Prologue
She raised her arms and studied them closely as the sleeves of her blouse rolled back. Her pale-white skin was transparent … everything was transparent – her hands, her ground-hugging skirt, her body … And it should have been cold, yet she could feel neither the crispness of the air nor the dampness of its moisture. It was all very odd. Nothing made any sense, nothing at all.
She listened: it was as quiet as the dead of night. There was no sound nor sign of movement: the shoreline flora was listless, the trees breathless, the air still. A spell had been cast that nothing seemed able to break and yet, as she continued to wait in that unworldly atmosphere, she could feel a presence, something on the water that was biding its time. And then, as if the presence had sensed its discovery, a slow, distant noise broke the spell.
Gradually the noise grew closer and louder until, as ethereal as everything else, a rowing boat eased through the fog into view. A cloaked figure glanced around, observed the woman standing on the shoreline, then turned the boat to point back the way it had come. With a gesture, Lily was invited to climb aboard.
Lily was uncertain what to do and did not move.
The figure pulled back the cloak’s hood to reveal the face of a young woman. There was sorrow in her eyes as she stared in sullen silence. She forced a smile and beckoned Lily into the boat once again.
Lily relented, viewing the invitation as predestined – what other reason could there be for her sudden appearance on that pathway or for the manner in which she had been found? She stepped into the water feeling its resistance but not the bite of its cold. Once in the boat, she sat down opposite the young woman who, without a word, began to row back into the fog.
The unerring journey involved no conversation and lasted no more than ten minutes. They arrived at a small island where the boat was manoeuvred as before and its passenger allowed to step out. To Lily’s surprise, the young woman did not follow. Instead, she stroked once, then twice, back into the fog and stopped.
Lily stepped from the water onto the shore and turned to face the boat. Her new acquaintance was aging quickly, no longer the young woman that had ferried her across, but someone already well into middle age. The smile had gone. Only the sadness remained in a fast-withering face.
‘What are you doing?’ Lily asked.
The woman did not reply. She remained morose, her brooding eyes fixed on her prisoner.
Lily took a couple of paces into the water. The shore fell sharply away. Without the boat, there was no escape.
‘What are you doing?’ Lily repeated more earnestly, once she had returned to dry land.
The woman, who now looked old, did not respond.
Lily sat down,
crossed her legs and stared back. As the woman had brought her to the island
for a reason, there seemed little choice but to be patient. One thing was
certain though: this must be the afterlife. She was not dreaming, just plain
dead, and if this was the spirit world, so be it. But why here? And why had this woman sought her out only to hold her captive? Lily had
questions she needed answers to. Her harsh life had apparently ended in an
early demise and the cruel separation from her only daughter. Maybe getting to
know her fellow spirit could help safeguard her child’s future, perhaps that
was the purpose of her being there. And if, in the process, it helped to avenge
herself against Death for his untimely intervention, so much the better. Vengeance,
in one shape or form, for what life had thrown at her was well overdue.
Chapter 1
(pron. Jewel-ff)
1894
‘Och! At last, Daniel, I’ve never known a journey to take so long.’ The jaded young woman slipped from her horse onto the hardened mud track, relieved that the discomforts of a wearisome day’s ride were at last over. ‘I wasn’t born with enough padding in my backside to be stuck in the saddle for such a length of time.’
Daniel remained seated on the cart, loosely gripping the reins of two sturdy, but compliant, shire horses. He cast his eyes upon the contorting figure of the petite redhead as she proceeded to engineer life and feeling back into her body.
Bending to touch her toes, her long fine hair glided over her white blouse to all but embrace the dirt of her Scottish homeland. The ecstasy of taut muscles stretching and blood freely flowing once again, induced a satisfying groan. Straightening, she thrust her hips forward and growled as the tired, protesting stiffness surrendered its grip. Finally, she stretched skywards, her face first twisted in agony, then serene with pleasure.
‘Daniel, Daniel. That is so much better.’
Daniel grunted in bemused agreement. ‘Aye, did a lot for me as well, young lady. It’s a rare delight to be accompanied by you or your sister on one of these trips – you’re both shameless.’
The woman’s youthful smile grew; such comments were taken as compliments. ‘The delight will be for me alone for the rest of the summer. Lily, as you well know, will be grappling with the terrifying ordeals of motherhood.’
The discordant tones of a demanding infant would soon announce the emergence of a new generation within the McTavish clan. Lily’s own cries, borne from days of frustrated inactivity, had already blessed the Highlands with a tirade of advance warning.
