Chapter 6
GOLDENWYCH, PRESENT DAY
The stone circle was deserted. The monoliths loomed dense and black against the starry sky, darker than the velvet night, enigmatic in their beauty and splendour.
Each was an individual, as though the original builders had tried to deliberately mismatch them, to vary the heights, the shapes, the sizes.
A few had fallen during the millennia, but of the remainder, a number stood at waist level, others towered into the night sky, while the rest rose and fell like a solidified wave.
On the far side of the circle which faced the Golden Valley were three stones placed together, known locally as the Three Sisters.
A trio of huge green slate sentinels with sparkling quartz embedded deep in their hearts, they had been carved by unknown and ancient hands and were inscrutable in the golden light of the solstice moon.
Caitlin took the torch Lee proffered and ran ahead, her desire to be within the stones driving her with a wildness she felt was not entirely her own.
She hurried through a gap made from two fallen stones and plunged forward to the centre of the ancient space, breathing in the scents of the night air: the musky aroma of foxes, the damp earth, the chalky smell of the stones, it was the perfume of nature and as old as time.
She stopped, revelling in the silence, in the intensity of the landscape and the glory of the balmy night.
Laughter bubbled up within her and, throwing her arms wide, she tilted her head back and stared at the magnificence of the starry night.
‘Look at me, Mum,’ she called skywards, her voice somewhere between singing and sighing. ‘Can you see me? I love you, Mum.’
And she began to spin, slowly at first, then faster and faster until the stars blurred above her in a mystical dance across the cosmos.
As dizziness overwhelmed her, she dropped to her knees before collapsing flat on her back, her eyes squeezed shut, riding the rolling, pitching sensation of her giddiness as her senses returned to normal. She felt Lee stretch out beside her.
‘I thought there would be people here,’ he said.
‘Perhaps we’re too early,’ Caitlin replied, opening one eye to look at him. ‘Most visitors want to watch the sunrise.’
‘True,’ he said, grinning at her. ‘Are you back to normal yet or is the ground still moving?’
Caitlin opened both eyes.
‘Normal.’
Lee laughed.
‘Never,’ he said. ‘Your nickname is Moon, you’ll never be normal.’
‘Shut up, Woody,’ she giggled in response, using his own sobriquet as she continued to gaze up at the stars and the setting full moon.
When they were young, she had decided to look all their names up in a name dictionary she had bought at the Goldenwych summer fete. To her surprise, Lee’s name was rooted in the Old English word, leah, which meant ‘wood clearing’.
‘Perhaps we should call you Woody,’ Rachel had suggested with a sneer when Caitlin had finished reading the description aloud to her sisters and the two Glossop boys.
‘It sounds a bit rude,’ Gillian had said primly, causing the others to roll around laughing, and it had been his nickname ever since.
‘Honestly, what’s wrong with the teenagers of today?’ Lee sighed. ‘We used to sneak up here every summer solstice.’
‘Our sordid past,’ Caitlin said with a grin, warmth in her voice. ‘Until you went off to become a doctor, Slick disappeared to do business studies, then Bean joined Dad’s company and Rabbit met Pete, who was above such things as pagan rites at midsummer.’
‘Remind me, why did you and your sisters call Edward, Slick?’
‘Don’t you remember he went through a stage of slicking his hair back?’ she said, rolling over to look at Lee as they discussed his older brother. ‘It looked terrible, but he thought he looked like James Dean. He was having that real thing about 1950s cinema.’
‘Of course,’ said Lee as remembrance dawned. ‘He watched Rebel Without A Cause at least once a day.’
‘Didn’t Rachel call him, Rebel Without a Clue?’
‘Harsh…’
‘But fair,’ said Caitlin and Lee grinned in acknowledgement of his elder brother’s teenage foolishness.
‘After Dad called Rachel “Snow Rabbit” she wanted to ensure everyone had a ridiculous nickname,’ said Caitlin.
‘Of course, from that white, fake-fur coat and matching hat she had when she was little,’ said Lee.
‘Dad claimed she was as cute as a snow rabbit he’d seen on a documentary and, much to her disgust, it stuck.’
‘It has, hasn’t it?’ said Lee with a laugh. ‘It’s so ingrained, these days I have to work hard to call her Rachel.’
‘Don’t try too hard,’ replied Caitlin. ‘She might protest, but she likes it really, although I think Gilly is a bit over being called Bean.’
‘From your mum’s favourite film and book, Practical Magic?’ said Lee with a slight inflection, as though questioning his memory of the reason.
