Janey had forgotten how soft April was in the country – forgotten the way the wind shredded the clouds into streamers and chased them across the sky.
She exchanged a glance with Griff, untroubled by the way her grin reflected her exhilaration.
The fatigue had fled from his face now. His dark eyes were alive with amusement. ‘Shall we make a run for it?’
Laughing, they sprinted to the spreading branches of an oak tree, and then shook the glistening raindrops from their hair.
‘At this pace, the wedding will be over before we get there.’
‘It was your idea to walk from the station,’ she reminded him.
‘I needed the fresh air.’ Disregarding the damp, he placed her parcel on the ground and leaned against the trunk of the tree. ‘Thanks for letting me sleep on the train.’
‘I didn’t have any choice. One minute you were gazing at me all goggle-eyed, the next minute ... comatose.’
‘Don’t forget, I haven’t seen you since you were a kid. Believe me, you’re worth a goggle.’
‘Borrowed plumage.’ She gazed down at the belted dress and matching calf length boots. The dress was made from burgundy wool, and boasted a designer label. ‘These belong to Felicity.’
‘Likewise. This suit belongs to a fellow internee.’ He chuckled. ‘Felicity has great taste.’
‘She can afford to have great taste. Daddy’s a banker.’ Hefting her bag from one shoulder to the other she slanted her head to one side, gazing at him curiously. ‘You make the hospital sound like a prison.’
‘It is, more or less. If I’m not working flat out, or attending lectures I try and snatch a bit of sleep.’
‘Is it worth it, Griff?’
His mouth stretched in a wry smile. ‘I admit I’ve had my doubts these last few months – but yes, I guess so. In the end it will be worth all the sacrifice and hard work. Besides, I owe a debt to Charles Wyman. He had enough faith in me to advance the money to help me through my initial training. I can’t let him down.’
The shower stopped as suddenly as it started, and he lifted the parcel to his shoulder. ‘What’s in this?’
‘One of my paintings.’
‘Is it good?’
‘When it’s opened you can judge for yourself.’
His eyes caught hers, dark and intense. In his young man’s face she saw a trace of the boy she’d idolized. Warmth touched her heart as she experienced the depth of her affection for Griff.
‘How do you feel about it, Janey?’
‘It’s perfect.’ She reached out and touched his hand. ‘You will come and visit me when you get time, won’t you Griff?’
His hand closed around hers. ‘Try and stop me. Come on. Let’s go before it rains again.’
They made the church with a few minutes to spare, and paused in the doorway to cast an eye over the pews.
Miss Robbins was playing an asthmatic Bach fugue on the organ, her head nodding in time to the music.
Ada was halfway down the aisle. She’d gained weight, and wisps of grey hair escaped from her blue hat. Next to her sat Phil, looking exactly how she remembered him. A lump lodged in her throat.
Phil’s head lifted slightly as if he was listening to something, then he turned, his face creasing into a smile.
‘I knew you’d make it,’ he said, his voice echoing out in triumph. ‘Damned if I didn’t say so to Ada.’
‘You watch your language in the Lord’s house, Phil Tyler.’ Ada admonished. Her eyes widened in shock as she turned towards the door. ‘Well I never! If it isn’t Janey Renfrew, as pretty as a picture. I never thought the day would come when I’d see you again.’
Charles Wyman, his dark suit sporting a red rose, blew her a kiss as she and Griff walked down the aisle.
Miss Robbins launched into the bridal march, and all heads turned towards them.
‘Anyone would think we were the bridal pair,’ Griffin whispered as they settled themselves between Ada and Phil.’
‘And a nice pair you’d make, if you ask me,’ Ada said loudly.
Janey colored when Griff gave a low chuckle.
The organ suddenly wheezed to a stop, and then started the wedding march all over again.
Heads turned again, the whispers and rustles faded to a hush.
Brenda looked elegant in a cream suit and a veiled hat. Her brown eyes glowed as they met those of Charles. The neatly dressed man who escorted her in was of medium height, with thinning brown hair. He delivered Brenda to Charles, and then sat in the nearest pew.
Janey thought he looked familiar, but she dismissed him from her mind when the service began.
She knew she’d never forget this wedding – never forget the fragrance of the flower filled church.
