‘The fox has a name?’
‘The animals we know all have names, how else would we address them? Rumbo was his name when he was a dog, then a squirrel. The name has travelled with him.’
There was already too much for Thom to consider without pondering over the apparent several lives of animals and reincarnation. ‘So Bethan left me because my father had abandoned us both,’ Thom said, dredges of bitterness clear in his tone.
Jennet stopped. ‘Your father died. It was his death that meant Bethan had to leave also. Just your love, a child’s love, couldn’t sustain her.’
‘I never knew.’ Thom was shaking his head. ‘She never told me what happened to him. I just assumed he’d gone away before I was born.’
‘Are you sure she didn’t tell you about him, Thom?’
‘I’m sure. I would’ve remembered.’
‘You forgot everything else.’
‘But not that. If she’d spoken of my father, I would have remembered.’ He said the words deliberately, spacing them out.
‘Then I don’t understand. I’m sure Bethan had her reasons, though.’
‘Yeah, he was no good. He ran out on us, but she was never mean-spirited enough to put it that way. Funnily enough, I don’t ever remember asking about him as I grew older. I think he just didn’t play any part in my thinking or existence.’
She took him by the hand. ‘It’s time you knew, Thom. Let me show you something that might help you understand.’
KATY SCREAMED. This was not what she wanted, what she’d expected.
The woman seemed crazed now, a wild thing taken by a perverse lust. Their lovemaking had been glorious, Katy could not deny that, and she, herself, had taken just as much a part as Nell, although initially the older woman had been the seducer. Katy had experienced sensations that she hadn’t thought possible, certainly not between two women and rarely, she thought, possible between a man and a woman. The coupling had left her faint and she had lain exhausted on the bed, her T-shirt dishevelled above her tender breasts, an ache in her fulfilled loins that was not unpleasant. But satiated, she had began to feel shame, a guilt that nagged at her like some Catholic harpy, insisting that she had not just sinned but had sinned unnaturally. Stupid, foolish thinking, she knew, but years of sexual conformity and commonplace propriety were not so easy to dismiss. She had enjoyed it, though, she told herself, she had loved every illicit second. While it was happening. Now that the incredible yearnings were gone, the intense desire satisfied (more so than it had ever been with any man) she was left only self-recrimination. She had come to Little Bracken to see Thom Kindred; it was the appointed time for his physiotherapy, exercises that eventually would mend him, would bring him back to the man he obviously had once been. Her interest in him was more than professional, she had no problem in admitting that; but this morning, when she had met the dark-haired woman, something – something she honestly believed was alien to her despite the single, and to her, singular experience all those years ago – had unleashed otherwise unfamiliar feelings in her. She had felt an overwhelming sexual passion and had willingly submitted to Nell’s advances. It couldn’t be so, she wasn’t . . . she wasn’t that way . . . it was an aberration, a deviation, and now she was left ashamed and . . . frightened.
The woman, Nell, had changed horrendously. There was madness in those black eyes of hers! Perhaps she, Katy, would not have felt such mortification if the woman had shown some tenderness afterwards, some gentle caring, lying together and holding each other. It was what Katy needed, for sex was never just an act to her, it always meant something more, something fine.
Now this strange wild-haired woman, who at this moment personified Katy’s vision of Rochester’s mad Creole wife, escaped from her dungeon to wreak havoc on all and everything before her, knelt on the bed between Katy’s naked spread legs, her hand closed in a tight fist, bringing it down, closer and closer, a lunatic’s grin besmirching her stunning face.
Katy’s realized what the other woman was about to do, for she had already treated her roughly, pushing her back down against the pillows when she had tried to rise, Nell’s hand hard against her forehead, fingers clawed into her hair. The therapist had protested and received a vicious slap across the mouth for the trouble; she tasted blood from a split lip and Nell’s eyes only gleamed all the more. It was as if having submitted to the woman’s seduction and indeed, taking a more than willing part in the loveplay, Nell considered Katy to be her chattel, her ‘bitch’, there only to receive whatever was dealt her. Well, Katy was nobody’s harlot and was not about to let her body be defiled in the abhorrent way Nell Quick intended: it had been abused enough in their frenzied lovemaking.