‘Well remembered, it was because of her auburn hair. Gillian in the book has red hair and is known as Gilly-Bean.’
‘And then there’s you,’ said Lee. ‘Moon.’
‘That’s my name, don’t wear it out,’ she remarked – another throwback comment to their youth.
In the distance, a firework sparked in the sky, distracting them from their conversation.
‘At last, some proper teenage behaviour,’ said Lee. ‘Come on, let’s fetch the picnic.’
He stood up and put his hand out to help Caitlin. They flicked the torches on and followed the wide yellow paths of light back to Lee’s estate car.
‘You’re very well prepared,’ commented Caitlin as she peered into the boot, where there was an old-fashioned picnic hamper, a medium-sized rucksack, two folding chairs and two rolled-up picnic blankets.
‘Chairs or blankets?’ Lee asked.
‘Blankets,’ said Caitlin in disgust. ‘Unless your knees won’t take it, Granddad, and you need the chair.’
‘I’m only three years older than you and I was the one who helped you up just now.’
Caitlin picked up the blankets and gave Lee a look of mock sternness.
‘I’ll take the hamper,’ said Caitlin and set off with her treasures to the centre of the circle again. ‘Here; with a view through the Three Sisters. Mum always said it was the best place to see the first rays of sun glimmer.’
When they were very young, Caitlin, Gillian and Rachel had asked their mother if the Three Sisters were named after them.
Miranda had laughed kindly and explained the vast age of the stones.
Intrigued, the girls had insisted on having their photograph taken with them, a ritual that was repeated every summer solstice until their mother’s death.
The stones were positioned more closely together than the other remaining monoliths in the circle and were carved with dozens of patterns of concentric circles, which overlapped with straight or wavy lines extending from the middle outwards, while the other grey stones remained unadorned.
As a teenager, Caitlin had bought herself a book about ancient British rock art and discovered the circular pattern was known as a cup design and the long marks as tails.
They were a common neolithic motif on stone circles across the country, but what made the Three Sisters special were the intricate, three-part triskele, the classic Celtic swirl, surrounded by what appeared to be flames.
When she discovered the green slate was not local but more commonly found in Cumbria over 250 miles away, Caitlin had been even more intrigued.
Once she had learned to drive, she would often visit the circle and meditate beside the stones.
It gave her an immense sense of peace and was where she had come to mourn after her mother had died.
Caitlin unrolled the first blanket and laid it on the ground, anchoring the corners with stones, while Lee did the same with the second.
‘There are two warmer blankets in here in case we’re cold,’ he said, opening the rucksack, ‘a flask of coffee and a bottle of red wine, depending on your preference.’
‘Wine,’ said Caitlin, unsure why she felt so carefree while her father lay in a hospital bed.
‘Good choice,’ he said and delved further into the bag, retrieving two melamine wine glasses decorated with lurid swirling purple patterns.
‘Are they the glasses our mums used every solstice?’ Caitlin asked in surprise.
‘The very same. I thought it would be a fitting tribute to your mum.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, gazing at Lee in gratitude.
‘For all of this, for staying with me and being so wonderful. Earlier, when you told me Dad was ill, I didn’t really take it in.
All I could think was, “No, not tonight, not the day before Mum’s anniversary,” then I realised how perfect it would be for them.
They were inseparable, always, which was why his behaviour on the night Mum died was so unfathomable.
I wondered if this was him making it up to her, joining her on the same night… ’
Caitlin’s words disappeared into a sob as the impact of the night’s events finally hit her. Lee wrapped his arms around her.
‘He’s going to be all right,’ he said. ‘The readings in his chart show it was a mild attack. There’s no reason why he won’t make a full recovery.’
‘You’re telling the truth?’
‘Of course,’ he replied, hugging her again before releasing her and opening the bottle of wine. ‘The other reason I prepared the picnic was because I thought this might be a good way for you to remember your mum.’
He poured her a glass of wine and she took it, balancing it on a flat piece of grass before sitting on the blanket and opening the buckle on the wicker picnic hamper.
‘It’s hard to believe she’s been gone for two years from tonight,’ said Caitlin.
‘True, although she’d be appalled to know Gilly and Rachel have been angry with you the entire time. It isn’t your fault she left you her café.’
‘She gave them a lump sum each,’ said Caitlin. ‘Neither of them was interested in the Hill Fort Café, they hated working there when we were younger.’
‘I’ve often wondered if there’s more to their anger,’ said Lee.