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On the Edge of Darkness. Barbara Erskine
Читать онлайн.Название On the Edge of Darkness
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780007320950
Автор произведения Barbara Erskine
Жанр Зарубежные любовные романы
Издательство HarperCollins
The sound of Brid’s voice behind him made him leap out of his skin. ‘A-dam! I knew you would come. I sent a message in my head to bring you here.’ Suddenly she was sobbing. She threw her arms around his neck, then, uncharacteristically she drew back. ‘I must come with you. My uncle plans to kill me.’ The statement, so flat and unemotional, stunned him into total silence. ‘He put me into a magic sleep, and he told me what he was going to do. But I have more power than him!’ She let out a wild burst of laughter. ‘I pretended to sleep, but I heard him. I did not make a sign. I did not move my face, but when he had gone I made my plans. I took one of his best ponies and rode in the middle of the night, and I rode until I came home.’ She smiled wearily, a humourless, cold smile which chilled him. ‘He plans to kill my brother too when the stone is finished. He knows now that Gartnait and I know what the stone is for. It marks the gateway to other times and to knowledge that is forbidden to all but the highest initiates, so we must both die. You see the mirror? That is the sign that from here you can see through the reflections into other worlds. That is how I have come to you. I am not going back. There is only a small part of the work left. When the serpent is finished Broichan will give orders that we are to be buried under the stone – a sacrifice to the gods.’ The hardness vanished and she kneaded her fists into her eyes like a child. ‘Gartnait has gone. He has gone south with my mother three days ago. He wanted me to go too, but I stayed. I waited for you.’
Adam had a strange cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. ‘Brid, what are you talking about? Your mother and Gartnait would never leave you. Your uncle would never kill you. This is nonsense. All of it.’
‘Nonsense?’ she echoed wildly. ‘Broichan is the chief priest of this land. His word is the law. Even the king would not defy him if it was over a matter of the gods.’ Her eyes hardened again and he recoiled. ‘A-dam, don’t you see, you have to save me! I have to live in your world now. I am going to come with you. To your school in Edinburgh!’
‘No!’ Adam stepped back further. ‘No, Brid. I’m sorry, but you can’t. It’s impossible.’
‘Why can’t I?’ Her eyes were fixed on his face.
‘Because you can’t.’ He was filled with horror at the idea.
‘You can’t stop me! A-dam, I have nowhere else to go.’
‘Go with Gartnait and Gemma. You belong with them.’
‘I can’t. They have gone to the south.’
‘Then you must follow them. This is nonsense. Brid, I can’t take you to Edinburgh! I’m sorry.’
‘But you love me, A-dam.’
‘Yes …’ He paused. ‘Yes, I love you, Brid.’ It was the truth, but at the same time, he realised suddenly, there was a part of him which would be quite glad never to see her again. Her angry outbursts and her possessiveness, her wild declamations, had become alarming. And at the same time there was a part of him which had already begun to separate itself from Pittenross and everything there. He softened his voice. ‘Our love is for here. For the holidays. There is no place for you in Edinburgh. None at all.’ He hesitated. ‘Brid, women are not allowed where I’m going.’ He did not like to lie but in a way it was the truth. Robbie had found them digs to share off the High Street and one of the landlady’s conditions was, ‘nae young women’. Sharing the digs there would be only one other, a skeleton Robbie had bagged for him from a newly qualified doctor. The story was that the skeleton, known as Knox, had been divested of its skin and flesh by the young man himself who had now headed south for London to become a dermatologist.
‘Brid.’ Adam took a deep breath and caught her hands gently in his own. ‘You have to go back. I’m sorry. You know you aren’t really in danger.’ He deliberately closed his mind to the picture of Broichan with this cruel eyes, wild hair, and savage, tight-lipped mouth. ‘That was all a wonderful fantasy. A game we played when we were children.’ He frowned. ‘Brid, there’s a war about to start. I’m going to be a doctor. Please understand.’ He touched her face gently. ‘It’s just not possible.’
‘A-dam …’ Her face was ashen. ‘War does not matter to me. I will help you with the wounded. Please. I love you.’ She grabbed the front of his sweater. ‘If I go back I will die.’
‘No, Brid.’
‘A-dam. You do not understand.’ She was clinging to him, her face hard.
‘Brid, I do. Listen. You have to go back to find Gartnait and Gemma. Next holidays we’ll meet and we’ll compare notes, all right? You must understand. You cannot come with me.’
She let go of him so suddenly he staggered backwards. Through her tears her eyes were blazing. ‘A-dam, I will never let you go. Never!’ Her voice was almost vicious.
Adam stared at her, shocked. The skin on the back of his neck was prickling suddenly, but he managed to remain calm. ‘No, Brid, I’m sorry.’ He stepped away from her. ‘Please, try and understand.’ He could not bear the look in her eyes any longer.
He turned and began to run as fast as he could down the hillside, away from her.
The digs were situated up a curved stair in a narrow wynd of tall grey corbelled houses off the High Street. Adam felt an initial wave of intense claustrophobia as he surveyed his new domain, with its small hard bed, empty bookshelf and wobbly table, and then, seeing it instead through Robbie’s proud eyes he shifted his point of view and saw it as a haven of independence.
Throwing his bags down on the bed, next to which lay his trunk, he raised his hands above his head and gave out an exultant shout of freedom. They were, Robbie told him gleefully, just ten yards from the nearest pub. In the corner the skeleton of Knox grinned amiably at him. Within seconds it had acquired a hat and a university scarf, the box containing Adam’s gas mask was slung irreverently round its shoulders – it was only days after Chamberlain had returned from Munich and the threat of war had receded once more – and the two young men had pelted back down the stairs to sample a pint of Tennent’s. It was the first time that Adam had ever been in a bar.
It was a path they were to tread many times over the next few months between the exhausting rounds of lectures; in Robbie’s case they took place in the Old Quad, and in Adam’s in the new buildings in Teviot Place for chemistry, anatomy and dissection, in the Botanical Gardens for botany and in the King’s Buildings for zoology. After the initial strangeness of university life, and the shock of having so much freedom away from the deadening atmosphere of the manse, he took to the course like a duck to water, avidly soaking up each subject as it came, taking little time out to look for recreation. Once a week he wrote a dutiful note to his father. His mother he went to see at last.
She had changed out of all recognition. Gone was the tightly pulled-back hair, the sober dresses, the strained, pale face. When he walked hesitantly into the tea shop on Princes Street where they had agreed to meet he stood for a moment staring round, his gaze passing over the vivacious pretty woman with the swinging curly hair and fashionable hat who was sitting near him, already presiding over a teapot and a plate of cakes. Only when she stood up and held out her arms did he look into her eyes and see there the love and fear and compassion and feel the overwhelming rush of emotion which brought tears to his own eyes.
‘I wrote, Adam. I wrote often, my darling.’ She was holding his hand openly on the tabletop, playing obsessively with his fingers as though reassuring herself that they were all there. ‘You must believe me. You do understand? It’s not your father’s fault. He is such a good man. He must have thought it best if you didn’t get my letters.’ She looked away suddenly and he saw the pain; the glint of a tear on her eyelashes.