The Dark Rider

CHAPTER Four



The day of the funeral dawned grey and windswept. Showers of rain moved across the land and sea, while the gulls cried mournfully from their circling in the sky. The procession left Gwen’s house mid-morning, a long line of people winding slowly along the road and up the hill towards the parish church up on the headland. By the time the procession reached the church the showers had lifted, and in the freshness that follows summer rain, the coffin was hoisted up onto the shoulders of the four bearers and taken inside the church. As the sun began to break through the heavy cloud the congregation then filed in and took their places, the thick wooden door shutting out the brightening light behind them. After hymns and words from the vicar and friends the congregation moved outside and the coffin was buried at the top of the churchyard overlooking Penwryn bay and the sea beyond.

With the service finished Paul moved away. He walked along with his hands in pockets, his shoes soaked by the wet grass, before he stopped and looked up across the churchyard and out to the sea, its surface broken by showers still moving heavily across the bay. He was in a quiet corner hidden from the church by a row of trees. The gravestones around him were old, very old. Paul looked at one. It commemorated the lives of sailors lost at sea when their ship was wrecked on the shore below. Next to it was a tall stone reaching fifteen feet into the air. A Celtic cross had been crudely worked into the top of the stone, and it stood grey and menacing pointing up at the rain-soaked sky and facing the restless blue grey sea. For a moment Paul imagined the stone standing alone on the headland with no cross tattooed on its head, a beacon to those travelling the sea.

“Mister.”

Paul jumped and turned around. A face was peering out at him from the bushes. It was a few seconds before Paul recognized the boy he had seen the morning Gwen died.

“Mister,” repeated the boy, his accent heavy. “Please, come here.”

A sense of foreboding washed over Paul. Warily he stepped forwards to the hedgerow that lined the edge of the churchyard. Beyond, the land raised gently, arable fields stretching out across the headland.

“Mister,” said the boy, quieter now as Paul stood in front of him. A grimy hand reached out pressing something towards him. Paul felt a soft package brushing against his hand. “You have to take it.”

“What is it?” asked Paul. “And who are you?”

“My uncle,” said the boy, faltering for a moment. “He said you have to have it. He said your aunt would know.”

“My aunt is dead,” said Paul.

“He knows,” said the boy, eyes darting around, not resting on one thing for more than a second. He jabbed the package against Paul’s hand and out of reflex Paul took it.

“Who are you?” asked Paul again.

A fox screeched, not more than a few meters away. The boy jumped.

“I have to go Mister.”

“Wait,” called Paul reaching forward to grab the boy’s wrist, a tough, skinny limb that squirmed in his grip. “The morning she died. How did you know?”

“My name’s Robert,” said the boy locking eyes with Paul. “My uncle. He knew your aunt. Says she wanted you to have it. He said don’t open it now, that you would know the time, just keep it with you. That’s what he said.”

Paul relaxed his grip, his mind wheeling. The boy wriggled free and was gone through the hedge. Paul looked down at his other hand, the hand that held the package. He stood for what seemed an eternity, sure that Gwen would have told him about this if she had known. Uneasiness oozed from his every pore. Quickly he looked around himself. Thick dark clouds were pressing down from the darkening sky as another band of showers moved in from the sea. A sudden gust of wind shook a crow from the line of trees that hid the church. The bird croaked its call across at Paul swooping above him on caressing wings, and then it sailed the gusts out into the bay. Paul watched as the bird became a speck in the distance. The air seemed charged, swirling energy crackling against his skin. He didn’t like it, for everything felt wrong.





“Paul, you have to come back,” said his dad. “I don’t want you being here on your own anymore.”

“Dad. We’ve been through this a hundred times now. I need some time alone. I have to sort myself out,” said Paul.

“But why here?” asked his dad. “Why do you have to stay here? Why can’t you do it at home?”

“Dad,” said Paul, trying not to raise his voice.

They were standing in Gwen’s living room, Paul by the window, his father by the sofa, opposite him. Alex stood aloof in the doorway.

“I can’t explain. I just have to be here.”

“Look, Paul,” said his dad in a soft voice, trying a different tack. “I know this has been a strain on you, a strain on everyone. And I can’t make you come home, you’re nineteen for God’s sake, an adult, but not to me, not at the moment. You’re my son and I can’t bear it with you hurting all on your own here. I want you to come home with us.” He stepped forward placing his hands on Paul’s shoulders. “Gwen did so much for us, Christ she was like a mother to you and Alex when you were here, but it’s over now. The time for grief is over. You have to get away from here. It’s too close to Gwen, you need to move on.”

“How can you say that?” said Paul fiercely turning and stepping away, breaking away from his father’s touch.

