“She’s back,” said
Annie, without looking up from her laptop. From the far side of the
room Moira raised her head, frowned thoughtfully and sniffed the air.
Norma nodded to herself and smiled.
The harsh January wind almost
lifted Chrissie off her feet. It grabbed at her scarf and hair with
sharp cold fingers until she was bullied into finding refuge down a
narrow side street. It was dark between the high old buildings, but a
short way down she could see the inviting glow of golden yellow light
from an open doorway. It lay out across the icy cobblestones like a
welcome mat of forgotten summer sunshine. Her stomach tightened
slightly as memories flooded back. It had been almost three months
since she had last been at the Black Boar. For a moment she
hesitated… unsure, but the wind that was blowing from down the
great glen had other plans. It ripped and gnawed at her back, forcing
her forward. Once again she stood in front of the café with its
ancient stone archway, where a blackboard declared the “Specials of
the Day”.
She stood… still uncertain
and more than a little afraid. The last time she had been here her
life had changed forever. What would happen if she crossed this
threshold a second time? Her mind raced back to that day in late
October when she had last been here. It had been a crisp and golden
end-of-autumn day…
…and Chrissie was in a
hurry. She had less than an hour for lunch before her appointment.
She walked briskly down the street, oblivious to the shop windows
with their garish and gory Halloween decorations. At the corner she
went to turn left… and almost tripped over an enormous cat that
seemed to appear from nowhere. Swearing softly, she stopped to check
her shoe heel, which had made a rather ominous click as she’d
dodged the cursed cat. As she balanced on one foot, twisting to check
the heel of the other, strange flickering lights caught her eye.
Further down the narrow side lane a row of carved-out swedes grinned
at her out of the shadows. Amused and intrigued she went closer, for
a better look. The neeps were set along the edge of a bay window.
Above an arched stone doorway a sign declared, “Samhainn specials –
Come dine with the Dark Boar”, below that was painted a big black
pig dancing under a full moon. From deep within the blended scent of
real coffee and fresh-baking floated out and wrapped around her, like
the arms of a lover. She decided to give this unusual place a try.
The entrance led to a
surprisingly chic café. Muted lighting showed round glass tables on
long metal pedestals and high-backed dark leather chairs. In the soft
warm glow the tables seemed to float, like crystal lotus leaves on a
dark pool. Mirrored panels, set at subtle angles, created the
illusion of a room flowing out into infinity. A bit disorientated she
stood for a moment trying to decide where to sit. The room was quiet,
virtually empty. With a salad and tea on its way she headed for a
table and pulled out her phone. She was just about to text her boss a
reminder that she wouldn’t be back until two when a woman’s voice
interrupted her concentration.
“Sugar?” the woman asked,
smiling slightly. She was holding out a small silver dish full of
sugar sachets… something Chrissie’s own table was lacking.
“Thank you. I don’t take
sugar actually.”
The
woman put the dish down anyway, “I always take sugar. Not much
point in life if you can’t enjoy the sweet moments.” Chrissie
glanced at the woman, quickly assessing and dismissing her fidgety
plain face, untidy hair and equally non-descript clothing.
“My name is Norma,”
Chrissie gave a loud deliberate sigh and stared pointedly at the
woman, but Norma went on talking, quite oblivious, “I heard you
order the salad special. Good choice. We do an excellent salad.”
The last sentence was not expected.
“You own this place?”
The woman nodded, “Actually
we all do,” she waved a hand vaguely towards the back of the shop
where two other women were sharing a table. A very tall dark woman
hunched over a laptop and a slim elegant woman with sleek
ginger-brown hair. They seemed to realise they were being spoken
about. Both looked across; the slim woman smiled. She gave a polite
nod-and-smile back.
Norma waved to them, “Come
here and say hello.” The two women started to make their way over
to her table.
Chrissie gave another deep
sigh, “I don’t have time…” she started to say, but Norma was
already making introductions.
The tall woman spoke in a
gravel rough voice, “I’m Annie.”
“Black Annie,” the small
slim woman added with a dry smile. Annie pulled a face and gave a
small mock bow as everyone laughed at the joke. In her tailored
charcoal suit and long black coat, and with her crow black hair
feathering her bony face, she was very black indeed.
“I’m Moira,” the slender
woman smiled again, holding out her hand. Chrissie smiled back,
noticing the small details that spoke of prosperity and prestige. Her
hand was soft and her long perfectly manicured nails picked up the
sparkles from the gold and diamond bracelet around her wrist. Her
rich brown hair had stylish streaked copper highlights that reminded
Chrissie of stripes on a tabby cat.