As the clenched fist approached her exposed vagina, its move slow and deliberate, Katy bent one knee and kicked out at the other woman. The blow took Nell by surprise, almost knocking her off the end of the bed, and before she could recover, the therapist was scrambling to her own knees, one hand unconsciously yanking down the T-shirt still shrugged up over her breasts. Despite being a little overweight, Katy Budd was a fit girl, her very profession seeing to that (working with the generally unhealthy or infirm tended to make you more aware of your own body’s condition), but there was something about this woman that truly frightened her. She had already felt Nell’s strength and now she was witness to the crazed evil in her expression.
Nell had orgasmed with Katy, but that was not the end of the carnality for her: no, her demands far exceeded a single climax. Perhaps it was her nature always to want more, perhaps her sexual drive was insatiable; but more likely it was because of Nell’s malign persuasion, her wish to hurt others and sometimes, when the mood was on her, be hurt herself. Whatever the reason, she was disappointed that Thom Kindred had not returned to find them both, herself and his little blonde-haired darling, in his bed making love. That might have altered his stupidly innocent but oh-so-beguiling expression, that might even have tempted him to join in the fun. The disappointment, charged with frustration, made Nell lunge back at the girl, who was on the edge of the bed, catching her flushed cheek with long fingernails, raking thin bloodied trails across the flesh.
Katy screamed. Loudly. It was the shock as much as the fear.
She fell to her knees on the floor, her own hand immediately seeking out the wound to her cheek. She did not wait to examine her fingertips for signs of blood, but tried to get to her feet. Now the offending hand was grabbing her shoulder, pulling her back so that her spine dented the edge of the mattress. Nell beat at her face, smacking her cheeks and temples, tugging at her hair so that she was unable to rise.
‘Leave me alone!’ she managed to shout, but the attack was merciless and she could hear the other woman laughing, a horrible cackling sound. ‘Please!’ Katy wailed.
She felt her breasts being violated, cruel hands rubbing them, slapping them, pulling at the nipples that extended once more, this time because of manipulation rather than excitement. Then a hand tugged at her pubis, pulling the light hair there, drawing out some so that she screeched with the pain of it. Fingers dug deep between her parted thighs, this time no passion to them, exploration turning to excavation as the fingers plunged inside her. The violation caused Katy’s anger momentarily to outweigh the fright, and she turned and struck back at her assailant who, only minutes before, had been her lover.
Nell was shocked, for the blow smashed into her nose, a splodge of blood jetting out to spoil her upper lip and tip of her chin. She gave a startled shriek, but immediately went after the girl again. Katy had stolen the moment to push herself off the bed and reach for the grey joggers she had so carelessly left just inside the bedroom door.
The dark-haired woman was swift of movement even though stunned by the punch and as she bent to retrieve the tracksuit leggings, Katy felt the rush behind her. She managed to straighten before she struck the door-frame and again she cried out, tears spoiling her already impaired vision. She found herself spun around, as if her pursuer wished to beat
her face, but she felt warm moist lips against her own and tasted another’s blood in her mouth. Then sharp teeth were biting her lower lip as she writhed in the woman’s iron grip, trying to push her assailant away, trying to push herself away. Nell was ruthless, though, pinning her against the door-frame with an energy that terrified Katy.
She wrenched her mouth away and spat blood. Her head to one side, she implored, ‘Stop it, stop it, please stop it!’
No use: the attack continued. Nell’s hands seemed to be all over her body, beneath the T-shirt, abusing her breasts, pinching the soft flesh of her waist, reaching between her legs again, and all the time laughing, spitting, squealing her lust and rage. Katy still held on to the tracksuit leggings and she kept them between their bodies, hopeless protection, but all she had, a psychological barrier of useless cloth. It was when she felt those invasive fingers with their wicked nails inside her once more that her terror turned to outrage once again.
