“I was on my way round to the front door! I’d have rung your doorbell like a civilised person any minute, only...” She got off the swing and edged round behind it, the old wooden board she’d been sitting on a frail shield against Gideon in a quiet but towering rage. “Only I’m always afraid when I get within a few yards of you and your bloody kingdom, Gideon! You’re so generous and hospitable, and everybody loves you, but you know you might as well have a portcullis and a moat full of piranha.”
Lee could see her point. He was, however, as close as he ever got to ungovernable anger himself. “Elowen, why do you never call ahead?”
“I know. I know. I never did. And last time I saw you, I was as honest with you as I could—it used to be because I didn’t want you to know when I might turn up, didn’t want the two of you to be too smug and secure about having Tamsyn. But all that’s over. I’ve got a baby of my own now. I tried your mobile earlier. You make me feel like I’m up to no good when I’m not.”
Lee knew about the baby, of course. His nephew had been born in France in January, and there’d been Skype calls and photos sent to frame and hang on Ma Frayne’s wall. What he’d failed to notice, in the shifting light through the branches, was the little creature staring at him from the carrier papoose strapped to Eleanor’s chest and stomach. “Oh,” he said helplessly. “Gideon, look. She’s brought Cadan.”
“I was nervous about calling him that. I was afraid it might upset you.”
“Upset me... No. No, it’s a wonderful name. Dad would’ve been really pleased. Can we take a look at him?”
“Go ahead.” She glanced warily between the two of them. “He is a handy bomb-disposal device. Gideon, are you still gonna throw me into the pond?”
“Not while you’ve got that little morsel strapped to you. Here, let me see.”
There was still a rumble in his voice, but the danger had passed—from Gid at least; Lee’s heart was still pounding too fast and high in his chest. He watched in affection while the big hands went to work on the buckles and velcro ties. The smaller the creature, the gentler Gideon would become. His movements were startling in their delicacy as he lifted the baby clear of the papoose. “Well,” he said, unable to conceal delight. “Aren’t you a fine little lad? But he must be exhausted, Elowen, if you’ve just flown in today.”
“He’s been shuttling back and forth between Brittany and Carcassonne since he was born. He’s philosophical about travel. He’d probably like a feed, though.”
“Of course. Come on in.”
She followed them, wide-eyed, into the dining room. When she saw Tamsyn, still sound asleep, her colour came and went, and Lee had to raise swift shields to divert the wash of her emotions. She took a cautious seat on the end of the chaise longue. “Oh, God. She looks so well.”
“She is.” Gideon handed the squirming baby down to her. “Can we get you something to eat or drink?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you. I’m staying with Jago over at Drift, and I promised to have dinner with him tonight.”
She unfastened her blouse, and Cadan gave a hungry yowl and made a grab for her nipple. If Lee had ever been inclined to be fazed by a sight so sacred and ordinary—because she was his sister, because society exercised brutal stupidity in forming the perceptions of young men—he’d long since got over it during the months when he, Elowen and Gid had all lived with Tamsyn in their little flat in Dark. He sat down beside Gideon at the table. “I’ve a feeling,” he said carefully, “that you didn’t just come here so we could meet our nephew, gorgeous though he is.”
“Yes, he is,” she said, circling the tip of one finger round the swirls of dark hair on the little skull. “And no, I didn’t. I love our new house in Auray, but I still get homesick, and I always read the online Cornish Herald as soon as it comes out. And there was just... the weirdest article in it, reporting a car crash in Dark, the whole thing written as if the reporter didn’t quite dare say what he meant.”
Gideon pulled a face. “Really thought Sarah and Julie had scared those guys.”
“They did,” Lee said. “Just not quite enough. So, this article—lots of emphasis on how the road was dry, visibility good, and liberal use of the word inexplicable?”
“Yep. On a fine morning in Dark, a car inexplicably left the road, flipped over and landed on its roof. There might’ve been a dog involved, but this reporter didn’t see any such animal himself.” Elowen gave Cadan an encouraging kiss. “And I just thought—that sounds like the work of our girl Tamsie. So I phoned Sarah Kemp, who hates me, and she sounded about as cagey as she could get, and that made me sure I should catch the next flight over, to see if I could help. I know how dangerous these things can get. I never had much power myself, but I could break things when I was angry.”
Lee shook his head. For all he and Gideon had been ready to ask for help from this very source, they’d wanted advice about flats, not the hands-on approach. “You were angry all the time, Elowen. It wasn’t your fault, or mine—not even Dad’s. But Tamsyn takes life easily. She’s got nothing to be jealous or angry about.”