Huge vases of lilies and roses almost obscured the altar, candles sputtered. Light shone through the stained glass window, and dust motes danced in the air.
It was more than the ambience she’d remember. There was an atmosphere of love, almost sacred in its emotional intensity as the vows were exchanged and the songs of celebration sung. Charles and Brenda were amongst friends who wished them only happiness, and she experienced it in every fiber. Tears pricked her eyes and she felt like bawling as Charles and Brenda left the church.
Griff offered her his handkerchief. Careful not to smudge the eye-shadow Felicity had applied, she dabbed the tears away and managed a smile as she handed it back.
He took her hand in his and led her outside, into an April day that sparkled with sunshine, diamond bright showers, and bird-song.
‘I wish I could stay longer.’
‘You can.’ Griff’s voice was a low enticing murmur. ‘Stay the night. We’ll walk through the woods, then watch the bats fly out of the hill.’
‘I thought you needed to rest.’
‘It will be a rest.’
‘A renewal, you mean.’
Their eyes met in complete understanding.
Dear, dear Griff, his face quiet and serious, his smile enigmatic. How well they knew each other. He sensed the need for solace in her, a hunger that matched his own.
‘Will we always feel like this?’
‘Always, Janey.’ His dark eyes held the secrets of the universe in their depths. ‘Wherever we go, whatever we do, this place will always call to us.’
They posed for photographs, two people pulled together by an invisible thread, so close in spirit. Yet they were apart. She with her art, her lover and the tiny spring bud of her child curled close to her heart – he with his need to heal.
Brenda and Charles approached, claiming astonishment at the change in her, as if they’d expected her never grow up.
‘Such a wonderful painting, everyone has admired it.’
Charles took her aside, and informed her that Lord William had left her a small bequest when he died. It’s invested until you’re twenty-one, so don’t forget to come and claim it.’
Vaguely, Janey remembered an old man she used to play soldiers with, and a horse called Wellington. It all seemed so long ago now. Her hand closed around the lead soldier, deep in her pocket. Thank you, Lord William.
Later, when the reception was over, she borrowed some jeans and a sweater from Griff and they walked in the woods.
Nostalgia gave everything a sharp piquancy. The damp mushroom aroma of leaf litter, the green moss clinging to root knuckles and the pungent smell of the bog called to her. Childhood smells. Childhood fancies.
‘I thought Goblins lived in the bog. I used to hide behind a tree and try to catch a glimpse of them.’
Griff gently squeezed her hand, but said nothing.
On the hill they watched the bats tossed skywards into the purple dusk. Sprawled on the ground she felt at peace. The world was turning in the damp grass beneath her cheek, and she was cradled against its heart, turning with it.
‘Are you pregnant?’ Griff said abruptly.
She scrambled upright, staring at him. ‘How did you know?’
He took her in his arms and held her against his chest. ‘Do you love him – the father of your child?’
She felt Griff’s hurt, like a tiny ache inside herself. ‘Yes, I love him ... at least, I think so.’
‘Call me if you ever need me.’ He kissed the top of her head, and then pulled her to her feet. ‘Let’s get home. Dad will be annoyed if he doesn’t get to spend some time with you. He loves getting your letters.’
‘Why doesn’t he ever answer them?’
‘He can’t read and write, except for his name.’
‘Then how does he –?’
‘Ada reads them to him.’
So later, whilst Phil and Griffin talked before the fire, she quickly sketched the two of them together. When she presented it to Phil as a parting gift he gazed at it for a long time, then said with a trace of moisture in his eyes.
‘That’s the best gift I’ve ever been given.’
He was talking about Griff, not her sketch. Her hand slid unconsciously to cradle her child under her palm, and she exchanged a smile with Griff over his head.
On the train the next day, when Griff slept, she saw the man who’d given Brenda away further down the carriage. He was reading a newspaper, his eyes intent on its pages.
Recognition came to her suddenly. With a quick intake of breath she rose and made her way towards him. ‘Mister Smith?’
A pair of eyes peered at her over the newspaper.
‘I was at the wedding yesterday.’
‘Ah ... yes. I remember. I don’t think we were introduced. How did you know my name?’
‘We met once before. You used to live in the bed-sit below me in Hammersmith. I slid your gas bill under the door, and you opened it and wished me good-night.’