Enough! she told herself. Enough!
But it was a reflexive action that saved her for the moment. A space had been created between them by the madwoman as she tried to push her hand further into Katy and the therapist swiftly brought her heel down hard on Nell’s bare toes.
Air escaped her attacker in an explosive screech and for a second or two Katy was free. However, the rage was still with her, and that was good, that was positive, for it gave her the strength, the superiority over mindless panic, to bring one fist down hard across the other woman’s face. Nell staggered and Katy’s arms shot out, her other hand still clutching the joggers, to catch her attacker off balance. She thrust at her with all her might, sending Nell stumbling to the floor by the side of the bed.
Seizing the moment, Katy whirled and ran through the open doorway, then down the staircase, her heart racing as if to beat her to the front door below. Her bare feet pounded on the boards, which groaned and cracked with the hurried pressure, and when she reached the small landing below, she did not pause, not even when she thought she saw something – a blur of movement only, a small animal perhaps that had crept into the cottage while she and the woman had been otherwise occupied upstairs – dart through the bathroom doorway that was slightly ajar. Besides, the maniacal screaming coming from the bedroom above easily overrode any curiousity she might have had.
Never mind that she was naked from the waist down, Katy flew out of the cottage on to the cracked path, spitting blood as she went, small stones sticking to the soles of her feet. She felt no pain then, only blind panic – almost literally, for without her spectacles her vision was seriously at fault – and the adrenaline that roared through her body overruled any notions of modesty. Because no one was likely to steal her car in this remote area of the woods, she had left the key in the ignition and gratefully she tore open the driver’s door to throw herself inside; with virtually the same action and without waiting to catch her breath she switched on the engine. Then she quickly locked both driver and passenger doors.
There was not enough room in the clearing outside the quaint ‘gingerbread’ (her first thought on seeing it) cottage, so Katy had to reverse at an angle, go forward to the trees, then reverse again. It was a stilted three-point turn, but at last she was facing the rough lane leading to the main road.
At her second reverse, Katy had glanced back at the cottage, expecting Nell Quick to come chasing out after her, but the path had been empty. She had, however, looked up at the bedroom windows and there was the woman, somehow made pale, ghostly, by sun reflecting on the glass. She appeared to have one hand to her cheek as if soothing the blow she had taken; she also appeared to be grinning. A flurry of wings as a bird took off from the parapet above distracted Katy for a moment, and then she was concentrating on the track ahead, pressing down hard on the VW’s accelerator so that wheels spun and stones and small sticks shot up from behind the tyres. The green car roared off through the opening in the woods, with Katy jolting and bouncing inside, her naked buttocks slipping in the seat, loosened hair blown by the breeze coming through the open windows.
She drove fast, trees and branches rushing by on either side, the longer, leafy branches frequently scratching metal and scarring paintwork as she fought to keep control of the vehicle, the steering-wheel jerking violently in her hands each time the wheels struck a particularly deep rut. Even so, as she drove further away from the cottage, her heart still beating crazily, her breath coming and going in short sharp gasps, Katy became aware of her nudity. She slowed the car almost but not quite to a stop, manoeuvring the joggers down her legs, taking swift peeks to see what she was doing, pushing the left foot through first, then releasing the accelerator pedal for an instant to stab her right foot through. The car almost stalled, but she quickly stamped down again and it roared on. Then it was a question of pulling the grey joggers up to her knees, pressing back against the seat so that she could raise herself and slide the clothing all the way up. She did not notice the magpie circling overhead.
The track was difficult to see through the tears she continued to weep – out of anger as much as shame and fear – and her own poor eyesight hardly helped. She knew she would soon be approaching the busy main road that ran past the estate, but she increased speed again, wanting to be as far away from that dreadful woman as quickly as possible. The only other vehicle apart from Thom’s Jeep at the cottage had been an old-fashioned bicycle leaning against the wall by the front door, and, assuming it belonged to Nell Quick, Katy could not imagine the woman pursuing her on such a heavy contraption, but still she did not slow the car.
