Liza put the cross, carefully wrapped in tissue, in a small box and silently sliding out the top drawer of her dressing table she tucked the box into the back under an unused packet of stockings. Behind her Phil was asleep. He had pulled the blankets and sheets over himself and wrapped them round him in a cocoon. Smiling, she undressed and pulled on her nightshirt, then she walked over to the bed. ‘Phil,’ she only wanted to wake him enough to be able to extricate some of the blankets. ‘Move over. Let me in.’
He groaned and turned over, taking the sheets with him.
‘Phil!’ She caught the end of a blanket and pulled.
He opened an eye. ‘Whatisit?’ His voice was almost incoherent with sleep.
‘Let me in.’
For a moment she thought he had gone back to sleep, then with another groan he rolled over and made room for her. ‘My God woman, you’re cold!’ He was awake now. ‘Where on earth have you been?’
‘Dancing under the moon!’ She snuggled up against him, grateful for the warmth.
‘Wow!’ He put his arms round her. ‘Then why on earth did you put this dreadful flannel thing on. Come on, off with it!’
‘No!’ Half laughing, she pulled away. ‘Phil, it’s late and we’re both tired!’
‘It’s late and we’re both wide awake!’ He buried his face in her breasts. ‘Mmm, you smell all fresh and wild and frosty. Next time you go dancing in the moonlight, call me and we’ll both go.’
She lay awake a long time after he had gone back to sleep, her body warm and satisfied as she lay naked under the blankets next to him. From time to time her eyes strayed in the darkness to the black outline of the dressing table where, she could have sworn, a gentle red glow came from the top drawer. Smiling at her own foolishness she let her thoughts stray to Adam and she wondered where he was now, and if he was with Jane or Brid. Somehow she knew it was the latter and she frowned. If it were her husband being seduced by that she-devil she would go in and fight.
The next morning she rang Jane as soon as Phil had disappeared into the studio. Near her Beth was playing with her toy rabbit, intent on stuffing its fat paws into a tiny doll’s jumper. In half an hour Liza was going to drive her down the hill to her little play school, then she would go on into Hay to the post office.
The phone rang on and on. Liza frowned. She hung up and went over to the table to finish her cup of coffee. It was early for either of them to have gone out. These days Adam usually left the house just before nine for the five-minute drive to the surgery, and Jane would not go out until she did the shopping much later, if she went out at all. Lately, Liza knew, she had been staying in the house more and more.
Draining her cup she picked up the phone again. She hung on five minutes this time, but still there was no reply. Glancing at her wrist watch she knew she ought to be leaving with Beth. Instead she found the telephone directory and looked up the number of Adam’s practice. There the phone was picked up instantly.
‘I wonder if I could speak to Dr Craig. It’s Liza Stevenson.’
‘He’s in with a patient, I’m afraid.’ The voice was crisp and efficient. ‘Would you like to speak to Dr Harding?’
Liza was about to say no when she changed her mind. Seconds later she was connected. ‘I am sorry to bother you, Robert, only I haven’t been able to get in touch with Jane Craig for several days – there’s no reply from home at all, and I was a bit worried. Are things all right there, do you know?’
There was a slight pause. ‘Have you not spoken to Adam?’
‘He’s busy.’ She said it more crisply than she intended.
‘I see.’ He hesitated. ‘I believe that Jane came into the office a few days ago, and as far as I know everything was all right then. Adam certainly looks very tired. I think he is under a great deal of strain, to be honest.’ They had known each other on and off over the years, well enough for him to confide in her, and after Julie and Calum had died Robert had been a tower of strength to both families. Even so, he was guarded.
She had no such reservations. ‘There is something wrong, Robert. Terribly wrong. Will you do me a great favour? Will you check on Jane today sometime – even if it’s over the phone. I’m really worried about her.’ She hesitated. ‘And Robert, please, don’t tell Adam I rang.’
Jane rang her at lunchtime. ‘I’ve had Robert Harding on the phone.’ She sounded depressed, her normally attractive voice heavy and dull. ‘He said you were worried.’
‘I couldn’t get an answer from the phone.’
‘I had taken a sleeping pill. I can’t sleep these days. Robert got them for me.’
‘He didn’t say.’
‘No, of course he didn’t. I’m his patient.’ She gave a low ironic laugh. ‘As the cause of my problems is my husband, he probably thought he’d better honour patient confidentiality.’ She sighed. ‘Don’t worry about me, Liza.’
‘You know I do. Listen.’ Liza paused. ‘Is anyone there with you?’
‘No. Who would be?’ There was a moment of silence. ‘Oh, the cat woman. No, she’s never here when Adam’s at work. I expect she goes back to whatever swamp she crawls out of to rest until the sun goes down.’