The paper was lowered. ‘You have remarkable powers of observation. You only saw me for a second, Miss ...?’
‘Renfrew.’
He gave a small start.
‘My flat-mate thought you were a spy, because we sometimes heard you – but never saw you.’
He gave a dry sort of chuckle. ‘Nothing so exciting, I’m afraid. I’m quite a boring chap. When I’m not working I like to play a little music, then go to bed.’
‘What work do you do, Mister Smith?’
Janey thought she’d been too nosy when he hesitated, and was about to apologize when he said.
‘Oh, this and that. I was a chauffeur when I lived there, I hope you’re not too disappointed.’
‘On the contrary, I must tell Sandy if I see her again. She’ll be crushed to find out you’re not James Bond.’
‘And what keeps you occupied, Miss Renfrew?’
‘Please call me Janey.’
‘Only if you call me John.’
‘That would be nice.’ She smiled as she told him she was an artist, because sometimes she didn’t believe it herself. Encouraged by his polite questioning, she chatted non-stop all the way to London. She invited him to her first professional art exhibition as they pulled into Waterloo.’
‘I’d be delighted to come.’
‘Goodness.’ She grinned as she scrambled to her feet. ‘I’ve been talking your head off. I’d better wake Griff.’
A frown on his face John watched her walk away. He didn’t usually believe in coincidence, but was odd seeing the girl he’d once shared a building with at the wedding, and odder still to discover she was the daughter of a man he’d once investigated.
He’d kept out of her way at the wedding, and had been surprised that she’d recognized him. She was a nice girl. He looked at the address she’d scribbled on his paper. Finsbury Park.
‘Come to dinner one day,’ she’d invited. ‘You can meet Drifter.’
He doubted if he would, but he’d certainly go to the art exhibition. The painting she’d given Charles and Brenda had been surprisingly good for one so young.
Throwing the paper on the seat, he joined the other passengers on the platform and disappeared into the crowd.
Four more tenants moved in with Felicity and Connor over the next two months. The two females said they were feminists, though Drifter said they were dykes. They discarded their bras, walked around on dirty bare feet, and grew long sweaty hair in their armpits.
The other two were men. One was tall and wore round glasses. The other was smaller and cur-like. ‘Fuckin’ right on, man,’ he answered to anything said by Connor.
The house began to smell of hash and incense – dirt gathered in the corners. Stephen and Dion rarely visited, and Janey knew it was because they had to run the gauntlet of the latest tenants.
The crude language and sneering comments upset them, and annoyed Janey. Drifter found it amusing. ‘Forget it, babe,’ he drawled when she commented on it. ‘They’re just making a statement.’
‘They’re creeps.’
The mixed exhibition was a success, her oils selling quickly. Devlin followed up with a showing of the Mistral series, and sold those as well.
‘They brought better prices than I expected, so you’ve got to jump on the band wagon while it lasts. Think big and acrylic for the Mistral signature. In twelve months’ time I’ll be arranging a major oils exhibition for you, so start work.’
‘Mistral’s pregnant.’
The flat statement from Drifter sent Devlin’s head swiveling round. He gave him an unfriendly stare. ‘So what! She can still use her arms, can’t she?’
‘Listen, man.’ Drifter lumbered threateningly to his feet. ‘I don’t want her tiring herself. She’ll have a baby to look after soon.’
‘I don’t recall asking for your opinion. Janey’s my client, she can decide for herself whether she’s prepared to work.’
‘Well Mistral?’ Drifter said.
Both men had the same disgruntled expressions on their faces as they gazed at her. She grinned. They looked like kids spoiling for a fight.
‘Of course I can do the work. I want to. The baby’s not due until early January.’ Crossing to Drifter, she linked her arm through his and laid her head against his arm. ‘I’ll have to rely on you to keep the others out of my hair.’
‘Anything you say, babe.’
He was annoyed, she could tell. After Devlin had gone, strutting like a victorious turkey cock, Drifter gazed at her with wounded eyes. ‘I was only thinking of you.’
‘I know, and I love you for it.’
His arms came round her. ‘That guy’s a Svengali. He’ll work you until you drop if you let him get away with it.’
