Beneath the Tor (8 page)

“Hi.”

“What's that you're doing?”

“Saluting the sun.” I held out a hand. “Join me?”

To my delight, he came out. I showed him the moves and their meaning, and he copied my words, coming in just half a second after me all the way through.

“Oh, shining one, radiant one.”

“… radiant one …”

“Dispeller of darkness and bringer of activity.”

“… activity …”

“Who illuminates,
all-pervading
, bright one.”

“…
all-pervading
…”

“Giver of nourishment. Giver of fulfillment. Giver of light with infinite rays.”

“Like me. Infinite Reys!”

“Whose golden brilliance is friendly to all.”

“Friendly to all,” chanted Rey. “Hmm, all, yeah—good and bad alike, I'm sorry to say.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Can you forget being a copper for two sorry seconds?”

Rey thought about this. “Nope. Don't think so.” He pulled me to him. “I enjoyed that.”

“You were taking the piss out of it.”

He kissed my forehead as if I was a child. “Sabbie, get used to it. I always take the piss.”

eight

laura

At five to eleven,
Laura Munroe was outside my door.

“Hi. Come on in.”

Candles guttered as we entered the therapy room. The scent of sage came into my nostrils. I took her over to the wicker chairs to let her get settled. She looked pale, but she was a natural
mid-blonde
, with eyes a faded blue, like late hydrangeas. Yesterday, she'd highlighted them with a little makeup, but today she wore none, which might have been the reason she appeared so wan.

“How are you?”

“Okay. Well, it hasn't been long, has it?”

I laughed. “You're right there.” I told her about the dream diary I wanted her to start, then I asked, “Did you find anything for me to get close to your otherworld during my journeys?”

Laura's face went a little blank. I was sure she hadn't even bothered to look, which surprised me because it didn't tally with the
desperation coming off her. She dug into a pocket and pulled out her key ring. She detached a little mascot and passed the toy to me. It was made of stuffed felt, with a yellow body, a pink smile,
crescent-moon
ears, and a little apron of white. The short loop of ribbon which had kept it on the key ring grew from its head. The creature was worn and a little grubby. Loved, in other words. It felt weightless in my palm.

Suddenly it clicked. “Pokémon!”

“Yeah. I was potty about it when I was a kid. This was my favourite, Raichu. Don't know why, except it took me a long time to get this one evolved, so maybe that's it.”

I was trying to remember how the game went, but it probably didn't matter too much.

“He used to hang above my bed. When I packed to go away, I knew I couldn't take kids' stuff, but I reckoned Raichu didn't count; he was small enough to get hidden somewhere. Hitch a ride, like. Will he do?”

“Definitely. You chose him above all others to accompany you on your adventures.”

“Oh, yeah!”

“Sixteen is early to leave home. What made you go?”

“Er … poor exam results, mostly. I hated school. I only did well in sport and I've always loved boats. All my happiest memories are of boats. Living in Weston, you see a lot of them, mostly out on the Channel, moving towards Avonmouth to unload, but people have Ribs or motorboats, so I was always able to cadge a trip out. I got good at it. It seemed a natural way to go.”

“What did your parents feel about the Royal Navy?”

Laura was silent for a while, not because she was refusing to answer, more that she was remembering and it had stoppered her.

“They didn't want me to go but they had to sign, because I was a minor.”

“They must be relieved to have you back safe.”

A spasm crossed her face. “I'm not safe, am I?”

I nodded slowly. I didn't want to diminish her fears as groundless. “I'd like us to undertake a journey together, to start our work.” I gestured to the sets of floor cushions I'd arranged and explained to Laura how I would use my plaited cord, as the Lady of the River had directed me. I held out the white, green, and brown silk plait to show her.

“We will both go into the otherworld. Linked to you, I will be able to find your otherworld and start working out what the spirits want us to do. Linked to me, Laura, you might find your power animal.”

“I don't think I've got a power animal.”

“You've probably got more than one. I believe we all have otherworld guides and guardians, right through our life. When I tell
people this, they often say, well, yes, I do have an affinity with this animal or that; they remember moments when an animal tried to communicate with them. So today, when we journey with my silken cord, I'd like you to see what happens.”

“Wooo, scary,” she said, leaning back. Then she thought for a moment. “Why should that be scary?”

