Circle the wagons! The thought shot through Lee’s head before he could catch it, and he had to fight shocky laughter. Seldom had a civilised family moved with such instinct. He was worse than any of them: had covered the ground between himself and Rufus in ten strides and caught Tamsyn out of his arms. Gideon came to his side as if sucked there by magnetic force, and Zeke took up his undefended wing, Old Testament thunder darkening his brow. Rufus, bewildered but catching up fast, jogged up behind him and laid a reassuring hand to his shoulder, then snatched it away as if it burned.
Sarah had taken point. Psychopathic cow, Lee read clearly and helplessly from among her flame-bright broadcasts. Kids in Dark belong to all of us. He found mine, and you’ll have to go through me to get to his this time, mother or not. “Sarah, hush,” Lee said gently, though she hadn’t opened her mouth. “It’s all right.” He gathered up seldom-used forces and did a little broadcasting of his own. Frayne brothers, stand down...
“God,” said poor Elowen, stepping off the rock. “Michel and I were supervising a dig at the Hurlers this weekend, okay? And I saw the family charabanc making its way up the hill, and I came to say hello. Is that perfectly all right with everyone?”
***
Zeke’s birthday celebrations unfolded leisurely under the noonday sun. No awkward silence could last long with so many kids in the picture, and Sarah was already inserting sandwiches into her two youngest to hush the latest off-colour limerick they’d picked up in kindergarten playground. She was watchful but calm, and Zeke too had backed off, helping Eleanor release the twins from their buggy so that they could crawl around on the turf. Only Rufus still seemed fazed. He was an oddly lonely figure, despite his sweet-natured girlfriend’s presence. The two of them were sharing a rock in the shade, awkwardly passing a thermos back and forth.
No, not just Rufus. Gideon the peacemaker, Lee’s loving anchor in the storm Elowen had broken over their little world two years before, had been thrown a long Cornish mile. He was keeping it quiet, but his movements in unpacking Tamsyn’s kit and the sandwiches were too precise. Lee had seen him gathering his gear for a tough copper’s day on the streets with that kind of suppressed energy. The sooner Lee got him home and into a shared, sexy afternoon bed, the better.
For now, he took hold of his wrist and drew him down to sit beside him on the picnic blanket. “Here. Your cuppa’s ready.”
“Oh, ta. I’m dying for that.”
Elowen already had her cup. If Gid was the peacemaker, Lee had to ensure that his own manners at least withstood the test of her presence. He didn’t doubt the reasons she’d offered for it, but why hadn’t she done so in advance? She’d turned up on several occasions like this: never obtrusive or staying long, never warning them of her arrival. Despite everything, did it give her some satisfaction, a small recovery of power, to spring herself on them? “You should’ve said you were coming over. We’ve got room now for you and Michel to stay with us.”
“Oh, it was just a flying visit. Not worth bothering you for.” She leaned forward, cross-legged on the rug. She looked well, lithe and tanned, professional dirt under her fingernails. “God, look at the size of that marmot! I can’t believe it.”
“Yeah. She outgrew half her wardrobe over the last couple of months.”
Tamsyn hadn’t quite woken up. Lee had overheard Rufus, in despair of adult listeners, telling her a long story about the origins of Bodmin place-names on the way up the tor, and he’d put her to nodding, open-mouthed sleep. She’d taken Elowen’s presence just as she would that of any friendly stranger, smiling and putting her face up for a kiss. Lee didn’t think she knew who she was. He took a gulp of his own tea, aware that his voice was only slightly steadier than Gid’s. “Ugh, love. No sugar?”
Gideon pulled a face. “Sorry, your lordship. It’s just in the pack over here. Hang on.”
Tamsyn stirred in Lee’s arms. She lifted her head off his shoulder and gave him one of the silvery looks that went straight through him and into her own unseen universe, then she pointed one finger casually at the pack.
Lee snatched the Tupperware pot out of midair. He’d developed some damn good reflexes since Montol, and thought he and his girl had got away with it this time. “Thanks, Gid. So, Elowen, how’s things? Interesting dig at the Hurlers?”
“Oh, very. She’s started doing that, has she?”
Lee sat back on his heels. He met Gideon’s dismayed glance. “Doing what?”
“Lifting things, moving them around. I could do it when I was little, too. She really is mine, isn’t she?”
“Elowen, for God’s sake—”
“All I mean is that she’s flesh of my flesh. She came out of my body.”
Gideon set his cup down on the turf. He was pale with agitation, hands trembling. “We know that. And once she’s old enough, we’ll make sure she knows where she came from, and we hope you’ll be around to help her understand. But she has to be sure who her parents are. So—not to put too fine a point on it—back off.”
“Jesus, Gid. I’m not threatening you, am I?” She shook her head. “You’ve got everything tied up so tight legally, I’m lucky you don’t have a restraining order on me. You used to be nice to me about this, or at least you used to try.” She looked across at Ezekiel and Ma, who had set up their own picnic base conscientiously just out of earshot and, with Lorna’s help, were restraining the twins’ energetic attempts to crawl their way to the edge of the crag. “I don’t even have Ma’s allegiance now, do I?”