‘How soon?’ Daniel asked.
‘Very. A week is probably pushing it. No time to hang around on this trip. I’ll be straight back tomorrow.’
Daniel inhaled sharply, his features gripped by a generous show of concern for his fellow villagers. ‘And what about all those admirers, the ones that seem barely able to survive during your long periods of absence?’
The thought ushered forth a muted but wicked laugh. ‘Oh to be missed, Daniel. Think of the edge it will add to future visits.’
The genial cartman pushed up the peak of his cloth cap and scratched his forehead, ruminating like an old sage who had seen trouble before and felt its like brewing again: ‘More than an edge – usually a brawl to receive whatever attention you care to mete out.’
‘As I said, Daniel, I like to be missed.’
‘Perhaps for the sake of peace in our community, you should take a leaf out of Lily’s book and settle down.’
Jualth offered no such reassurance – where was the fun to be found in a peaceful, slumbering community? Instead, she led her mare around to the back of the cart and secured the reins to the wooden rail. The scent of a very special cargo rode a light, transitory breeze. It was lovingly inhaled as possessive fingers stretched out to gently stroke one of the darkened oak casks. The moment of parting had arrived, a loss that provided no warmth to the vendor. Sadly, fiscal needs governed the rights of ownership. Her eyes flicked up to the first-floor window of a cottage that stood as a sentry post to the main gate. Spying eyes had undoubtedly noted her arrival, but she saw no shape or shadow inside, only the reflection of the blue evening sky.
Daniel grunted. He almost regretted making the suggestion, almost enough to leave it at that, but not quite. ‘Are you sure there isn’t one particular young man?’
‘Not one, Daniel, fifteen, and all, at present, equally unworthy.’
‘Then how will you decide between them or are you intending to marry the lot?’
It was a thought that evoked a mischievous smile from his companion. But Daniel would not be allowed to pry.
‘My bones are telling me that trouble looms not far ahead,’ the old sage declared.
‘Those creaking bones of yours never stop talking. Their premonitions match the number of drams you’ve consumed to soothe their groans.’
‘When your body starts complaining, you’ll take all the sympathy and all the whisky you can get.’
For Daniel, youth was now as distant as the Ice Age and the crisis that was middle age embraced and dealt with. He had lived in Brethna and been a cartman and long-term employee of its distillery all his life. Casks of pure malt whisky nestled in the back of his cart, a product of a small, near-inaccessible distillery hidden in the hills to the east. Even with an early start and only the briefest of stops, a hot and sunny day had resulted in their late afternoon arrival.
Jualth opened the gates and bade him enter. ‘I’ll catch up with you later,’ she called out.
Daniel tipped his cap as the cart trundled forward along the gentle pitch of a track that led to the bonded warehouse. Jualth secured the gates and stood momentarily to watch her precious whisky wheeled away. The cart caught the attention of a large black cat that, in its role as distillery protector, cautiously shadowed the new arrival from the side.
Jualth took a few short paces to the left and skipped up a couple of steps to the door of an inauspicious-looking wooden hut that lay on the opposite side of the entrance to the main office. A fleeting play of knuckles upon the door was enough to announce her presence. Pushing her way in, she stood radiating warmth towards a person that demanded both respect and, as far as Jualth and her sister were concerned, much love too. Sitting in the hut’s solitary room at its sole desk, mulling over important figures, was Arthur Whibley – the excise officer.
‘Arthur, fancy finding you in your little hut,’ Jualth said cheekily. The door closed with encouragement from the well-sprung heel of her boot. She walked round the desk, kissed him fondly on each rosy cheek, then pulled up a chair to his side. ‘Missed me?’ she asked.
One moment of Jualth’s company in the colourless, sedentary workplace was enough to transform Arthur Whibley’s officious world into an agreeable heaven. Maintaining a semblance of authority when he could all but feel the warmth emanating from his young admirer was not easy. ‘And if I were to say no?’
Jualth gasped. ‘Arthur! You know how much that would hurt.’
Arthur’s cheeks began to glow even brighter. ‘In which case, I will not lie. Having one of my two favourite young ladies sitting in such close proximity is not a custom someone in my position can normally expect.’
‘Ah, but you’re no ordinary someone, otherwise neither Lily nor myself would possess such great affection for you.’
Arthur raised an eyebrow that very nearly touched the panelled ceiling. ‘And if I’m not mistaken, the reason for that great affection just rumbled past my front door.’