Irritation niggled at her. It was all right for Drifter. He’d grown up taking money for granted. She needed to work, to get ahead with her painting and grasp every opportunity that came her way. Drifter didn’t understand that her work was more than just a job to her. She needed it liked she needed to breathe.
By Christmas, their relationship was coming apart at the seams. Drifter needed people around him, and he filled the house with them. Stephen and Dion moved out, their place taken by a several students, who didn’t seem to study, but played loud music and smoked pot incessantly. One of them had a set of bongo drums that throbbed half the night.
There were parties. People walked around half naked and drunk, and she nearly tripped over a couple making love on the stairs outside their door one night.
Drifter laughed when she complained. ‘Cool it, babe. There’s nothing like a little loving to make a man mellow.’
Her blood pressure rose after Christmas. Because the baby was overdue, they admitted her to hospital and induced the birth.
Drifter was frantic with worry, but the labor was short – the infant slipping from her like a calf from a cow. When Drifter was allowed to visit she had the baby tucked protectively against her chest.
He pulled back the shawl and smiled. ‘She’s a cutie with that bald head. Why is she that funny color?’
‘Jaundice. They said she’ll be all right in a day or two.’
‘Saffron.’ He chuckled as he put his arms around them both. ‘That’s what we’ll call her.’
Griff came to see her after she returned home. He brought a teddy bear for the baby and was pleasant to Drifter. He was taken aback by the nature of the people living in the house.
‘This isn’t a good environment to bring a baby up in,’ he said when Drifter went to make some coffee. ‘You’re not messing about with drugs, are you?’
‘Do I look that stupid, Griff?’
A grin slid across his mouth. ‘You look disgustingly healthy, and totally smug.’
‘Saffy’s beautiful, isn’t she?’
‘The best baby I’ve ever laid eyes on. I hope you’re going to ask me to be her godfather.’
Drifter set the tray of coffee on the table. ‘We’re not having her christened, that conventional crap is old-fashioned.’
When disappointment touched Griff’s eyes, anger trickled down Janey’s spine. If Drifter thought he’d make decisions like this all by himself, he could think again.
‘Who the hell decided Saffy wasn’t going to be christened!’ she exploded after Griff had gone.
‘Hell, I’m her pops, aren’t I?’
‘Then why did you insist your name be left off her birth certificate?’
‘Aw, hell.’ He slumped into a chair. ‘Don’t get mad, Mistral. If you want Doc Tyler to be her godfather it’s all right by me. You know why I’m not taking any chances. If my Grandfathers catch up with me they’ll shove me in a suit and glue my ass to a chair behind a desk.’
‘And you think they’re going to check every new birth certificate. For God’s sake, Drifter, get real.’
His eyes shifted to the door. ‘I think I’ll go downstairs for a bit. I expect you want to paint.’
‘I’ve got to feed Saffy first.’
‘There’s a few people coming up on Saturday to celebrate Saffy’s arrival. That all right with you?’
Her heart sank, but he looked so pleased with the idea that she had no other choice but to summon up a smile.
Saffy took over her life. Nappies ... washing ... feeding ... bathing. After a month she’d organized her life sufficiently to fit in her painting. She was so tired, that when she fell into bed she hardly had the energy to wish Drifter good night.
Devlin was pleased with her Mistral paintings. It wasn’t what she wanted to express on canvas, but they were quick to paint and brought in money. Not that she needed any, because Drifter insisted on paying for everything. Her bank account got fatter and fatter.
‘You’re my girl,’ he said, but never once suggested they make it legal. Not that she wanted to get married, she told herself, but it would have been nice to be asked.
She sent money to Pamela with her next letter.
By return post, she learned that Linda had married. There was a photo of Susie, taken at school. She was smiling, but her eyes were unhappy. She’d be eleven in autumn.
Drifter threw a surprise party for her twentieth birthday, to which even Devlin was invited. Janey’s heart sank when she returned from putting Saffy to bed, and found the residents gathered in their lounge room, but she forced a smile to her face as they shouted, ‘Happy birthday!’
Drifter drew her into his arms and kissed her, then pulled a small box from his pocket. ‘Hush everyone. I’m about to propose to my girl.’
Horrified when he dropped to one knee, Janey didn’t know quite what to say. ‘I suppose so,’ she stammered. There was a cold glitter of diamonds as a ring was slid on her finger, then everyone cheered. Drifter was born away, and a glass was placed in her hand.
