Part 21 (1/2)

The imagination is a strange country,' Othman interrupted. The so-called St Shem was never really a saint. The dedication of the church must just have been a cover up in case any strangers wandered through the village. Your mother must have told you stories about him when you were a child, which you've remembered through your dream.'

But there was a story behind the dream, I just know it. It was like I simply stepped in and witnessed a small part of it. I didn't understand it, and I want to know more.'

Perhaps you'll dream yourself back into that forgotten country,' Othman said, and covered any further questions she might utter with a kiss.

Later, Lily said to him, You've changed my life.'

I know,' he answered and smiled, leaning back beside her, his long, beautiful body warm against her flesh, his hair tangled with hers.

Who was he and where had he come from? How had he insinuated himself into their lives in this way, turned everything upside down? He had brought magic with him, Lily felt. He made things happen. What would she feel if he left her now? Could she survive, go back to how she was before? The last thoughts cast a cloud over her mood. She did not want to think about it.

When Owen came in, Lily realised she hadn't been thinking about him at all, or even wondered why he'd stayed out all night. He seemed in a bad mood as he slammed around the kitchen, sc.r.a.ping a breakfast together for himself. Lily felt tense, sure that Peverel Othman's presence was imprinted all over her body. Surely Owen could smell that Othman had been here?

Owen sat down. Lil, we have to talk.'

Lily froze. He knew! She laughed nervously. What about?'

Just sit down, will you.'

She did so, waiting for the attack. He was stirring cereal round in his bowl, staring at the table. Lily was frightened. She'd never seen Owen like this, so serious.

Owen sighed, looked up at her. His eyes were dark. I stayed at the Crantons last night.'

Lily said nothing, tried to swallow without gulping.

Owen rolled his eyes. Well, where's the outburst? At least make me feel better by shouting at me.'

Lily frowned. What? What do you mean?'

Owen stood up, gripped the back of his chair. Why is it you've been sniping at me with remarks about Daniel for the past few days, but now you've conveniently forgotten about it?'

Lily stared at him. He was talking about jealousy. Soon, the accusation would come. I realised I was being stupid, and too possessive.' Answer that, she thought triumphantly.

Oh right, so that means you don't mind that I slept with Daniel last night.'

Lily found an irrepressible laugh bubbling out of her mouth. She put her hands over it to stop it.

Owen looked furious. What's so funny?'

Lily shook her head. Two days ago, she'd have been crucified by the thought of Owen touching anyone else. Now, all she felt was relief, a s.h.i.+ft of blame. You won't believe this, but I thought you were going to tell me off!'

What for?' Owen asked, in a cold voice.

Lily grinned. She couldn't stop herself. Well, while you were at Low Mede, Pev came here. While you were in bed with Daniel, I was in bed with Pev. Isn't that a coincidence!' She leapt up and busied herself at the sink, so she wouldn't have to look Owen in the eye. She couldn't stop laughing.

Owen came up behind her, grabbed her shoulder, pushed her round. Before she could protest, he slapped her face. The twins stared at each other in shock. Nothing like this had happened before, never had they raised a hand against one another in anger.

Lily hit Owen back. You b.a.s.t.a.r.d, how dare you!' The blow was stronger than his, sent him cras.h.i.+ng into the table. You dare to get angry with me over Pev, O. I've always known you've been itching to get your hands on Cranton. How dare you get jealous now!'

Owen straightened up, rubbing his face. Lily's blow had been a closed fist, not an open palm. Perhaps that's true,' he said quietly. But I never did anything about it before - because of you. How weird that's all changed now, since Peverel Othman arrived on the scene. How convenient that I was over at Low Mede so he could come sniffing round you. It was his idea, you know, for me to be with Daniel.'

Lily digested this information. It did not displease her as much as Owen might think. Othman had wanted her alone. He had wanted her. So what are we going to do now?'

Owen paused for a moment. We don't fight. We mustn't separate. Not now.'

