, at art school, but, well, I could do with more information. I was going to ask the professor…’

‘Happy to help,’ he says, taking the piece of paper from her.

‘Thanks. Let me know how much they cost and I’ll give you the cash.’

‘No problem. But you should get your PC fixed. Can’t be easy living up there without the Internet, especially as you don’t drive.’

‘I do. I mean I can drive. I just … don’t have a car at the moment.’

He appears to be waiting for her to explain further, but she does not, so that the silence between them becomes a little awkward. Tilda begins to feel stupidly tired. Lack of regular sleep, the shock of the visions, the pace at which she had been working, all have combined to leave her feeling drained and lacking in stamina. On top of which, she is unused to spending time in company, and feels the need to be on her own again. She gets to her feet and begins putting on her outdoor clothes.

‘Leaving us so soon?’ Dylan asks.

‘I need to go to the shop. Catch the post before it goes. Thanks for the drink, and for offering to get the books for me.’

‘Like I said, happy to help.’ He watches her replace her hat and glasses. ‘Let me know if you fancy going out on the lake any time,’ he tells her. ‘I’ve got a boat.’

Now it is her turn to smile.

‘The one with the dodgy motor?’

‘It’s got oars too.’

She shakes her head. ‘I prefer dry land, remember?’

Before he can keep her talking further, she waves good-bye to the others, whistles to Thistle and slips out of the pub. Tiredness aside, she feels more human and more normal than she has in weeks. At the village shop she buys as much food as she can carry in her backpack, including some proper dog food, but not forgetting plenty of soup and chocolate. She pauses at the post office counter, selects a picture postcard, and pens a few cheerful lines to her parents. As she puts it in the letter box she sends a silent wish with it that her parents will be convinced she is all right and that she will be able to talk them out of a visit. Much as she would enjoy seeing her father, there is so much that needs her attention right now, there are so many things she knows she has to face up to and deal with, she really does not want to have to manage their worry about her on top of it.

The winter sun is weakening fast as it dips toward the jagged horizon of the Brecon Beacons. Tilda and Thistle make their slow and steady way back up the hill to Ty Gwyn.





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