Shadows at Stonewylde - By Kit Berry Page 0,6

the Druid communities was such a good idea. They seem to be totally in tune with Stonewylde and how we live and there’s no conflict of philosophy at all. I like both our new recruits, especially David the art teacher. Merewen’s far too busy with the Pottery to teach full time and she’s delighted to hand over her teaching to him. He seems really good.’

‘Do I detect a bit of a love interest there, Mum?’ laughed Sylvie. ‘I saw him the other day and he looks nice.’

‘Not from me, I can assure you!’ said Miranda. ‘Once bitten, twice shy. I’m perfectly happy, thank you, with more than enough on my plate running our education system here. I love it, Sylvie, really love it, and there’s Rufus to care for, and you, and my little grand-daughters. Oh no, the last thing I’d want is some man to mess it all up again. But I wouldn’t be surprised if we see Dawn taking an interest. They were having a good old chat yesterday and she seemed very animated.’

‘Really? That’s brilliant! It’s about time she found herself a man and settled down. She must be thirty now, or maybe thirty-one? I’m sure she wants children of her own.’

‘Yes but I don’t want to lose her from the primary school. She’s a great head-teacher. I’ll have to warn her off David if I think she’ll abandon us.’

‘She’d never do that, Mum – she’s as passionate a teacher as you are. I think it’d be wonderful. She’s a lovely woman and she deserves to find her soul-mate.’

‘Not everyone’s as lucky as you, Sylvie,’ said Miranda. ‘What you and Yul have is quite extraordinary. Most people never find that complete harmony.’

‘I know, but remember – Yul has a mistress too.’

Miranda’s mouth dropped open.

‘No, Mum, don’t be silly! I meant Stonewylde – I must share my husband with her! Stonewylde is his life, just as much as I or the girls are. I can’t compete with her and she’s far more demanding than all of us put together. I get what’s left of Yul when she’s had her fill of his time and energy.’

‘Well maybe you should be more demanding, Sylvie. Where is he? I’ll go now as I’m sure he’ll be up any minute, won’t he? Try and get him to ease off a bit and spend more time with his family. And Rufus too please, if possible. He’s never had a father and he thinks the world of Yul.’ She stood up and bent to kiss her daughter. ‘You tell him, Sylvie. Not just for Rufus but for you and the girls too. He’s neglecting you and it’s just not necessary – there are plenty of others around to help run the community and he doesn’t have to take it on single-handed. I don’t like to see you all alone up here in the evening.’

When Miranda had gone, Sylvie left the lamp on just in case Yul did come up, and made her way to bed. It was chilly, and as she slid between the fine linen sheets she shivered with longing. She imagined him yawning, stretching his long limbs, running his hands through his dark curls and giving her that special smile that made her melt inside. He’d hold her in his arms, warming her with his vitality and passion, kissing her hard, brushing her hair from her face, murmuring his love for her … Sylvie sighed. It wasn’t going to happen. He’d have made the bed up in the office, as he often did when he worked late. She wouldn’t see him until he joined them for breakfast, with the girls jumping all over him and the day’s demands already jostling for his attention.

She turned the bedside light off and lay there alone, gazing out at the moon. It was just visible through the latticed panes, at its zenith now, a small shiny disc. Sylvie suddenly felt unutterably sad. She shut her eyes against the silver reminder of youthful passion and the hot tears that had welled up behind her lids.

In the study downstairs Yul looked up from the papers spread about him on the old leather-topped desk and rubbed the back of his aching neck. He hadn’t experienced Sylvie’s qualms about using his father’s things at all; in fact he took delight in doing so. He tapped some figures into the computer and printed out a couple more sheets. The illiterate Village boy had gone forever, all traces of him obliterated in

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