“I’m trying to help, Paul,” pleaded his father. “It’s time to let go, to move on, it’s how life works, how life carries on. I should know.”

“You don’t understand this,” said Paul.

Exasperated, his dad looked to Alex. “Can’t you help talk some sense into him?”

Paul turned towards his sister who was still standing in the doorway, her arms folded, watching him. Brother and sister locked gazes.

“Dad’s right,” she said feeling the emotion boiling up inside her. “It’s time to grow up and move on.”

“Don’t be too hard on him,” their dad warned.

“Make your mind up,” she responded. “Anyway, it’s what you want to say.”

“This is not the time.”

“Why not?” asked Alex, years of frustration and resentment boiling up so fast she could barely keep control of her feelings. She wanted to turn and run away but her body would not obey her. Instead her mouth opened and the words came tumbling out.

“It’s all about him and Gwen. What about me?” she flashed angrily. “What about when we were here? It was always the two of them. I might as well have been invisible for all she cared.”

“How can you say that?” cried Paul.

“Alex, stop this,” said their dad.

“No I won’t,” she replied angrily. “You don’t know what it was like. I used to hate coming here.”

“You never said anything,” said her father looking suddenly bewildered.

“What was I supposed to do? It’s not like we had a choice.”

“You should have told me,” said their dad softly.

“Well I have now,” said Alex. “And what’s that going to change?”

“I could have taken time off work. Found someone else.”

“Don’t blame yourself, it’s not your fault.”

“No. It’s always mine isn’t it?” whispered Paul.

Alex glared at him as she spoke.

“Please, give the guilt trip a rest.”

“Alex, I think that’s enough,” said their dad sternly.

“You’re right,” said Alex. She turned suddenly and left the room.

Paul pushed past his dad and followed, grabbing her arm as she made for the front door.

“Alex,” he said pulling her round to face him. She turned her head away trying to pull herself out of his grasp.

“Alex, please.”

She met his stare, eyes flashing with anger.

“I have these dreams,” he said, his voice shaking. “It all feels wrong but I never told Gwen.”

She pulled her arm free.

“So, what do you want me to do about it?”

He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat.

“There’s no one else I can talk to.”

She regarded him for a moment.

“I don’t have room in my head for this anymore Paul. I work. I have responsibilities and I have to get back to them. Do what you want now but leave me out of it.”

Paul’s heart fell in his chest. He turned, hearing their father’s footsteps approaching along the hallway.

He looked back, but Alex was already halfway across the garden.

“Alex,” he called after her but she did not turn back.

“Another successful family gathering,” his dad muttered as he stood next to Paul. He raised his arm squinting against the bright sunlight.

“So you’re going to come back right?” he said.

Paul stared at him in disbelief.

“Just leave me alone will you?”

He turned and followed his sister’s path across the garden.

Their dad looked on, sudden tears welling in his eyes.


*****


Nicola and Stefan sat opposite each other at their table in the hotel dining room. There were several couples spread around the room, mostly in their fifties and sixties, however there was not enough of a critical mass to make conversation flow, and everyone spoke in hushed whispers trying not to be overheard by anyone else.

Nicola was finding any conversation a struggle as her mind seemed to have locked onto her earlier thoughts and worries and was now determined to churn them around in an ever-decreasing circle.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” asked Stefan, his eyes involuntarily following the movements of one of the young waitresses for the third time during their meal.

“Don’t mind,” said Nicola icily.

Stefan looked at her, feeling more and more exasperated by her non-communicative mood.

“Do you want to do a cliff walk?”

“Not really,” she replied.

“Ok, what about relaxing on the beach and maybe go somewhere for lunch?”

She pulled a face at him.

“We’ve just done that today,” she said. “Anyway, I thought you were bored.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he replied angrily.

“Well, just do what you want,” she said icily before turning her head to look out the window.

He dropped his knife and fork back down onto his plate in frustration, the sudden crash sending a muted hush across the rest of the seated couples.

“What’s got into you?” he said.

Nicola turned back to look at him, her eyes flashing in silent fury.

At that moment the waitress appeared.

“Is everything ok with your meal?” she asked smiling widely at Stefan.

“Yes, it’s very nice thank you,” he replied smiling back at her. Nicola rolled her eyes and turned back to the window. The waitress grinned in return and then moved onto another table.

Bristling with annoyance Stefan looked back to Nicola.

“Are you going to be like this all night?”

“Like what?” Nicola snapped back. Her thoughts were now in freefall, filling her with an overwhelming sense of panic.

“Bloody moody,” Stefan replied. “It’s embarrassing.”