Jualth smiled endearingly. ‘I did not come alone, I must admit, but if I had I would still be in the exact same position as I find myself now.’ She reached up and kissed the top of Arthur’s middle-aged hairless dome, another unmistakeable sign of affection. ‘If only my mother were still alive. You two would have made a perfect match.’
The excise officer emitted a pained sigh of distant loss: ‘She used to declare undying affection as well.’
‘I know she did and if you did choose to come and visit us one day, you know how welcome you’d be.’
Arthur felt touched by an offer frequently made but regretted that circumstances made it an impossible invitation to accept. He heard himself uttering the usual excuse, ‘You know how it is, having time off with so much to take care of …’
Jualth admired his resolve. ‘I understand, work comes first, an admirable quality that I shall raise a glass to at the Whisky Makers’ Arms tonight.’
Mention of the establishment that would provide the stage for Jualth’s evening entertainment jolted Arthur’s memory. He had worrisome news to impart: ‘We have a visitor at the inn, have you heard?’
Jualth leant back, her eyes interrogating his concerned countenance. For the first time since her arrival, the smile disappeared. Visitors in Brethna were not uncommon, so what merited the need to mention this one?
‘A tall, dark-haired man with a southern accent,’ Arthur told her.
‘England?’
‘London, so I’m led to believe.’
‘That’s quite a long way to come. How old?’
‘Thirty. Maybe a bit more.’
‘A spy?’
‘Hard to say. He listened attentively on his guided tour, by all accounts, and asked what questions he had a mind to, but he has one of those guarded demeanours, the type that gives little away.’
‘Aloof?’
‘No. I’d say respectful and educated. He seems knowledgeable about his whisky.’
Jualth paused to think: a traveller taking his time to pass through who appeared to be a long way from home. That was the bit she did not like, the long way from home bit. ‘Sure he’s not one of your lot, Arthur?’
Arthur seemed reluctant to commit. ‘Not that he’s disclosed. He should have done so straightaway if it was an official visit.’
‘Should have?’ She found the uncertainty in his voice disquieting. It paid to be vigilant at all times. ‘I shall have to seek him out this evening and discover what I can. And if I find out he’s nothing to worry about, tall and dark doesn’t sound at all disagreeable. It will aid my cause no end.’
Noticing Arthur’s puzzled look, the smile returned to her face. ‘Ask Daniel,’ she said. ‘He has a notion of what I’m up to.’
The name of the cartman stirred the excise officer into belated action. ‘And speaking of Daniel, I think we’d better get down to business.’
‘Of course,’ Jualth agreed. With her papers miraculously appearing from a hidden pocket concealed within her inner clothing, she moved the chair a respectable distance to the side and took the opportunity to despair Arthur’s working conditions whilst she waited. The hut was confining, a government sentry post to all that left and entered the premises, plain but functional with cabinets and shelves full of books and folios that went with the job. Summer warmth made it reasonably habitable, but in the winter a small stove was all that kept the occupant from freezing.
Arthur carefully scrutinised the papers, allowing not even their warmth to distract him. The matter at hand was of the utmost importance, not least because it strayed beyond the permitted procedures he had sworn to uphold. If found out, ruinous consequences would befall all parties. So despite the presence of a twenty-year-old he was deeply fond of, Arthur kept his mind firmly on the delivery notes.
A key from his right-hand top drawer unlocked a cabinet to the side of the desk. It yielded a familiar folio. The excise officer relocked the cabinet, pocketed the keys and returned to his desk to make light, graphite entries. His job was a simple one: to liaise with the distillery boss to make the Kvairen whisky Jualth brought with her look like a product of Brethna. In practical terms, this required a gap in the production process, the necessary ingredients from Brethna’s in-house store secretively migrating to the Kvairen Distillery and a volume of water – equal to that shown in Arthur’s folio – leaked into Brethna’s adjacent stream. If done properly, any subsequent inspection would then be unable to detect the subterfuge.
When Arthur had finished, the delivery notes were locked away and a long measuring implement removed from its cover in the corner. ‘To the bonded warehouse before nimble feet and quick minds are tempted to remove valuable cargo,’ he declared.
Outside, they made their way along a slightly curved track towards the second of two bonded warehouses. Jualth sensed the searing glare of eyes emanating from the first floor of the main office. She did not turn to look; it was far too early to acknowledge the presence of authority. Jualth traditionally left her meeting with the distillery boss to the very end.