Lily pushed her hair off her face. You think something's going on, don't you?'

Owen nodded. Yes, but I haven't worked out what, yet. Othman told me things about us - he thinks, or knows, there's something different about us. He wants us, Lil. Don't flatter yourself he's in love with you, or anything. He wants more than that - from both of us. So don't go falling for him. It could be dangerous.'

Lily drew in her breath. And are you in love with Daniel Cranton?' she enquired archly.

Daniel is a need, not particularly an obsession,' Owen answered obliquely. He rubbed the back of his neck, rolled his head around. We have to find out what Othman knows about us. Until we do, we're vulnerable.'

He asks about Mum a lot.' Lily frowned. I still wonder whether he knew her. He looks only a few years older than us, but I get the feeling he's a lot older than that.'

We'll play along for a while. It's all we can do.' Owen went back to his breakfast, and Lily sat down opposite him again, her elbows on the table.

Is this thing with Daniel going to be regular?'

I don't know. What about you and Othman?'

Lily looked away. I want him, O. I won't deny it. He makes me feel...' She wriggled her shoulders. I don't know. He fascinates me. Do you mind?'

Well, as you rightly pointed out, I'm hardly in the position to.' Owen sighed deeply, and put down his spoon, reached for his sister's hands. Lily, we must stick together. Let's be frank with one another. Our sharing was never that regular, was it? I suppose something like this was bound to happen. We were isolated. Now we're not. But it doesn't change the way I feel about you. You're still my G.o.ddess.'

Lily smiled uncertainly. She wished she could share Owen's belief their relations.h.i.+p would not be changed by all that had happened, and all that would happen, soon.

Barbara breezed into The White House, barely able to contain her excitement. She had been to the small local library, and after a rather difficult episode persuading the librarian to let her look at the auction details of Long Eden, had spent the afternoon leafing through the old invoices and papers. Although she'd unearthed no juicy scandals - a personal letter inadvertently bundled up with the receipts would have been nice - she had discovered that the Murkasters had sold off the least valuable of their effects, and that a dozen or so paintings from the house had been bought by a local man. It had been twenty years ago, but she hoped desperately that Mr G. Thormund still lived in Larkington, a village nearby. Now, if her investigations proved fruitful, she had a means through which to impress Peverel Othman.

She went straight to her sitting room and dragged out the telephone directory from beneath a pile of magazines behind one of the chairs. Thormund, G. She found it almost too easily, and the address matched what she'd written in her notebook: Leaning Willows, Larkington. Barbara wrote down the number and went to fetch herself a gin and tonic. Then she sat down on the sofa, phone in hand, and tapped in the number. She almost held her breath as the calling tone purred out, a connection from Barbara to the past. She felt it strongly. Then, just as she'd taken a mouthful of gin, the phone was answered. Larkington 572.' The voice was male, plummy, elderly. Barbara gulped down the gin.

Good afternoon. Am I speaking to a G Thormund?'

G.o.dfrey Thormund, yes. What can I do for you?'

Barbara fell into her element. I am Barbara Eager, the proprietor of The White House hotel in Little Moor. I'm involved in a writing project about the manor house, Long Eden, which as you must know is situated in the village. I understand you bought a number of old paintings from the auction at Long Eden some years ago, and was wondering if you still owned them?'

Yes,' came the rather cautious reply.

I don't want to inconvenience you at all, Mr Thormund, but I'd be extremely grateful if you'd allow me to view the paintings some time.'

Writing project, you say,' said G.o.dfrey Thormund. Barbara sensed mulishness.

Yes. I run a writer's group here in the village, and we're aiming to produce our second book soon. Long Eden's boarded up now, and the gardens have gone wild. I'm hoping to find some representation of the house when it was lived in. Looking for inspiration, I suppose! But of course, I'd like to see any painting that once hung in the old place.'

Had a few meals at The White House,' said G.o.dfrey Thormund. With my daughter.'