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I walked over to the three windows. The path through the pines that led to the stones was plainly visible from them. Had she watched us enter and emerge from the woods? Had she managed to taint every part of our lives here? I opened the door to the ensuite bathroom. Everything was white and empty there too, but something caught my eye.
A dot of red on the white tiled floor. Shiny, round, spilled. The tiles were cold against my cheek as I curled up on the floor and stared at the blood. She had taken a vial of mine. This must be hers. I reached out a finger to touch it. Would it be sticky? How long had it been there? It was solid. A waxy flat-topped mound. Nail varnish. Somehow that was worse than blood; I sat up and scurried back on my bum as fast as possible, banging painfully against the wall and causing the mirror on the opposite side of the room to shake with laughter.
I couldn’t be there. So I fled to the only place I could think of to go.
The gap in the stone circle seemed so obvious now, a sad void like parts of me. I stayed away from it and curled up on the flat stone. The winter sun shone low, creating long shadows of obelisks as it must have done for thousands of years. I closed my eyes and circled fingers round the markings on the stone, as if they were a map that could point the way.
What to do? Where to be? How to go on?
It was windy. It was cold and damp. Even so, I could feel the oblivion of sleep beckoning, offering a short escape from the nightmare of life.
Different images flowed through my mind. I recognised a lengthy escalator from the London Underground. A film poster glimmered on the wall, and a well-known actor winked and held out his hand from it. I couldn’t remember his name. It was something ridiculous, something to do with love. The dream version of me planned to tell Justin about the strange poster that night at home. Justin was around. Aleks wasn’t, nor Will. I was on my way to work, dance stuff in a bag.
I felt a chill from the stone beneath me, and I was back in the circle, fully awake again. The light of the afternoon had faded while I dozed, but I had my answer: I couldn’t stay. The thing that happened in my head, the terrible film, might send me insane in time. Aleks would be sad when I left, but he would move on. His suffering would be fleeting.
I sat up, suddenly knowing that I was not alone in the circle.
“Aye, quiney,” said the old man, the person Will and I had met by the pool on our very first morning at the castle. “That’s just a fair time, ye’ve hin.”
Having become used to the way Holly spoke, I understood this to mean he knew I’d had a bad time. I nodded. It was true.
He looked at me shrewdly. “Well, fit did ye see?”
“You know about the visionary/imaginary thing that goes on here?” I asked, then just knowing: “You’ve experienced it.”
He gave one slow nod.
“I saw me back in London, working,” I told him. “It’s what I have to do now.”
“I wouldna be so sure o’ that.”
“It seemed very clear.”
“Aye,” he said, placing his hand on the large recumbent stone as he spoke. “But life’s nay set in stone. This place disna understand time like we do. That could have been something ye’ll de in twenty years, lassie.”
“I don’t think so. The actor I saw was looking really good for his age if that’s the case.” What was his name? Lovelorn? Lost love? The circle certainly had a thing about love going on. As had I in the past. I remembered saying something about ‘the people and things you love’ to Aleks in a conversation that had seemed oh-so-important at the time. But I’d been wrong. What difference did any of it make in the end?
“Fit aboot yer lad, yer boyfriend?” asked the old man, Jackie as I recalled his name was.
“That’s over now.”
“Yer hearty’s still strong for him. I can see it.”
“Is it?” How could that be if I couldn’t feel it? Apparently my eyes felt something; they watered a little.
“Aye,” said Jackie, handing me a handkerchief. “Yer affa cold, quine, and it’s getting dark. Ye need a nice cuppae o’ tea and a piece. I’ve nae ony fancy eens, mind.” Biscuits, he was talking about tea and biscuits, and the idea of them did sound good.
Jackie led the way through a narrow gate at the far side of the circle glade, and down a path that ran the length of a ploughed field. He pointed out various houses and farms in the distance. The names of the owners passed me by, but it was pleasant to look at their cosily lit windows and imagine happy family bliss within.
The remaining daylight had almost faded completely by the time we arrived at the large house. It could have been foreboding and creepy, but the three-storey building felt welcoming as we walked towards it through the overgrown garden.
A stiff back door let us into an old-fashioned kitchen and Jackie made tea. It was a complicated process involving an antique black kettle and a stove that he replenished with logs. There was a mustiness about both the house and the forthcoming biscuits, but a gentle wellbeing infused our silence. He lit a lamp as it got even darker, and in the soft light he spoke of his family: eight brothers and one sister. The house had been full and noisy once.
“Ye hiv to tell him everything, quine,” he said after a while, having listened to a disjointed telling of parts of my tale. “He’s nae a wimp; he can take it. And he’s here noo, fair anxious for ye. I’ve watched him coming down the circle path.”
Aleks was here? I peered through the grimy window. Will stood by a great big oak tree, looking up at the house. I knocked on the glass and relief showed on his face.
“No, that’s Will,” I explained to my new friend.