‘I can’t drink that. I’m breast feeding.’
‘It’s fruit punch. Conner made it especially for you.’
Felicity looked stunning in a sleek black dress, but her eyes were shadowed underneath, and her smile fixed. Her hand trembled as she bore a glass her lips.
‘Are you all right, Felicity?’
‘Perfectly, darling.’ She gazed to where Connor sat, spouting his poetry to a dirty looking group of students. ‘Connor’s being a frightful bore, that’s all. He’s begun to believe he’s some sort of genius.’ Felicity sounded as stunned as Janey felt as her eyes flickered to Drifter. ‘Congratulations, I didn’t think he wanted to tie himself down.’
Devlin wasn’t quite so generous when he drew her aside. ‘You little fool,’ he snarled. ‘When he decides to grow up that whoremonger will break your heart.’
Something was stuck to the side of the glass. Fishing it out with her finger she murmured, ‘What’s this?’
Devlin swore as he took the tiny speck of paper from her. ‘It’s a blotter. If I’m not mistaken, your drink’s been spiked with acid.’
‘Acid?’
‘LSD. Where does that doctor friend of yours work?’
Fear sent goose pimples rioting along her spine. ‘Hackney hospital.’
‘Good. Fetch the baby and get in my car. Be quick, we haven’t got much time.’
‘What about Drifter?’
‘I’ll see to him.’
As she left with Saffy bundled under a shawl she saw Drifter on the floor with a crowd of people round him. Blood gushed from his nose.’
‘What have you done?’ she whispered.
‘Nothing he didn’t deserve.’
‘What’s going to happen to me, Devlin?’ Fear was rippling along her body like little waves, one after the other.
‘I guess you’re going on a trip.’ The eyes he turned her way were glacial. ‘For your sake, I hope it’s a good one.’
‘And if it’s not?’
His hand covered hers for a second and he sighed. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.’
* * * *
Colors, brilliant colors, singing like a choir of different winds coming from the centre of the universe. Reaching out, she caught one. It changed into a key that seared into the flesh of her palm.
The pain was so intense that she cried out, and plunged her arm into the ocean. The waves boiled up around it, steam filled her mouth, her eyes and her nostrils. She was choking on it.
Saffy was locked in a room, calling her with a thin reedy cry from far away. The shadow was taking her child.
‘Saffy!’ she screamed.
‘She’s fine.’
Griff’s voice, calmed her, but he didn’t understand. Her hand closed around his wrist. ‘The shadow will hurt her.’
She took Griff’s hand with her when she plunged into the whirlpool and swam to the door. It was locked. Desperately, she pounded on it. ‘Let me in.’
You have the key, a voice in her head said.
‘I’ve lost it.’
It’s in your hand.
‘That’s a scar.’
It doesn’t have to be a scar.
She tried to peel the scar from her hand but it wouldn’t let her.
Saffy gave a silent, wrenching cry.
She struggled with her hand, prising each stubborn finger from around the key.
‘Leave me alone,’ it said. ‘I’m the keeper of the shadow.’
‘The shadow is mine,’ she argued. Seizing the key she thrust it in the lock and entered the room. The shadow was hunched on the wall, moving, threatening. She experienced Saffy’s pain, absorbed it, making it her own so her child wouldn’t have to suffer.
The shadow was unaware of her creeping up on it. The choking dust muffled her footfall. It had its back to her, and she couldn’t see its face.
She inched her way on to the pillow, melting into a shaft of moonlight coming through the window.
It was him! He was punishing her child!
Giving an anguished scream she picked up a candle from the dressing table and thrust hot wax into his eyes. His vision soaked up the light and she stared into the face of evil.
‘I’m your daughter,’ she cried out. ‘Why are you doing this to me?’
* * * *
‘She’s not making much sense.’
‘She is to me.’
Devlin glanced at the clock. ‘How much longer?’
‘It could be another six or seven hours.’ Griff smoothed the tangled hair back from Janey’s forehead. ‘Why don’t you catch some sleep?’
‘What’s the point? Saffy will be yelling for another feed or a nappy change soon.’ Devlin grinned. ‘I hadn’t realized babies peed so much.’
