A Finer End

Jack! She must tell Jack what she had seen. But he had gone to Bath that morning on a commission for a client. She would have to wait, then, and in the meantime she had pastoral calls to make, and it was more important than ever that she should see Simon Fitzstephen.

Simon’s visit the previous evening had been both unexpected and perturbing. There had been a time when Garnet would have welcomed the attention, would have been excited—aroused even—by the chance to learn from him. But she had soon discovered that the knowledge Simon possessed was all intellectual, not instinctive—and if there was any passion in it, it was for his reputation alone. How could someone who had studied the Grail so thoroughly not be moved by the power and wonder of the tales, or sense the awesome truth behind the legends?

And what had he wanted of her?

She slid the flat end of the long wooden paddle beneath the row of newly fired tiles in the kiln. Carefully, she lifted the paddle and stepped back, until the tiles were free of the confines of the oven. But as she turned to place the tiles on her worktable, her grip on the paddle faltered and it tilted, sending the row crashing to the barn floor.

Garnet stared down at the wreckage in horror. How could she have done something so clumsy? Now hours’ worth of work were gone to waste, and she was already behind schedule on this commission.

Hands trembling, she set the paddle aside and sank onto her stool. The dreams—it must be the dreams.… They had begun again in the past few months, haunting her with faces she’d thought long forgotten, tormenting her with a sense of urgency she only vaguely understood. Added to that was her worry over Faith and the rapidly approaching birth of Faith’s baby, and the growing fear that the two things were somehow connected.

Believing knowledge to be the best weapon against powers that affect the mind, she had tried to teach Faith how to defend herself without frightening her, and without communicating her own unease.

But more and more often she found herself snapping at the girl, even when she knew the real target of her anger was her own sense of inadequacy. She’d stopped Faith climbing the hillside above the farmhouse; between them she and Buddy kept an eye on her as best they could; and yet every day Faith seemed to feel the pull of the Tor more strongly.

What else could she do to protect this child who had come to mean so much to her? She had thought about enlisting Winnie Catesby, but no—that way was closed to her now. If Winnie knew the truth about the child, she could not be trusted, and if not, Garnet could not tell her.

That left her one option: she must try to set right the sins that had haunted her for so long. Perhaps that would stop the buildup of forces whose unleashing could only result in another tragedy.

Her ruined tiles forgotten, Garnet gathered her cloak from its hook and set off to pay a call on an old friend, knowing that her visit would not be welcome.

Winnie wheeled the bike to a stop in front of Jack’s house and gazed down the drive. His Volvo was nowhere in sight. She felt an instant’s rush of disappointment, then chided herself. Surely he would be back soon—it was almost five o’clock. She’d get herself some tea and have a word with Faith while she waited.

Hopping back on the bike, she cycled round the corner into Wellhouse Lane. She left the bike against the ribbon-decorated tree in the café’s forecourt and went inside. There were no other customers, and for a moment she thought the small kitchen empty as well. Then Faith’s shorn head appeared above the serving bar as she said, “Sorry. Can I—Winnie!”

“How are you, dear? Can a person get a cup of tea in this place?” Winnie asked cheerfully, hoping she hadn’t let her shock show. Gone was the rosy bloom Faith had exhibited through most of her pregnancy. The girl looked utterly exhausted, and her skin had an unhealthy pallor. “Why don’t you make yourself a cuppa and sit down with me? Where’s Buddy this afternoon?”

“Gone to the superstore for groceries. He didn’t like to leave me—you’d think I couldn’t manage the place by myself.” Faith turned and busied herself with kettle and mugs. When she had the tea ready, she came round the bar and set their mugs down at the table. The girl looked ungainly now, Winnie saw, her arms and legs too thin in contrast to her distended abdomen.

“Are you feeling all right, Faith?”

“I’m not sleeping too well these days.” Faith attempted a smile. “The baby presses on my diaphragm when I lie down—makes me feel I can’t breathe.”

“Have you been to the clinic, had a checkup?”

The girl shook her head adamantly. “Garnet says it’s perfectly normal. And I’ve only a few weeks to go now.”

“But—” Winnie saw Faith raise her chin in the familiar stubborn gesture, and subsided into silence. She took a sip of her tea, then tried again. “We’ve missed you. You haven’t come to see us lately.”

“Is there anything new … with Edmund?” Faith asked eagerly, her eyes alight.