“It's not, but it's good to be cautious.” I spent a little time explaining how she should build a safe portal into her otherworld. “I want you to flesh it out, add to it, explore it. Don't forget to look behind you, as new journeyers often do. Don't go wandering off, though. Stay safe. All you have to do is wait for your power animal to arrive. They mostly come up from the Lower Realms, so knocking can help summon them, or stamping with your foot. Ask any animal who arrives, ‘Are you my power animal?' When you get the right response, you'll know.”

“Okay. Let's go for it.”

I gave her a scarf to cover her eyes and draped the cord round both our wrists. I settled myself by placing the little Pokémon mascot on my solar plexus, one hand over it. The drumming CD led me into my shaman's portal, the stream glittering and chattering over its bed of stones.

“Trendle?”

I caught the brightness of my otter's eyes in the thicket of willows on the other side of the brook.

To get across, I would have to feel my way through the rush of water. I pulled my black dress up high and stepped in. It was almost up to my knees, especially where it pooled around and spat at me. The bottom was uneven; gravel that cut into my soles and slippy stones that were poorly balanced. As I contended with this, a tune song came into my head, deep gritty guitar chords with a slow beat.

I had to let go of my skirt to scramble up the bank, and the hem got wet. I could feel it slap against my ankles as I made for the thicket of thin willows. I blamed the tune revolving in my mind. I shook my ears to get rid of it.

In the thicket I passed an
old-fashioned
wooden fingerpost, the outline of a pointing hand with a single finger reaching out. I was sure it hadn't been here before. I pushed through the willows in the direction it pointed, bare twigs scratching at my arms and tangling my hair. I kept going until I found a path leading alongside the stream. I was sure this was the same stream that flowed through my safe haven, but here a wall of rocks rose up, as if the stream lay at the bottom of a gorge. I spotted Trendle's strong tail, flashing as he trotted ahead. The same catchy tune was in my head, people singing, their harmonies close and the guitar riffs powerfully measured to a drumbeat that worked well with the drum on my CD.

I often heard music in my journeys. Sometimes it's the music of the spheres, but this was
off-putting
—a pop tune I couldn't identify and I couldn't get rid of.

I rounded the bend. Ahead of me, water gushed down a crevice into the stream. To go farther, I would have to cross the foaming waterfall. I looked up, hoping for some help. Almost hidden by the fall of water was a slashed opening in the gorge wall, as high as a man and only slightly wider than my shoulders. I eased myself in and looked around. Daylight fell on sheer stone walls; no moss or ferns on damp ledges, no stalactites or
odd-shaped
boulders. No bats leaving their sleeping space.

“Trendle?” His yellow eyes flashed in the darkness. The tunnel of the cave curved slightly and after a few more footsteps the light disappeared. I could see nothing.

“Far enough for today,” said Trendle. He turned and made for the entrance, swift on little legs. His silhouette flickered like a shadow against the dull cave wall. Then he was gone, leaving me in total darkness.

“Trendle,” I called. “Trendle come back, guide me out. Trendle!”

In my distress I called his name aloud. The trance lifted. I lay on my back for a few seconds, waiting for my heart to steady. I pulled the scarf from my eyes and unwound the braid from my wrist, but didn't disturb Laura. I sat
crossed-legged
for a minute or two, thinking about the journey, my fingers laced round my toes to keep them warm.

I'd never found the waterfall and cave before, and I believed I'd successfully reached Laura's otherworld.

I tried to get the tune I'd heard back into my head, but it had gone. In Laura's notebook, I wrote out the few lyrics I'd hummed but could not place.

Laura stirred herself naturally and came over to the desk holding the cord out to me. I passed her a notebook. “The account of the journey is in here.”

She sat with a thump, staring at the book in her hand but unable to open it. “What, is it like a story?”

“I don't always experience a story, sometimes I see an imaginary landscape, or have a long conversation with a spirit guide. This time my journey was chocked full of symbolism. I'm hoping some will mean something to you. And I'd like to blow the images I have into your subtle body … what some people call their aura … so that you can intuitively start to make sense of them.”

She didn't open the notebook. My account was the unknown, and that was a fearful thing.