“No. But she’ll lash out when one of you’s in danger—or when her damn dog is, so don’t make the mistake of thinking she’s beyond temptation. If you had endless power to protect your loved ones, are you telling me you’d always have the decency not to use it?” She paused, long enough for Gideon and Lee to exchange a look. “Right. And you’re in your thirties, not three and a half.”
Gideon let go a breath. “Okay,” he said at length. “You can’t possibly have worse plans for her than some folk around here. Can you help?”
“Not on my own. But all that time back when I was living in Dark with both of you, I met someone—a kind of counsellor, a woman who lives locally. We used to sit and talk for ages on the bench in the park. She’s offered to meet me with Tamsyn down there, if you’ll allow it. I always felt that I knew her already, that I’d met her somewhere before, though I don’t think I can have done. Anyway, I trust her. The question is...”
Lee sat forward. “The question is if we trust you.” Hot, unstoppable pain suddenly filled his throat. “I know you changed your mind and brought Tamsyn back to us. But if she hadn’t cried and thrown fits and done her worst with her nappies, you’d have... kept her. You’d’ve taken my world and Gid’s, and torn it to shreds, and never looked back.” His voice was shaking. When Gideon put an arm around him and pulled him roughly close, he seized gratefully at the embrace. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Elowen.”
“You’ll never forgive me, will you?”
“In some ways, no. But...”
Gideon kissed the top of his head. “But Jana Ragwen gave you a message, Lee, when Clem was letting go of you this afternoon. Neither of us understood, but you said we’d soon find out.”
“She said... She said trust the mother.”
“That’s right.” Gideon eyed Elowen ruefully. “Hell of a big ask, even by her standards. But if you’re okay with it...”
“I don’t know. I think I’d better try, though. Yes.”
Elowen brightened. “Oh. Great, then. No need for me to say that I trust you with Cadan junior.” She detached the little boy, wiped his mouth and held him out to Gideon, who once more on instinct reached to catch. “Well, this lady said she’d wander up the lane around about now and just see how the land lay. She knows you both, and she totally understands how protective you are about Tamsie. So you can have a look at her, and if you don’t think it’s a good idea, we won’t even try.”
“Okay. But the kid’s flat out, Elowen. Gid and I were hoping we might just be able to get her off to bed without waking her. She’s had a bit of a day.”
With her usual gift of contradiction, Tamsyn woke up. She felt around for Isolde, who promptly came rollicking in and pushed a wet nose into her hand. Then she sat up. She fixed upon Elowen an eerily sophisticated look. “Lowen!”
“Tamsyn, we’ve talked about this,” Gideon said, in the mildest tone of reproof. “You know this lady is your mum.”
But Elowen shrugged, unconcerned. “No, I’m not. Not really. You two are mum and dad to her, and everything else besides—home, food, happiness, the lot. Anyway, I like Lowen. It does mean joy, after all.” She beamed at Gideon, who had tucked Cadan into the crook of one elbow and was enthralling him by pretending to steal his nose. “Hey, this isn’t a swap! Cadan’s ruckie’s down there beside his carrier. It should have everything he needs. I want my nice, boring lad back in an hour, not your little poltergeist.”
***
Elowen and Tamsyn set off down the lane hand in hand, Isolde romping behind them. From the porch steps, Gideon and Lee watched them go, waiting for a glimpse of Elowen’s counsellor friend. Cadan, who knew a good guardian when he found one, had leaned back luxuriantly in Gideon’s arms, and was waving his bare toes at the evening sky. “Lowen does mean joy,” Lee said, barely audibly. “Or the wolf.”
“What?”
Lee smiled, and put an arm around Gideon’s waist. “Nothing, my love. Has that convenient baby gone to sleep?”
“Well on his way.”
“Then it’s a peaceful hour for both of us, to be spent however you wish.”
Gideon quirked an eyebrow. “Really? Not staring suspiciously off down this lane, then, I suggest... Wait. There she is.”
Lee stood on his toes to get a better look. “Where?”
“Just coming up through the may blossom. Hang on—that can’t be Madge Ragwen, can it?”
“Granny’s daughter? Hardly. Madge took the money the old lady left her and bought the franchise for a nice little betting shop in Liskeard. No, that’s...” Suddenly he grabbed Gid’s wrist, hard enough to strain the bone. “Bloody hell. That’s the woman Clem Atherton saw, waiting for him in the road outside the farm. It’s Jana, Gideon, only...”
“Only fifty years younger. Still dressed in her smart Marks and Sparks.”
“So... we just handed over our daughter to one woman with a history of child abduction...”
“And another who slit a man’s throat and drained his blood into the fields at Pascoe’s Farm.”
“Mm. Still better than Uncle Dave.”
Down in the lane, Tamsyn gave a shriek of joy and recognition. And Jana Ragwen—transformed, renewed, returned to the world in full glory—reached out smiling to welcome the little witch of Dark.