The Wind of Southmore (5 page)

“
It’s – ” Alice thought and stopped, unsure of how to explain
the modern world to someone from this strange little remnant of the
past that was Southmore. She gave up. “Never mind. Nothing in your
own library? You would have thought, of all places – ”

“
I know.”

The pair
were quiet for a few minutes, Arlen once again rerunning the mental
catalogue of events she had built up from the patchy information
found, and Alice wondering that places like this still existed in
the twenty first century. She shivered, suddenly very aware that
she didn’t like Southmore very much. “It’s very cold,” she
said.

“
It is,” Arlen answered, and turned. “Come on, let’s
go.”

Silently,
the twins left the stone and began the trek into the village. A
passerby would not have imagined the strength of thoughts teeming
through each girl’s brain. As they turned into one of the cobbled
streets, Mrs Penmullen suddenly appeared at her door, shaking a rug
vehemently. When she saw them, she stopped short at the pair of
lookalikes standing before her. Arlen almost grinned, expecting a
large reaction. Mrs Penmullen was noted throughout the village for
having the largest nose and the widest mouth in the place, and this
fresh and exciting piece of gossip would just about make her day.
But to her surprise, the woman merely cast a quick look at the two
and said shortly, “Well, I see you’ve come then, girl.” And with
that, she dropped the rug on the ground, quickly stepped inside,
and locked and bolted her door.

Arlen
stared, speechless.

“
Come on,” Alice pulled at her arm. “We might as well go
home.
She
doesn’t
seem very friendly.”

“
Well, I – ” Arlen was still struck by the strange behaviour of
the loud gossip. But before she could offer a comment they passed
Mr Allen washing his dog in a tub in his front yard. When he saw
them, he smartly upset the tub, grabbed at the dog, and tripped
into the house. Both girls heard the sharp turn of a key. They
gazed at each other, dumbfounded.

Everywhere they went that afternoon, doors were bolted, gates
padlocked, and shutters and curtains drawn. Dogs barked menacingly
as they passed, and some scuttled in fright from the twins’ path.
It was not long before they were heading back out of the village;
Alice, who was not used to walking so far, only pausing at the
dragon fountain to catch her breath. Arlen was nervous, unable to
forget her strange, mesmerising experience of the previous day. It
was a reaction not lost on Alice, but she did not comment, instead
turning her attention to the crumbling stone beast. “It’s just like
the one above the castle door,” she said, “except that you can see
even less of this one.”

“
It’s a Penmorven symbol,” Arlen said, fingering her pendant,
which for some reason again seemed to be burning her skin. “It was
supposed to protect – or something. I could never find out the full
story – again.”

“
It’s not been looked after very well,” Alice remarked. “It’s
such a shame. It looks so old, it should be under National Trust or
something. Are you OK?”

“
Yes, I – it’s just my charm,” Arlen complained. “It’s
irritating me.”

“
Let me see,” Alice raised herself. “It looks like proper gold.
One of our landladies once bought me a gold bracelet as a present,
but it went green after a week. It’s very pretty. Celtic
looking.”

“
It was my mother’s,” Arlen said, in a low voice. “Our
mother’s,” she corrected herself quickly, remembering. “She left it
with me, when she dumped me. I always wear it, it’s usually
OK.”

“
Maybe it’s the weather,” Alice offered, feeling that it was a
stupid excuse, but something she had often heard people say. She
wished that Arlen could tell her something else about their
mother.

“
Maybe,” Arlen agreed, and laughed.

Alice
changed the subject. “I see what you mean about the people here,”
she said, glancing back at the village as they turned towards the
pier. It looked like any pretty postcard picture from the road.
There was no one behind them, but she could still feel the hostile
eyes of the villagers boring into their backs. “Do they always
behave like that?”

“
Yes,” Arlen replied bluntly. “I don’t know, though. Did you
hear what Mrs Penmullen said? It’s – it’s like they’ve been
expecting
– your arrival –
and it scares the hell out of them.”

