Barbara Erskine - Daughters of Fire

Cathy shrugged helplessly. Bugger Pete. ‘It’s not that I’m not glad to see you, Pat.’ She kissed her visitor. ‘It’s just that we’ve got Tasha for a couple of nights.’

‘Say no more. I remember the child from hell!’ Pat chortled.

‘Tasha adores you, Pat, you know she does.’ Cathy didn’t sound too convinced. ‘And we’ve got room.’

‘Somewhere I can lie late abed without screaming children or for that matter cats jumping on my diaphragm?’ Pat peered over Cathy’s shoulder. ‘Is it safe to come in now?’

‘Of course it is.’ Cathy gestured her towards the living room. ‘I’d love you to stay. In fact I’d be furious if you didn’t. You can have the box room upstairs. It’s a bit crowded with junk and stuff, but it’s quiet and it’s got a nice bed. You’ll be safe up there! Come on. I’ll show you.’

Cathy arranged their first meeting the next day and as the one o’clock gun resounded across the city, the three women seated themselves at a corner table in a small restaurant in a narrow street off the Grassmarket. It was a place Viv knew well, and one where she would almost certainly not run into any other members of the department.

After Cathy had introduced the two women to one another she raised her wine glass. ‘Right, ladies, let’s drink to your alliance, to the play and perdition to reactionary male academics.’

Viv grinned. ‘You don’t know how the thought of this meeting cheered me up this morning. Especially after I had opened my bank statement. That concentrates the mind.’ She took a gulp of wine. She was looking strained and pale. She didn’t mention the abrupt end to the supper party on Sunday night and neither did Cathy. ‘Has Cathy told you my predicament?’ she addressed Pat. ‘If my boss, Hugh, is not going to promote me to Reader when Hamish Macleod goes, and if he succeeds in cutting the funding for my research I am going to have to find some other gainful employment and soon.’

‘Isn’t writing a successful biography gainful employment?’ Pat asked curiously. She sat back in her seat and surveyed the woman sitting opposite her. Her initial reaction was to be slightly wary of this obviously highly intelligent redhead.

There was a shout of laughter at the next table as a late arrival tried to squeeze in amongst the other diners. The room was very hot.

‘If it’s successful, yes, then it might be employment of a sort.’ Viv grimaced. ‘If the book is slated by the critics and blackballed by my ex boss, probably no.’

‘That hasn’t happened yet, Viv,’ Cathy put in calmly.

‘To be honest, it won’t matter if it is. The more controversy the better.’ Pat accepted a menu from the waiter with an absent-minded smile. Maddie was right. Viv’s slightly aggressive demeanour probably hid a lot of hurt and insecurity. ‘It would bring us good publicity. Always a plus. More listeners for our play. More readers for your book. You wouldn’t mind that, would you?’

Viv shrugged. ‘Yes, to be honest. Not the more readers part, but the criticism. I’m an academic. That matters. It will put my scholarship in question.’ She reached for a bread roll from the basket which had been set down on the table between them. Tearing it to shreds, she piled the crumbs into a heap on her table mat.

‘Well, one of the first things you have to learn, Viv,’ Pat said firmly, ‘is that you need a thick skin in this business. And that’s what I’m here to help you achieve!’

Cathy glanced from one to the other. ‘If you don’t mind my saying so, I think you two will make a good team. You’re the academic, Viv. And Pat has lots of experience in this field, and has had some success with her script writing. So listen to her! She knows her stuff. And she can help you.’

‘When is your book being published, Viv?’ Pat asked after a pause.

‘Just under a month. July 14th.’

‘Great. And we have a deadline for the play, right? So we need to get down to it as fast as possible.’

Nodding, Viv met her eye with a determined smile. ‘Your name would be a huge asset. No one’s heard of me, after all.’

There was a moment’s silence.

‘I thought you were a TV pundit?’ Pat raised an eyebrow.

‘Only late-night programmes.’ Viv shrugged. Pat’s comments had unsettled her. The woman was too worldly, too confident, too knowledgeable about the nuts and bolts of this project without knowing anything about the subject itself. She was feeling threatened and uneasy. Yet it had to happen. Without Pat this play was not going to get off the ground.

Pat was frowning. ‘I have a feeling you’re being a bit disingenuous there. No matter. If you’re not famous yet, you will be, darling! One way or another! History is a very sexy subject these days, so hopefully we can incorporate a bit of my know how and knowledge to make the play appeal widely, while keeping the academic integrity of the book as a serious study. Quite a challenge!’

There was a pause as Viv gave a wry smile. ‘My serious academic approach.’ Oh God, what had she got herself into? ‘Ah, but that’s maybe the trouble. Perhaps I’d better let you read it before you commit yourself to that opinion. The thing is,’ she hesitated. ‘I have a confession to make. Some of my sources are a bit suspect.’ She paused again. ‘That is the reason for Hugh’s antagonism. And my crossed wires with Maddie. The book does not perhaps come over as quite as academically based as you expect and the play has gone a bit off track for that reason. I kept trying to rein it in and it hasn’t worked.’

Pat looked puzzled. ‘You mean it is fiction?’

‘No, it’s not fiction.’ There was another momentary pause. ‘Well, perhaps it is. Read it, Pat. Please. The book and my attempts at the script. Then let’s talk again.’

‘You’ve got to give it back.’ Cathy stared at the brooch, awed. ‘Think of its value. The insurance. What if you lost it!’

They had gone back with her to collect a pre-publication copy of her book each, duly signed by the author, and the draft of the play. As Viv moved the box backwards and forwards in the sunlight to reflect its colours, Pat reached for it with a gasp of delight. For a few seconds she gazed at it, then she took off the box’s lid.

‘Don’t touch –’ Viv was too late. It was already lying in Pat’s palm.

‘Why not?’ Pat looked up curiously.

‘One should wear gloves.’ Viv shrugged. Who was she to talk? She shuddered.

Pat was staring down at it, frowning, studying it intently. After a moment she shivered and tipped it back into its box. ‘You know, that’s got a really nasty vibe,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that odd, for something so lovely.’ She handed it back to Viv with a grimace. ‘Cathy’s right, you should give it back to the horrid professor.’

And now they had gone and the brooch was back in its drawer and Viv was alone.

The voice was there, just outside her range of hearing. She found herself whispering out loud again. ‘This way madness lies.’

Schizophrenia. Spiritualism. Necromancy? In spite of herself she glanced round the room. Was Carta there, lurking in the shadows? She grimaced. The voice had told her everything which had made her work come alive. Those were the bits her publisher had liked; the bits Maddie liked. Those were the bits they all wanted more of. Natural. Lively. Real.

Too real.

Viv groaned out loud as a sudden wave of total terror flooded through her. ‘Carta?’ Her mouth was dry. ‘Are you there?’ The room was silent. She glanced up at the mirror which hung above her desk but the only reflection there was hers.