princess with her cornflower blue eyes and tried to match the figure to the shadow in the garden. No. That didn’t seem to fit, but was that somehow where the answer lay?
‘Bea?’
The voice from the terrace made her jump.
‘Simon?’ she hurried over to the door. ‘I didn’t hear your car.’
‘That surprises me. The poor thing groans in mortal agony every time I drive up the hill in a cloud of smoke.’ He stepped inside and she saw him glance round. ‘So, have you sorted it?’
‘I heard the voice calling. And I felt something,’ she hesitated. ‘Cold. Fear. Very powerful emotions.’
He gave her a sharp look. ‘Did you manage to make it go away?’ Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a box of matches and headed towards the hearth. ‘I’ll light the fire if you’re cold.’
She saw him look over at his manuscript on the table as he squatted down before the hearth.
‘I was reading the bit you marked.’
He waited a moment while the flame caught then he straightened. ‘I felt it might be relevant. I had read my way through more than half the book without any problem, then every time I began to rework the chapter about the dyke in Herefordshire and the first time we hear of Offa at his palace near Hereford, the knocking started. And that sad, desperate voice.’ He grinned cheerfully. ‘Was it a figment of my imagination?’
‘No, I don’t think it’s your imagination.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘So, who is Elise?’
‘I don’t know.’ She sat down on the edge of one of the two chairs, wondering how to explain to him what had happened. ‘I didn’t realise King Offa had a palace near Hereford,’ she said at last, focusing on something she assumed he would be able to answer. ‘Do you know where it was?’
‘You read that bit?’ He glanced at the typescript again. ‘As I say in there, it was probably four or five miles away from Hereford itself, near an ancient hillfort they call Sutton Walls, Sutton being the Saxon for South Tun, tun meaning town. It would have been Offa’s southernmost base in Mercia. They think he may have had a hunting lodge in what is now Hereford as well, but the evidence is all so scant. Archaeologists used to think the hillfort itself was the site of his stronghold, then they did a series of excavations in or near various villages nearby and they’ve found more signs of Saxon building there. There’s nothing to see now above ground, as far as I know, but it’s obviously an area with quite a bit of relevance. I’m going follow up forensic studies they’ve undertaken lately and see if they’ve reached any conclusions, so my book can include the latest discoveries. We do need to know where he was based.’ He perched on the armchair opposite her. ‘Sorry. I’m getting carried away. Back to the point in hand.’
She was watching the cold blue flames run up the kindling and spread to the logs. This was when she should say no. Tell him that it was awkward because of Mark’s job and direct him to someone else. But she knew she couldn’t. She was far too intrigued already by her dream and the echoes it had left in her head.
‘Contacting your visitor wasn’t quite as easy as I thought it would be,’ she said cautiously.
‘Ah. I sense there’s a no coming. Couldn’t you do it?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘I’m too sceptical for you?’
‘No. You can’t be entirely sceptical or I wouldn’t be here.’
‘OK. Let’s compromise. Let’s say I’m a pragmatist. I’m prepared cautiously to suspend disbelief in the interests of scientific research. So, where are we so far?’
Sensing that he wanted to spar with her, she responded with a gentle reprimand: ‘Scientific and research are dirty words to people like me.’
‘Maybe.’ He inclined his head. ‘I withdraw them. I asked Christine for help, so it would be churlish to dismiss the help she provides.’ The fire was already beginning to throw out some heat and he eased his jacket off his shoulders. ‘Go on, tell me what you have found out.’
‘Normally I find this sort of challenge intriguing and generally it’s relatively simple to diagnose the situation. But here …’ She paused, suddenly serious again. ‘I haven’t managed to see the woman as anything other than a shadow, but I heard her clearly and I heard the strange echo to her voice, as you described it. Then,’ she stared into the flames, replaying it in her mind, ‘you came back and the moment was lost and I failed to make contact with her.’ She fell silent again. ‘There is something about this that unsettles me.’
‘Bloody hell!’ he gave a hollow laugh. ‘If it unsettles you, what do you think it does to me?’
She looked up at him sharply. ‘Are you afraid to stay here alone?’
‘No. Certainly not.’ He stood up abruptly. ‘No so-called ghost is going to chase me away. I don’t like being constantly interrupted, that’s all.’
‘But you’re a scientist, being pragmatic,’ she reminded him with a grin. ‘You shouldn’t be distracted by this. You should be thinking in terms of logical explanations.’
‘Hang on a minute!’ He raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘What’s this about me being a scientist? I am a historian.’
‘But one who draws on archaeology and, as you said, forensic studies.’ She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. ‘Sorry. I’m being over-defensive. But it was you who mentioned the words scientific research.’
There was a brief pause. ‘Has anyone investigated you?’
Her eyes flew open. ‘No! No, they haven’t. They’re usually happy that I have got rid of whatever it was.’
‘Which brings us full circle. All I asked was that you get rid of my wretched visitor.’
‘And I will, but I have to confront your ghost. If she doesn’t want to appear to me, I need to find out the full story so I can work out how to approach this.’ She levered herself to her feet. ‘Leave it with me. When can I come again?’
‘Whenever you like. But preferably soon. I have a tight schedule. I need to be able to concentrate.’
‘Tomorrow then. I’ll ring you first.’
As she made her way across the terrace and down the steps towards her car, she paused, her eye caught by a stone lying almost at her feet. It hadn’t been there before or she would have noticed it, she was sure.
She stared down at it thoughtfully, then she bent to pick it up. It was about the size of a hen’s egg and fitted neatly into the palm of her hand. The colour of dried blood, streaked with grey and smooth as crystal, it had a gentle warmth to it. She wiped some clinging smears of soil off it carefully and studied it for a few seconds. This was one of those moments she had learned to trust, an intuition, something Simon would never understand. In days gone by it would have been considered a message from the gods. There was something special about the stone; she didn’t know what yet, but it had appeared as she was looking for answers.
Slipping it
