Ferney had stood staring up until the scream from above broke the pull like snapped elastic and sent him reeling backwards, clutching at his bike for support. What he saw up there cut through him: a girl, long hair dangling towards him, sliding impossibly far over the parapet on her way down to death. Knowing she must fall, he dropped the bike and ran towards the tower in sick horror and in the slow motion of the worst of dreams, believing he had caused this, knowing it was hopeless. His feet caught a root, but his speed carried him leaping beyond the stumble. The thought flashed through him, in the middle of his desperate sprint, that this was absurd – to find her and lose her again immediately. At the base of the wall he rocked back, eyes searching up in fear, expecting to see gravity’s express rushing her down to him, to where her fall would kill them both. Better that way, he thought. Everything had stopped. She was still there, halfway over the stonework, but hands were gripping her, hauling her back to safety, back out of his sight.
He walked backwards, a pace at a time, keeping his eyes on the top of the tower, as if he might have to rush to her rescue again. The girls had disappeared so he took his bicycle into the edge of the woodland, crouching down in the green cover, eyes fixed on the doorway, too shaken to know clearly what he should do next.
He saw it over and over in his mind’s eye: long hair hanging down, surrounding and obscuring the face that craned towards the killing earth. It had been blonde hair. Lucy, the blonde Lucy – it must have been. Whatever had leapt between him and the girls had pulled Lucy to him.
Three girls came quietly out of the tower’s doorway and down the steps. From a hundred yards away he could see her, Lucy, the tallest of them. The other two were supporting her. Ferney crept forward as far as he could without showing himself. Gally was there, almost within reach and comfortably within the pull of the village – Gally who might be Lucy. He was desperate to know for certain so that he could reveal himself to her and make sure he would not lose her again.
He stretched forward, studying each one to differentiate the overwhelming sense of Gally that was flooding from the three of them. It seemed absurd that he could not immediately tell. They walked to the edge of the clearing and sat down. He moved through the trees, closer, but had to stop short where there was a wide gap. He must not be caught skulking, spying on them. He saw the other two comforting Lucy with arms round her shoulders until time had passed and they all seemed calmer, then they studied a map, got to their feet and, to his intense pleasure, headed into the woods straight towards the village.
He abandoned his bike and took to older paths, running to get ahead, looping well away from them in the shelter of the trees. They walked slowly and he raced further on as they neared the junction where, as the first sign to Gally, he laid down an arrow of branches as they had each done before in their lives. They almost caught him. He picked up their chatter round the corner in time to flatten himself behind a tree only feet away, so that he heard all their talk, drinking in their voices, trying to match them to invisible faces, trying to discern which one fuelled this near-bursting passion inside him.
When they had gone on he cut across to the west, dropped down the slope and ran through the open trees along the lower terrace to gain ground. He stopped at the old ramparts – Kenny Wilkins’ camp as they’d called it these past three hundred years, Cenwalch’s as it had been way back. He knew for sure that she would be afraid there. It was where their whole long story had begun in blood and terror. In every new life she always had to pass through the fear it triggered until she remembered what had happened and recognised the root of that fear.
Knowing that, he reached into his bag, pulled out his pad and wrote her a message of love and reassurance. Skewering the note on a stick, he ran on ahead, fired by the idea that this was the kindest way to bring her home and the best way to end his awful uncertainty by seeing her reaction.
He watched from the bushes as the three girls read the second note, ‘We’re never quite old and we’re never quite young.’ The line had been playing inside his head ever since it first woke up there, prodding him to remember more, teasing him with the start of a tune. It had a power to it that felt both old and recent and he thought it must surely have the same effect on her, but as he watched them read it he could not be sure. They all looked puzzled. Now they were walking towards where he hid, getting closer and closer, and for the first time since that brief meeting at Montacute he had the opportunity to study their faces. The short one was the one with the map. Everything about the way she walked and talked showed she was bossy. She looked young, not yet woken into womanhood. The taller, dark-haired girl was blank, restrained, a little removed from the other two, and he couldn’t get a sense of her at all. There was no sign of any joy rising in her. That left the tall blonde Lucy who had so nearly fallen from the tower when their gazes met, just as if he had pulled her down with the force of their recognition. She reminded him of his neighbour’s Afghan puppy, fine and floppy and endlessly playful. She was alive to everything around her. He looked at her, on the edge of her coming beauty, and thought he could see how Gally’s purpose would blossom in her.
He backed carefully away into the thicker cover behind him, turned and raced on again, nearing the outskirts of the village, knowing that time and distance were running out together. The answer came to him and it was so simple and he pinned it all on three plain words, ‘Welcome back Gally’, pegged into the ground. He held his breath as they came closer but he suddenly found he already knew the answer. It was the quiet dark girl who went to it and he could see Gally’s animating spirit in the way she moved. He filled with love as he watched her read it. He thought she would turn to show it to the others but instead she sank to the ground as she read the words. It was the quiet dark girl who began to cry and his heart went out to her.