Nicola pushed her chair back and stood up, ignoring the cynical smiles and stares coming from the rest of the dining room.

“Well, maybe you would prefer to eat on your own.”

With that she turned and began to walk away.

“Nicola,” he called after her in a furious whisper. “Nicola.”

She did not look back but kept on walking. He got up, face flushed red as a beetroot, and quickly followed her out into the corridor.

“Nicola,” he called angrily running after her and grabbing her arm.

She spun round, tearful eyes meeting his.

“What Stefan? What do you want from me?”

He let go of her arm. They stood in the darkened corridor facing each other.

“I just want you to be you,” he said. “So we can enjoy the rest of our holiday.”

She blinked hard trying to clear the tears from her eyes.

“That’s the problem Stefan,” she replied quietly. “I just want to be me too.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I can’t do this anymore, this lie that is my life. I can’t do it.”

She half turned, wanting to run, to get as far away as possible from herself and her life, to leave it behind and start again. His eyes narrowed.

“So this is a lie is it?” he asked dangerously.

“It’s not you Stefan,” she said, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

“Oh no,” he said. “Don’t do this, not now.”

“Do what?” she asked in distress.

“Those words, ‘“it’s not you, it’s me.’” People only say that when they’re dumping someone. Are you ending this Nicola?”

She had to look away from him, from the accusations in his eyes.

“Right, I guess there’s my answer.”

He stopped, his fist by his mouth, teeth biting knuckles.

“God, I can’t believe this.”

One of the couples from the dining room came out and they had to move to let them pass. Stefan caught the man’s eye, seeing mirth in his gaze.

Taking the opportunity, Nicola swung round and was by the stairs before she knew it. She ran up to their room where she opened the door quickly and flung herself onto the bed, burying her head in the pillows. She began to cry, unable to control her mind or emotions. All she wanted was for everyone to go away and stop bothering her, to stop intruding on her and make her do things she did not want to do, never letting her be herself.

She heard Stefan come into the room. After a few moments of stillness came the sound of a suitcase being opened and clothes being taken out from drawers.

“What are you doing?” she asked, looking up at him with tear-stained eyes.

“It’s quite clear you don’t want to be with me Nicola, or continue with this lie of a life you have been living with me. I’ll make it easy for you, don’t worry,” he said bitterly.

“Are you leaving me?”

He stopped to look at her in disbelief.

“Am I leaving you?” he asked incredulously. “You being the one who has just told me the last year of my life was a lie.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said shouting at him, almost hysterical.

“You can’t take it back now,” he shouted back at her before storming into the bathroom. She buried her head in the pillows again. He came out a minute later with a carrier bag full of his toiletries.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your holiday Nicola,” he said. “I’m afraid I’ll be taking the car back with me but I’m sure you can get a train.” He came to stand over her, the disbelief yet to kick in, the anger still pulsing through his bloodstream.

“Let me know when you want to pick up your things.”

He walked to the door, stopping to look back at her frame lying on the bed. In disgust he walked out and slammed the door behind him.

Stunned, Nicola sat up and stared at the back of the door. One thought rose from the chaos flooding through her mind. What the hell had she just done?


*****


Paul sat alone on the cliff top, his father and sister having returned home, both lost to him. The sea stretched from horizon to horizon, a deep azure blue in the strong light from the evening sun. Far out to sea, on the horizon, banks of cloud had formed stepping up upon each other to create a vast frozen presence in the sky.

To his left Paul could hear the guttural cries of seagulls, far away but carried to him by the wind, and, as he sat, gulls glided silently past in small groups. Paul watched as the Herring gulls sailed past, adults and juvenile birds alike, with the occasional marauding flight of Black-backed gulls, whose groups patrolled the cliff line with a flight full of menace and controlled aggression, as if the gulls were coiled bursts of energy.

Behind him, in the gold-colored heather Paul could hear the soft chatters and calls of small birds and above him, wheeling in the golden evening sky, came House Martins, flashing silky black and white against the deep blue above.

The sun was falling quickly now, highlighting the rolling tops of the cloud with a deep pink glow. Just above the horizon, where the mass of cloud had been born, the sky was a deep grey and as the sun fell from the sky the grey began to grow upwards as the red glow from the sun faded and the clouds became menacing mountains in the sky. The sight stirred an upwelling of emotion within Paul and he almost wanted to cry for the natural beauty. He felt as if Gwen was part of the land around him, and of the sea whose darkening blue moved across the horizon. He felt her presence in the wild things that surrounded him, in the clouds that boiled over the sea and in the sun whose light now drained from the sky and whose beauty pained him until he felt his heart would burst.

