Forest of Dreams

Chapter eighteen

When I finally woke I didn't have any motivation to get out of bed. I didn't want to go back to Tarthin, it seemed tainted now. I didn't want to stay in Qren either, I felt so alone here. I didn't even want to go as far as the bathroom. I only got out of bed when Pattie came rapping on the door to check on me, concerned that she hadn't seen me for a few days. I leapt of out bed, suddenly coming to my senses and realising I didn't want her to come into the room to find the pile of bloodied clothes on the floor. I took them with me when I went to get food, dumping them in one of the public bins, then sat on the edge of one of the market squares and watched people going about their routine business, envious of their uncomplicated lives. When I eventually got my appetite back I sat in the back corner of a café and feasted on fried foods and breads. When the first mouthful passed my lips I realised how ravenous I was. The server had looked at me suspiciously, probably correctly guessing that I hadn't eaten in days. Afterwards with a full belly I wondered slowly up to the cemetery. I wanted to see if I could find where Maeve was really buried. I thought somehow I might be able to sense it. I wanted her to know how angry I was with her. I thought being close to her might let me convey it.

I had the cemetery to myself. Lorian appeared to have been right in what he'd said about people been forgotten once they'd been put there. I wondered who he knew here. It seemed unlikely that he'd have any unsavoury acquaintances. As I thought about him he appeared, down at the bottom of the sloping grounds near the entrance, as if I'd conjured him. I gave him a slight wave of my hand without thinking about it, and he headed towards me. He was dressed today in a fine maroon tunic, with thin material to suit the warming weather. His trousers were fine dark grey, perfectly tailored to his slim body.

'Are you feeling better?' he asked as he reached me. He had a calm and soothing tone to his voice.

'Yes,' I lied, 'much better, thank you.'

He slipped his hand into his pocket and drew it out holding an elegant gold chain between his fingers, the oval pendant hung down like a pendulum. 'Manish found it,' he said simply, holding it out to me.

I took it in my hand, running my fingers over the smooth yellow stone that burned like fire in the sunlight. I slipped it over my head and pressed the pendant against my chest, the cool metal felt solid against my skin. I remembered Aunt Maeve letting me try it on when I was younger, I'd felt so glamorous then. But now it felt as though it weighed me down like shackles.

'What would Manish have done with it, had I not claimed it?'

'Sold it eventually, when they needed funds.'

'Why does he do it? Come here, I mean, and look after the dead.'

'No-one knows. The others all have some connection to here, a loved one buried here, but no-one knows his story.'

'Why do you come here?'

He regarded me, tight lipped.

'How much do you think I would get for the necklace, if I sold it?'

He lifted the pendant from my chest, the chain still round my neck. His fingers grazed my skin slightly as he grasped it. They were as soft as silk. He turned it over in his hand and fingered the chain lightly.

'The stone isn't precious, but the chain is fine gold. Perhaps two-hundred. I imagine it's worth more in sentimental value to you though. Are you desperate for the money?' He looked at me curiously under his delicate brow.

'No. I just had an idea for something.'

He urged me on with an expectant expression.

'I just thought, it could do with some colour here. I thought about selling it and using the money to plant some flowers, perhaps even make a little garden, at the top there, where the ground is rocky and unused. It would be for all the people here, but I ought to contribute something for my Aunt's space. What do you think? Do you think Manish would allow it?'