‘Oh, Jane.’ Liza frowned. ‘Listen, I’ve put something in the post for you. Another amulet. One I made specially. I went to see Meryn. He’s back, and he knows all the recent developments. He said that if I did this for you it will work. She won’t be able to touch you. You must keep it with you all the time. All the time, Jane. And you must protect yourself. Do you remember, how we showed you before?’
‘It doesn’t work though, does it? What is the point of me being protected if she can walk off with my husband?’
‘We’ll work on Adam next.’ Liza frowned in exasperation. ‘Come on, Jane. You’ve got to help. Between us we can get rid of her, I’m sure we can. Listen, will you come down here, soon? Beth wants to see her Granny Jane.’
There was a sob from the other end of the line. ‘I want to, Liza. But I can’t leave him. She’s sapping his life blood. He’s shrivelling away before my eyes, and he won’t listen to me. I can’t talk to him any more.’
‘Then don’t try.’
‘He might listen to you, Liza. He’s always respected you.’ There was a long silence.
‘You know he doesn’t want to see me, Jane. He made it quite clear the last time I visited.’
‘I think he’d see you. Without Beth. It hurts him to think about Beth. He remembers Calum as a little boy and he can’t cope with the idea of him having been a father himself. Please, Liza. Will you come?’
Liza chewed her lip. ‘I’ll talk it over with Phil. He’s working at the moment, and he might not want to be left with Beth.’ Her skin crawled at the idea of going back to that cold, unwelcoming house with its locked doors and hidden grief, and at the thought of crossing swords with Brid.
‘Two days. That’s all I can spare.’ Phil shook his head. ‘And only if you absolutely insist. I don’t like the thought of you going to that mad house one bit.’
‘Nor do I, but what else can I do? I’ve got to help them.’ She was pushing sweaters into her overnight bag. ‘You are sure you’ll cope without me?’
He grinned suddenly. ‘Of course we will, bossy boots. Beth can look after me. If we get snowed up we’ll look after each other and go tobogganing on a tea tray every day. But I can’t spare more than that, Liza.’ He was serious suddenly as he pulled her to him and kissed her. ‘I’ve got to work now that my famous rich wife has decided to take a sabbatical from her equally famous clients and wear an apron instead. My paintings don’t rake in the lolly like yours, my love.’
She snuggled against him for a moment. ‘Maybe not, but they are a million times better. The awful part about portrait painting is that one always wonders how much the subject is paying for his or her own vanity rather than one’s skill!’
‘Modesty as well. What more could a man ask?’ He dropped another kiss on her head. ‘Take care, my love, won’t you?’ He couldn’t hide the worry in his voice.
‘Of course I will. Promise.’
She thought about that promise again and again as she drove east. She had called in at Meryn’s cottage on her way back towards Hay, but he had been out and as she scanned the hillside behind his garden there had been no sign of him. Not seeing him filled her with panic. She had wanted his advice and his blessing. Without it she felt exposed.
This time there was no car outside the house in St Albans as she turned into the quiet road. The front garden was neat once more, the house appeared quite normal, the curtains all open, the windows catching in the fitful winter sunlight. Ringing the doorbell she waited, her shoulders hunched against the brisk easterly wind.
There was no reply. Ringing again she frowned and looked at her watch. Jane knew she was coming, and she was just about on time. Someone – Jane – should have been there to meet her. Ringing it a third time she was about to walk round when, stepping back and looking up to survey the front of the house, she caught sight of a face at an upstairs window.
‘Jane!’ She waved her hand. ‘Let me in.’
The face stared down at her for a minute, then abruptly it disappeared from view. Liza turned back to the door.
‘I’m sorry, I was asleep.’ Jane was still in her dressing gown, her hair tousled and unwashed, her face crumpled.
Liza frowned. ‘Well, at least you heard me in the end.’ She spoke more harshly than she meant to, but the sight of Jane’s despair repelled her. ‘Come on, let’s get you up and dressed, then you can make me a cup of coffee.’ She suspected Jane’s need was greater than her own, but at least it was a reason for Jane to stir herself. Half an hour later they were sitting in the study, the French windows open onto the small terrace, allowing the fresh wind to stir the curtains and clear the stale cigarette smoke from the room. ‘I’m sorry, the place is a mess.’ Jane seemed half asleep still in spite of the large mug of black coffee in her hand. Under her sweater she was wearing the rowan cross, suspended on a fine gold chain around her neck.
‘Don’t you have a cleaner any more?’ Liza was looking round the room. Even Adam’s desk had a layer of dust over it.
Jane shrugged and shook her head. ‘I didn’t bother after Mrs Freeling left. No cleaner would stay after the murder, and now Calum’s gone …’ Her voice trailed away uncertainly.
