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

She listened, her ear pressed against the wood, then very gently she began to push it open.

26

Emma and Bea had walked slowly round the church before making their way into St Ethelbert’s Room at the back and switching on the light. Bea felt Emma reaching for her hand and she grasped it reassuringly. She could feel nothing in this bleak, empty room. There was no sense that St Ethelbert, or anyone else, had left a shadow here. ‘There is supposed to have been a ray of blinding light coming up from where he fell,’ Emma whispered. ‘I looked it up on the internet. And then the spring sprang from the ground.’ She reached out to the pile of colourful leaflets someone had left on top of the wooden well cover. ‘There he is.’ She pointed at the picture. ‘He’s got very fetching boots.’ She gave a small giggle.

‘It’s sad they don’t make more of this place,’ Bea said thoughtfully. ‘I believe they do an annual pilgrimage from here to the cathedral, but it would be nice if there was something for the pilgrims who come at other times. Perhaps we’ve caught it on a bad day, but a few flowers and perhaps a candle might be nice.’ She paused for a few seconds, allowing the silence of the room to surround them. Outside in the church they heard a squeak from the door hinge.

‘Someone else is coming,’ Emma whispered.

‘That’s fine. We needn’t talk to anyone if you don’t want to.’ Bea sighed. ‘Do you sense there is anything actually in here, Emma?’

The girl shook her head.

‘Where did you see your ghost?’

‘Just outside this door. In the back of the church.’

‘Shall we go and see?’

Emma nodded. They turned off the light and went back into the nave. There was no sign of anyone else there. Emma slipped into the back pew. ‘It was here,’ she whispered.

‘Close your eyes and allow yourself to listen and feel,’ Bea said. ‘Wait quietly and see what happens. Don’t be afraid. I’m here, right beside you.’

‘Nothing.’ It was a full five minutes later. ‘Just a sort of warm feeling as if someone had put the heating on.’

Bea smiled. ‘I surrounded us with light. A protective bubble. And I prayed.’

‘And that made me feel warm?’

‘And safe, hopefully.’

But they weren’t safe. Not entirely. She could feel something there, an uneasy restlessness that was not there when they first came in, a sense that someone was there with them, listening. Emma had closed her eyes again, a small half smile on her face; Bea took the opportunity to look round slowly, scanning the pews, the corners behind them. At first the church seemed empty but there were places people could hide. The kitchen area, the stairs up to the gallery, the gallery itself, the columns, even the pulpit. Her eyes went back to the pulpit. Was that something on the steps? A piece of fabric with a buckle trailing from behind the stone? A raincoat belt?

She narrowed her eyes.

‘Come on,’ she whispered. ‘Let’s go and sit outside for a bit. It’s chilly in here.’

There was a bench outside, looking out towards the river, and they sat there, side by side, near the door out of the wind. ‘I didn’t feel the king was there,’ Bea said, ‘but it may be that there is a thought form in the church. It would be strange if there wasn’t when so many people have been thinking about him there for over a thousand years.’ What she had sensed had not been a thought form, it had been a live person, and she had a strong suspicion she knew who it might be. Shelving her sudden irritation she turned back to Emma. ‘So, you felt the warmth of my protection. The important thing is to be able to do that for yourself,’ she said when they were settled. ‘All you need is the ability to visualise. Picture yourself inside something safe. Traditionally people use a bubble, because that’s transparent, so you can see out, and it’s movable, it can stretch infinitely, enlarging your safe, space, even enclosing the people with you if you need to, and depending on the way you see it, it’s beautiful. A portable sanctuary into which no evil thing can stray. Try it.’

The church door stayed shut.

Emma was frowning, concentrating hard.

Bea watched her, her heart going out to the girl. She remembered teaching this to her daughter, Anna, when she admitted she was being bullied in school. In theory it shouldn’t help at all, but somehow it did. It gave that feeling of safety and strength which sometimes was all that was needed to hide one’s vulnerability and deflect the bullies’ worst instincts.

‘Don’t try too hard,’ she whispered. ‘Just let it be there. Enjoy it. It’s your space. Instantly there, instantly gone when you don’t need it, like an umbrella.’

Emma giggled. ‘I love the idea.’

‘Go on practising. All the time. Use it when you’re shopping if the crowds get too much. Use it at the dentist if you’re scared. Use it at school if any difficult situations arise and above all use it if you feel there is something unseen threatening you.’

‘The king wasn’t threatening.’

‘And that’s fine too. You’re safe in your bubble and you can still speak and see and feel as much as you want to, but when you’re dealing with people from a different plane of existence, it’s best to be safe. They’re not always what they seem. We have lost the belief and the vocabulary in our present age to deal with these things, but they are as real now for some people as they were in medieval times.’

They both heard the latch on the church door click open.

Emma froze. Bea saw her eyes widen with terror and she put her finger to her lips and shook her head in reassurance. Standing up she took a few steps away from the bench. From there she could see the porch door