Lamp Black, Wolf Grey Page 2

  “For? What, exactly?”

  Laura raised her eyebrows and shrugged, not quite able to meet her friend’s questioning gaze. “We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

  * * *

  BY THREE O’CLOCK the following afternoon Laura was weary from driving and on the point of losing her temper with Dan. The loading of the van had taken an age, and Dan had been working at half speed, nursing his inevitable hangover. As she negotiated another roundabout, Laura squinted into the strong summer sun, reminded that they were most definitely heading west. She thanked God and Audi for the car’s efficient air-conditioning system. Beside her Dan flapped and crumpled the map as he tried to fold it.

  “Dan, if you’re not going to be any use at reading that thing for pity’s sake put it away. You’re driving me mad with it,” she told him. “I thought women were supposed to be the ones who couldn’t navigate.”

  “You’re the one who wanted to do the driving.”

  “Because you’re the one probably still over the limit, judging by the amount of aspirin you’ve had to take so far today.”

  “All right, don’t go on. We must be nearly there by now, anyway.”

  “Nearly where?”

  “Oh come on, it’s not that bad. Look, we’ve been through Abergavenny…”

  “Yes, thanks for that. Always wanted to sit in a traffic jam beside an abattoir when there’s a cattle market on. Who wants to just sail round the bypass?”

  “… and we’ve done another twenty miles or so. I reckon that puts us about … here.” He stabbed decisively at the map. “Very close to a pub, as it happens.”

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Just my little joke.”

  “Very little.”

  Laura changed gear pointedly and overtook a smoking Land Rover. Dan reached out and put a hand on her knee. She took a deep breath and made a conscious effort to be more tolerant. They were doing this because of her, a fact Dan was not above reminding her of with irritating frequency. She wanted him to want it, too, but that would take time. And patience. She was so bewitched by Penlan, so excited at the prospect of settling there, it was hard for her to deal with Dan’s lack of enthusiasm. But it was up to her to win him over.

  “Never mind,” she said with a smile. “We’ll soon be in our lovely new home, starting our lovely new life, on this lovely sunny day.”

  Dan forced a thin smile back.

  “How…”

  “Lovely?” Laura suggested. She grinned at him now and felt his hand work its way up her leg. She must not let him see how daunted she was beginning to feel. However much she wanted to start afresh in this wonderful place, she still harbored doubts and questions of her own. Suddenly, everything seemed very real and irreversible and daunting. She was tired and hot and fed up with driving, and completely flattened by the thought of all the unpacking and sorting that lay ahead of them. And under it all was the nagging dread that neither of them dared talk about. The continued longing. The rekindled hope. The aching wish for a child that might, just might, by some bucolic miracle, be granted. Or might not. She wouldn’t let herself think about it. That was a tactic she had become pretty good at lately. There were plenty of other things to keep her occupied right now. Keeping busy was just about the only strategy for coping she knew of that actually worked.

  “Turn left here,” Dan told her.

  “You sure?”

  “Sure I’m sure. Left fork, up steep hill, over small bridge. This is it. I recognize it. A few more miles and we’re there.”

  For once Dan’s directions were accurate. They drove through the village and pulled up the hill, following a narrowing lane which seemed to twist back on itself every few yards. At last Penlan came into view. Laura and Dan fell silent as the place cast its spell over them once more. The low, white house nestled at the top of the meadows, its back against the hill that rose behind it, protecting it from the north winds. The slate roof shimmered under the late August sun. Honeysuckle twisted up over the front door, knitting its way across the wall, heavy with butter-yellow blooms. A barn and a short run of stables formed a farmyard, which had mostly been put down to grass. Foxgloves grew at will. Dog roses spilled from the hedges and tumbled over the Payne’s grey of the stone walls.

  Laura slowed the car as they skirted the oak woods before the final stretch of bumpy lane. Fractured light fell through the high canopy of leaves, picking out lemon yellow celandines and glowing violets on the dry forest floor. She felt tension and doubt melting away as she stopped the car in front of the house. She turned to Dan, beaming.

