The Stone of Lamfedios

The Stone of Lamfedios - 7

- 7 -

  'Lemonade, Marti?' A middle aged woman was standing over her and offering her a brown mug.

  Marti felt confused, surely this had happened before, and it had seemed odd and out of place then as well. But when was that?

 'There now, when you've finished perhaps you'd like to help me in my garden, I was just going to do a bit of diggin' ready to plant some beans. 'Continued the woman as if everything was normal.

 Marti felt queasy. Her stomach churned and she felt hot.

 'Drink your lemonade and you'll feel much better,' cooed the woman in a "mummsy" way.

 'Lemonade was a kids’ drink,' thought Marti. She looked straight at the woman and tipped the contents of the mug onto the ground then lifted the empty mug to her lips. As she did so she breathed a hint of petrol on her hand. She knew what was wrong.

 'I must have banged my head when the bike exploded.' She also remembered an awful film, where a man had been blown up then he travelled back in time. Had that happened to her or was she dreaming? But if she was not dreaming, then where was she? Marti needed to play for time.

 'I'll humour the earth mother for a bit,' thought Marti.

 'Sure, I used to help my Dad with the gardening when I was little,' she lied, reaching for where she had seen some biscuits, which had now mysteriously vanished.

'Come on, let's get started, look there's the spade already for you. I'll just get some more water from the well.'

 Marti picked up the spade. It had a long handle and was shaped rather like a heart. The soil looked soft, but she found the ground very hard. The woman had disappeared. Time to have a look around.

 She lay the spade down and quietly made her way over to the cottage window. She tried to peer in through the dusty, leaded glass, past the rose patterned curtains. But she could see nothing. It was as if the window reflected everything. Perhaps the door was open?  She tried to tread quietly on the gravel path, but by the time she reached the entrance, the woman was standing there shaking a tea towel.

 'Finished already?' She smiled. 'I've some fire wood that needs chopping. Could you do that for me before we eat?'

 Marti glimpsed past her into the cottage, the darkness was so dense that it hurt her straining eyes. 'Where's the wood?' She asked, with a cheerful grin that hid her disappointment.

 'Just around the corner, I'll show you. '

 Marti's feet crunched on the gravel, but the woman made no sound. Marti stopped, pretending to do up the laces to her black, heavy boots. The woman continued for a few steps in complete silence before stopping, aware that Marti was no longer beside her. 'Just doing my shoes,' said Marti. She looked up and realised that the hedge around the garden had grown higher, and, come to think of it she hadn't seen a gate.

 'Better go steady,' she thought. 'Till I know what's happening. Better not work too fast, this woman always has something else for me to do.'

 'Come on Marti, just round the corner.' The woman coaxed her.

 'Tell me, how did I get here? '

 'Why, don't you remember? You offered to help me.'

 Marti knew this was a lie, she made it a rule never to help anyone unless there was something in it for her; not that she was selfish, but you had to look after yourself. It seemed like the woman had other ideas. 'Look Mrs. um. Sorry I can't remember your name.'

 'Wledessier Nembaw. But you can call me Nembaw.'

 'Look Nembaw, I think it's time I went. My mother will be expecting me home soon. I could always help you another day.' Marti put on that wide eyed innocent look that nearly always worked with the men teachers, and sometimes worked with the women.

 'Nonsense, nonsense, there's plenty of time. Besides your mother won't be home for ages yet,' she said with a hiss. Her smile looked malicious, rather than sincere. 'Just help me for a little longer, then, we'll have some tea.'

 Marti decided that it perhaps would be wisest to keep quiet for the moment, while she contemplated how much this woman actually knew about her. She leisurely picked up a piece of wood, which seemed very heavy for its size, and placed it on the ground. When she hit it with the axe nothing happened except that there was the sort of noise you get when you hit a rock. She lifted the axe again letting it fall as hard as she could expecting the wood to split in two, as she had seen in so many films on the Film channel. A piece splintered off and Marti watched it fly through the air. When it came to the hedge, a hole appeared and, through it momentarily, she thought she saw reddish orange sand and piles of rubble. Then, once more, the hedge was thick and green. She felt that she was being stared at and turned to see Nembaw watching her with her face screwed up and strained. She stopped for a moment to rub her aching wrist, Marti was not going to try that again in a hurry.

 There was definitely some thing really wierd going on here. How much did the old bag know about her? She was certainly right about her mother getting home late. Saturday nights she went to the pub after work with her mates. Some times she wouldn't come home at all, but would sleep it off at some bloke’s house. Other times she would slew in the front door to continue some kind of intimate party with new friends.

 The woman gave Marti a wry half-smile, as if she could read her mind. 'Well my dear how are you getting on then?'

 'Hold on girl,' Marty reassured herself. Don't start getting paranoid yet. This has got to be some kind of dream.

 'Nearly finished.' She said trying to sound cheerful. Two could play at this game.

 'Well come and wash your hands now, and we'll eat.'

 A rustic table and a couple of chairs now stood at the front of the cottage. The table was laid for two. There was a wooden bucket on the grass. Marti put her hands into it and began to wash them. The water felt warm, but strange, more like dust.

 Nembaw appeared at the doorway carrying a large earthenware plate piled high with something that looked and smelled good. She set it down in front of Marti, who saw her favourite chicken stew. 'Maybe life wasn't too bad around here for the moment,' she thought. 'Meal times certainly came around quickly, perhaps too quickly. But she could think about that later.'

 Two helpings of treacle tart later and still with hunger pans Marti, felt strangely relaxed and ready for a nap. She leaned her head on the table using her arms as a pillow and slowly drifted into unconsciousness.

 'That's it my beauty,' Smiled Nembaw; 'You get yourself a good sleep, we've got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.' With that there stood a large bent, whiskered, old woman wearing a ragged, dusty long gown. She was standing by a pile of stones that may have once been someone's home. Around her was a bleak deserted landscape, dusty, dry and orange. Suspended in mid air, as if she were leaning on a rickety table Marti slept, beside her an empty plate, with a few mouldy crumbs. Over everything was a thick layer of dust.

 Had she the girls trust? Nembaw pondered. Perhaps trust was the wrong word. Girls like this one were unpredictable, always selfish, with no conscience and no care for consequences. She sniggered, rather like herself really. May be she had the measure of her, and could predict where the girl's curiosity would lead. It was soon time to set off, and this creature would make a wonderful tool, when the time came.