Читать книгу The Dream Weavers онлайн | страница 28

‘Hang on a minute!’ He raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘What’s this about me being a scientist? I am a historian.’

‘But one who draws on archaeology and, as you said, forensic studies.’ She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. ‘Sorry. I’m being over-defensive. But it was you who mentioned the words scientific research.’

There was a brief pause. ‘Has anyone investigated you?’

Her eyes flew open. ‘No! No, they haven’t. They’re usually happy that I have got rid of whatever it was.’

‘Which brings us full circle. All I asked was that you get rid of my wretched visitor.’

‘And I will, but I have to confront your ghost. If she doesn’t want to appear to me, I need to find out the full story so I can work out how to approach this.’ She levered herself to her feet. ‘Leave it with me. When can I come again?’

‘Whenever you like. But preferably soon. I have a tight schedule. I need to be able to concentrate.’

‘Tomorrow then. I’ll ring you first.’

As she made her way across the terrace and down the steps towards her car, she paused, her eye caught by a stone lying almost at her feet. It hadn’t been there before or she would have noticed it, she was sure.

She stared down at it thoughtfully, then she bent to pick it up. It was about the size of a hen’s egg and fitted neatly into the palm of her hand. The colour of dried blood, streaked with grey and smooth as crystal, it had a gentle warmth to it. She wiped some clinging smears of soil off it carefully and studied it for a few seconds. This was one of those moments she had learned to trust, an intuition, something Simon would never understand. In days gone by it would have been considered a message from the gods. There was something special about the stone; she didn’t know what yet, but it had appeared as she was looking for answers.

Slipping it into her pocket, she glanced back at the front door. It was closed. Simon had not waited to wave her off.

Standing quietly in the shadows of the hedge, Nesta, daughter of the forest, herb-wife and sorceress, smiled to herself. She had recognised this woman at once as a kindred spirit, a seeker of truth, a follower of the stars. In picking up the stone, the woman had accepted the challenge, and so was bound now to follow the story to its end.