  “We’re going to be happy here, Mr. Matthews. I feel it in my bones.”

  Stepping out of the car she felt the strength of the sun on her bare arms. They could not have chosen more glorious weather for their first day at Penlan, and she knew this moment would be imprinted on her memory forever. The thought of painting this magical place excited her.

  Dan fumbled with the chunky key in the old lock. At last it worked, with a satisfying clunk, and the weathered door swung open.

  Laura squeezed past him, barely able to contain her excitement at crossing the threshold of their new home. Inside the house was a blissful temperature, the dense walls successfully keeping out the heat. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the low level of light, so that the room revealed itself to her slowly, as if in a dream. The front door opened directly into the living room, which looked even bigger now without any furniture. She walked over to the cavernous inglenook and ran her fingers along the gnarled beam above it. There was still a smell of wood smoke, so distinctive she could almost taste it. Kicking off her sandals, she let the smooth flagstones refresh her tired feet. She wondered about the person who had laid those stones, and the man who had built the fireplace, and the one who had found the oak for the lintel, all those hundreds of years ago. The house had been dated as being built in the thirteenth century, and Laura found endless fascination at the thought of all the people who had lived there before her. So much time, so much history. So many lives, and loves, and losses. So many secrets, all stored in the fabric of the house, in the two-foot-thick stone walls, in the worn flags, in the charred fireplace. How many women had stood as she was, gazing into the hearth, wondering what life at Penlan held in store for her?

  Behind her, Dan was flicking a light switch repeatedly.

  “Ah,” he said. “Seems we do not, as yet, have power.” He went to the telephone on the floor in the corner of the room. “No, nothing here either. I thought this was all supposed to be working.”

  “I was told it would be.”

  “Did you check?” Dan wanted to know. “I mean, did you chase after them? You can’t just expect people to do this sort of stuff. You have to keep on top of them.”

  “Like I said, I was told everything would be connected. If it was so important to you, why didn’t you chase them?” Laura folded her arms defensively. Here he was, Mr. Organized, with a hangover, about to pick holes in everything she’d done.

  “You were dealing with this sort of thing,” Dan pointed out. “We agreed. You know it was impossible for me, being in the office.”

  “Oh yes, of course. Your job had you in an office, sitting right next to a telephone, but you couldn’t possibly pick it up and call the estate agent, or the electric company. My work, on the other hand, could be interrupted anytime. It was the sales from my last two exhibitions that made this move possible. Wouldn’t hurt you to admit that, you know.”

  “Seems only fair,” he snapped. “As you were the one who wanted this so much.”

  Laura opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it.

  Dan ran a hand through his hair with a sigh.

  “OK, OK, let’s not bicker. Let’s just sort it out, shall we?” He looked at his watch, “Four thirty. I suppose someone might still be working, even on a Saturday.” He took his mobile from his pocket and switched it on. “Great. No signal.” He frowned at Laura, who stared back level
ly. “Right,” Dan said. “I’ll drive back to the village and call from there. OK?”

  “Fine. You do that.”

  She watched him go, biting her lip, cross with herself for getting short-tempered over nothing. She didn’t want anything to spoil this special day. Taking a steadying breath, she decided to explore. She climbed the stone spiral stairs, which led up out of the sitting room. Upstairs was warmer, being in the roof, the windows set low. She had to walk slowly, ducking to avoid beams, not yet accustomed to the layout of the house. The main bedroom was light and roomy, with two south-facing windows and a small, working fireplace. Plenty of space for her beloved four-poster bed, so long as they positioned it in the center of the room, where the ceiling was highest. Laura wandered around, arranging furniture in her mind. As she reached the far side of the room, she sensed rather than saw a movement near the door. She turned, half expecting to see Dan standing behind her, but there was no one. No sound, no shadow, nothing, save for the persisting feeling that she was not alone. She found herself contemplating the strange experience with some detachment. She didn’t feel scared, or even spooked, just quietly curious. She held her breath, standing as still as the house itself, waiting. Though for what she did not know.