‘You decided to stay in this house, Jane.’ Liza was bracing. ‘Once that decision was made surely you decided to make the best of it. You can’t “never clean again” because of what happened, Janie.’
‘I know.’ Jane huddled her hands round the mug, her shoulders slumped. ‘It’s all my fault and I have done the garden.’
‘It is not your fault at all!’ Liza’s indignation was strenuous. ‘For God’s sake! Nothing that has happened here has been your fault.’
‘Adam says it has. If I hadn’t spoiled Calum so much –’
‘Oh no! I’m not wearing that. The bastard! Where is Adam?’
‘At work.’
‘And how is he managing to work in this state? He can’t be doing his patients any good.’
‘His patients all adore him whatever he does.’ She shrugged.
‘They won’t if he kills them.’ Liza was swiftly running out of patience. ‘Come on, Jane, snap out of it. Let’s try and clean this place up and get a meal ready for Adam when he comes home. Then I can talk to him once he’s eaten.’ She paused. ‘I take it Madam isn’t here during the day?’
Jane shook her head. ‘She disappears when he leaves.’
‘Disappears?’
‘I’ve never seen her go out of the door.’ Jane gave a hard brittle laugh. ‘I expect she dematerialises, or flies up the chimney on her broomstick. But she’ll be here when Adam gets back. Waiting for him up there in the bedroom.’ She shuddered.
Liza studied her face, her impatience giving way to sympathy. She couldn’t imagine how it must feel to be in Jane’s position – to lose a husband to another woman was one thing, to lose him to a ghost was quite another. If Brid was a ghost. She shook her head in despair and then putting down her mug she stood up. ‘Come on. Let’s set to and get the house straight.’
‘In two hours?’ Jane hadn’t moved.
‘In two hours we can do an awful lot.’
By the time Adam put his key into the front door lock the sitting room was vacuumed and tidied, there were fresh flowers on the table, and Liza had a beef casserole simmering on the cooker. She had even put on a record of one of Adam’s favourite pieces, the Elgar violin concerto. Jane was changed, her hair washed and brushed, her face made up.
The two women were in the sitting room when they heard the front door open. Liza smiled encouragingly at Jane and nodded.
‘Adam,’ Jane called. Her voice was steady. ‘Come in and have a sherry. We have a visitor.’
Adam appeared in the doorway, his black leather bag still in his hand. At the sight of Liza his face darkened. ‘I don’t remember asking you to come.’ He put the case down with a thud.
‘No.’ Liza stepped in before Jane could say anything. She moved across to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, shocked by how tired and emaciated he looked. ‘I asked myself as I had to be over this way. I wanted to see you both.’
‘And it didn’t occur to you that we might not want to see you?’ He threw himself down on the sofa and accepted the glass of sherry that Jane handed to him.
‘No, it didn’t. Neither did it occur to me that you might have become surly, rude and inhospitable!’ she retorted sharply. ‘Never mind, your wife more than makes up for your shortcomings.’
‘Liza has cooked us supper,’ Jane put in defensively ‘It’s really kind of her after her long drive.’
‘She’d have to cook it if she’s hungry. I don’t remember you cooking lately.’ He took a large gulp of sherry, emptying the tiny glass. Standing up he went over and picking up the decanter he poured himself a second dose.
‘I had no one to cook for,’ Jane snapped back. ‘You were too busy upstairs to come down and eat.’
‘Let’s not argue!’ Liza interposed herself between them. ‘Why don’t we just have a nice quiet meal?’ She glanced at Jane, aware that she was listening suddenly, her head cocked sideways as though she could hear something upstairs. Clutching her glass a little more tightly Liza smiled determinedly at Adam. ‘Come on, let’s go into the kitchen. The stew must be cooked by now.’
‘I’ll go upstairs and wash.’ Adam put his glass down.
‘No!’ Jane’s voice rose into a cry of anguish. ‘Don’t go upstairs.’ She looked from him to Liza and back. ‘The meal will spoil,’ she finished lamely, ‘and that would be such a shame,’ she added.
There was a moment’s electric silence, then Adam shrugged. ‘All right. Let’s eat straightaway.’ He stalked ahead of them out of the room and across the hall without so much as glancing at the staircase. Jane looked up as she followed him and so did Liza. Was there a flicker of movement up there? She didn’t know, but she felt an unpleasant shiver play across her shoulders as she glanced up towards the darkened landing.
They sat down and Jane lifted the lid from the casserole, releasing a waft of spicy steam. ‘That smells wonderful.’ She smiled at Liza gratefully. ‘Doesn’t it, Adam?’