The Brethna Distillery was built on a far larger scale than her own as it distilled, blended and also stored part of the end product. Beyond its two sentry posts the track split: ahead towards the river and, to the right, up a shallow incline to outer stables and fields for grazing. An unkempt wooden fence that ringed the distillery marked its boundaries.
A workshop stood between the perimeter fence and the track, with a bonded warehouse to either side. Several whistles and greetings were shouted in the direction of Arthur’s companion as they passed the open doors. All offenders were content to receive a wave in return for knowing that each had a date at the inn later that evening.
Beyond the workshop stood the single-floored stone building of the original bonded warehouse, with a small wooden fire hut between it and the river. They found Daniel watching the remainder of the casks being unloaded. It did not take long – the Kvairen Distillery output was not great. The agreement between Brethna and Kvairen, to supply malt whisky in exchange for materials and sufficient cash on the side, suited both parties. The deal was clandestine and carefully guarded by the villagers. It did no recognisable harm, only considerable good to those lucky enough to sample its blend.
Once unloaded, each cask was branded and then Arthur got to work, dipping for quantity and alcohol content. Jualth had witnessed the official process many times; it never varied and neither did the results. She left Arthur in trust and, with her grey mare, accompanied Daniel and the empty cart up a wide cobbled track to the stables. The track was one of several that ran parallel to the stream and separated the main buildings, starting with the granary and drying house closest to the river and finishing with the blending rooms closest to the main gate.
‘Arthur tells me we have company staying at the inn,’ Jualth remarked. ‘You didn’t mention it.’
‘I didn’t expect him to still be here,’ Daniel said, sounding surprised. The person in question had arrived a couple of days before the cartman had left. ‘What did Arthur say?’
‘That he’s from London.’
‘London. Then he has travelled a considerable distance.’
‘That’s what I said. He couldn’t journey much farther on our wee island.’
Daniel noted the raised guard, the discovery of an unknown signature in the register. ‘A traveller or something more?’
‘Undecided. Arthur thinks he’s okay but allows doubt to hang in the air. I shall interrogate him myself this evening.’
‘Will you not be busy this evening?’
Jualth chuckled and attempted to make light of Daniel’s concern: ‘Even busier than I thought. Arthur has painted a picture of a tall, dark, mysterious stranger and I’m betting he’s a handsome one at that.’
‘Jualth, you have no time for this person,’ Daniel warned. ‘Arthur is a worrier and with good reason, the risks he takes on your behalf. If he’s almost certain then we’re in no danger, so make better use of your time.’
Jualth smiled endearingly at the anxious cartman. ‘You know, Daniel, if I had a dad, I’d want him to be just like you, always looking out for me, always telling me off, but knowing full well I’ll do as I please all the same.’
Daniel scoffed at the very thought. ‘One daughter is enough for me. Now I have a granddaughter to worry about and that’s another reason I’d like you to settle down. The men from hereabouts need to get their heads straight and to start looking for a less exciting future.’
Jualth laughed. ‘Imagine, Daniel, me as a model wife and mother.’ She shook her head. ‘No, I couldn’t settle for a drab life of endless dullness.’
‘Lily’s trying.’
‘But she will not succeed; we’re too much alike. If there’s nothing happening, we will make it happen.’
They reached the stables. The cart was housed in its shed, and the horses fed and groomed. Daniel accompanied Jualth to the main gate and, with a promise to meet up later, departed for his cottage.
Jualth returned
to the excise hut and waited whilst Arthur made a record of his notes. One last
duty lay ahead before she could follow Daniel into the picturesque village of
Brethna. When Arthur had finished, his entries were checked and agreed. He was
then lovingly hugged and left in peace. With her own record of the delivery,
Jualth crossed the short distance between Excise hut and administration office
and, gathering her resolve, entered the precinct of Brethna’s all-ruling and
all-important distillery boss. Jack Vardy was a very different proposition to
the excise officer and Jualth had to treat him with both respect and caution.
The very existence of her own distillery and community depended upon it.
Chapter 2
Jualth popped her head round the door of each ground-floor room to bestow a friendly greeting as well as official notification of her arrival. Once upstairs, she headed straight for the end room, knocked and momentarily waited at the gold-plaque-embellished door. Nobody could ever have doubted the name of the person who ruled this tiny empire. Anticipating the command from the other side, she entered a room that overlooked both the distillery and the incoming lane. Gently leaning back to close the door, her eyes fixed upon the office incumbent. From behind a vast oak desk that stood at an angle to the window overlooking the distillery, the fierce countenance of Jack Vardy stared back.