  Then, quite distinctly, she felt someone stroke her cheek. It was mad, impossible, ridiculous, but she was absolutely certain that was what it was. She raised her hand to her face and found a coolness, but nothing more. She had a second to wonder why she was not terrified before another sensation startled her. A scintilla of excitement, raw, real, sexual excitement, shot through her body. Laura gasped at both the strength and the unexpectedness of the feeling. She turned, searching the room, wanting to leave, and yet, at the same time, not wanting to. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the feeling went, and she knew she was alone again. She stood motionless, waiting for her ragged breathing to return to normal.

  The sound of a blaring horn pulled her from her stupor. Looking out of the window, she saw Dan driving back up the hill toward the house, flashing his lights, the moving van growling up behind him. She realized she had lost all sense of how much time had passed since he went. She shook her head and hurried back down the stairs, putting the incident down to fatigue and the excitement of the move.

  Four exhausting hours later, Laura sat on a heap of rugs, cushions, and throws in front of the inglenook and gazed into the dancing flames. They had pushed through the exhausting process of unloading of the van and crucial unpacking for as long as the light lasted. Then they had watched the men driving the empty lorry away, squeezing down the narrow lane. The thought of assembling beds was too much, and they opted instead for a night sleeping in front of the fire. Dan arrived at her side clutching wine and glasses. He sat down next to her.

  “Voilà!” he said triumphantly, pulling a corkscrew from his pocket. He set about opening the bottle.

  Laura snuggled into him. “How’s this for a romantic first night?” she asked. “Crackling log fire…”

  “Logs being an old chair you found in the barn.”

  “… wine, finger food…”

  “Two Mars bars and a packet of cheese and onion crisps”

  “… and animal skins to recline on. Well, OK, a picnic rug and a random selection of cushions. But, hey, how much perfection can a man stand?”

  The idea of bedding down in front of a real fire had seemed lovely, but now Laura feared an uncomfortable night lay ahead. She took the glass Dan was offering her and downed a thirsty swig. Dan slipped his arm around her waist and they sat quietly together. Laura considered telling him about her strange experience in the bedroom earlier but decided against it. She knew it would sound silly and didn’t feel like having him laugh at her. As the wine began to do its work she felt herself relaxing once more.

  Dan put down his glass and began to rub Laura’s shoulders. She closed her eyes, enjoying the soothing, sensual feel of his hands. He undid her hair and let it fall loose and heavy. He stroked the back of her neck softly, then pushed her T-shirt straps to one side, letting them fall. He kissed her tanned shoulders, moving slowly around until he was sitting in front of her. He took the wineglass from her hand and put it to one side, then leaned forward and kissed her throat, wandering slowly down toward her breasts as she let herself fall back against the cushions.

  Laura lay passive, allowing herself to take pleasure from Dan’s attentions. It seemed the right thing to do, to make love now, here, like an affirmation of their new life. A wordless statement of intent. Unbidden, her thoughts strayed to what she had experienced upstairs that afternoon. There was a world of difference between the comforting, familiar nature of her arousal now, and the powerful intensity of the mysterious sensations that had so surprised her earlier. The memory of it excited her, and she responded more eagerly to Dan, aware of a peculiar sense that she was in some way being unfaithful to him. Then pleasure took over, and all such thoughts vanished.

  * * *

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Laura awoke soon after dawn, as light fell through the uncurtained windows. She slipped from beneath the throws, leaving Dan sleeping peacefully. She pulled on jeans and a T-shirt, stepped into her sandals, and went outside, shutting the door as quietly as she could.