Adam nodded. He rested his elbows on the table and propped his head in his hands. His exhaustion was unmistakable.
Jane ladled a helping of meat and carrots and mushrooms in rich gravy and a dollop of mashed potatoes onto a plate and pushed it in front of him. ‘That should make you feel better,’ she said quietly. ‘It will make a new man of you.’
‘Something you no doubt profoundly wish would happen.’ Adam leaned back in his chair.
‘That is not what she meant and you know it!’ Liza put in firmly. ‘Just eat, you two. Don’t waste all my efforts at cooking you a nice meal.’ She took a mouthful of stew herself and sat solemnly chewing, her eyes on her plate. For a moment she thought Adam was going to stand up and go without even sampling the food, but at last he picked up his fork. He toyed with the potato and beef for a few minutes and at last lifted a forkful to his mouth. Liza sighed with relief. He seemed to enjoy it, and began to chew on a second.
The crash from upstairs had them all staring at the ceiling.
‘Don’t go!’ Jane’s fork clattered to her plate. ‘Please, Adam, don’t go up.’
He frowned, staring at the ceiling. ‘Something must have fallen over …’
‘It doesn’t matter, Adam. Go on eating.’ Liza smiled at him as persuasively as she knew how. She hoped neither of them could see how her skin was crawling with fear. Somehow she forced herself to take another mouthful. ‘One always gets strange noises in old houses, what with beams expanding and contracting.’
‘This isn’t an old house.’ Jane’s voice was strangely dull again. She had put down her knife and fork. Liza could see her hands were shaking.
A-dam!
The distant cry was audible to all three of them. Jane put her hands to her ears. ‘Don’t go. Please, don’t go.’ Her plea came out as a sob, but Adam was already pushing back his chair.
‘Adam!’ Liza stood up and bent over him. ‘Don’t even think about going up there! If you do, you’re a fool!’
‘Get out of the way, Liza.’ He pushed her aside and stood up.
‘Adam, think what you’re doing!’ She caught his arm. ‘Protect yourself, fight it, remember what she is!’
‘And what is she?’ He rounded on her abruptly and she took a step back, astonished at his sudden viciousness. ‘I’ll tell you what she is. A beautiful, warm, loving person, who cares about me deeply, who sympathises because I’ve lost my only son, who understands what I’ve been through when other people only think about themselves! That’s what she is!’
‘Adam, that’s not fair!’ Jane cried. ‘You know it’s not.’
‘And what is more it isn’t true,’ Liza put in. ‘She isn’t even real, Adam!’
‘No?’ He gave a strange half-smile. ‘She feels real, believe me; she acts real, she sounds real.’
‘So, if she’s real, why doesn’t she come downstairs and join us for supper in a civilised fashion?’ Liza tried to steady her voice. She stepped away from Adam. ‘Go on, call her. Tell her to come and eat with us.’
‘Don’t be stupid.’
‘Why is it stupid? I can’t see any reason why she can’t do it.’ She was standing between him and the door. ‘Go on, give her a shout.’ She raised her chin defiantly. ‘After all, we all know her, don’t we?’
He stepped away from the table. ‘Please move out of my way, Liza.’
‘Adam!’ Jane ran to him and caught his arm.
He shook her off. ‘Believe me, you don’t want her to come down here.’
‘But we do, Adam.’ Liza moved in front of him again. ‘We want to see her. We want to speak to her. We want to ask her what it is she’s doing here, breaking up a family home! We want to ask her,’ she narrowed her eyes, ‘what she was doing in the middle of the road in the rain in front of the car containing my daughter and your son!’
‘No!’ Adam screamed at her. ‘No, that’s not true. You stupid, stupid, ignorant woman! That was not Brid!’
‘No?’ She stood her ground. ‘Then ask her!’
‘I don’t have to ask her. She would never do anything to hurt me. She is good and beautiful and kind.’
‘Rubbish! She’s a harpy. No, Adam, stay here!’ She caught at him again as he started to move. ‘Think! For God’s sake, wake up!’
He pushed her out of his way. ‘Go home, Liza. You are not welcome here!’ Striding towards the door he pulled it open. ‘You are interfering in things you don’t understand.’ Stepping into the hall he slammed the door behind him and they heard his footsteps running up the stairs.
Jane threw herself back into her chair and burst into tears. ‘You see! What am I to do? She’s bewitched him.’
‘I’m going after him.’
‘No!’ Jane’s voice rose to a shriek. ‘You can’t do that! She’s dangerous, Liza. She’s killed people.’
‘She won’t kill me!’ Liza’s temper was rapidly reaching boiling point. ‘You stay here!’
