over it?'
'I don't think anybody ever gets over something like that. You just learn to accommodate it.'
She thought about this for a moment, then said, 'What was she like?'
'Oh, I don't know-'
'Go on, I want to know. Was she a good person?'
'I suppose. I never really thought of her like that. She was pretty much a malice-free zone. But she had her bad qualities-who doesn't?'
'Yeah, right. But it's a balancing act, isn't it? There aren't any real goodies or baddies. Most people manage to keep that scale just right, a little bit up, a little bit down, over the course of a life. And just a few go up one side or the other.' She dug him sharply in the ribs with her elbow. 'Christ, it's like getting blood out of a stone with you.'
'I think that's a black kettle and pot situation.' He sighed. 'She was smart. She read a lot. She liked to talk about ideas, about things that mattered. She made me laugh. She took the piss out of me when I was being pompous. She didn't take the piss out of me when I was talking about a list of dreary finds from some boring dig in Somerset. She could argue the case for northern soul when I was banging on about guitar music. She'd watch Star Wars with me and wouldn't beg me to watch jean de Florette with her. And she allowed me to be weak.' He paused, feeling the rawness of some of the emotions that were surfacing. 'Lifes good as long as you don't weaken- that's a pretty good rule of thumb. We all have to keep up a resilient front, but you know you've found someone good when you can let the barriers down to show that weak, pathetic, characterdestroying side of you, that part that you have to let out every now and then or go mad, but you normally have to do in the privacy of your room.' He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 'Is that good enough for you?'
'It'll do. For now.'
'Why did you want to know? For the sake of comparison?'
'No. What's gone is gone. That doesn't bother me. But you can find out a lot about someone from the way they view the love of their life.'
Her words made him give pause. 'Very lateral thinking. So what did you find out?'
'You don't think I'm going to tell you, do you?'
'Okay. Tell me about the love of your life.'
She laughed. 'You must think I'm a real sucker. Sorry, pal, my past is a closed book.'
He pulled her in tight and gave her scalp a monkey scrub.
'Ow! Just because you can't compete with my intellect.' She pinched him hard until Veitch hollered from the depths of his tent for them to be quiet. Then they giggled like schoolchildren and continued their conversation in hushed tones.
'So,' Church said eventually, 'do you and I get a happy ending, do you think?'
There was a long pause that surprised him, and when he looked up at her face he saw the humour had drained from it. 'Come on, Church, you're a big boy now. Look around you. There aren't going to be any happy endings.'
Church sighed. 'Why's everyone so pessimistic? Ruth said something similar.'
'Yeah, I knew she'd been talking to you. Well… maybe it's a chick thing. You boys have no perception. No happy endings. We just have to make the most of what we've got for as long as we've got it.' There was a note of deep sadness in her voice, but a second later she had forced herself to brighten and was tugging him towards the tent. 'Come on. I want my brains removing and you've got just the tool to do it.'
Chapter Two
'It is beautiful.' Pressing her face against the window, Ruth looked out at the tranquil expanse of Loch Maree. The water was as glassy as it had been the previous day, reflecting the overcast sky punctured by bursts of blue and the hillsides that soared up steeply in a breathtaking wall of brown, purple and green. In the centre of the water lay Eilean Maree, serene and secret among its thick trees.
It had taken them only twenty-five minutes from Gairloch after a hearty breakfast of farmhouse bacon and eggs. They were all eager to continue on to Edinburgh and civilisation, but Tom had convinced them that a brief pause to make an offering to Cernunnos would pay dividends in the long run.
'I've got some reservations about this,' Church said as they parked up on the water's edge. 'Making an offering is a tacit admission that we accept they're our gods rather than simply beings that are more powerful than us. I have no intention of doffing my cap and being fawning-'
'Even if it means saving your life?' Tom interrupted.
Church radiated defiance. 'Even then. I'm not bowing down. I'm not folding up and showing my throat-'
'Then don't see it as an offering. See it as a bribe.' Tom marched off across the pebbles to a small boat that had been pulled up on the bank.
Witch rowed Laura, Ruth and Tom over first, then came back for Shavi and Church. The island was small and rocky along the shoreline, but heavily wooded with a thick undergrowth. They moved cautiously away from the light at the banks to the shadows that lay beneath the leafy covering. There was a tangible atmosphere of peace which put them at ease; it reminded Shavi of the aura of calm that hung over the grounds of Glastonbury Abbey. Yet despite the idyllic setting, no birds sang at all.
Tom led them through the trees to the tip of the island. In a grove, out of sight of the road, an obvious altar had been created from a tree stump. Wild flowers lay on it, along with a cup of milk and the remnants of a loaf of bread. The air of sanctity was at its most concentrated in the altar's vicinity.
'Looks like someone's been here before us,' Church noted.
'The power that Cernunnos represents didn't die away when the old gods left,' Tom replied. 'In places away from the cities there's been an unbroken chain of worship. Some people are still close to the land. Some refuse to forget.'
'Fuckin' nutters,' Veitch muttered.
'And there's the arrogance of the urban dweller.' Tom pressed his spectacles back on to the bridge of his nose, a mannerism which Church recognised as a sign of irritation. 'I thought you would have learned by now not to judge by surface. Whales move in deep water and leave no mark of their passing.'
'Whales?' Veitch said distractedly. 'What the fuck are you talking about?'
They stood in front of the altar for a moment, deep in thought. Then Ruth said, 'I want to make an offering too.'
Church looked at her in surprise, but Tom said, 'As you choose. You must respond to your feelings.'
High in the branches above them echoed a long, mournful hoot which seemed to come in response. Church picked out Ruth's owl looking down at them. 'Your familiar seems to be happy about that.' He had a sudden twinge of uneasiness when he glanced back at Ruth; he couldn't shake the feeling she was being sucked into something she couldn't control.
'What would make a good oblation, I wonder?' Shavi asked.
'Something important to us,' Tom replied.
Shavi searched in his pocket for the few remaining magic mushrooms which he used to induce his shamanistic trances. Church thought he laid them on the altar with undue gratitude.
While the others discussed the offering, Laura drifted away. She had little interest in what they were doing, certainly little belief, and sometimes she was overcome by an abiding need to be on her own, alone with her thoughts; since they had joined forces there had been little opportunity for that.
She leaned on one of the trunks and looked through the trees, watching the rippling waves sparkle in the scant sunlight. The place made her feel good in a way she hadn't really experienced before; it was so peaceful she wouldn't have complained if they'd decided to pitch camp there for a few days, maybe even longer.
It was only when the tranquility blanketed her that she realised how anxious she always felt, a constant buzz that set her teeth on edge and locked her shoulder muscles. Gradually, though, the stress began to ease away, and