Ma had her back firmly turned, but if she’d been wearing her pussyhat, the ears would have been pricked and listening. Gideon made a visible effort to lighten up. “Well, get yourself a girlfriend, and I’m sure she’d reconsider. I’m sorry, okay?”
“Forget it. Nothing I don’t deserve.”
“Did you say you used to be able to do the... party tricks, too?”
She regarded him unreadably for a long moment, then accepted the subject change. “There’s a photo I keep meaning to show Locryn. I forgot about the things I could do, and when I dug this out of an album, I thought it must have been him.” She pulled an iPad out of her pack and shifted into the shade of the rocks poised above them. She grinned, a touch of mischief returning. “Because he’s the gifted one, you know. Look at him in that picture—little Mr Sunshine, and me with a face like a slapped backside.”
Lee took an apprehensive glance at the photo, Gideon edging close to join him. He had been a sickeningly happy little kid, hadn’t he? Before Morris Hawke, and the beginning of the monsters and the dark. His father must have taken this shot. No-one else got the sunshine-face quite like Cadan. In the background, Elowen was perched on the garden steps, glowering. Beside her—floating, no visible means of support—a pot of Cadan’s best tomatoes hung in the air. “I never saw that,” Lee said softly. “Bloody hell. Was that you?”
“Yes. I remember now. I was in a mood with Dad about something or other, and I let it fall and smash five seconds later. Serve him right, I thought then, although wouldn’t I just give anything to go back in time and say sorry...” Her voice shook slightly. “Right, I have to go. Two dozen boy scouts due to look at the dig this afternoon—we’ll be lucky if there’s a Hurler left standing.”
Lee tried hard to pull himself together. Gid had drawn Tamsyn onto his lap and had an arm like a paternal cable around her. One of them had to stay calm. “You know, if you give us a tiny heads-up when you’re going to be over here, Elowen, we can arrange a proper visit.”
She stuck out the tip of her tongue at him. “Oh, Mr bloody Sunshine again. I’m getting a storm warning from your other half, so I’ll push off.” After a moment she sobered. “Look, I know I screw you around by just popping up, and I’m sorry. But the truth is... I think Tamsyn might need me for something. Oh, don’t look like that—I don’t mean on a daily basis. Not as a parent. God knows she’s got everything any kid could want in that department.”
“What, then?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe it’s just hormones. I’m pregnant again.”
“Oh! Oh, that’s great, Elowen. Congratulations.” Lee gave her a quick hug, and was relieved when Gideon reached to do the same. “Er... it is great, right?”
“Yes. It’s the right time this time, and I’ve educated Michel about shared responsibilities. No more adoptions for you two at the moment. And, if it’s helpful, my poltergeist gifts stopped when my periods started.” She glanced up from fastening her pack. “Oh, for heaven’s sake—look at both of you, completely flummoxed by the P-word. You had better let me stick around, hadn’t you, or the poor kid will end up having to knit her own tampons.”
Lee and Gideon watched her retreat down the flank of the Tor. She didn’t pause to speak to Ma or any of the other assembled family and friends, but gave all of them a smile and a wave in passing. Lee drew breath to ask his husband how his heart and pulse were doing after that encounter, but Tamsyn suddenly woke up in Gideon’s arms. “Dada.”
“Yes, sweetheart?” Gideon enquired, lessening his grip on her a fraction. “What is it?”
She came to full, bright attention. “Tampon.”
“Er... right. OK, but that’s not a word you need to worry about just—”
“Tampon.” She wriggled upright, threw her hands into the air and joyously projected to the back row, the birds in the air, and Zeke and her grandmother five yards away. “Tampon! Tampon! Tampon!”
***
The sun was beginning its slow retreat from the mid-June zenith. Most of the sandwiches had been consumed, and even the tireless twins had crawled, rolled and scrambled themselves into a nap. One was asleep on Zeke’s knee, the other sprawled across Eleanor’s. Gideon, worn out by whatever demons of anxiety he could no longer share, had also succumbed, although Lee thought no-one was meant to notice. Tamsyn was sitting, patient and upright as a small penguin, while Ma wound a skein of knitting wool around her outstretched hands.
Not a perfect family, but Lee thought it came close. Loving Gideon had brought him immense side benefits in terms of in-laws. He could hardly imagine life without them.
He was fairly sure his affections were returned. Poor Zeke, his Methodist notions derailed time after time, had shown unexpected depths of toleration, and had only laughed at Tamsyn’s latest buzz-word. Fatherhood was fast undoing the last of old Pastor Frayne’s influence on his character. Toby and Mike—no biblical thunder in Eleanor’s nursery—had no notion of parental severity. If ever Zeke tried it, they saw through him like glass, and continued with their small, sunny acts of mischief.
