Shadows at Stonewylde - By Kit Berry Page 0,41

Magpie. Leveret imagined Jay pecking and pecking and her mind started to unravel so she turned and wandered in the opposite direction. She meandered through lots of black-robed people and then hit something solid. She looked slowly up the expanse of grey and silver and her eyes met the deep grey ones of her eldest brother, who frowned down at her.

‘What are you up to?’ he asked. ‘Did you enjoy the Dance?’

‘Like the snow enjoys the rain,’ she mumbled.

‘What? That’s a strange thing to say. I’ve been meaning to speak to you, Leveret. I’ve been hearing things that I don’t like.’

‘I understand now about the caterpillar.’

‘What? What on earth are you talking about?’

He gripped her arms and pulled her slightly towards him, trying to look into her eyes.

‘The hookah-smoking caterpillar on the mushroom, and the way the girl shrew and grank. Grew and shrank. You know, the door and the glass table.’

‘Leveret, what are you on about?’

‘Don’t you remember it anymore? Alice in Wonderland. You read it to me long, long ago when you were still my lovely brother. I’ve read it many times since but I didn’t really understand until now.’

Yul shook his head in exasperation.

‘You’re being ridiculous but I can’t waste time on you now. I must watch all the children dance, not just my own. But I’m warning you, Leveret, I’m not happy with what I’ve been told and we’re going to have a serious talk soon. Make sure you behave yourself tonight.’

He released her and she edged away, muttering darkly to herself. She noticed an empty corner and scuttled over, curling up on the floor and hiding herself under her cloak. At last she could just close her eyes and taste all the visions that crowded in. They were sweet and salty and their colours were noisy, except for the silver feathers that sounded like a harp and smelled of soft water. Leveret wanted to stroke those with her eyes, comb them with her breath. She swallowed that thought and it tasted like birdsong, blossoming into a shimmering rainbow inside her empty stomach that filled her with luminosity.

Sylvie had slipped into one of the small side-rooms attached to the Great Barn to change into her ceremony robes. Like Yul’s they were soft and grey but hers were embroidered with black crows. Her headdress was a skullcap of blue-black feathers with long strings hanging down amongst her hair, trailing ivy leaves. There was also a mask which attached to the skullcap, made of moulded black silk with a beak that covered the upper part of her face and made her look like an Egyptian goddess. As she brushed out her flowing silver hair before donning the cap and mask, the door opened and Hazel came in.

‘Hi, Sylvie. How are you doing?’

‘Fine thanks – almost ready. Would you mind helping me with this cap? It has to be pinned securely before I attach the mask and it’s always awkward.’

‘It’s quite tricky, isn’t it? Give me the pins and I’ll do the back.’

Sylvie turned to face the mirror and watched Hazel in the reflection, frowning as she began pinning on the feathered skullcap. Sylvie liked Hazel, which was just as well for the doctor knew everything there was to know about her. Hazel looked up, her soft brown eyes meeting Sylvie’s strange grey ones in the mirror, and Sylvie grimaced.

‘You know, Hazel, you’re the one person who’s seen me in my very darkest hour. You saw things that not even Yul saw.’

Hazel smiled gently.

‘I’m a doctor, Sylvie, remember that. We’re meant to be there at the darkest hour to pick up the pieces.’

‘I even attacked you, didn’t I?’

‘Forget it, Sylvie. It was more than four years ago and you’ve made a complete recovery.’

‘Hazel … I worry about it sometimes. Will it ever come back?’

‘It was an extension of severe post-natal depression so unless you have another baby it won’t come back – and even if you did, the odds are you wouldn’t become psychotic again. It’s extremely rare and you were very unlucky to be so acutely affected. Just put it behind you, Sylvie – I thought you had.’

‘So did I. In fact I have – it’s Yul who can’t forget. He still treats me as if I may crack at any moment. He wraps me in cotton wool and smothers me with his carefulness and I can’t stand it.’

‘Do you want me to speak to him?’

‘It might help, but I think I’ve got to prove to him that

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