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

‘Did you speak to her?’

He shook his head. ‘She’s switched it off again. She must have plugged it in to charge it up.’

‘When your father rang me, he said a local woman had seen her there, in the church, but by the time he got there, she had gone.’

‘Well, she hasn’t gone far then. I’m going to look up the coordinates, then I’ll know exactly. She’ll be OK, Mum.’ He sat down on the arm of the sofa, touched by the extent of his mother’s distress. Up to now she had been mostly angry, but now he could see the strain this whole thing was having on her.

‘You’re so good, Felix. If you hadn’t known how to track her phone we wouldn’t know where she was.’

‘Are you going to tell the police?’ A small part of him felt a bit guilty at spying on his sister; but the other part was furious with her for being so bloody selfish.

His mother nodded. ‘I must. They’ve been looking for her all over the country. Your dad said someone had seen her in Llangollen and I told them that, but since then, nothing. I have to tell them we think we know where she is.’

‘And you’ll call them off?’ He had been horrified when she had first involved the police. None of what was happening to Emma would be explainable in their terms. Or anyone else’s.

‘I will when your father finds her. Did you ring him back to tell him you’d heard from her phone?’

‘I tried, but his phone is off too. They may just be out of reach of a signal up there. There are some quite remote areas. I looked it up.’

She gave a little moan. ‘I don’t know what to do, Felix.’

‘Leave it, Mum.’ Her helplessness made him feel very responsible. ‘I’ve messaged him. He’ll ring as soon as he gets the text. I’m sure everything will be OK. Em is sensible. She won’t do anything silly.’

Apart from running away, missing her exams and trying to find a man who died over a thousand years ago. He kept those thoughts to himself.

Val was blowing her nose hard, pretending not to cry. She looked up at him, her eyes shiny with tears. ‘I’m so sorry, Felix. I forgot to ask. How did the exams go today?’

He gave a theatrical shrug. ‘Not bad. I think I did OK.’

Dai dropped Emma off in the village of Llangynog, at the foot of the Berwyn Mountains. They were outside an Edwardian house with a carved B & B sign hanging by the gate. He had shown her where the shrine to the patron saint of hares was on her map. It was still a couple of miles away, he said, in a little church up a long deep valley, but she had the impression that unless he knew she was safe, he wasn’t going to leave her on her own, so as he drove away she waved goodbye and began to climb the front steps to the front door of the house. Within seconds he was out of sight. Immediately she stopped, ran back down the steps and hurried back up the main street. She was heading for the trail he had pointed out to her.

Mark had the front door open before Simon had even pulled the car up opposite the gate. Between them, he and Simon managed to extricate Bea and carry her in and through into the snug where they laid her carefully on the sofa.

‘Shut the front door, Simon,’ Mark whispered urgently. ‘That wretched woman Sandra’s probably out there somewhere. I really don’t want her barging in.’ He took Bea’s hand in his and rubbed it gently. ‘Sweetheart? Bea? Wake up.’

‘She was muttering something about Sandra in the car. It sounded as though she had followed us there, I couldn’t make it out and I didn’t want to stop.’ Having slammed the front door and slid the chain in place for good measure, Simon went over to peer out of the window. ‘I can’t see anyone. Do you want me to go out and look?’

Mark shook his head. ‘Let’s keep all the doors locked.’ He bent to kiss Bea’s forehead. ‘Bea, please wake up.’

‘Should we call a doctor?’ Simon was still standing by the window.

‘Not yet. Let’s see how she is when she’s warmed up. She’s so cold.’

‘The car wasn’t cold.’ Simon was chewing his lip in anguish.

‘What about Emma? I’m sorry. I should have asked at once.’ Mark glanced up at him.

‘You have more pressing things to worry about.’ Simon stared helplessly at Bea. She looked so pale and so vulnerable lying there on the sofa, he felt a sudden terrible pang of anguish. He turned away. ‘Em visited the church at Meifod yesterday evening and spent the night in a B & B nearby. Since then, as far as we know, there’s been no sign of her.’

‘So, how did this happen?’ Mark gestured down at his wife.

‘Bea was in the church. I’d gone to the pub across the road from the church to organise some sandwiches for us and ask them if they’d seen Emma. Bea and I had a bite to eat and a cup of coffee, then she said there was something else she needed to check in the church. There’s an ancient cross in there that’s rather special. She went over ahead of me and she was sitting in a pew when I went in. I thought she had fallen asleep, but then she sat bolt upright and let out a cry. I don’t know if it was surprise or pain, or what. I grabbed her arm and, and,’ he swallowed hard trying to find the words, ‘it was as if she was in a different place, with different people. She was looking straight past me, talking, but so fast and so softly I couldn’t hear her. And she looked afraid. So terribly afraid. I didn’t know what to do, but I