They decided to make for the Welsh mountains - a choice they had more or less finalized over the past week -but to reach them ov
ernight, instead of taking th
e two or three days they had envisaged. There could be night-time violence in the big cities in reaction to the day's events, so they agreed upon as rural a route as possible, via Princes Risborough, Bicester, Chipping Norton, Evesham, Worcester (the biggest town on their route, but it could be bypassed, and it would be well into the small hours), Ludlow and Welshpool - in which area they could explore more slowly for somewhere to settle, at least temporarily. But tonight's objective was the Welsh Border and a reasonably secure spot for a few hours' rest and consideration.
They agreed to stop every hour to stretch legs and change drivers. Sally did not drive but by taking charge of Diana on the back seat with her, she could free Dan and Moira for alternate hours of dozing and driving.
They washed up the mugs and set off, the car taking its turn in the lead.
'All these practical arrangements may sound petty, the way things are,' Dan said to Moira as he settled back in the passenger seat. 'But you know what, darling missus? They help us keep sane.'
Moira smiled and let in the clutch, suddenly warmed by his use of their private-language title. 'That's right, darling mister,' she told him. 'Now you go to sleep and let me drive in peace.'
Eileen had not slept well. Last evening's news had depressed and confused her. Since their Suffolk experience a few days earlier, she and Angela had not knowingly met any more witches but had found themselves identifying with them more and more. They had liked the Coddenham group, shared their fury over the rape and humiliation of May Groombridge, and felt no unease about what had happened to the callous policeman - whether or not it was a coincidence. But the Angels of Lucifer and the death (again, coincidence or not) of Ben Stoddart, were a very different matter. The 'small isolation hospital' where the savage ritual had been enacted had not been named nor its location given, but Dr Friell and Nurse Parker
had
been named and their violent kidnapping reported, so Eileen had no doubt t
hat the 'hospital' was the Banwe
ll Emergency Unit. The knowledge had let loose a flood of conflicting emotions - reawakened guilt, outrage on behalf of former friends, curiosity (which she felt to be morbid but could not banish) about the actual details, paralysed inability to decide whether Ben Stoddart really had died from psychic attack or from auto-suggestion. . . . Angela Smith had had to work very hard to soothe her young cousin and had lain anxiously awake till about two in the morning listening to her tossing and muttering in her sleep.
Eileen woke suddenly just after sunrise. She thought at first Angie had spoken and looked acr
oss at the other bunk, but Angie
was still unconscious. Then the voice came again and Eileen realized it was outside the caravan. Two or three voices, men and women, and the clink and shuffle of movement. She must finally have exhausted herself into really deep sleep, she decided, because the layby had been empty except for themselves and she had been unaware of any other vehicles arriving.
A young child whimpered in pain and a worried woman's voice said: 'Dan, we'll have to get her to a doctor.' The man's reply was indistinguishable but the tone was equally worried.
Eileen unzipped her sleeping bag, pulled on slacks and sweater, and opened the caravan door and looked out.
'Did someone mention a doctor? I'm a nurse, if I can be any help.'
The young couple looked round, at first startled, then relieved; they seemed tired and nervous.
'Could
you have a look at her?' the mother said. 'We'd be very grateful. We . . .' She broke off and lifted a little girl about four years old out of their heavily loaded station wagon. 'She had a bump on the head last night and it seemed all right -but I think she's a little feverish now.'
Eileen gave her attention to the child but was still aware of the atmosphere of nervousness; another couple had emerged from the second vehicle - a big Bedford van -and an elderly woman was hovering watchfully beside the car.
Angie had come out of their own caravan and on an impulse Eileen said: 'There's only the two of us.' She felt the strangers begin to relax. 'What's your name?' she asked the little girl.
'Diana.'
'Mine's Eileen and I'm going to see if I can make that bump better.'
'Some horrid people threw stones at us.'
Tension again. Eileen was getting impatient with it, wanting to concentrate on Diana, when Angie took the problem out of her hands. 'Look, everybody - if you're on the run, relax - so are we. And if you're witches, we don't give a damn; we're not bloody Crusaders. So while Eileen looks at the kid, why don't we all organize breakfast?'
The sun was well up by the time they had exchanged their stories. They had all been a little wary at first but as they got the measure of each other they became increasingly frank. A communal feast of bacon, eggs, toast, tea and coffee, plus Eileen's reassurance that there was nothing wrong with Diana that her professional dressing and a few hours' proper sleep wouldn't put right, encouraged mutual confidence.
Tell you the truth,' Eileen admitted, 'it's done me good to meet you lot. I'd always rather liked the witches but last night's news made me wonder just how many of them
could
be evil.... You see, that place they raided -
I
used to work there, I know all about it and that made it sort of personal.
...
I was pretty upset. But I can't imagine
you
being evil, somehow. So you've restored my belief that people like the Angels of Lucifer aren't typical witches. I'd like to think that
you
are.'
Moira smiled. 'Thanks. . . . We're not saints, you know - and God knows what we may have to do to survive if things get worse. But we won't "go black", if you know what we mean by that.'
'I think I do. . . .
Did
the Angels of Lucifer kill Ben Stoddart - by black magic, I mean?'
Moira did not feel ready, yet, to say that they knew the identity of the Angels, so she countered with: 'Do
you
believe it's possible?'
Eileen paused, then said 'A couple of weeks ago I'd have doubted it. But this would make
two
coincidences, so I'm not sure any longer.'