Dragging open the door without giving herself time to think she raced up the stairs after Adam and along the landing to the spare room. She expected him to have locked himself in, but as she threw herself at the handle the door flew open easily. Adam was standing by the bed, his shirt already half off, with Brid, completely unclothed, clinging round his neck. They both looked round as Liza stopped in the doorway. Brid smiled. She made no effort to cover herself, nor did she move away from Adam.
‘Out!’ Adam put his hands on Brid’s buttocks and pulled her against him. He turned away from Liza. ‘Go on, out, or have you become a voyeur in your old age?’ His words were deliberately cruel. He nuzzled against Brid’s hair, holding her closer.
‘You stupid idiot!’ Liza couldn’t believe her eyes. ‘Have you no shame? No sense?’
‘None.’ He was smiling down into Brid’s eyes, and Liza could swear she heard her purring like a satisfied cat.
‘Poor Jane.’ The disgust in Liza’s voice was undiluted.
‘Yes, poor Jane. Leave her alone, Liza.’ He wasn’t even looking at her, his face still buried in the lustrous long hair.
Suddenly Liza couldn’t bear it any more. She turned and ran out of the room, slamming the door as hard as she could behind her. Hurling herself across the landing she ran into the bathroom. She had barely reached it before she was violently sick.
Running the cold tap she splashed water over her face and hands. She was shaking like a leaf. ‘Liza?’ She could hear Jane’s voice, timidly calling from the bottom of the stairs. ‘Liza, are you all right?’
‘I’m all right.’ Somehow she forced herself to answer. ‘I’m coming.’ Blowing her nose on a piece of lavatory paper she took a deep breath and opened the door. There was silence from the spare room. Running down the stairs she passed Jane in the hall and went back into the kitchen. ‘Please, can you make me some coffee?’ She flung herself down on a chair.
‘What happened?’ Jane’s face was white but her hands were steady as she reached for the kettle and filled it under the tap.
‘She’s in there with him.’
‘We knew that.’ Jane’s voice was completely flat.
‘But with him. Really with him.’ Liza looked up and pushed her hair back from her forehead. ‘I’m sorry, Jane. I didn’t realise. I thought … ‘She broke off and shook her head. ‘I don’t know what I thought.’
‘They’re having sex,’ Jane said unemotionally. ‘I hear them every night. Why do you think I need sleeping pills? He can’t keep his hands off her. He is completely obsessed. He doesn’t eat. He doesn’t sleep much, I shouldn’t think.’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘He just comes in and goes upstairs and screws. And Robert Harding asks me what is wrong. With me.’
‘Let’s go. Now. Come back to Pen-y-Ffordd. You can’t stay here.’
‘I have to stay here. This is my home. There’s nowhere else. Since Mummy moved into the sheltered housing, I can’t go to her.’
‘And you wouldn’t want to anyway! But this isn’t a home, Jane. It is a prison. And you know you will always have a home with us. Always. Leave him. For goodness’ sake, how can you let him humiliate you like this?’ She stood up. ‘Go on, get some things. We’ll leave now. I’ll go up and get my bag.’
Jane shook her head. ‘I haven’t enough energy to fight it any more, Liza.’
‘No, but I have. I’m not leaving without you.’ She could feel her rage and indignation and her own humiliation bubbling up inside her. Turning she ran back into the hall and took the stairs two at a time.
Jane had put her in Calum’s old bedroom as the spare room was occupied and she threw open the door, feeling the same pang of terrible sorrow and regret she had felt the first time she went in there. His things were still so very much a part of him. Jane had moved nothing. Her case was lying on the bed. She had not unpacked. Scooping up her coat she turned to the door. Adam was standing there, wearing a dressing gown. His hair was ruffled on end and his face was a picture of fury.
‘What exactly are you doing in here?’
‘Collecting my things. I’m leaving.’
‘You had no business in this room.’
‘Well, as you can see, I’m not staying.’
‘You killed my son.’
‘Crap! If anyone killed him, it was Brid! Ask her. Go on, ask her what she did.’
‘Don’t say such a thing!’ His face was contorted with rage. ‘Get out of my house, Liza, and don’t ever come back here. Don’t dare to set foot in my son’s room again. You and your daughter, you murdered him. Without you, he would still be alive!’
‘You know that’s not true, Adam,’ she shouted. ‘Calum loved Julie. I lost her too, you know. Beth lost her parents! Can’t you understand what happened? It was no one’s fault except the woman who stepped out in front of them on that wet road. It was Brid’s doing, and yet you go on allowing her to come here to seduce you! Get rid of her, Adam. Send her away. She’s evil. She’s a monster.’
