The Dream Weavers by Barbara Erskine (books you have to read txt) 📕

was exiled, she was offered the world on a plate by an emperor then he snatched it away and locked her in a convent. Perhaps all that was left were her dreams of that love affair, long ago, as a teenage girl with Elisedd, dreams that are now anchored to a real teenage girl, Emma.’

‘And the object of all this teenage angst rides fast and furiously past our door up here. So, he’s still looking for her?’

‘Perhaps he is. And she’s still calling for him. A thousand or so years of lost love and yearning.’

There was a long silence.

‘This is what I do, Simon. Try to comfort lost souls who stay anchored to this earth by unfinished business, so that they can move on to another stage of their journey.’

A sound in the doorway made them both look round. Emma was standing there, her eyes red from crying, her hair dishevelled. ‘It’s what I should be doing as well. One doesn’t need to do exams to do what you do.’ She came over and threw herself down on the chair between them.

Simon opened his mouth to protest, but Bea shook her head at him sharply.

‘As it happens, I did do exams, Em,’ she said gently. ‘I have a degree in English and a diploma as a teacher, and I have attended dozens of courses in healing and spiritual development, and on top of all that, I have years of life experience. It’s that experience you need before you can help other people. If you really want to help the dead move on, that’s a wonderful thing to do, but it’s not something you can do without study. I can help you channel your abilities and teach you how to begin, but you have to do the other things as well. Maybe not a degree, you would have to decide about that later, but there will be study involved and I’m sorry, there are no short cuts.’ She reached out to put her hand over Emma’s. ‘Your dad wants to help you and your mum does too in her own way. We have to make this work between us, so you can deal with all this and help Eadburh.’

She pushed back her chair and stood up. ‘I’m going home now. There are things I have to do there. Your dad and you need to discuss all this calmly and carefully, then I want you to have some supper – it’s important you eat, remember what I told you? To ground yourself properly and then get some rest. And you must protect yourself.’

Mark was waiting in the kitchen, sitting silently at the empty table as she walked in.

‘What? What’s happened?’ She stopped abruptly.

‘Mrs Armstrong rang me.’

‘Mrs?’

‘Emma’s mother.’

‘Oh God!’ Bea sat down. She was exhausted and this was the last thing she needed.

‘And Sandra came over earlier,’ he went on. ‘She was looking for you. If you ask me, she’s completely lost it!’

‘Mark!’

‘She was ranting on about needing to save your soul by destroying your powers and she was the only person capable of rendering you harmless.’

Bea closed her eyes.

‘And docile.’

Her eyes flew open. ‘Docile!’

Mark grinned. ‘If it wasn’t all so serious, I would be laughing. She is not, you will be glad to hear, going to have to confront you to perform this miracle, but she seems to be convinced that such things are possible from a distance.’ His smile faded. ‘I’ve got a very bad feeling about it. I hope you have the skills to save yourself from this scale of psychic onslaught, my darling. She assured me that she respects me and wants to save me from the witchcraft that enfolds me. She can do this by taking action against you. Oh, and she’s fixed her sights on Emma as well, as your sorcerer’s apprentice.’

Bea shivered. ‘Oh Mark.’

‘And on top of that Val Armstrong is threatening us with the police, social services, the bishop and the Daily Mail.’ He sighed. ‘She rang me from her car. So, how was your day?’

A smile hovered for a second on her lips. It didn’t last. ‘You obviously know about Emma refusing to go home, which means that she is, at least for now, still part of my problem, the more so if these threats are real.’

‘Well, don’t go chucking any psychic slings and arrows about yet. Perhaps a nice cup of tea first?’ He managed a weary grin. Standing up, he bent and kissed the top of her head. ‘I’m going to pray.’

She sat without moving for a long time after she heard his study door close, then she headed for the stairs.

‘I need your help.’

Nesta was there, still in the shadow of the woods, her hair drifting free of her hood in the summer breeze.

Bea realised she hadn’t ever seen her wearing anything on her head, unlike every other woman of her period, apart from the hood of her cloak. The wild locks, deep copper, streaked with white, seemed to be a symbol of her freedom.

‘You were right about me being considered a witch. It seems I have enemies on every side.’

She was turning her stone over and over in her hands as she sat before her candle. ‘I have been threatened with what my husband calls a psychic onslaught.’

Nesta gave a snort of derision.

‘What should I do?’

‘You know what to do. And your priestly husband has surrounded you with the power of his prayers. I can see the love of God all around you.’

Bea found she was smiling. ‘He’s a good man.’

‘He is a powerful man. Don’t be afraid to ask him for help.’

‘And does his love mean I’m safe from this person?’

Nesta was less distinct now, her shape almost invisible as darkness fell round her. ‘We shall see.’

Was that what she had said? Bea leaned forward, clutching the stone more tightly. ‘Nesta? Wait!’

But the candle flame was flickering. Bea leaned forward anxiously. Already it had gone out. The room was dark and very faintly she smelt the autumnal aroma of