Now though, despite Katy’s ongoing panic, recriminations began to burn her again. What had she been thinking of? She wasn’t a lesbian, even if there had been that one experience so long ago, so why had she given in so easily to this strange woman? She hadn’t drunk or eaten anything, so she couldn’t have been drugged with some kind of inhibitions-loosener. Yet she had felt so . . . felt so . . . horny. That was the only word she could think of. She, Katy, had not truly given in to seduction. More correctly, she had submitted to her own suddenly demanding sexual needs, the overriding – the irresistible – desire to make love with someone, man or woman, or something. She shuddered and wept freely.
Oh God, how could it have happened?
And would Nell Quick boast of it to Thom? Katy prayed not.
Regardless of her worsening vision, Katy put her foot down even further, the little two-door car’s engine revving loudly. The steering-wheel bucked in her hand again as the VW hit ridges of hardened mud and sunk into dips, but she kept going, desperate to be away from that place, realizing despondently that she would never return, not even to see Thom, not even to carry out her professional duties. He would have to make other arrangement.
Katy wiped a hand across her eyes, trying to brush away the wetness there, but she sobbed again and more tears welled. The waistband of her leggings was beneath her hips, but at least she was covered, just a plumpish ridge of belly exposed. She felt uncomfortable, it was difficult to see, but she was not about to stop and calm herself, nor adjust her clothing: her emotions would not allow it.
The junction into the main road was less than fifty yards ahead, although she could not properly see the break in the trees. Only when something large and painted yellow – a high-loader transit van, in fact – blurred past the gap that was fast looming did she realize that she was about to arrive at the main road with possibly heavy traffic. Just before she could jam her foot down hard on the brake pedal, something appeared from nowhere in front of her, a flurry of movement between her and the windscreen.
It was a bird, of course, but Katy was too shocked to realize. It must have been travelling towards her at a good speed to fly through the open side window.
Strong black, blue and white wings flapped at her face and the bird’s beak scored bloody lines down her forehead and nose, while feather tips stung her eyes. She tried to fight off the creature, but it was like battling a maelstrom. Katy’s screams as she slapped and beat at it
with hands and fists and the bird’s own harsh squawking filled the car’s interior with noise.
Katy continued to thrash out at the maddened thing, forgetting the steering-wheel for the moment, forgetting the footbrake, forgetting she was swiftly approaching the usually busy road. The VW shot from the small lane and into the main thoroughfare, unfortunately just as an articulated ‘sheepdog’, a carrier loaded with brand new Renault Meganes, fresh from the Continent, bright and gleaming on their treads, was approaching from the right.
Katy Budd had no chance. The vehicle-carrier smashed into her little VW Polo, knocking it a hundred and fifty yards further down the road, straight across a small ditch where it bounced back off trees that were part of the Bracken Estate’s woodland, and into the ditch again.
When it did come to rest, concertinaed bonnet rising over the edge of the ditch, the car was no longer recognizable as the model it was deemed to be. And Katy was hardly recognizable as the girl she used to be.
THEY WALKED around the lake and Jennet led him even further into the forest.
‘I never thought I could get lost here,’ he remarked, ‘but this is something else. I couldn’t have come this far when I was a kid.’
‘You did, but you were too young to know,’ she replied, taking him through a tangle of brambles and undergrowth as if there were some secret path. ‘When you did grow older, when you reached an age to understand and remember, she stopped bringing you here.’
‘Wait a minute. How d’you know all this? You’re younger than me. At least, you seem to be.’
‘I am, Thom. Even in your years I am.’ She lightly pulled him onwards. ‘The story, almost a legend among us now, was passed down. A union between mortal and faerefolkis is something we could never forget.’
‘Then why didn’t she want me to know? Why didn’t my mother tell me what she was? Or at least about my father?’