A shadow moved behind Adam on the landing. Liza stepped back. ‘Don’t let her come near me, Adam. I won’t be responsible for what I might do.’ She had already noticed the kukri on Calum’s bedroom wall, a much-loved trophy from a school adventure trip to India. In two steps she was beside it and had the handle in her hand. She turned, brandishing the razor-sharp blade in front of her. ‘Get her out of here, Adam.’
The animal snarl from the shadows was vicious. Adam smiled. ‘Don’t be a fool, Liza. You can’t kill her. Jane tried it and it didn’t work.’
‘It’ll work for me.’ She waved the knife menacingly in front of her. ‘Order her off.’
She couldn’t see her, but she could smell the animal fear and lust in the air, and suddenly she could hear it again, a low growl from the doorway behind Adam.
‘You go, Liza.’ Adam did not seem to be reacting naturally. She wondered for a moment if he were sleep-walking – or in some sort of hypnotic trance. ‘We don’t want you here.’
‘Adam!’ Her voice was harsh. ‘It’s me you’re talking to. Liza!’
‘I know who I’m talking to.’ Again he gave a strange smile. ‘An intruder. We don’t want you here. Can’t you see?’ He beckoned behind him and Brid stepped forward into the circle of his arm, tall, slim, beautiful, her dark hair over her shoulders, her body wrapped in a pale sheet.
Her steady grey eyes met Liza’s defiantly. ‘Why do you want to take A-dam away from me?’ Her voice was low and musical. ‘You have another man now.’ She rested her head for a moment against Adam’s shoulder. ‘I am the one he has always loved.’
‘No, Brid.’ Liza steadied her voice with difficulty. ‘You are not the one he loves. He loves his wife. He loved his son. What did you do to his son, Brid?’
‘Liza!’ Adam’s furious voice cut her short.
‘No, let her answer, Adam. What did you do to his son?’
‘A-dam has no son. He does not love anyone but me.’
‘He did have, though. Don’t you remember? A son, and a daughter-in-law and a little baby granddaughter, in a car –’
‘I do not remember. It is not important.’ Brid had begun to move her lips gently, pressing against him seductively. She reached up and touched his face. ‘Make her go away, A-dam.’
‘Please, Liza.’ Adam’s voice was very quiet.
‘If you don’t go away and leave us, I will take away your man.’ Brid’s eyes narrowed, cat-like, as she looked at Liza from the security of Adam’s arms. She had sensed the rowan cross as soon as Jane put it on. It circled the woman with fire and kept her safe, and this woman too had the strength of the light wrapped around her. But she was vulnerable in other ways. ‘You try and take Adam away from me and I take your Phil away from you.’
Liza went cold. The circle of her protection wavered. ‘Don’t you threaten me.’ She paused. ‘How do you know my husband’s name?’
‘I know everything.’ She was holding Liza’s gaze relentlessly, never blinking. ‘Go.’
‘I’m not going without Adam. I want him to come with me.’
‘You are a fool, then.’ Brid looked her up and down disdainfully. ‘And I will curse you. I will make you suffer. I will not let you take my A-dam.’
‘Liza, I warned you!’ Adam tightened his arms round Brid’s shoulders. ‘Don’t antagonise her any more!’
‘Then for God’s sake, come to your senses!’
Brid shook her head. ‘She will not listen to you, my A-dam.’ She raised her hand and pointed at Liza. ‘I curse you, A-dam’s woman. I curse you to lose the man you love as you would curse me to lose mine.’
Liza shrank back. She could feel cold, poisonous air suddenly round her, swirling outside her imagined shield. ‘All right. I’ll go. But I’m not coming out of here until you move.’ To her horror she found she was shaking like a leaf. She glared at Adam, who was still standing in the doorway. ‘Go on, take her back into your room and I’ll go.’ Desperately she tried to straighten her shoulders. Don’t let her see the fear. Don’t let her realise how badly she had been frightened.
Brid was smiling, a long, slow, supercilious smile. Without seeming to move she left Adam’s arms and crossed the hallway. ‘Come, A-dam.’
Adam followed Brid to the door of the spare room. There he turned. ‘Don’t ever come back.’
‘I won’t. So she can take away her curse!’ Liza’s mouth had gone dry.
Brid smiled over her shoulder. ‘It is too late. The curse will stay.’
‘Adam …’ But Liza’s call fell on deaf ears. Adam had gone.
She stood for a moment after he had closed the door, unable to move. She was literally frozen to the spot. ‘May God protect you, Adam,’ she whispered. ‘God protect us all.’
‘I can’t leave him.’ Jane shook her head in defeat. ‘Something awful will happen if I go.’
‘Something awful will happen if you stay.’ Liza already had her bag over her shoulder. ‘I’ll wait for you in the car.’ She walked to the door. ‘I mean it, Jane. I’m not staying in this house a moment longer. I’ll give you ten minutes.’
