Part 37 (1/2)

Who can tell?' Thormund said. Mary thought it was probably symbolic, a spiritual symbol. She had the idea the Murkasters were into the occult. Bit too Dennis Wheatley for me, I'm afraid! Haven't got the same imagination.'

Barbara turned to Othman. Do you know, this woman looks very familiar to me. Now, who does she remind me of?'

Othman's expression was veiled. Barbara thought the painting had upset him in some way. He was not his usual, sardonic self. You tell me,' he said.

Barbara took a step back, narrowed her eyes at the picture. Lily,' she said. It's Lily Winter. Now I think of it, the likeness is uncanny.' She smiled at Thormund. Lily's a girl who lives in our village.'

By-blow?' enquired Thormund delicately.

I beg your pardon?' Barbara was unsure for a moment what he meant, then realisation dawned. Oh no, I hardly think so. They only came to the village a few years ago.' She frowned. Still, I think their mother once lived in Little Moor. Is that possible, Pev? Do you think the Winter twins are Murkaster b.a.s.t.a.r.ds?' She made a few calculations before Othman could answer. Hang on, the twins would have been conceived round about the time the Murkasters left Little Moor. It is possible.'

Well, the landed gentry were always renowned for being friendly with village women and servants,' Thormund said. It was clear he enjoyed a little intrigue and scandal himself.

The rest of the paintings were disappointing in comparison with the first. Barbara scanned them swiftly. Thormund told her she could come back and see his pictures again if she wanted to. Barbara thanked him warmly. I envy you that portrait,' she said. It is beautiful. There's only one thing I'd like to ask you. I hope you don't think I'm being too personal.'

Ask away!'

Why is it hanging in a room you clearly use only rarely? If I had that picture, I'd want to look at it all the time.'

Thormund smiled. Well, there's a tale to tell about that. When Mary bought it, it hung at the top of the stairs on the landing. But it spooked her. She didn't like having to walk past it every night on the way to bed. I told you she was an imaginative sort. She loved that picture, but occasionally it scared her. All she'd say was she didn't like the way the woman looked at her sometimes. So, it was moved in here. Mary said it was a day time picture that needed light. In darkness, it brooded too much.'

Barbara smiled. I think I would have liked your wife! She sounds just my type.'

On the way back to Little Moor, Barbara chatted on about the picture, while Othman sat in silence beside her. Eventually Barbara commented on his mood. What is the matter with you today? You're not usually this subdued. It was as if you weren't even there at Leaning Willows. In fact, it seemed to me that the painting upset you in some way.'

If it was a portrait,' Othman said in a flat voice, then it was a Murkaster posing for the ill.u.s.tration of a legend. The woman was Ishtahar.'

Who?' Barbara took her foot off the accelerator.

Ishtahar. A Mesopotamian woman who seduced an angel.'

How do you know?'

It's my field. I know, that's all.'

Barbara halted the vehicle. Pev, are you all right?'

He put his hand over his eyes, pressed his forefinger and thumb into the sockets. Yes... yes. I feel a bit... I have a headache.'

Do you want some paracetamol? I have some in my bag, I think.'

He shook his head. No. Let's find a pub. Is it too early for a drink?'

Barbara smiled, as she put the Land Rover into gear. Not at all. It's just the right time.'

They drove for another couple of miles, up into the hills, and away from the knots of tourists. Barbara parked the Land Rover in the car park of a pub called The Green Man, which was otherwise empty. Cloud shadowed fields sloped down behind the pub towards the river and Larkington. On the other side of the road, wilderness held sway, and the occasional dot of a walker could be seen, the red or blue of an anorak. Here, away from Little Moor, the air seemed more chill yet cleaner.

The pub was dark inside, low ceilinged and devoid of clientele. Is it open, do you suppose?' Barbara asked in a stage whisper. She called out, h.e.l.lo?' After a few moments, a young, tired looking woman in a drab dress and cardigan came through a door behind the bar. Behind her, from the doorway, came the thin wail of peevish children. The woman directed a scorching glance at Barbara and Othman, hardly bothering to disguise the suspicion in her eyes that here was a moneyed middle-aged housewife out with her bit of rough. The suspicion was peppered with resentment and envy disguised as scorn.

Barbara decided to abandon her welcoming expression and a.s.sumed a more reserved mien. She ordered two pints of cider, and enquired about the whereabouts of the beer garden.

Outside, she and Othman sat at a picnic table, next to an ornamental pond. It was really too cold up here to sit outside, but the pub was too quiet for conversation to be conducted freely. Barbara commented on the koi carp swimming around in the pond and then grinned at Othman, saying, Well, it was fairly obvious what she thought!' referring to the woman who'd served them.

Othman raised his brows and sipped his drink. Does it matter?'

Barbara laughed. Not at all. In fact, I was quite flattered!'

Othman ignored the remark. Have you seen Louis since Friday?'

Barbara shook her head. No. In fact, he's been avoiding me! However, I am going to see him this afternoon, come h.e.l.l or high water. What did you do to him, Pev? He sounded strange on the phone this morning.'

I performed some healing on him, as I told you I would. It can be disorientating. He probably needed a couple of days to sort his head out.'

Will he really be completely healed? I find it hard to believe.'

Well, you'll be able to judge for yourself later, won't you?'

There was a few moments' silence, while Barbara searched her mind for something to say to break down Othman's reserve. How are you feeling now?'

He shrugged. Better. You'll have to forgive me today; I'm not myself.'

Again, silence.

Well, do you think we should tell Lily about the painting we saw?' Barbara chirruped.

Othman sighed through his nose. It's up to you.'

Pev, you might be feeling out of sorts, but you're making this really hard work for me!'

He leaned his chin on his hands. I'm sorry. Perhaps I need to take my mind off my worries.'

Barbara laughed flirtatiously. You mean you have worries? I am surprised! Do you want to talk about them?'

He ducked his head in a boyish gesture. They're quite ordinary, nothing more than anyone else has. Sometimes I wonder who I am and what my purpose is. I'm drifting through life, and it doesn't feel real.'

But you're a writer! Surely, that's a purpose!'

It's not enough.' Othman drained his pint. Come on, we'd better go. You don't want to be late for Louis.'

Barbara stood her ground for a moment. To be honest, I'd rather be here with you.'

Othman looked down at her. When he spoke, his voice was gentler. You must see Louis. He deserves to see you. I think you know what I mean. But we can stop off on the way back to the village, if you like.'

Barbara stared up at him, unsure of whether she understood the implications in his words. Stop off?'

You can drive the truck through the woods, can't you? We can find a private place. That is, if you want to.'