'Two coincidences?'
Eileen told them the story of May Groombridge and the witches of Coddenham. 'That policeman deserved what he got - but
if
they did it - and I know they believe they did, and I think I do too.
...
If they did it, they've only put him where he can't do any harm for a while. And after what he had done to May, that very day, I suppose they were pretty restrained. But
killing
someone, deliberately and impersonally...' She shuddered. 'No. That's different.'
'Quite apart from the morals of the thing, it was damn
stupid,' Angie said briskly. 'All
it did was make things worse for the rest of you. Like getting
your
houses burned. ... What are your plans, now?'
'Immediately?' Dan replied. 'Find somewhere isolated to rest up for a day or two. After that, with any luck, find somewhere where we can stay put. . . . Something worse than Orders in Council's on the way. Some kind of breakdown - probably to do with these earthquakes and from what you were saying, you know more about that than we do. Whatever it is, we don't know if we can survive - but we're going to have a bloody good try.'
'And the Welsh mountains seemed a good place to do it,' Greg added.
'Why d'you think
we
are here?' Angie asked. 'Same guesswork and same reasoning -
and
same "bloody good try". So why don't we join forces? . . . No, don't answer right now - talk it over among yourselves. Eileen and I will, too - after all, I haven't asked her yet. Just my own idea but there's a lot to be said for it. Pooled resources give us a better chance. More people means division of labour, less wasted effort. Communal cooking and so on. Easier look-out roster, if it becomes necessary.
We
c
an
contribute one trained nurse, and - if I may say so - one highly experienced camper; been my hobby all my life.
You
can contribute - among other things, I'm sure - two strong-armed men, one of 'em a professional mechanic. . . .'
'And the liability of one eighty-year-old woman and one four-year-old child,' Sally pointed out.
'For Christ's sake,' Angie told her, 'a survival group's got to be a human family - a representative sample, if you like, something
worth
preserving in terms of human balance. You and little Di help to make it that. You're assets, not liabilities.'
Moira's mind had been made up before Angie had even put her suggestion, which she had sensed was coming; but with that last remark, she knew Angie had the others as well. She smiled and asked: 'Does anyone really
want
to talk it over privately?'
There was an immediate chorus of 'No', and Dan went on: 'It's a marvellous idea and it'll obviously improve our chances. We'll probably spit at each other sometimes but that's "human balance" too, isn't it?'
'Right, then,' Angie said. 'Practicalities; any of you know this area?'
'Where are
we now, exactly? Our map-reading was getting a bit bleary-eyed. A few kilometres west of Llanfyllin, aren't we?'
'That's right.'
'Rosem
ary and I toured around here a year or two back,' Greg said. 'We seemed to remember some promising Forestry Commission land ahead, just south of Lake Vyrnwy. Thirty or forty square kilometres of it, by the map, nice and mountainous but with little valleys and streams and that, and it looks as if there might be clear patches hidden away here and there, where we could plant vegetables, if we stayed. And forestry plantations are marvellous to disappear into if you're attacked.... All guesswork from map-reading, though. We visited Lake Vyrnwy on that tour but we didn't explore the forestry bits.'
Angie nodded. 'We had the same idea though I don't know it personally either. I think the plantations have been extended in the past few years which'll make it even better. Dyfnant Forest, it's called. Shall we take a look, when you've rested a bit?'
'I don't know about the others,' Moira said, 'but that breakfast's set mc up -
and
meeting you. I
feel
rested. Sally
and Di could sleep on the way '
'Like hell I'll sleep,' Sally protested. 'I want to be in on this. I snored most of the night, didn't I?'
Dyfnant Forest was dark, silent and reassuring, hugging the Afon Vyrnwy and Afon Cownwy rivers between precipitous ridges, and spreading out westwards into equally lofty but more gently sloping mountains. The little convoy wound upwards through a village called New Dyfnant, which Angic (comparing a recent map and an old gazetteer) decided must have been built about 1990. From there the road became a logging lane which they followed for four or five kilometres until they rounded a shoulder of the valley and suddenly found themselves in a little clearing, perhaps six hectares of natural meadow along the edge of which ran a trout-promising stream. It formed a perfect cul-de-sac, because the far end was a cliff with a waterfall tumbling down it; at the near end, where they had stopped, the logging lane elbowed sharply right to hairpin back up the mountainside above the way they had come. The stream lay to the left of the clearing, with steep and broken mountains rising from it - not quite cliff but too rough for plantation, so that a mixture of deciduous trees grew wild. The slope up from the right of the clearing was a little gentler and thick with ordered ranks of Norway spruce, their Christmas-tree fingers pointing to the sky.
Spontaneously, they all switched off their engines and climbed out to look.
'It looks so right,' Sally said after a few seconds, 'I'm almost suspicious of it.'
'Whatever for?' Angie demanded. 'It
is
right. Couldn't be better. What do you think, boys?'
'Looks good to me - provided that meadow's not boggy or liable to flooding,' Dan said.
'Not on your life - I know bog when I see it. And the stream'd have to rise a good metre and a half to top those banks.. . . Look, the meadow slopes up to the right a little, too. Sort of flat shelf along the edge of the trees - make a good camp site.'
'No reason why we shouldn't camp here for a day or two, anyway,' Greg said. 'We can recce the place while we rest up.'
Diana had been asleep when the convoy stopped but now she suddenly said from behind them. 'Yes, do let's recce the place. It's ever so pretty.'