Outside it was already dark. She walked down the short drive, past Adam’s car and out of the gate. There, in the quiet street, she unlocked the old Triumph and, throwing her bag onto the back seat, she climbed in. She was still shaking. Glancing at her wrist watch she noted the time.
The curtains in the upstairs window were not quite drawn and she could see the light shining out through the narrow crack in the pale-blue chintz. There was no sign of movement. She glanced at her watch again. Only two minutes had passed. She wanted to go. She wanted to be at home with Phil and Beth, far away from this horrible house with its evil occupant. One minute more. Oh God, keep them safe. Don’t let anything happen to Phil or Beth.
Come on, Jane. Come on.
She closed her eyes and began to count softly under her breath. After twenty-five she stopped and opened her eyes again. She glanced up at the window with the blue curtains. It had gone dark.
Jane. Where are you?
She was biting her lip. Should she get out and have one more go at persuading her? But she had tried. Surely she had tried.
Another five minutes had passed. Only two to go. She put her hand on the ignition key, her eyes on her watch seeing each second tick by on the luminous dial.
The front door remained firmly closed. She wasn’t coming. With a sigh Liza started the engine.
Two stops for black coffee at lorry drivers’ cafés and she managed to do the drive in under four hours. Turning up the long narrow lane off the Talgarth road she slowed the car, engaged first gear and put it at the pitch which led up to the farm. To her surprise the lights were all on. With an uncomfortable feeling of foreboding she pulled into the yard, switched off the engine and sat still for a minute, listening to it ticking in the cold air; then, stiff and exhausted, she got out and made her way to the house.
The kitchen door opened and a woman appeared, her anxious face clearly illuminated in the yard light.
‘Jenny? What are you doing here?’ Liza felt a cold lurch of terror deep in her stomach at the sight of her neighbour. ‘Where’s Phil?’
Jenny shrugged. ‘I hoped that you were him. He went out a couple of hours ago. There was a phone call from Harry Evans up at Bryn Glas. He said there were some school children lost up on the mountain. They were getting a search party together. Phil rang me to come and sit with Beth and he went.’ She shrugged. ‘I rang Eleri an hour ago to see if there was any news and she said she didn’t know anything about any children and Harry was asleep in bed. Oh, Liza, love, I didn’t know what to make of it. I don’t know if it was some kind of practical joke, or what. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t leave Beth. I didn’t know whether I should ring the police?’
Liza stood where she was. Her whole body had gone completely numb. She stared out into the darkness behind the barns at the great black shoulder of the mountain lying asleep under the stars.
Brid.
‘Shall I ring the police, or what?’ She realised suddenly that Jenny was still talking.
‘I don’t know. Yes, I suppose so.’ Panic was sweeping over her in waves. ‘I’ll come in and have a word with Eleri myself. When did Phil get the phone call?’
She was shaking so much she could scarcely lift the phone. This time it was Harry who answered. ‘Strange kind of a joke, Liza. I wonder if he misheard, or dreamed it or something?’ The deep voice was reassuring. ‘Look, if he turns up here I’ll ring you. Perhaps you’d better have a word with the police, just in case he’s gone off the road. It’s icy up here. Don’t worry, he’ll turn up.’
The police were polite, reassuring and not inclined to take action for the time being. Liza slammed down the phone. ‘They are not going to do anything. They don’t care. He’s not been gone long enough, apparently. How long do you have to be?’ She turned towards the door. ‘Please, Jenny, will you stay a bit longer? I’m going up there myself.’
‘Are you sure? Do you want me to call Ken?’
‘No.’ Liza shook her head, pulling on her rubber boots and reaching for a jacket and scarf. ‘No, I’ll find him. He can only have gone up on the mountain road. He might have gone to Meryn or he might have driven on over the pass into Hay.’ Or he might have skidded and come off the road at any one of a number of places on the single track, some of which had sheer drops on one side.
The car was still warm and welcoming. Slamming the door she gunned the engine and backed round, nosing out onto the lane again and turning up the hill.
Meryn’s house was deserted. She stood in the garden outside, staring in dismay at the lean-to shed where he kept his car. It was empty. The chimney was cold and the living room, when she peered through the windows with their open curtains, had a deserted, unlived-in air.
‘Oh Meryn!’ Standing outside she burst into tears like a disappointed child. She had been relying on him, she realised suddenly, for comfort and advice and strength.
‘Phil!’ Her shout seemed to echo across vast distances under the stars and lose itself on the side of the mountain. There was no reply.