‘As ever, Miss McTavish, having acquainted yourself with every miscreant in my distillery, you deem it fit to make the laborious trek to my office and then enter before being instructed to do so.’
The distillery boss inhaled deeply, his expression a mirror of graven intensity. In his late forties, he was a touch overweight, clean shaven – except for bushy sideburns – with a greying, full head of brushed-back wavy hair. His eyes were close, nose prominent and voice deep, all adding up to a severe and intimidating appearance. Fortunately for Jualth, her fiery nature formed a natural defence to such intimidation. In their own very different ways, each had imposing characters.
The severity of the distillery boss slowly melted and turned into the accustomed welcoming smile. He rose, walked around the desk and, taking both her hands, bent down to kiss his visitor on each cheek. ‘You had a good journey, Jualth?’
‘Slow and tedious actually, Jack, but no hardship when in the company of our beautiful Scottish countryside.’
‘Glad to hear it. And how is your sister?’
‘Fit to burst and already spitting blood. Any time now the ordeal will commence and my presence is expected. First light tomorrow, I shall be on my way.’
Jack acknowledged the need for haste. He also knew that no one ever defied an order issued by the McTavish household. ‘In which case, we should complete our business without delay and you can retire to the inn for an early night.’
Jualth grunted, unimpressed by the distillery boss’s display of dry humour – she had said nothing about an early night. The flirtatious ways of her mother were well known; to expect the daughters’ behaviour to withstand the call of their blood foundered in the face of past experience.
Jack held out the chair on the opposite side of his desk for Jualth to sit down. ‘First though, permit me to offer you a wee taster.’
‘Make sure it is the smallest of wee tasters. I want a clear head for business.’
The distillery boss opened the drinks cabinet and poured a couple of small measures from an unseen bottle. He handed one to his visitor. ‘To many years of sustained and highly successful business.’
Jualth sipped the whisky and paused to assess its qualities. It was pleasant enough, but light – very light – and contrasted too greatly with the potent force of her own malt. ‘Brethna Pure Blend,’ she declared, ‘the original whisky of Brethna, with the added malt of Glenoch.’
‘Amongst other minor additions, and the result, our finest and most popular drink.’
‘Alongside Brethna Burn,’ Jualth corrected. Sales were admittedly smaller, but that was only due to the limited supply. Jack acknowledged the correction and returned to his seat. Jualth handed over Arthur’s paperwork and allowed a period of scrutiny.
When satisfied, Jack reached into his breast pocket and produced a key. A brown folio from the bottom drawer soon appeared on the desk. With the point of a pen dipped into a well of black ink, the contents of the paperwork were carefully copied. When finished, he warily blotted the damp ink and turned the folio for Jualth’s inspection, handing back the original paperwork at the same time.
Jualth took her time, allowing the distillery boss to watch whilst sipping one of the few Brethna blends he had not had a direct hand in creating. ‘All seems to be in order,’ she declared, closing the folio and pushing it back across the desk.
‘I shall have the figures costed tomorrow. Your account will be forwarded with the next delivery. Is there anything else you need beyond the usual supplies?’
‘Nothing apart from the obvious, Jack.’
The distillery boss smiled; the young woman rarely parted empty-handed. He once again reached down to the bottom drawer, this time producing his own paperwork and an envelope.
‘The last account I sent you showed how much was due. You’ll find it in the envelope.’
Jack handed it over. It had never been wrong but, to retain his respect in the world of business, Jualth opened and carefully checked the contents. She then picked up the pen and signed the account. All was agreed. And as quickly as the money had appeared, it disappeared, nestling somewhere within the inner sanctum of Jualth’s clothing. Jack politely turned away, his attention caught by imaginary happenings outside.
‘I have often wondered what mysteries lay concealed within a woman’s clothing,’ he said, once the act was complete and he had returned the account to the drawer and the key to his breast pocket.
‘Are you asking?’ Jualth enquired unashamedly.
‘No, no, just commenting,’ said Jack, politely but forcibly. ‘Now, is there anything else?’
‘No, that’s it till I deliver the next batch.’ Jualth finished her drink and stood up. ‘Lily will no doubt be this way soon enough to show off her baby. She’s never been one to hide when praise is due.’
‘I shall look forward to her visit. Send me word once the birth has taken place.’
