Sarah Rayne - House of the Lost

‘It is outright paganism,’ said Great-aunt Emily who had arrived in a hired car, pleased to be part of the festivities, but not best pleased at finding Nancy in self-appointed command of the kitchen. ‘It’s an old Celtic festival – I know that because I once had an admirer who was Irish and he told me about the Samhain bonfires. I believe there used to be all kinds of wild goings-on.’

‘Well, we aren’t going to have wild goings-on here,’ said Nancy. ‘I daresay we might run to a bonfire, though. You wouldn’t mind a bonfire, would you, Helen?’

‘Well…’

‘Desmond can make his mulled wine and Lesley and I can go into Melbray to order suitable food. Sausages and spare ribs, I think, don’t you? The twins can come with us, it’ll stop them tearing about the house like ruffians.’

‘Listen,’ said Theo, managing to draw Charmery out into the hall, ‘if we’re to get any time at all to ourselves it’ll be now while they’re unpacking pumpkins and calculating spare ribs. You only wrote to me once, and your phone was hardly ever switched on when I called. I’ve missed you like grim death for the last seven weeks, in fact it’s felt more like seven years. I’ve been through seven separate kinds of agony.’

‘I don’t think there are seven separate kinds of agony,’ she said. She was standing in the deep bay window, staring out at the autumn gardens. The soft light cast a golden radiance over her skin.

‘Charmery, come down to the boathouse with me now. I don’t mean for… I just want you to myself for half an hour.’

She turned to look at him thoughtfully. ‘All right.’ The remembered intimacy was in her voice again and she was the Charmery of Theo’s childhood – the cousin he had known since she was born and who was impossibly beautiful and unbearably exciting. ‘But I hope you want a bit more than just being alone,’ she said in a low caressing voice. ‘In fact after seven weeks I hope you want a lot more.’ She reached for his hand and Theo felt as if he had received a 1,000-volt electrical charge.

They went stealthily across the hall, trying not to make a sound.

‘Grab a couple of coats from the hall as we go,’ said Theo.

‘It’s almost like being children again,’ said Charmery, doing as he asked.

‘Tiptoeing away from the grown-ups, trying not to giggle.’

‘I never giggled.’

‘Yes, you did. I loved it when you giggled. Only don’t do it now. And mind the squeaky hinge on the garden door.’

‘What if somebody sees us?’

‘If it’s Nancy she’ll get the shock of her life to see me in this condition.’

‘Do her good,’ said Charmery, stifling one of the giggles.

The boathouse was cool and dim and smelt of autumn. Theo spread out the coats on the planks, then pulled Charmery against him, kissing her and cupping her face between his hands.

‘Will we hear if anyone comes down the path?’ she said, when he finally released her.

‘I wouldn’t hear if the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse rode through the shrubbery.’ A sudden stab of conscience made him say, ‘Charm, listen, I honestly didn’t mean to steamroller you into anything. We can just be on our own down here and talk.’

‘I didn’t trek all the way down here just to talk,’ she said, unbuttoning her coat.

‘Yes, but I don’t want this to seem like a…’

‘Quick casual shag?’

‘Well, yes. Although there’s nothing casual about it as far as I’m concerned. You must know how much I love you. You do know, don’t you?’

‘Yes, but stop talking about it and demonstrate,’ she said, pulling his mouth down to hers, and Theo was lost to everything in the world save the soaring bliss of being with her again.

‘Don’t make the boards creak so much,’ she said, after a moment. ‘Supposing they give way and we go down into the Chet?’

‘I don’t care. We’re going to celebrate a pagan festival later, and the pagans didn’t care about creaking planks,’ said Theo. ‘I’ll creak boards and I’ll ford the Chet with all the ferrymen of the world and sail into the sunset with you. I’ll chant pagan spells so that you love me for ever, and leap through bonfires, and—’

‘You sound drunk,’ said Charmery, laughing.

‘I am. I’m drunk on you. I’d quote poetry to you if I could remember any. Wait a minute…’ He foraged in his jacket for the condoms and pushed her back on the folded coats. Her body, when he entered it, felt like silk and she gasped and arched her back, pulling him deeper. Ecstasy seared Theo so violently that his mind seemed to splinter into hundreds of fragments, and the dim boathouse shivered and blurred all round him. For a moment he was afraid he might be about to pass out or have a heart attack, and it would surely be the ultimate irony to die now.

He did not die, of course, and he did not pass out. He tumbled into a helpless explosive climax. He felt Charmery shiver and heard her cry of delight at almost the same time. He wanted to grab this moment and save it for ever.

They were still tangled together, Charmery’s hair tumbling over Theo’s bare chest, when there was the crunch of footsteps outside, and a voice said, ‘Theo, are you in here? Because they want some help pacing out a site for the bonfire.’ The voice stopped, but Theo, jolted out of the warm half-sleep of pleasure, had already recognized it as belonging to Helen Kendal. Her footsteps came along the path, and a shadow fell across the timbers of the landing stage. For a moment there was only the dark outline of her figure against the golden autumn afternoon. Then she stepped into the boathouse itself and Theo saw the horrified shock on her face as she took in the scene that confronted her.

He managed to pull his jacket across his thighs and sit up and say, with as much dignity as possible, ‘Helen – I’m really sorry you had to find us like this, but—’ He broke off. Helen Kendal was white and there was a pinched bluish look round her lips. ‘I know it’s a shock,’ said Theo, wanting to banish the dreadful look, aware that Charmery was sitting up beside him and pulling on her jeans. ‘But you’ve probably suspected how I feel about Charmery,’ he said. ‘I’ve always loved her.’

‘Oh, dear God,’ said Helen and for a moment Theo thought she was about to faint. Then she stood up a bit straighter, as if squaring her shoulders to receive a great weight, and although Theo felt absurd and at a disadvantage sitting in the draughty boat-house like this, he said, ‘This isn’t so very terrible, is it? I know Charmery and I are cousins, but our fathers weren’t brothers, they were cousins, so we’re only second cousins. And I want to marry her in a year or two – it’s what I’ve always wanted.’

Helen was not quite crying, but she was not far off and she was clearly distraught.

‘Theo – you can’t marry her.’

‘I don’t mean right now.’

‘You can’t marry her – ever,’ she said, as if Theo had not spoken. ‘Not ever.’ There was a moment when she seemed to struggle with some huge inner conflict, then she said, ‘You’re brother and sister.’

The golden afternoon outside spun into a confused blur, and the world narrowed to the dim confines of the boathouse. For several moments Theo could not speak and he could scarcely even breathe. This is a nightmare, he thought. It must be. This is the really bad moment just before you wake up. At last, he managed to say, ‘I don’t believe you.’

‘It’s true,’ said Helen, and now she was crying properly. ‘I wish it weren’t. Charmery, my dearest girl, I’m so sorry.’

Charmery was huddled over, hugging her knees, her hair falling forward to hide her face. When Helen made a clumsy movement to kneel next to her and put her arms round her, Charmery brushed her away with an angry gesture. Theo was unable to tell if Charmery was crying, so he turned back to Helen, and with difficulty, said, ‘Could you explain? Is Desmond my real father? Is that what you mean?’ But he was already aware of disbelief, because it was impossible to think of his mother and Desmond together, and it was equally impossible to think of his mother betraying Helen by sleeping with Helen’s husband.