She drove slowly, the main beam of her headlights picking up the twists and turns in the road. Ice sparkled over the gravelled tarmac, and she realised that in places where the skim of tar had been renewed and the ice was glassy smooth she could see the faint traces of another car ahead of her. ‘Phil?’ She braked a little, feeling the wheels slide on a corner as the headlights picked up the huddled shapes of some dozen wild ponies, standing with their backs to the wind, their long shaggy coats covered in mud as they watched her pass with uncurious eyes.
The car engine laboured and she glanced in sudden terror at the petrol gauge. It showed the tank still a quarter full. She was nearing the top of the pass. Once there she could pull off onto a broad lay-by and view the countryside in the moonlight.
Standing beside the car she could see the road ahead, a silver ribbon running up and down along the side of the hill almost as far as the eye could see, only here and there disappearing into a dip or behind an outcrop of rock. Forcing herself to be calm she let her eye travel slowly and carefully over each inch of the distant view, cursing herself for not bringing the binoculars from the peg by the back door.
It was almost as light as day up here. Behind her, in the fold of the valley where the trees grew thick on either side of the brook, it was pitch dark. Somewhere down there, behind her, she could hear an owl calling, and in the distance the occasional conversational bleat from a sheep. They were huddled now down on the lower fields of the farm at the bottom of the mountain, but the sound carried up onto the hills where the summer grazing led up to the foot of the high black cliffs which were the haunt of buzzard and kite.
The low growl from somewhere in the shadows of the rocks at the edge of the lay-by made her spin round, her eyes desperately trying to penetrate the darkness. Her heart was thumping audibly beneath her ribs. She turned a full circle trying to pinpoint the spot from which the sound had come, but she could hear nothing now in the immensity of the silence. Carefully she edged back towards the open door of the car and then in an instant she saw it. The cat was standing there in front of her – large, tabby markings, its ears set low and flat on the broad sweep of its forehead, its eyes glowing almost red in the moonlight, its lips curled back to reveal its teeth. Liza turned and dived into the car, slamming the lock down as hard as she could. Breathing hard she looked in the mirror, then craned round to see where it was. It was no longer there, but she thought she saw, just for a second, the figure of a woman standing in the shadow of the rocks.
‘You bitch!’
Starting the engine, Liza manoeuvred the car round with shaking hands until the headlights were shining full on the spot where she had seen the figure. There was nothing there but a small stunted thorn tree, its trunk twisted and bent by the wind.
She drove slowly right across the shoulder of the hill where the road clung to the solid ground between soft mountain mires with ice-rimmed waterholes and gorse-strewn grass, then followed it carefully, winding downwards towards the treeline. There, almost by the cattle grid, she saw the skid marks leading off the road and over into a small ravine. Pulling the car up she muttered a breathless prayer before forcing herself to open the door and climb out.
The mountainside remained silent.
Slipping and sliding she ran across the icy road onto the grass and began to make her way down the almost vertical hillside to where a small brook burbled along towards the forestry.
Phil’s old Land-Rover had pitched bonnet first into the brook. At first she hadn’t recognised it, a patch of darker shadow in the deep shadows of the small valley. Then she saw the familiar outline of the vehicle, unfamiliar in its position.
‘Phil?’ Her voice sounded so small in the echoing quiet of the mountains. ‘Phil, are you all right?’
She knew he wasn’t. She had known from the moment she had set out from the house half an hour before, but still she had hoped. Still she fought the door open and pulled at his hand; still she felt for a pulse in the ice-cold wrist; tried to ease the angle of the bruised, battered face. Still she fetched a blanket and wrapped it around him as tenderly as if he had been a sleeping child. Then she sat down on the frozen grass beside the Land-Rover and cried.
She was discovered two hours later by a farmer driving up towards Capel-y-fin in the early hours of the morning after a drinking session with a friend at Glasbury. He was brought to a halt by Liza’s car standing in the middle of the road, the driver’s door still open, the lights by now dim.
Only faintly aware that in her dreams she had slid from Adam’s warm bed and walked for a while on a cold, frost-covered mountain, Brid pressed her icy body against his warm one and heard his sharp, shocked intake of breath as one of pleasure. Closing her eyes she allowed herself to become one with her happiness, breathing in the scent of his skin, tasting its salt with the tip of her tongue. He groaned in his sleep and turned away from her abruptly, reaching instead for his pillow and dragging it under his head. She sat up, angry at his rejection, her eyes narrowing in the dark. She fed on his strength; if he withheld it she could not stay with him. Without him she was lost. She glanced round into the darkness and at once sensed the prowling shadows. They were so close. Broichan had not given up. He was waiting for her at the boundaries of time.
Neither Jane nor Adam came to the funeral. On the phone when Liza had rung them Jane was sympathetic but distant.
Adam would not speak to her at all.