“
Like the birds,” Alice said quietly. “They knew. They’ve been
watching. Where are we going?” She felt that she had seen enough of
Southmore to last her a good long while. The barren streets, armed
with padlocked doors and bolted windows and staring pairs of eyes
behind white lace curtains, was more than she felt able to bear. If
that wasn’t enough, the mist was beginning to rise from the sea,
filling the air with a strange sulphuric tinge that seemed to weigh
upon her like lead. She wished she were back in London, back in
school, anywhere but here.

“
I want to see Mr MacKenzie,” Arlen answered. “We buy our fish
from him – he’s my only real friend here. I want to ask him what he
knows.”

“
But – will he act the same way as the others?” Alice asked,
remembering fondly how in London no one took any notice of anyone
else.

“
Not usually,” Arlen replied, and stopped, doubt starting to
crawl over her with clammy fingers. Everything was so weird lately.
She took a deep breath and stared at the plain of white sand before
her, flanked by the churning, turning waves. She sighed. “But now
there are two of us. He can’t ignore that. Come on.”

Unhappily, Alice nodded, holding her breath lightly as she
followed Arlen through the narrow streets and onto the pier, where
an old, white haired man was visible, alone except for the shoals
of fish and the seagulls, so many seagulls milling around him that
the sound of their beating wings filled the air like thunder. Arlen
stood, stunned. She had never seen anything like that before. Never
so many, and never – attacking. The word flew into her mind with a
chill, her whole body prickling cold as she realised that they
weren’t attacking the fish – they were attacking
him
.

“
Hey!” she cried, and ran quickly towards the beach, flailing
her arms and yelling at the top of her voice, followed by Alice.
But someone was there before them. And that someone, brandishing a
broom, was doing a fairly good job of fighting off the attack. He
had clunked several birds in the face with the pole end of the
brush, and was now waving the weapon in the air like a trusty
sword.

As the
twins drew up on the pier, stopping with a skid, all the birds rose
up in one movement, wings flapping loudly, with a shrill, almost
human, cry of pain that shattered the otherwise still beach. And
they dispersed and flew – and disappeared.

Sweeping
a damp elflock from her brow, Arlen turned to face the old man,
worry in her eyes. “Are you alright?”

“
Och, hen, fine.” He smiled at her and, as he turned to see
Alice standing behind her sister, his eyes warmed suddenly with
what seemed like tears, and a strange, deep sadness crossed over
his face. Alice almost took a step back. She had seen those eyes
somewhere before. “And so,” he said, his soft northern accent
brushing the words like ferns, “the two of you are together at
last.”

Alice
looked puzzled, and Arlen fingered her charm, remembering his words
of the day before. “But how did you know?” she asked, her voice
tense, the curled gold still warm to her touch.

But once
again, the old man didn’t have a chance to answer.

“
That was amazing! How did you do that with the birds?” The boy
had been watching them quietly. He was now leaning easily over a
barrel, one foot resting lightly on an old box. He was a tall boy,
good looking, with dark hair and very blue eyes, such as his
grandfather must have possessed in his younger days.

And
suddenly Alice knew whose eyes she had been reminded of. She had
seen that face and figure before. He bore an amazing resemblance to
the mysterious, silent cart driver of that first strange night in
Southmore. But this boy was younger, and his eyes were shining blue
with life and laughter. They did not know the speechless death of
the phantom driver.

“
How strange,” she muttered softly. But no one noticed her
reaction.

“
Now, lassies, this is Robert, my grandson,” the old man
winked. “Robbie, the Misses Arlen and Alice of Penmorven,” and he
doffed his cap in a regal salute.

Arlen
stiffened. She usually didn’t mind Mac’s teasing, but not in
strange company.

“
I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance,” Robbie spoke
seriously, sincerely, and his voice was very low. And suddenly
Arlen felt a grip somewhere inside her, almost as if she had known
him before but couldn’t remember where. The whisper tugged at her,
but she fought it down as best she could and looked
mutinous.

