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

floor, ‘this obsession, get inside your head. There are people you can talk to, Sandra. Kind, wise people who can help you.’

Sandra nodded slowly. ‘But when I asked for help, they didn’t, did they? And now I can see that’s because you would all rather believe Beatrice than me.’ She gave a small bitter laugh. ‘The demons are clever.’ She stood up. ‘Please go away, Heather. I would hate you to get involved in all this. You are a good person. You are not part of it. Leave me to sort it all out.’ She moved towards Heather, standing over her menacingly, far too close in the small room. Heather scrambled to her feet and backed towards the door. ‘Sandra—’

Sandra smiled. ‘No. The time for talking is over. Please go.’ The house was suddenly incredibly cold.

With every ounce of dignity she could muster, Heather turned and walked out of the room. She couldn’t wait to get out of there, but on the front doorstep she turned. ‘Are you sure—’

‘I’m sure.’ Sandra was right on her heels and Heather flinched. The final words Sandra shouted after her as she hurried away down the pavement left her reeling with shock.

‘I fled.’ Heather followed Mark into his study and threw herself down on the sofa. ‘Oh God, Mark. That woman is evil! There is no other word for it. I’m sorry. I don’t think I helped at all. All I’ve done is warn her that Bea is on to her. Where is Bea?’ Her hands were actually shaking.

‘She’s gone up to see Emma.’ Mark pulled his chair away from his desk and spun it round to sit down opposite her. ‘Tell me exactly what happened.’

Heather described her visit. She swallowed hard, shuddering. ‘She used to be a professional psychic, for God’s sake!’

Mark sighed. ‘I’m not all that surprised. I thought at first she was probably a typical nosy parker, but Bea was beginning to sense the power. That woman knows what she is doing.’

‘As I left, she shouted something after me, Mark.’ To her embarrassment Heather felt a tear roll down her cheek. ‘She said that when Emma and Bea next dream about the past the demons that possess them will win and they will be stuck in the past forever and only she could have saved them, but maybe it would be better if they were trapped there and burned at the stake as the witches they had become. That was the only way to destroy demons.’

Mark sighed. ‘I don’t know much about the Anglo-Saxons but I don’t think witch burning was one of their hobbies. Shall we say a prayer together, Heather, and then I will ring Bea and warn her what’s going on.’

After Heather left he headed out into the hall, then stopped in his tracks. There was something moving round in the kitchen. He heard the scrape of a chair leg on the tiles, then the rustle of paper and a door softly closing. He crept towards the door and listened. Silence. The kitchen was empty. He tiptoed round the room, and paused by the fridge. Taking a deep breath he opened the door. For a split second he thought there was something in there. The slightest movement, a pair of eyes, the whisk of a tail disappearing between the packages and pots, but then it had gone. The fridge was neat and tidy and empty of wildlife. He made the sign of the cross and closed the door firmly. What was it Bea had done to scare the woman away? She had laughed.

‘She’s still asleep.’ Simon had waited for Bea, sitting on the wall outside in the hazy spring sunlight. ‘What are we going to do?’

Bea had been planning her strategy as she drove over. ‘I think we should wake her and talk. Have you spoken to her mother today?’

He grimaced. ‘Not usefully, no.’

She sat down beside him and let out a sigh. ‘Oh dear.’

‘Indeed. I think, I hope, I have made her realise how catastrophic it would be to escalate all this beyond the family.’

Bea looked up at the bedroom window. She didn’t dare tell him how far the situation had already escalated. ‘Can I go up and wake her?’

He nodded. ‘If you think that’s a good idea. I’ll wait here.’

The room was shadowed, the curtains half drawn and Emma was lying across the bed. She had pushed the duvet onto the floor. ‘Em?’ Bea sat down on the edge of the bed and put her hand on Emma’s arm. ‘Em, wake up.’

Emma made a small grunting noise and moved away fretfully.

‘Em, can you hear me?’

‘Go away!’

In her dream, Emma looked back over her shoulder at the four horsemen who were escorting Eadburh along the riverbank. The water rippled and glittered in the sunlight over the stony shallows they passed. One of the king’s bodyguard had ridden up beside her and pointed ahead. She could see the squat stone-built tower of the little church now, and the cluster of thatched buildings round it in a loop of the river.

As they rode through the gates and into the central yard she slid from the horse and looked round. ‘Ask where he is,’ she commanded.

The warrior nearest her dismounted and handed his reins to his companion. He shouted across at a young man in a homespun robe who was sweeping up the wisps of hay blown from the newly built stack in the corner. The air was full of the sweetness of its scent.

They waited while he scurried away. Eadburh looked round at the tidy buildings, the solid little church with its stone walls, arched windows and door and heather-thatched roof. The place seemed deserted.

When the young man returned, she felt her heart sink. She could tell from his face that Elisedd would not see her. He spoke to the man beside her in soft courteous tones, keeping his eyes shyly on the ground, knotting his fingers together nervously. She could make out some of the words. ‘The lady