The three women seemed an
interesting trio, but she really wasn’t in the mood for small talk.
She deliberately glanced at her watch, “I should be going soon. I
have an appointment.” The three women nodded understandingly, but
kept their places at her table. Feeling strangely powerless she ate
her salad while Norma prattled on, explaining how the three of them
had started as friends before becoming business partners in the Black
Boar.
“Why didn’t you change the
name?” she asked. Annie frowned and Norma looked confused. She
tried to explain, “I mean, obviously the place was named the Black
Boar when you bought it?” The women looked at each other in
amusement.
“Oh, we picked the name,”
said Norma.
“You chose the name…
deliberately?” They all nodded. “But it’s so…” she
struggled for a tactful description, “old fashioned.” All three
women burst out laughing at that, even dark dour Annie.
Moira patted her hand, “My
dear,” she said, chuckling, “you have no idea how old.” Once
again all three burst into mirth as if at some private joke.
She changed the subject. “So…
what brought you together as friends in the first place?”
Norma
smiled, “We’re weavers.”
“Oh!” she was surprised,
“Craftwork.”
All three laughed. “You
could call it that,” replied Moira.
She could imagine Norma doing
something as mundane as needlework, but the other two? Androgynous
Annie with her laptop and frown… Moira with her inch long pearly
nails and chic little clutch purse… She simply could not imagine
the three of them sitting together at some rural women’s social
club drinking tea out of mugs and sharing gossip as they worked on
their mutual hobby. She was so completely lost in trying to visualise
the three women weaving together that she didn’t realise that Norma
was holding out her hand as well. A little embarrassed, she shook the
woman’s hand. As their fingers touched she gave a jerk.
“Static,” Norma giggled,
but Chrissie wasn’t so sure. What she’d felt as their hands
touched was more like a ripple of water going through her entire
body. This time when she looked into Norma’s face she looked
without preconceptions. What she saw was a quivering energy that she
had completely missed before. And her eyes! How had she not noticed
Norma’s eyes? They were almost abnormally large and such a light
bright brown, almost golden; held within their gaze she felt stripped
to the bone and spirit.
Flustered, she checked her
watch again, “I should go.”
As she went to rise Annie
reached out and grabbed her arm tightly, “Remember to ask him about
the little thing.”
Norma nodded, “He needs to
know.”
Her mind raced madly for some
sensible logical answer as to how these three complete strangers
could know about the ‘little thing’. There was no way they could
know. No-one knew, not even her mother. Not even her boss. He thought
it was a regular check up and it was… or at least that was what she
kept telling herself. Except the little thing had been growing into
the Big Fear that left her awake and ice cold in the early mornings.
She turned to Annie to demand her release, but something in the
woman’s face made the words shrivel like dead leaves in her mouth.
Up this close Annie’s angular features were made grotesque by the
shadows and light reflections. What had first seemed sombre
stylishness now looked jagged and ghoulish. Annie stared down her
enormous beak of a nose with eyes as darkly bright as the ice-covered
cobbles outside. She recoiled and looked away only to realise her
right shoulder was being held by another strange hand. Moira’s
sharp pearly claws were digging into her skin through coat and
clothing. Her face was so close that Chrissie could see the long
coarse whiskery hairs on her lip and chin, and notice the sharp
little teeth behind her painted coral lips.
The three stared at her with
unrelenting intensity as she crouched back in her seat, panting with
sudden fear. Her own rasping breath was the only sound in the room,
but she could barely hear it beneath the overwhelming drumming of her
heart. Her need to escape was almost primal. She wrenched her arm out
of Annie’s hard grasp and almost sprinted for the door. As she paid
her bill she looked into the mirror behind the counter to see if the
three women were still watching her. For one mad moment she could
have sworn that she saw a huge rabbitty thing standing beside the
table she’d been sitting at, but when she glanced back it was only
drab Norma.
Once outside she took three
long shivering breaths of the autumn air before walking as fast as
she could back to the main street with its hurly burly of lunchtime
shoppers. She giggled at her own silliness, but still leapt like a
shot deer when a crow cawed loudly from a rooftop. Mad, insane, pure
coincidence, she told herself…
…but deep inside her a
persistent whisper echoed in the voices of three.
Now once again she stood at
the door of the Black Boar, but this time her feet refused to move. A
soft voice startled her out of her reverie.
