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

from their escort reach for their swords, staring round in terror. She clutched her little crucifix, holding it out it in front of her. ‘I am not a witch!’ she heard her own voice, thin and scared in the silence of her room. ‘I’m not …’

But they had gone. The Queen of Wessex and the people anxiously surrounding her had faded into the past and Bea could only imagine them there, on the track, staring round in confusion as the cry of the falcon echoed from the cliffs above them and died away into the silence.

The sound of the front door quietly opening and closing had woken Simon. He reached for his phone and stared at it groggily. It was 2.30 in the morning. With a groan he climbed out of bed and went to peer out of his bedroom window. He could see the faint outline of his daughter sitting on the wall outside in the dark. She was smoking a cigarette.

Grabbing a heavy sweater, he tiptoed downstairs past the recumbent form of his snoring son and let himself out into the cold night air.

‘Emma? What is it, darling? Can’t you sleep?’

Hearing the door open, Emma had hastily stubbed out the cigarette and tossed it over the wall. ‘I thought there was someone out here, Dad.’

‘Felix is asleep.’

‘Obviously.’ There was enough light from the stars to see her smile. They could both hear his snores through the door.

‘It’s a beautiful night.’ Pulling his sweater more tightly round himself with a shiver, he sat down beside her. Above them the stars were a brilliant carpet across the sky, the half-moon low on the horizon. After their urban sky at home in London where one could see even the biggest constellations only occasionally, he had been stunned by the sheer number of stars out here.

‘There was a woman out here, shouting. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her. She’d gone by the time I came downstairs.’

He sighed. ‘Was she calling for Elise?’

‘So you did hear her?’

‘Not this time. I was asleep. I had hoped she’d gone.’

‘Who is she? Who is Elise?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Dad?’

He sighed. ‘No one knows who she is. When we look for her, she disappears.’ He sighed. ‘We’re beginning to think she’s a ghost. Christine, the woman who owns this place, asked the local ghostbuster to come by and see if she could get her to leave. At first I thought it had worked, but obviously not.’ He could feel Emma’s gaze fixed on his face and he waited for an explosion of laughter. It didn’t come.

‘A real ghost?’ She sounded impressed.

‘A local vicar was up here as well, and he said she was a nun.’

‘A nun!’ It was an incredulous squeak. ‘What was a nun doing up here?’

He grinned. ‘Good question. But she’s not a scary ghost.’

‘I’m not scared.’ Emma was looking at him with something like awe. ‘That’s so cool. A real ghost! Wait till I tell Felix! Vicars and nuns!’ she gave a gurgle of glee. ‘Better not tell Mum. She would think you’d gone mad – or kinky.’

‘She already thinks I’m mad,’ Simon couldn’t stop himself.

Emma reached over and put her hand on his for a second. ‘She does love you, Dad. You do know that, don’t you? It’s this weird job you do. She would much rather you were an accountant.’

Simon let out a splutter of indignation. ‘An accountant! Where on earth did you get that idea?’

‘I heard her say so. She was on the phone to one of her friends. She didn’t mean it. She’s very proud of you really. But it is a bit weird, going away every couple of years or so and locking yourself away in remote places for months at a time to get away from us. It’s kind of rejecting everything we stand for.’

Simon was silent. Was that really how his family saw him? He had thought Val understood.

‘I’m not rejecting you, Em. Never that. You know how much I love you all,’ he said at last. ‘But I have to get my head round so many facts when I’m putting my books together, and I need silence to concentrate, not just for an hour or two but for weeks at a time.’

‘And you’ve ended up in a cottage with a ghost who yells at you!’

‘Ironic, isn’t it.’

‘Can we get your exorcist back?’

‘For goodness’ sake! How am I supposed to sleep?’ The front door opened so suddenly they both jumped. ‘Nattering out here at three in the morning!’ Felix appeared, clad in only a T-shirt and shorts, his hair standing on end. He stood on the doorstep, his feet bare. ‘You’ve been smoking, Em. I can smell it.’

How, Simon found himself thinking, can he smell it out here with all this glorious fresh air.

‘I haven’t. I don’t smoke!’ she denied it automatically. ‘And as for us talking, you should hear yourself snoring. Neither of us could sleep a wink. You were making the whole place rattle!’

‘I wasn’t. I don’t snore.’

‘Kids!’ Simon stood up wearily. ‘This is why I need peace to write. Can we adjourn the argument until morning? Please?’

17

Bea heard the clock strike the half hour from the cathedral. It was 2.30 in the morning. She must stand up, put away the stone, go back down to bed.

Soon.

But first she must repeat her protective ritual. Make sure she was safe. With or without the protection of her cross, she never wanted to feel Eadburh’s icy gaze on her again. She shuddered at the memory.

Eadburh had always known Nesta for what she was. Though modestly dressed, and with downcast eyes as the queen approached her, she gave off an aura of confidence and power, and at her girdle she wore the tools of her trade, one of them a tiny ball of rock crystal set in a silver mount. She and Eadburh had formed a strange bond long ago, perhaps strengthened by the knowledge that although it had never been mentioned between them, she