lemon. The sky overhead had been as blue as the brightest summer day since Ruth, Laura and Shavi had nursed the van into town, shattered by the rigours of their pursuit by the Wild Hunt. The temperature had remained unseasonably balmy, without the briefest hint of rain or a chill on the wind.
'It doesn't seem right,' Ruth said, trying on the cheap sunglasses she had bought after browsing in the proliferation of New Age shops. She glanced up, trying to reconcile the weather with the time of year.
'Don't knock it.' Laura was impassive behind her own sunglasses.
'It's more than just the weather,' Ruth continued. 'There's something in the air. Can't you feel it?'
'Peace,' Shavi interjected.
'For the first time since we set off from London, I feel safe. It's like there's a bubble over the place, protecting it from everything that's out there. Smell all those scents! There doesn't seem to be any pollution at all. And the air almost seems to … sparkle? Like there's gold dust in it.'
The mood was reflected in the open, smiling faces of the people who passed by, nodding to the three of them as if they had always lived there. The residents moved slowly, lazily, gazing into the shop windows, ambling across the road, heedless of the slow-moving traffic.
'Glastonbury has always been seen as one of the most magically powerful places in the country,' Shavi noted. 'For hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, people have been drawn here by the supposed power in the land. Celts and Christians, hippies and New Age Travellers. It is supposed to be on one of the longest ley lines in the country, running from St. Michael's Mount in Cornwall, through Glastonbury, Avebury and on across the country to East Anglia.'
'You seem to know a lot about all this.'
He smiled curiously. 'When I was six years old I had a map on my wall with all the ley lines drawn on in red felt tip. When I was ten I had read every book ever written about the subject, from Alfred Watkins' The Old Straight Track to the latest scholarly journal. I branched out from that into reading about Buddhism, Taoism, Islam. In my head it all seemed linked.' He shrugged. 'Where does all that come from in a child?' He already seemed to know the answer to his question.
Ruth had a sudden sense of great wisdom in his eyes. 'So you think there's something in all this ley line stuff?' she ventured.
'There are plenty of people ready to pour scorn on it, as there are for anything which is difficult to categorise, compartmentalise, measure and define. But you have seen the blue fire.' Ruth nodded. She remembered the look of almost childlike wonder on his face when she described it to him as they dropped off the van at the garage for repairs. 'If only I could have seen it too,' he continued dreamily.
'You will. The visible evidence of it is all part of this new age, so it seems.'
'Did you know,' he said thoughtfully, 'that ley is an old Anglo-Saxon word, but it has an older, obsolete meaning, of flange or fire? Our ancient peoples knew more than we give them credit for. Interestingly, there is also a well-established ley linking Stonehenge and Glastonbury-'
'Yes, very interesting,' Laura interjected, 'now how about getting some food? At least with a full stomach I can sleep through all your ramblings.'
Ruth refrained from making any comment; there was plenty of time for Shavi to reach his own judgment about Laura.
They had pitched camp in a copse on the outskirts, but they needn't have worried about secrecy. They had been discovered by the farmer who owned the land within the hour, but he cheerily wished them well and continued on his way. The feel of the sun on their faces was a relief after the endless storm and the terrifying night and they had lain outside their new tents against a fallen tree, trying to come to terms with what had happened. It soon became apparent they had no idea what they were going to do next. Ruth wanted to head back to Dartmoor to search for Church, but while Laura didn't want to abandon him, she felt it was both futile and dangerous. Ruth tried to call the pub from her mobile, but the line was dead. In the end, they resolved to rest a while in Glastonbury while they recovered, hoping that some plan would present itself to them.
They wandered around until they found a cafe, the Excalibur, where Shavi and Laura had the vegetarian option of tomatoes on toast and Ruth opted for bacon and eggs. They felt more refreshed than they had any right to; whatever strange atmosphere now permeated Glastonbury seemed to be healing both their psychological scars and their exhaustion.
Afterwards, they dozed for a while in the sun, catching up on the previous night's deprivation, and then they explored the town, drinking in the unique atmosphere of ancient history that seemed to permeate every street. It didn't take Ruth and Laura long to get to know Shavi. He was unguarded in a way few others were, answering every question they had for him without a hint of embarrassment or reticence; his openness seemed to make Laura particularly uneasy, and she spent the first two hours trying to catch him out, to prove he was lying to them.
He was brought up in a tight-knit family in west London, and although his father had adopted most western ways since he came to the UK to study medicine in his twenties, Shavi had still had a strict upbringing when it came to the traditions and religion of his family. Shavi's interests had soon taken him well away from his heritage, throwing him into conflict with his father almost daily. As he progressed into his teens, his father's fury at his rebellious ways had threatened the stability of the family and, once he turned sixteen, he was forced to leave home.
Ruth was aghast at the blase way he mentioned such a period of upheaval. 'Didn't it bother you at all?' she asked.
'I shed tears for my family every day,' he replied, 'but what could I do? Remain in a life I had no empathy for, pretending to be someone else? The only option was to be true to myself, whatever price I had to pay.'
His life after leaving his family seemed to have been an odd mix of hedonism and spiritual questing. He freely acknowledged experimenting with various drugs, and, at Laura's prompting, admitted a healthy sex life fired by curiosity. Yet at the same time he had an insatiable thirst for knowledge, particularly of a spiritual and philosophical kind. 'If I indulged in self-analysis I would admit to trying to fill some kind of void,' he said, 'but it is more important to me to follow my instincts to see where they take me.'
Laura was curious about a small scar above his top lip, the only blemish on his perfect features; they were both surprised at the downcast expression her question elicited.
'It happened two years ago. I was with a boy in a club in Clapham,' he began. 'The Two Brewers. It was quite renowned in London as one of the top gay clubs-'
'You're gay?' Ruth instantly regretted her exclamation; it sounded faintly bigoted, the way she said it, although she certainly hadn't meant it that way. 'It's just, you don't seem gay.'
'I put no boundaries around my life. I have had men and I have had women.' He smiled forgivingly. 'Anyway, the Two Brewers had a reputation as the kind of place you could go without encountering any of the trouble you would find in the more unenlightened parts of the capital. The boy I was withLee was his name-had been a very close friend for many years. We had a good night, got a little high, plenty of dancing. When we left in the early hours we thought we'd go for a walk on Clapham Common to look at the stars. It was a beautiful night. We were walking down one of the side streets towards the common when the mood took us to stop and kiss.' He closed his eyes, remembering; at first his face was tranquil, but then a shadow flickered across it. 'Somebody hit me, hard.' He tapped the scar. 'I think it was a gun, or perhaps a piece of piping-it is very hard to remember. I think I blacked out for a while. When I came to, Lee was struggling with someone further down the street. I called out, tried to get to him, but I was so dazed.'
When he opened his eyes, they were wet, but he made no attempt to hide the emotion. 'My vision was fractured-I had concussion-but I could see the man attacking Lee. He was swinging something down on his head. The crack sounded like a piece of wood snapping in two. But even then he did not stop. He kept hitting, and hitting.' He closed his eyes once more. 'Lee died. His murderer got away. I cannot even remember what he looked like.'
'I'm so sorry.' Ruth rested a comforting hand on his forearm.
Laura was just as moved by the story. 'What a homophobic bastard! If I found out who it was, I'd cut off his dick and shove it down his throat.'
Shavi raised his hands and shrugged. 'I have done my best not to let it scar me emotionally as well as physically, but it has been difficult. I try to tell myself there is enough hatred in the world without me adding to it.'
His honesty created a bond with them both; it was impossible not to trust him completely. Ruth found herself
