Oak And Mist (The Ambeth Chronicles Book 1) (4 page)

But Alma wasn’t fooled. Gently, she took his arm and linked it with her own, looking into his blue eyes that still carried a shadow of pain. ‘My father died before I was born. In an accident. I don’t really know much about him either.’

Caleb said nothing, just nodded, squeezing her arm as it threaded through his. Together they walked to the Gate, the sun waning as the day began to end, a cool breeze blowing through the glowing green woodland. Just before they reached the twin oaks, Alma spoke again.

‘So you’ve never wanted to come across to my world?’ she asked tentatively, not wanting to offend Caleb. ‘You know, meet your mother’s family? See where she came from?’

Caleb took a moment to reply. ‘No, not really. Not that I’m not interested or anything.’ He darted a smiling glance at Alma. ‘It’s just that the Elders frown on anyone crossing these days. We lost two members of the Court some years ago and so the Council has forbidden anyone from making the journey across to the human world unless it is absolutely necessary.’

‘What do you mean, lost them?’ asked Alma, intrigued.

‘Well, I don’t know too much about it,’ said Caleb. ‘It was a long time ago. One of them went missing around the time I was born, you see. They were brothers, High Lords of Light, both lost under different circumstances. They crossed over to your world and never came back. So the Elders decided that no one else should go.’

‘The Elders?’

‘Lord Thorion’s inner circle of advisors,’ Caleb replied. Seeing the questions forming in Alma’s eyes he smiled. ‘We could stand here all night talking, I’m sure. But I believe you need to get back.’ This last was almost a question, as though he didn’t want her to go.

‘Yeah, you’re right, I guess,’ said Alma. She felt strangely reluctant to head home, although she was very tired now, her steps dragging as they neared the Gate.

‘So shall I come back next weekend?’ she asked Caleb, who looked delighted at her question.

‘Yes, of course,’ he replied, smiling broadly. ‘I can meet you here, same time. Just cross over like you did before.’

Like she did before. Alma made a face as she remembered what had caused her to come through the Gate in the first place. She told Caleb, who looked shocked.

‘What, they
made
you come through? I thought humans didn’t know about us.’

‘Well, I don’t know how they could have known about it but I felt… herded. And one of the girls pushed me through.’ Looking at the Oak Gate she noticed a symbol carved on each tree trunk – one shining with a clear pearlescent light, the other glowing an ominous dark grey, like a thundercloud. ‘I hope they’re not still there.’ She bit her lip.

‘By the time you get back, they’ll be gone, I’m sure of it.’ Caleb tried to reassure her.

‘Well, I have to go, either way.’

She moved towards the Gate. Looking up at the huge trees, their branches spreading green above her, she was reminded of the old oak guarding the field gate near her home. But there was something else here, she could feel it. Almost like a thrumming in the earth, moving through the soles of her feet like static electricity. Perhaps she was meant to tap into it somehow. Frowning, she looked back at Caleb. ‘So, how do you think it works, this whole bracelet thing? Do I just… focus? Is that right? I think that’s what Thorion said.’

Caleb shrugged. ‘I don’t exactly know, having never done it myself. But I think that’s what Thorion meant. Just close your eyes and think of when you’d like it to be.’

‘There’s no place like home,’ murmured Alma. Seeing Caleb’s puzzled face she grinned. ‘I’ll tell you later and… thanks. For everything, I mean.’ Still smiling, she turned back to face the Gate and took a deep breath, clasping her hand over her bracelet. Closing her eyes, she pictured the park she hoped was on the other side. No earlier than when she left, Thorion had said. She thought back to the frightening moments before she crossed over – no, that wouldn’t do. Instead she thought of the park as she had seen it on so many other evenings, the shadows lengthening under the trees as the sun went down, the lights coming on over the tennis courts and along the pathways. She felt the bracelet become warm under her hand – this must be it. ‘See you soon,’ she said to Caleb, who had been watching her with interest. Opening her eyes she stepped into the space between the two oaks. With a flash of light, a warping of the air around her, she was gone.

Caleb walked slowly back through the woods in the growing twilight, smiling at the thought of Alma and all her questions. He hadn’t wanted to take on the job of waiting for her to cross over from the mortal world, but couldn’t turn down a request from the High King. Thorion had sought him out in private, a quiet conversation in the twilit gardens. Caleb came away filled with a mixture of pride and trepidation at the responsibility being laid on him. But now he was glad he had been chosen. It also helped that he thought Alma was the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

Emerging from the forest, he was surprised to see Thorion waiting for him at the edge of the gardens. He picked up his pace and crossed the meadow quickly, bowing his head as he neared the High King.