Paul looked up, House Martins catching his vision as they played in the skies above. He tried to find comfort in the feeling that his friend lived on in the wild force surrounding him, but only sadness filled him. Sadness filled the land that bowed down to the sea and the sky, a melancholy born aloft by the gulls whose cries now sounded out across the evening sky. Paul watched them as he watched the Swallows that were hunting the heather where he sat, flashing past him so close that he could have reached out and touched them, and all the while grief held his heart.

Paul watched the sky as the sun waned and then was gone and greyness filled the horizon. Soon pinpricks of light began to shimmer in the distance along the coastline where the towns and villages spilled over the land and down to the sea. All around him the land became dark, slipping into the shadows, and Paul felt as if he was also slipping away, becoming a part of the land that disappeared into the darkness of the night.

A memory came to him.

It was the first summer they had stayed with Gwen, after she had told him. He was lying in bed in the darkness, troubled by dreams that had forced him awake. She had come softly into the room so that he thought at first he was imagining it. Then he had sensed her kneeling next to him.

“Do not let it trouble you,” she had said in a soft voice.

He was quiet for a while. Then he turned, seeing her as a faint outline against the darkness.

“Why me?” he had asked her then. “Why have I been chosen?”

He listened as she exhaled slowly.

“There is no why,” she said then. “It has happened. All you have to do it open your heart and embrace it.”

“But what about my dreams?”

“You still have them?” she asked sharply.

“Yes.”

Paul listened as Gwen shifted her position on the floor.

“There is no doubt. You are the one,” she said eventually. “It must be some echo of him, trying to turn us from the path.”

“Echo of whom? Who are you talking about?”

Gwen leaned forward, her hands gently meeting Paul’s forehead. He felt the familiar tingling sensation under his skin where she touched him.

“Forget about these dreams. Just relax. Let yourself sleep.”

His eyes had grown heavy then, an inescapable drowsiness coming over him. Within a few moments he had fallen asleep.

Paul blinked, coming too again. Around him the memory faded into the night, yet the anxiety of those early fears remained. Feeling numbed he pushed himself up and began walking back along the cliff path towards Penwryn.

A full moon had risen highlighting the cliff top in stark, ivory detail. Somewhere a fox barked, the sound carrying far across the still of the night, and all around him the murmur of the sea permeated the thick heavy air. Crickets called from the heather around him.

Paul walked mechanically, his mind empty. He felt his hand brush against something in his pocket, and he realized that he still held the package the boy had given him. Before he knew it Paul held the package tightly in his hand. He stopped walking and looked down at it, turning it over. The soft brown covering felt like velvet against his skin. With trembling fingers Paul began to unravel the packaging which glinted white in the light of the moon. All around was quiet as if the sea had quieted itself to watch and listen to what Paul was about to do.

Suddenly a moth appeared, reaching up from the dense heather to land on Paul’s hand. It stood quivering while he watched, transfixed by the creature whose sudden appearance felt like that of a ghost, and then the moth was gone and Paul felt as if his hand had been covered in gold dust.

For a time Paul could not move, but then his fingers returned to their work quickly unravelling the package. He saw something flash a dull gleam in the moonlight as the folds fell away and then it was there, sitting in his hand, and he immediately closed his fingers tightly around it until the cool material hurt his flesh.

He searched, sending his mind probing outwards, sensing the air around him, the heather by his feet, the jutting rocks of the cliff edge and the sea, which lay in quiet suspense beyond, and he listened, straining his mind to receive whatever it was that would come with the holding of Gwen’s gift in his hand. He listened, head tilted to one side. He heard and felt the pulse of his blood through his body tuned to the rhythmic rising and falling of his lungs as he breathed, and with each passing breath he awaited for a flutter of energy but, no matter how hard he strained his senses, nothing came.

Paul opened his eyes.

All around was as before, a harsh ivory land of gleaming cliff tops and stark shadows, of the sea’s glossy surface with its bright path of pulsing light. The cool air remained the same, the crickets still called in the night. Paul unclenched his hand and looked down. Lying in his palm was a thin chain and on the end a pendant. He lifted his hand closer, picking the pendant up delicately with his other hand so that he could see it in the moon’s light. It was in the shape of a sword, and coiled around the hilt were two dragons. In his mind’s eye an image flashed before him of the sword from his dreams, and in an instant he knew that it had the same decoration.

Paul felt dazed.

Slowly he lifted the chain over his head and let the pendant rest against his chest. Too many questions plagued him now and he did not know where to turn, while the biggest question of all screamed at him from the depths of his consciousness. Why was nothing happening?

He found himself walking again, but now his mind floated as if in a dream.