The scene
before them shuddered and darkened then, and a huge black cloud
loomed threateningly overhead.

“
It’s alright,” Arlen said quickly, noticing her sister jump.
“It always gets dark very early here in winter.”

“
Aye, lassie,” Mr MacKenzie agreed, rising with the help of his
grandson. “But it’ll be getting darker before long with the likes
of
them
about,” and
he jerked his thumb sharply back at the beach. Alice looked at
Arlen and shivered.

“
You’d best be gettin’ home, girls,” the old man advised,
glancing at the sky. “It looks like it’s going to be a very dark
night. Keep yourselves indoors.” And then he was gone, disappearing
into his small cottage without another word.

“
Don’t mind Mac,” Robbie said easily, thinking the twins were
startled. He began to lope along with them towards the street. “He
likes to play around with spooks.”

“
I don’t think your grandfather’s belief in ‘spooks’ should be
easily undermined,” Arlen remarked stiffly, annoyed by Robbie’s
seeming assumption that because they were girls they needed an
escort. “And we’re quite capable of seeing that we arrive
home
ourselves
,”
she said firmly, disentangling herself from the hand he had lightly
placed on her shoulder.

He
stopped, and seemed to reconsider. Alice sensed he didn’t want to
push himself where he wasn’t wanted. He seemed so nice, she wanted
to apologise for Arlen’s rudeness. “Well,” he said finally,
reluctantly. “If you’re sure you’ll be OK.”

“
We’re
sure
,”
Arlen told him sharply, and marched off.

“
Oh, and tell your grandfather goodbye,” Alice called back into
the darkness.

A shadow
of a salute met her parting words as she hurried to catch up with
her sister. Arlen was stalking angrily down the road.

“
Arlen, we could have done with him,” she chided softly. “I
don’t like walking alone at night.”

“
We’re not alone,” Arlen said curtly. “We’re
together.”

Nevertheless, the two hurried as quickly as possible without
actually running. The scene had grown steadily darker since their
departure from the village, and the air before them was so thick
and black that they could almost touch it. The wind was cold, and
growing wilder, singing and whistling in their ears in a shrill,
mad song. Alice could feel its cold fingers run along her spine,
and her hair bristled, like an animal’s.

“
Here, hold my hand,” Arlen clasped her sister’s tightly in her
own, “and we’ll run. Look, there’s the castle before us already. I
can see the light shining.” But she stopped in confusion as soon as
she had uttered the words, peering into the blackness with narrowed
eyes.

It didn’t
look like the castle, but the light was certainly coming from that
direction, a strange, bobbing light, which moved as though someone
were holding it. Arlen stopped at Alchemist’s Block, and her
fingers rested on the cool stone as if for strength. The darkness
had fallen heavily around them, dousing the sky in a velvet drape,
and a thick, soupy mist was rolling in from the shore in curling
wreaths, winding around the girls like snakes. Alice could feel
their cold kiss on her face and hands and she tried to brush them
off furiously, her fingers grasping only cold air as it wrapped
around her in clammy, phantom sheets.

“
It’s coming from the ruins,” Arlen said then, and her voice
was small. “There’s someone poking about down there.”

“
I wonder if Aunt Maud knows,” Alice remarked, shivering. “You
said she didn’t like anyone around there.”

“
No,” Arlen agreed, frowning, and she motioned for Alice to
move forward with her, two dark figures, cloaked by the fog. Her
feet were steady as they approached the castle, although she kept
tight hold of Alice’s hand as the light snapped off abruptly, the
only sound to be heard the low moaning of the wind around the
ancient stone.

Alice
glanced at her sister, her face pale and starry amidst the curling
tongues of mist. “Where do you think they’ve gone?”

But she
had no sooner finished speaking when a cold hand clasped her
shoulder in a heavy grip. It was like ice water dripping through
her, and her heart seemed to stop completely until she heard
Arlen’s voice cut through the darkness.