She stared at her softly lit reflection for a long time. She stared into the eyes of a young woman, a beauty, a mistress covered in the gifts of a lover.
“I am Dimity Hatcher,” she said quietly, watching the way her lips moved, how full and soft they looked. She pictured Charles’s lips touching them, imagined how they had felt to him. Her pulse beat between her thighs. “I am Dimity Hatcher,” she said again. Then: “I, Dimity Hatcher.” She paused, pulled the pale scarf a little lower over her brow, like a bride. The silver coins glinted. “I, Dimity Hatcher, take thee, Charles Henry Aubrey…” Her throat stung as she said the words aloud, and when she heard them her heart thumped so hard that it shook her. She cleared her throat carefully, and spoke a little louder. “I, Dimity Hatcher, take thee, Charles Henry Aubrey, to be my wedded husband…” There was a sharp gasp from behind her, and in dismay Dimity moved her eyes across the mirror and saw the reflection of Celeste, standing in the doorway.
There was a dreadful, electric pause as their eyes met; a frozen moment in which Dimity felt the blood drain from her face. Celeste’s mouth hung a little open; her eyes went so wide that the whites gleamed. “I was only-” Dimity started to say, but Celeste cut her off.
“Take off my things,” she whispered. Her voice was colder than midwinter. “Take them off. Now.” With shaking hands, Dimity struggled to comply, but she was not fast enough. In three quick strides Celeste was upon her, pulling the scarf from her head so roughly that it took a clump of hair with it, fumbling at the clasp of the necklace, tugging at it so that it cut into the skin of Dimity’s neck.
“Celeste, please! Don’t-you’ll break it!” she cried, but Celeste’s face was alight with a fury she had never seen before, and she would not stop until the necklace came free. It snapped and flew apart, the pearls hitting the floor like hailstones.
“How dare you? How dare you?” she spat. “Coucou! Coucou dans le nid! You are a cuckoo child!”
“I didn’t mean anything by it!” Dimity cried, tears of fear blurring her eyes. Celeste grabbed her by the wrist with a grip like a vise and put her face so close to Dimity’s that she could feel the woman’s breath, feverishly hot.
“Don’t you lie to me, Mitzy Hatcher! Don’t you dare lie to me! Have you fucked him? Have you? Tell me!”
“No! I promise, I haven’t-” Without warning, Celeste slapped her hard across the face, flat-handed but with the full swing of her arm. Dimity had no time to brace herself and was flung from the stool, which clattered onto its side. She hit her head on the edge of the table and felt an explosion of tingling pain. She put her hands over her face and started sobbing.
“Liar!” Celeste screamed. “Oh, I am a fool. How big a fool you must think me! Now, get up. Get up!”
“Leave me alone!” Dimity cried.
“Leave you alone? Leave you to watch him and covet him and tempt him away? Leave you to steal everything that is dear to me? No, I won’t. Get up,” Celeste ordered again, and her voice was so dreadful that Dimity didn’t dare disobey. She scrambled to her feet and backed away from the woman. Celeste was shaking from head to foot; her fists were clenched and her stare was like a thunderstorm.
“Now go! Get out of my sight-I cannot look at you! Get out!” she shouted. Blindly, Dimity fled. She stumbled down the stairs, almost falling; wrenched open the huge door and ran away down the dusty street, not daring to look back. In seconds, the city had enveloped her, drawing her onwards, deep into its twisted heart.
CHAPTER NINE
There was rain dripping down the chimney, making little puffs in the cold ash piled in the hearth and shiny black splotches on the grate. Rare for that to happen-normally the rain came in off the sea, blown at an angle over the land, and was whisked over the cottage roof. Such straight, resolute, constant rain came only a few times in the year. Dimity stared at the drops as they landed, heard a dull note as each one struck; not a tune but a syllable, she realized. She strained her ears, waited fearfully. Three more came, closer together this time; unmistakable. Él-o-die. She held her breath, hoping she was wrong and hadn’t heard it. A single drip fell, all alone, and hope flared in her chest. But then three again. Él-o-die. With a cry Dimity turned abruptly away from the hearth, spinning around fast enough to see a shadow against the living room wall. Upside down; doing a handstand.
“Élodie?” she whispered, pulling her eyes from left to right, searching every corner of the room. Quick, sharp, clever Élodie. A wonder she hadn’t come back before; a wonder she’d never found a way, until now. The charm in a chimney stack was no match for a determined child, one not easily fooled. A frown on a young, soft forehead, a daisy tucked into black hair. A pouting lower lip, a will to fight, to argue, to challenge.
Dimity fled from her. The shadow kicked its legs away from the wall, righted itself, came after her on light, careless feet. “It wasn’t me!” Dimity said, hurrying into the kitchen, casting the words over her shoulder. She was certain of this, and yet not. The words sounded right, sounded true, but underneath them Valentina was laughing, and there was a knowing look in her eye. And worse than that, far worse: a look of something like respect. A grudging, unvoiced respect. But it wasn’t me! She flicked the switch on the kitchen wall, but the darkness stayed; the bulb, covered in dust and spider dirt, was wholly lifeless at the end of its wire. Dimity caught her breath, fear shaking her fingers, turning her gut to water.
There she stood, in darkness, pressed up against the kitchen countertop with nowhere else to go, except outside. But out there, the storm and the cliffs and the sea were waiting. She stared out through the window at a night as dark as Élodie’s hair. Faint white streaks of troubled water along the shore; rain clouds smothering the moon and stars. She saw headlights lancing down to Southern Farm, saw lights come on inside the house and then, not long afterwards, saw the car leave again. There were people close by, there was life, but it was another world, one where she did not belong. Outsiders always wanted to come farther in than you invited them. They wanted to come all the way in, see everything, know everything. Spreading themselves into every corner like a smell. Like Zach, who’d brought memories of Charles with him. She’d risked everything to revel in them for a while, but that world was not hers anymore. She’d left it a long time ago, for a prison of her own making-The Watch. But that prison had been a haven, for a very long time. A place filled with love, once Valentina had gone. You’re so stupid, Dimity! said Élodie, using the patter of rain on the window for a voice. It wasn’t me, Dimity told her silently. A half-forgotten song crept into her throat, from a time and a place a lifetime ago. One she did not understand, one she never had; the tune as elusive as a warm desert breeze. Allahu akbar… Allahu akbar… This waking dream kept hold of her, all through the night.