‘Did she make it through safely?’ asked Thorion.

‘Yes, my Lord, with no trouble. She will be back, I’m sure of it,’ replied Caleb, falling into step beside Thorion as he started to walk back to the Palace.

‘Did she say anything to you of who she is?’ Thorion asked, his face serious.

‘She does not know yet,’ said Caleb. ‘I did not tell her of the Prophecy and, well, how could she know anything? This was her first time here.’ Then he stopped, shocked at his presumption in questioning the High King. But Thorion just smiled, laying a companionable hand on Caleb’s shoulder as they walked.

‘So she knew nothing of this place? You are sure?’

‘Nothing,’ replied Caleb, his face earnest. ‘She was completely confused when she crossed over. But, if you’ll forgive me, why do you think she would know anything?’ he asked, emboldened by the hand still on his shoulder and the easy manner with which the High King addressed him. Plus, he was curious now. The way Thorion spoke of Alma it was as if she was someone special, not just because of the Prophecy. But Thorion was not to be drawn.

‘That,’ he said, stopping in the path and turning to face Caleb, ‘may be revealed in its own time. But not yet, not here. Alma is special, you can be assured of that – as for the rest, you will just have to wait and see.’

And with that he went on his way, robes flowing behind him as he walked back towards the Palace, leaving Caleb standing on the path, a thoughtful expression on his face. Mysterious Thorion, speaking in riddles again. Still, he agreed with the High King on one thing – Alma was special. He made his way down towards the river, deciding to take a walk and mull things over, see if he could make any sense of Thorion’s words.

***

Alma came stumbling through the Gate, her head spinning. But she had done it – it was definitely the park, the sky not yet fully dark and the same group of boys still playing football. She hailed a passing jogger and asked her the time, astonished to hear it was just over an hour since she had left the house, later than her confrontation with Ellery, but not so late that she’d be in trouble when she got home. Sitting down on her bench she dropped her head into her hands, the shadows growing around her as she considered what had just happened. Then she sat back and laughed out loud – it was all too bizarre. She looked at the Oak Gate, silhouetted against the purpling sky; from where she sat it looked like two trees among a hundred others, nothing special. But to her it was now a doorway to infinite possibility. Really, the only downside was that she couldn’t tell a soul.

Getting up, she started for home, running through the darkening fields as her heart pounded in her chest, adrenalin coursing through her as reaction hit her like a ton of bricks. Finally she just lay down in the cold meadow, letting her emotions course through her, refraining with difficulty from screaming out loud. Lying on the cool earth, the scent of grass and leaf mould all around her, Alma calmed down, watching the stars as they came out overhead, still laughing occasionally at the thought of it all. Eventually she sat up and slowly got to her feet, brushing mud and dead leaves off herself as she made her way to the small wooden gate. Stumbling down the street, her legs barely holding her up, she headed for home.

***

Eleanor stood at the back door, looking at the woods beyond her garden fence, her face creased with worry. Perhaps it was the second sight her mother swore ran in their side of the family, but she felt with growing urgency that the past was about to catch up with her. She thought of Alma’s father – how they had loved each other! The pain of losing him was one she would carry until she died. It was a private sorrow, but one that she knew one day she would have to share with her daughter. With their daughter. Alma deserved to know who her father was, where he came from, to understand why she was the way she was. Eleanor had always meant to tell her but had never found the right time. Now she was worried that time had run out – that Alma might discover the truth before she could talk to her. Chewing on her fingernail she stared out into the growing dark, at the beckoning woods, her blue eyes clouded with pain. At least she had given Alma the bracelet, just as her father had wished. Hearing the rattle of the side door she turned, relief flooding through her. She rushed to meet her daughter.

***

Alma came through the side door to find her mother waiting for her in the hallway, leaning against the wall with arms folded. ‘Alma,’ Eleanor said, her voice betraying her concern as she took in her daughter’s dishevelled state. ‘I was starting to get worried about you. Where have you been?’

‘At the park, like I told you,’ Alma said with a scowl. She did not need this. Pulling an errant grass stalk out of her long hair, she pushed past her mother to get to the kitchen, well and truly coming down from her adrenalin rush of before. ‘It’s not even eight o’clock,’ she said, her voice distant as she rummaged in a cupboard. She was suddenly starving. Eleanor followed her into the kitchen, folding her arms as she leant against the counter and watched Alma.

‘I called you,’ she said accusingly, ‘but there was no answer. What is the point of you even having a phone if you don’t keep it turned on?’ Alma made a face, realising her mother must have been ringing her while she was in Ambeth. She hastily tried to come up with an excuse, but her mother had already rummaged in her bag and was holding the offending phone up.