‘It goes in one end and out the other. She hasn’t had any trouble taking to the bottle, then?’
‘The kid soaks it up like a wino on the slops, then belches half of it down my shirt. I stink to high heaven.’
‘If you burped her half way through, it might help.’
‘You try taking the bottle out of her mouth. She’s got a suck on her like a vacuum cleaner.’
Griff chuckled, then turned towards the bed as Janey gave a drawn out moan.
‘What is it?’ Janey. What’s happening?’
‘He’s waiting for her, in the cow-shed.’
His eyes sharpened. ‘Who’s waiting, Janey?’
There was a long moment of hush when her breath was held, then a whispered, ‘The shadow. She doesn’t see it yet, but she senses something.’
‘Phil ... Griff ...?’
Her frightened, young girl voice made the hairs prickle on Griff’s neck.
Saffy gave a short, sudden cry from the other room.
‘Don’t hurt me, daddy ... please don’t hurt me ... I can’t breathe ... ‘
Devlin rose to his feet, his face pale. ‘Is this what I think it is?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘I’m out of here. Is there anything I can get you?’
‘I could do with some coffee and a sandwich.’
‘I’m suffocating.’ Janey’s eyes suddenly snapped open and she focused on him. Her pupils were pinpricks ‘Don’t leave me alone with him, Griff’ she begged. ‘Last time you came too late.’
‘I’m here now, Janey.’ He took her hand in his. ‘Hold on to me. I’ll help you through it.’
Tears flooded Devlin’s eyes. Leaving the room he poured himself a stiff brandy, and raising it towards the bedroom door, muttered.
‘Here’s to you, Griff Tyler. You’re quite a guy.’
Saffy gave a furious, demanding yell from the other room.
‘Shit! I hate babies,’ he said. Placing his drink on the table he hurried through to the spare bedroom.
Saffy was a bundle of furious rage, her arms punching the air like a heavyweight champion in a title fight.
‘What are you all steamed up about?’
She stopped crying and turned her head towards his voice. Eyes a clear shade of green gazed up at him.
His nose wrinkled. ‘Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a stinker?’
Saffy gave him a gummy smile, and he melted.
‘How would you like me for a godfather?’ he said.
There came a time when Janey saw a dark whirlpool amongst the brightness. She fell towards it with a silent scream, but jerked awake before it could suck her in.
She’d had a nightmare. She tried to move, but her limbs felt as if they were coated in treacle. Then she saw Griff asleep in the chair, and remembered.
Her fist beat against the cover. ‘No, No, No!’
In an instant, Griff was at her side. His fingers peeled opened her unresisting eyelids and he shone a light into her eyes.
‘Good,’ he grunted.
‘Not good ... the light feels like ice.’
A stethoscope was placed against her chest.
‘Boom biddy boom!’ she said, and then laughed hysterically at her own joke.
Griff, managed a tiny, humoring grin. ‘You’re feeling pretty rotten now, but you’ll soon improve.’
She pushed aside the blood pressure cuff he was trying to wrap around her arm. ‘Stop playing doctors for five minutes ... why didn’t you tell me, Griff?’
His eyes came to rest gently on hers. ‘Tell you what?’
‘You know damned well what! That it wasn’t a car accident. That I was ... well, you know?’
‘No, I wasn’t there. You tell me, Janey.’
She felt close to tears. He was being deliberately obtuse and making her angry. Rage rose in her like a white hot column. She lashed out at him, her fists beating furiously against his chest with a hollow thumping sound. ‘You do know, Griff. You do know!’
‘Say it, Janey. Spit it out and get rid of it!’
‘I was beaten up and raped! Edward Renfrew raped me, and somebody else went to prison for it. Damn him! Damn him to hell!’
Griff’s arms came round her and he hugged her close. ‘It’s a mistake to disassociate yourself. Are you telling me that your father raped you?’
She pushed herself from his arms, her face horrified as she sank back against the pillows.
‘I wish it was that easy.’ Her head began to throb. ‘No, my father didn’t rape me, Griff ... it was Edward Renfrew.’ Her hands came up to her face and she began to sob.
‘Oh God, what an awful mess. My father ... my real father is Jack Bellamy, otherwise known as the artist, John Gregory! I should have realized they wouldn’t have sent him to prison for all that time over an accident.’