such a thing had been an impossibility. Yet now, he thought wryly, when he could have her company whenever he chose, he seemed to have less time with her than ever before. Real life got in the way of their relationship to an extent he’d never envisaged. But it couldn’t be helped and there was no point dwelling on what couldn’t be. Stonewylde must come first; they both understood that.
All around him, the Hall sank into slumber. The huge building, a many-storeyed labyrinth of wings, rooms, corridors and staircases, settled down for the night like a great beast. So many people, so much stone, glass and wood, all under his control and his guardianship. As Yul drifted off to sleep the moon moved round further, to begin its descent in the night sky. It shone on his closed eyelids and he dreamed of hares and an owl and a great standing stone on the hill. He dreamed of a magical dancing girl with long silver hair and the moon in her eyes, a girl who’d set him on fire with longing and who’d turned his life on its head. In his sleep, with moonbeams patterning his face, Yul was pierced suddenly with a sharp sense of loss.
2
Leveret was up long before dawn and out of the cottage before Maizie awoke; she needed to get the mushrooms safely stored before her mother could interfere. The October morning was cool and damp and there was no light whatsoever; the changes at Stonewylde had not included street lights. All Villagers knew the streets blindfolded and Leveret could’ve stood under any of the massive trees on the Green and said exactly where she was just by the feel of the bark. So finding her way to Mother Heggy’s home in complete darkness was no problem at all.
Thirteen years had taken their toll on the ancient cottage. After his sad discovery on the morning of that Winter Solstice, Yul had removed a few keepsakes and closed it up. Occasionally he’d brought his little sister up to the cottage, unbeknown to Maizie. He’d told the little girl of the wise old crone who’d lived there with her crow, the same bird that now lived with them. Leveret had been enthralled, sitting in the battered rocking chair with her little leather boots barely reaching the edge of the seat and gazing around the hovel in wonderment. She’d confided to him, when she was about six, that one day she’d be the Wise Woman of Stonewylde. Yul had laughed and said it was a brave ambition.
Yul never visited the old cottage now, having no time for such nostalgia. He never gazed, as he’d first done, at the empty wooden rocking chair, or the battered table, or the filthy old range and fireplace where no cauldron would ever bubble again. The place had been left to the elements and stood forlorn and deserted. But Leveret had continued to visit, coming here alone as soon as she was old enough to slip away unnoticed. This was her place of refuge, and where she longed to live one day.
Leveret opened the door silently and slipped in. She found the matches and candle on the shelf and soon the tiny cottage flickered to life. Leveret sighed with relief – she felt safe now. She opened the dresser cupboards and found the things she needed, then began to carefully thread her basketful of mushrooms onto twine. When she’d finished she hung them from a rafter along with the many other strings of fungi, all in various stages of desiccation. She made a small label and attached it to the end of the new string, then sat back in the chair and closed her eyes, rocking gently. She longed for a creature to join her, remembering Mother Heggy’s old crow. Leveret had grown up with that crow, which had lived a further eight cantankerous years before finally succumbing to old age and a cold winter. This cottage needed an animal or bird, but Leveret knew that whatever belonged here would find the place when it was ready.
She considered lighting a fire and brewing some tea but she didn’t really have time. The most important thing was to record these latest mushrooms. As with all the fungi she collected, and many of the herbs and plants too, she wasn’t completely sure she had the right ones. There was nobody apart from Old Violet who really knew all the species, and Leveret certainly wasn’t going to