“Goodness child, you’re
frozen!” It was the sleek gingery woman, Moira, elegant in fur and
Italian leather. Her face showed concern and a genuine compassion.
She put her arm around Chrissie and drew her indoors. Inside the café
tall Annie, smiling gently, helped her with her coat as Norma came
dashing from the kitchen with a large mug of steaming tea. She was
completely unprepared for such gentle mothering. A large tear fought
its way free and rolled down her cheek. Moira pulled a crisp white
tissue from her tiny leather purse and handed it to her. It was too
much to bear. Chrissie put her face in her hands and sobbed like a
lost child. Not even the pressure of six hands on her arms and
shoulders could stop the flood of emotion that was sweeping through
her.
After what felt like a
lifetime of weeping, she blotted her eyes and looked about her. Once
again all three women had her encircled, but this time she felt held
in love rather than held by fear. Feeling calmer than she had in
weeks, she sipped her tea and began to tell what she knew they had
known before she even knew them - that the ‘little thing’ had
been a Big Thing after all. They nodded when she related how she had
gone to the doctor and, spurred by their terrifying words, had told
him about the little thing. How he had sent her for tests… and back
again for more tests. She told them how she had spent her Christmas
in hospital corridors with machines and syringes and seen in the New
Year wailing like a wild woman, refusing to believe or accept. She
told them about test results and statistics, the pamphlets and
admission slips, how her life was a blasted heath…
“Rubbish,” said Annie,
“Your life is whatever you choose to make it.”
Moira reached across and took
her hand. “Sooner or later we all dance with the dark boar,” she
said.
Seeing her confusion Norma
explained, “In the old times the Dark Boar was the devourer.”
“Death,” Annie added
bluntly.
Chrissie looked away...
watched the snow falling outside the window. Silence, as perfect as
snowflakes, fell around her. Cool unfathomable peace…“Is this the
end then?” she asked.
Moira shook her head, gently,
“There are no endings, only seasons.”
“…and seasons,”
continued Norma, “Always circle back to the beginning once again.”
Annie nodded, “Winter isn’t
death, winter is the pause between breathes.”
“Hibernation… gestation,”
added Norma, “The waiting time.”
Chrissie wiped away another
tear, “I’m not sure I can wait.”
“Nonsense,” said Annie,
“Of course you can wait. It isn’t a science. Even mould knows how
to wait.”
Moira smiled, “and beyond
winter there is always the promise of spring.”
“The dance,” said Norma,
and they all nodded.
Annie leant forward and
touched Chrissie’s cheek lightly with one finger. “The dance you
weave is up to you now.” She pointed to the mirrors behind her and
Chrissie looked… and looked…
In the dark mirror reflections
the café’s tall-backed chairs were mountaintops and the ceiling
lights became stars. She felt herself drawn into this otherworld
horizon. Across the boundaries of imagination and reality a dark
plain came into focus between the mountains and the stars. There were
people here, men and women, and a bonfire that hissed and crackled.
It was hard to see clearly and at first she thought they were dancing
around a maypole. She thought they were holding ribbons, but as they
came closer she realised they weren't swapping over ribbons as they
danced in a circle - they were throwing and catching spindles of
silvery yarn. As everyone turned and spiralled, threw and caught, the
threads were criss-crossing. They were dancing and weaving a net of
light. Fire-bright stars and embers swirled around her as she stood
and watched. Beyond them, amongst them she saw three familiar
figures. They never really joined the dance and yet they were a part
of the weaving. Here in this place they seemed so tall, Moira and
Norma towered above the others and Annie’s dark head was up amongst
the stars themselves.
With a blink and a heartbeat
she was back in her seat in the café as before. She looked at the
three women who encircled her at the table and felt her soul shiver
at what she could now see before her. Three sets of eyes watched her
watching, and in their deep and gentle gaze she saw a hundred
thousand dances and more winters than any human mind could
comprehend. She got to her feet, slowly this time. There was no more
need to panic or rush. Outside in the alley the shoppers were long
gone and the newly fallen snow lay unmarked, perfect and pure. Her
footsteps would be the first to leave their mark. Chrissie smiled,
pulled her scarf a little tighter, and walked out into the hushed
winter white.
Inside the café Annie went
back to her beloved laptop and clicked on her appointment diary.
“Now,”
she said, scrolling down to the next week “when shall we three meet
again?”
----oOo----
copyright the author ~ Michelle Frost
first published in 2009
No comments:
Post a Comment
Hi,
Older posts are moderated to stop spammers, so replies will go up, but please be patient. :)