“There were four symbols,” I went on. “A fingerpost—I've drawn a representation on the page for you; a waterfall—the thin, mare'
s-tail
type, falling a great height; and a cave right behind the waterfall. And a tune—I only picked up a snatch of the lyrics. I didn't know the song and I've already forgotten the way it goes.”

Finally Laura opened the notebook. I gave her time to read through what I'd put, but she looked up almost immediately, and her face, which had been pinched with uncertainty, lit up. “‘Shape Shifter!'” The smile glowed from her eyes.

“Pardon?”

“I know this song. It's by one of my favourite groups. Local Natives.”

“I've never heard of them.

“They are still a bit underground over here. Big in the States. I just love their sound, sort of fusion of pop and folk and soul. I used to play that album,
Gorilla Manor,
over and over on board the ship. You need slowish stuff because there's no room to dance about.”

“Local Natives.” I felt relief that the song was real and delight that Laura recognized it. It meant I could be certain I'd been in Laura's otherworld.

“I got to see them in Portugal, while we were stationed at Gibraltar. They were mammoth.”

“Laura, are you saying the song is called ‘Shape Shifter'?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Would shape shifting mean anything to you, outside that song?”

“No, nothing.”

It felt far more than a coincidence, so soon after the aborted
shape-shifting
workshop, and I wondered if the lyrics had been offered to me simply to bind me and Laura closer, make us a team.

“What about the other symbols … fingerpost, waterfall, cave?”

“Sorry, no.”

“Okay, I'll gift them to you shamanically, see if that helps prompt anything.”

We went over to the floor cushions and Laura lay on her back, eyes closed, as I visualized each symbol in turn, blowing them through the funnel of my cupped hands into her solar plexus. I left her lying there, hoping that her mind would settle and clear, and that the images would become implanted within her deep psyche, but after a moment or two, she got up and joined me at the desk.

“Even if there are no associations right this minute, they may come to you in the week ahead. Be sure to jot anything that comes to mind in the notebook.”

She nodded, but her lips were clamped together as if she was afraid to speak.

“How did you get on in your journey, Laura?”

“Dunno. This … er … a baby chicken came to me, yeah. It was all … fluffy … yellow … cheepy …”

I thought of the chicks I'd had a year ago and had to control my chuckles. “What did it say?”

“It said it was my power animal.” She made a scoffing sound. “Not much power there, if you ask me. Not much
animal
to be honest.”

“Right.” Even I wasn't entirely sure how to take this result. “Let's just see how it goes. This spirit animal might appear in dreams, now. Keep a
dream-eye
open and write down anything it says or does along with any other dreams you have.” She looked at me with a solid expression, as if not sure about this, so I battled on. “There's something else that has occurred to me. If your doctor offered you a diagnosis you're clearly not happy with, maybe you should ask them to go through the standard tests for your breathing and your heart. Maybe your parents could back you up with that.”

“I guess …” She checked her big fat watch, noting she'd had an hour. She prized herself out of the wicker chair, slid her fingers into her back pocket, and put the right money in cash on my desk. “I wish I could be better for them. They worry too much.”

“You've told them about me, haven't you?”

Her face was full of alarm. “If I look at it through their eyes, I must be a pain to them. I don't come out my room, except to raid the kitchen. I've put on pounds, eating crap. I don't really blame them …” She turned away, stopping in front my altar, looking at things but not touching. Sailors must be trained not to touch unless they know what will happen if they do. “Mum never stops going on at me. So then I start to row, and then I yell, and then I slam my door again.”

“Sorry, I didn't mean to push. It would be useful to know if a doctor has been of any help to you.”

“They got Daniel. He's a nurse. He came to the house.”

“What did he say?”

“Oh, just … panic attacks … depression.”

Her face was like sand. I felt my heart fluttering under my shamanic dress, as if copying Laura's attacks. “Daniel left you tablets, perhaps?”

“Uh, yeah. He made an appointment for me to see this doctor. Waring. But, uh …” She lifted her hands in supplication. “What good would it do? I didn't want it! They were all getting at me. Nag, nag! Mum, Dad, Daniel, Dr. Waring. Getting at me!”

“They didn't mean you any harm, Laura.”

“They did! They did! I couldn't think how to stop them! I got on my bike and drove here!”