  The air was pure and still, and early sunshine sparkled on the heavy dew. In the valley sat cotton candy mist, and the distant hills stood softly, their edges blurred and colors muted by the moist air. Swallows and house martins swooped and dipped, hungry for their breakfasts, catching the first rise of insects of the day. The honeysuckle and roses had not yet warmed to release their scent, so the strongest smell was of wet grass and bracken. Laura smiled, breathing deeply, and walked lightly through the gate into the meadows. She hadn’t the courage to head off onto the mountain on her own just yet but could not wait to explore the woods at the end of the fields. By the time she reached the first towering oaks, her feet were washed clean by the dew. She felt wonderfully refreshed and awake. As she wandered among the trees she had the sense of a place where time had stood still. Where man had left only a light footprint. Here were trees older than memory. Trees that had sheltered farmers and walkers for generations. Trees that had been meeting points for lovers and horse dealers. Trees that had provided fuel and food for families and for creatures of the forest with equal grace. As she walked deeper into the woods she noticed the quality of sound around her change. Gone were the open vistas and echoes of the meadows and their mountain backdrop. Here even the tiniest noises were close up, bouncing back off the trunks and branches, kept in by the dense foliage. The colors altered subtly, too. With the trees in full leaf the sunlight was filtered through bright green, giving a curious tinge to the woodland below. White wood anemones were not white at all, but the palest shade of Naples yellow. The silver lichens which grew in abundance bore a hint of olive. Even the miniature violets reflected a suggestion of viridian.

  Laura followed a narrow, meandering sheep track. Passing through a sunny glade she was surprised to find the ground muddied and churned. Looking closer she could clearly make out the tracks of a small-wheeled vehicle.

  Who would be driving around in here?

  Her silent question was soon answered, as the peace was broken by the roar of an approaching engine. She was suddenly conscious of the fact that this was not her land. She had no idea where the public footpaths might be, if indeed there were any. She thought of disappearing into the undergrowth, but within seconds a quad bike sped into view. Its driver slewed the ugly machine to a halt in front of her. A sheepdog with a matted coat kept its precarious grip on the back of the bike.

  Laura felt wrong-footed at being discovered somewhere she had no business being. She had intended to talk to the local farmers and ask permission to walk on the land near Penlan. She did not want to upset her neighbors on day one. She put on a sunny smile.

  “Good morning,” she said brightly, raising her voice above the noise of the engine.

  The man on the quad stared hard at her. He was sm
all and wiry and, Laura reckoned, would not see seventy again. His scrawny face jutted out beneath a grubby flat cap. Despite the time of year he wore a heavy tweed jacket, tied around the middle with baler twine. His hands were as gnarled and wrinkled as the roots of the trees around them.

  Laura tried again.

  “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? I couldn’t resist exploring. Sorry if I’m on your land.” Still he did not answer, so she added, “We’ve just moved in up at Penlan.”

  The man’s face twitched slightly. He leaned forward and switched off his engine. The peace of the woodland was even more noticeable now. Laura stepped forward, hand outstretched.

  “I’m Laura Matthews.”

  The man stared at her hand, then cleared his throat with a stomach-churning gurgle and spat at the ground, thankfully on the other side of his quad bike from where she stood. She dropped her hand awkwardly. He frowned at her, and when at last he spoke his voice was as thin and spindly as the man himself.

  “There aren’t any footpaths through these woods,” he informed her.

  “Oh. I see. I haven’t studied the map yet.” She was beginning to feel cross now. There was no need for him to be so rude. She had hoped for friendly locals. This was far from what she had imagined.

  The man looked around, then turned back to her.

  “’Ave you got a dog? I see a dog near my sheep, I shoot it. I’m tellin’ you now.”

  “No. I don’t have a dog.”

  The old man stared at her again, then turned on his engine once more. He nodded toward the fields.

  “There’s a path across the top of the meadows. You can walk there. Without a dog,” he said, then tore off into the woods, sending up dust and twigs and stones in his wake.