’See, you’ve let the battery run down again,’ she said crossly.

‘Hey!’ protested Alma. She snatched the phone from her mother’s hand and stalked out of the kitchen, taking her sandwich with her. ‘I’m going to my room,’ she said angrily, ‘and I’ll charge it up, OK? Just give me a break.’

But Eleanor wasn’t in the mood. Following Alma upstairs, she positioned herself at the door to her daughter’s room and leant against the doorframe, arms folded. ‘Alma, where were you tonight?’

Looking hard at her mother, Alma tried to figure out what she was getting at. ‘I told you, I was at the park. Alone,’ she added, forestalling the next question. Which was the truth, really, as far as she was concerned. She hadn’t left the park; she’d simply gone to a… different section. ‘Just let me be, will you? I’ve had a rough day.’

Eleanor raised her eyebrows, then sighed. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Fine,’ huffed Alma, putting her phone on its charger before sitting on the bed, her sandwich on her lap. A yawn slipped out as tiredness threatened to overwhelm her. She knew her mother was just worried about her. She also knew that tone – Eleanor wasn’t angry any more, but she did want to talk. Damn. Making a face, she crossed her legs and waited.

‘So tell me about it?’ Eleanor said, leaning against the chest of drawers.

‘Oh, well, there’s not much to tell,’ muttered Alma, taking a bite of her snack.

‘Well, there’s obviously something,’ said her mother. Alma said nothing, just chewed her sandwich and avoided her mother’s gaze, wishing she had never said anything. But Eleanor just waited, her lips folded. Finally Alma sighed, rolling her eyes.

‘Fine!’ she said. ‘I just…I saw this girl from my school, Ellery, at the park and, well, she was kind of – oh, it’s nothing, it doesn’t matter.’ She took another bite of her sandwich. But her mother didn’t look like she was going to leave any time soon.

‘Ellery was what?’ asked Eleanor, concern in her blue eyes. ‘Is she causing problems for you?’

‘Oh god, Mum, just leave it! It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.’ The last thing she needed was for her mother to get involved. ‘Mum,’ she went on, taking another mouthful of sandwich, wanting to change the subject. ‘I need to ask you about my bracelet.’

‘Your bracelet? Why, what do you want to know?’ Eleanor’s face changed and Alma picked it up immediately. Her mother didn’t want to talk about her bracelet. Well, that was just too bad.

‘It came from my father, right? From his family?’

Eleanor stared at her a moment before speaking. ‘Yes, that’s right. He gave it to me when we were… courting.’ Alma looked at her mother curiously. An old-fashioned term, courting; it brought to mind chaste walks in the park, stolen kisses and scented letters. While the reality would have been much more intense than that – Alma’s existence was proof of it. Pursing her lips, Alma realised just how little she knew about her mother and her life before Alma was born.

‘So… is it an heirloom? Do you know where it came from, how he got it?’

‘I think, maybe, his father gave it to him. All I know is that it’s very old,’ Eleanor dissembled, obviously hoping to close the matter. But there was no way Alma was letting it go, not after the day she’d had.

‘But, surely you know something more – didn’t he tell you anything about it?’

Eleanor closed her eyes for a moment, then she opened them, letting out a sigh. ‘Your father gave the bracelet to me not long after we met,’ she said quietly. ‘He said it would protect me and, well, I humoured him because it was just so romantic, you know, that he wanted me to be safe.’ Her voice grew wistful, her blue eyes soft as her thoughts moved back into the past. ‘When I was pregnant with you he made me promise I would pass it on to you when you were old enough. It meant a great deal to him; he loved you so much, even though you weren’t born yet. So in giving it to you I am honouring his memory, which is why I want you to wear it. You are very like him, you know.’ At this Eleanor stopped, tears obvious in her eyes and Alma, her irritation gone, went to hug her mother.

‘I wish I knew him,’ she said.

‘So do I, Alma, more than you can imagine,’ said her mother, her voice unsteady. She pulled back to look at Alma and smoothed her long red hair. ‘You’re so like him.’ Her voice choked up and Alma hugged her again, shocked. She’d figured she must look like her dad, but as she’d never seen even a picture of him, it was hard to know. This was already more than her mother had ever told her about him. She let go of Eleanor and looked at her.

‘I’m sorry if I worried you, Mum – really I am.’

Smiling through her tears, Eleanor shook her daughter a little. ‘I know you are – you just have to ring me, OK? I just need to know you’re all right.’