Still, he did look patriarchal, seated on his rock with his small clan clustered about him. As often on the high moors, early afternoon was proving to be the hottest part of the day, and everyone had taken refuge in the shadow of Bern-an-Wra, one of the tallest and most fantastical towers of rock. Rufus had just finished explaining that the name meant the witch’s tower, and was supposed to be the frozen forms of a local coven, flying away from Sabbath attendance at church. Zeke had listened with unwonted patience. When Rufus had quite finished and wound down, he cleared his throat. “Thank you, Rufus. I’m sure we all find Sergeant Pendower’s stories intriguing, don’t we?”
Gideon deftly disguised a small snore and woke up. “Er... yeah. Absolutely.”
“Now it’s my turn to hold the floor for a moment. Eleanor and I have an announcement to make—a personal one, I’m afraid.”
Everyone focussed. Years in the pulpit, and a general unwillingness to discuss private matters, ensured that Zeke got attention when he did choose to speak. Only Ma looked unfazed, and Lee wondered if she’d already been clued in. From deep-seated reflex, he restrained the impulse to look. With Gideon’s help, he’d learned to take his future the way everyone else got theirs: in moment-by-moment, bearable chunks. Of course that meant he had to remain in suspense for as long as everybody else. “Nothing’s wrong, is it, Zeke?”
“No, no. Something good, although... well, not easy for me to say, and it was Ma who told me I ought to say it. That’s why I wanted to come out here with all of you today. The fact is that I...” He paused, and stroked a wisp of dark hair off his son’s peaceful brow. “I can’t live one way of life, and preach another.”
Gideon shifted uneasily. “No-one says you’re doing that.”
Zeke chuckled. “You used to say it to my face. Which is infinitely preferable to having parishioners whisper behind my back, so don’t look so worried. The first part of the announcement is that Eleanor and I are getting married.”
Rufus and Daisy broke into nervy applause. Tamsyn, still burdened by her wool, offered up a crow of pleasure. Lee and Gid kept their congratulations low-key, both reading a shadow in Eleanor’s face, readily though she raised it for a kiss. Once the reactions had died down, it was she who took up the thread, after a small, wry look at Zeke. “Not straight away,” she said, soothing Mikey, who’d woken up at the noise. “Not until the twins are old enough to get something out of it. We conceived them outside of the approval of the church, and I won’t have it said by anyone that I’m trying to close the door after the horse has gone.”
This was radical talk, by Zeke’s standards. A rare blush had suffused his harsh features. “I asked Eleanor to marry me as soon as I knew the... horse was on its way, so to speak. But—”
“But it would have been hypocrisy,” Eleanor continued firmly. “Which should probably bring us to our second point, Ezekiel.”
“Yes. Eleanor is right—we did have our children in defiance of the tenets of my Church. So here I am: an unwed father, who climbs into the pulpit every week in front of rigid Methodists, and...”
“They can’t be as rigid as all that,” Gideon interrupted. Compliments had never flown back and forth between him and his brother, so he left his next remark open for Zeke to interpret as he chose. “From what I hear around the village, everyone respects you as much as they ever did.”
“You haven’t heard some of the comments,” Eleanor broke in quickly. “They wouldn’t dare say the things they do in front of you.”
Zeke took her hand with an unhidden affection that he’d also acquired since the arrival of their sons. “Well, not everyone has the daily example—or perhaps I should say irritant—before them, of a pair of...” His gaze had settled on Gideon and Lee. Carefully shielded or not, Lee felt Gid’s uh-oh, what now? as clearly as if he’d said it. “A pair of blatant sinners, living such a damnably perfect life that the wrong path looks better and more virtuous than the right! But regardless of that, I’m living my life one way and telling my congregation to live theirs another, and I can’t do that anymore. I’ve spoken to Mother, Gideon, as I felt I ought to, and she’s in agreement. I’ve decided to leave the ministry.”
“Shit! Look out below!”
Lee jerked his head up. A figure atop the Bern-an-Wra tower was scrambling back from the edge. He or she had dislodged a small downpour of gravel and turf. Lee stood up, but Gid was already in motion, smoothly lifting Tamsyn, her wool and her grandma out of harm’s reach. “Hoi,” he called up. “You’d better come down off there—this one’s not safe to climb.”
All he got by way of reply was a barrage of half-stifled giggles. More pebbles fell. “God’s sake,” he said softly, depositing Tamsyn into Lee’s outstretched arms. He turned and dusted off Ma’s skirt. “You put Ezekiel up to this, didn’t you, old lady? Listen, Zeke—the way you live your life is up to you, and you certainly don’t need to throw it over for the sake of a handful of gossips in Dark.”
“I’m not. It’s my own decision. I—”
“Tell me about it in a minute. I have to go and knock some heads together.” He straightened up, grinning. “Tell you what, though—you announce you’re no longer a man of God, and five minutes later the Witches’ Tower starts to fall on you? Are you looking out for any little signs?”