Their business complete, they parted company, Jualth returning to the excise hut where she found Arthur hard at work.
‘All done?’ the excise officer asked.
‘All done, the vital and most important part of our work. Without it, and Arthur Whibley, where would my little community be? Now, what time are you off home? You can walk me into the village if you like.’
‘Another time,’ said Arthur, excusing himself. ‘Word is about, Jualth. I expect company is waiting at the gate.’
‘I didn’t notice any just now. Come to the inn later, then. We’ll have a drink together and I’ll tell you all I’ve found out about our visitor.’
The excise officer was his usual noncommittal self. His job represented taxes, a leakage of funds that went south to a distant authority who returned little to favour the locals. He was not the most popular man in Brethna.
Jualth
dispatched a parting kiss, then left the hut. Once through the gateway, she
headed down the hill towards a village full of eager suitors and one mysterious
stranger. The evening held both promise and uncertainty but, in one way or
another, would be anything but quiet. She would make sure of it.
Chapter 3
1742
Jade stretched out her foot and tapped Ruth on the heel, causing her friend to stumble forward. In nothing but undergarments, both girls giggled and carried on – it was just part of the game. With Ruth close behind, Jade clambered up the side of the waterfall to a narrow ledge that marked the point where the steep gradient of the falls turned into a vertical drop. With careful footsteps, she inched her way along, the water smacking across the back of her legs. At the midpoint, she let out a huge scream and leapt forward, plunging into the small pool below. It was barely big enough to break her fall and, if judged incorrectly, could easily have resulted in a serious injury. But adrenaline was flowing fast and she quickly scrambled out just in time to avoid Ruth landing on top of her. The water was icy cold, but they loved it all the same – the colder the better. They would quickly dry out in the warm sun when they had finished.
The game went on, each fighting to be the first up the side and onto the ledge, the second barely giving the other enough time to get out of the way. Finally, when they were all but exhausted, Jade led Ruth up to the top and stopped a foot or two back from the edge of the waterfall’s steep descent.
‘Come on,’ Jade panted, encouraging her friend to rise to the challenge of a far more hazardous leap.
Ruth looked down and the carefree delight in her face quickly vanished. She took a step back. ‘We’d never make it. The slope and the ledge – it’s too far to jump.’
‘No it isn’t. We just need to be brave, that’s all.’ Jade closed her eyes, playing the leap over in her mind and held her ground as Ruth tugged on her arm.
‘Jade!’
Jade stayed firm until the tugs of her worried friend became too strong. Her eyes popped open and she was quick to smile. Although the youngest and the smallest of the two, she was the boldest by far. She enjoyed the daring, the thought of jumping out as far as she could go and then falling through the air into the water below. But she had never really intended to jump, no sane person would, not even a young child such as herself.
‘Maybe another day when neither of us are so tired,’ she teased.
With overgarments retrieved, a sunny spot was found above the falls to flop down. The giggling recommenced as, excited by their exertions, they relived their endeavours. Eventually, their nervous energy spent, they stared up through the trees with heavy eyelids. Soon both girls were peacefully snoozing.
The muted sound of a table and several chairs being overturned echoed in Jade’s ears. She looked up from the splintered wreckage to a giant figure yelling and pointing. The man appeared so angry, yet she could barely hear him. She was small again, no more than a toddler.
A woman holding a heavy bag was pulling her towards the door. Fire shone in the woman’s eyes as she stared defiantly upon the sweat-drenched, rasping giant.
‘You will never see me again, Tapper. Never!’ the woman yelled.
And then they were outside in the early morning sun, the light getting brighter and brighter until …
Jade opened her eyes. She sat up sharply, now wide awake. She was still at the falls, the sun peering through the trees and the stream gently flowing past. At her side, Ruth slept on undisturbed.
‘Good dreams?’ Jade asked.
Ruth nodded and sat up. It was getting late and a fair walk lay ahead. With thoughts of the past still lingering in Jade’s mind, they dressed and departed, following the stream north.
‘Lily,’ a disapproving voice grumbled urgently from behind.
The spirit looked around. Her contented expression changed in an
instant. She did not like being disturbed, least of all by the spirit of this
long-dead, pious priest. He was apt to frown on contact with the living, but it
would change nothing. She would look after all her daughters, now and in the
future, regardless of interference from the Cloth. They stared uncompromisingly
at one another until Lily had had enough. She stepped past him and disappeared
into the shaft of light. Their reckoning could wait until another day.