Read Online The Boy in the Olive Grove by Fleur Beale - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Fleur Beale
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it was implacable. There would be no help from him.’
She stopped, but I finished the story for her. ‘ He was the one who shoved the burning brand into the wood to light the fire. It flamed up around you. You cursed me as the flesh burned from your feet.’ I put my head on the table and wept, my hands over my ears now, but I heard her repeat the words that had written themselves into my brain.
‘I will hate you for ever. I curse you to burn in hell.’
Iris rubbed my back, the way she’d done at the hospital. ‘Gwennie kept reminding me that I was safe now, that what happened back then is in the past. She told me to let it go. Take if off like a cloak and leave it behind. Dig a hole and bury it. It took me a couple of attempts but I got there in the end.’ She reached for the roll of paper towels and pushed them at me. ‘Let it go, Bess. It’s not part of who we are now. You don’t need to feel guilty, or ashamed.’
I doubted I could let it go just like that, however much I longed to be rid of it and never think about it — or see it — again. That was then. This is now. I hated it that Iris’s far-fetched theory felt more real than Hadleigh’s reasoned argument. I wanted to believe him, not her.
‘I can’t get my head around it. It’s all … It’s just too weird.’
‘Yes, I know. I’ve never told Charlie. You can imagine what he’d say.’
‘He’d have you burned as a witch.’
She smiled and relaxed back in her chair. ‘So there you have it. Believe it, or don’t believe it. All I know for sure is that now I don’t feel that surge of hate every time your name is mentioned.’
Thoughts, ideas, other explanations all tangled themselves in my brain. The olive grove boy, what about him? Was he some sort of memory as well? Did I have any choice other than to accept what she’d told me? Her story matched what I’d seen too cannily for it to be a fluke.
‘I don’t want to believe it. It’s too …’
‘Witchy?’ she said, laughing at me. ‘Listen, Bess. I don’t think it matters too much. Just accept the experience and the lessons, Gwennie said. She does a lot of this stuff, but she warned me to be careful. People can talk themselves into anything given the right circumstances.’
I didn’t find that comforting. Could my mind, all on its own accord, manufacture a scene of high drama to explain why I kept my distance from my stepmother? If that was so, then what was the reason behind the peasant boy, and what was my mind going to come up with to explain my relationship with Mum?
Later. I’d process all this stuff later.
‘Why did you start talking about this now, though? And how did you know I’d get what you were on about?’
‘Just a feeling,’ she said. ‘You were jumpier than usual around me. You’d taken yourself into drunken oblivion quite uncharacteristically. Could have been anything, of course — but I go by my intuition, and it was telling me the time had come to talk to you.’
She was possibly more of a witch now than she had been in that other life. Other life . I was accepting it?
‘You’re so different from Mum. She doesn’t do intuition.’
Iris had a wicked glint in her eyes. ‘I’ll take you to see Gwennie,’ she said. ‘She can relax you and instruct you to go back to the cause of the difficulties between you and your mum.’
I batted that away. I did not want to delve into … whatever it was that Gwennie did. ‘D’you think the pictures will go away now? For me, I mean?’
She shrugged. ‘Don’t know. I’m not an expert. I hope so, though. They’re not pretty.’
Whether or not they would, one thing had come out of this strange afternoon, and that was the huge relief of talking about it.
I stood up. I had to go. I had a bank manager to ring.
Chapter Eight
‘I’M TRYING to get hold of Beverly Maketawa. Is this the right number?’
It was, and in a couple of seconds Beverly herself was speaking to me. ‘Hello, Bess. Is
She stopped, but I finished the story for her. ‘ He was the one who shoved the burning brand into the wood to light the fire. It flamed up around you. You cursed me as the flesh burned from your feet.’ I put my head on the table and wept, my hands over my ears now, but I heard her repeat the words that had written themselves into my brain.
‘I will hate you for ever. I curse you to burn in hell.’
Iris rubbed my back, the way she’d done at the hospital. ‘Gwennie kept reminding me that I was safe now, that what happened back then is in the past. She told me to let it go. Take if off like a cloak and leave it behind. Dig a hole and bury it. It took me a couple of attempts but I got there in the end.’ She reached for the roll of paper towels and pushed them at me. ‘Let it go, Bess. It’s not part of who we are now. You don’t need to feel guilty, or ashamed.’
I doubted I could let it go just like that, however much I longed to be rid of it and never think about it — or see it — again. That was then. This is now. I hated it that Iris’s far-fetched theory felt more real than Hadleigh’s reasoned argument. I wanted to believe him, not her.
‘I can’t get my head around it. It’s all … It’s just too weird.’
‘Yes, I know. I’ve never told Charlie. You can imagine what he’d say.’
‘He’d have you burned as a witch.’
She smiled and relaxed back in her chair. ‘So there you have it. Believe it, or don’t believe it. All I know for sure is that now I don’t feel that surge of hate every time your name is mentioned.’
Thoughts, ideas, other explanations all tangled themselves in my brain. The olive grove boy, what about him? Was he some sort of memory as well? Did I have any choice other than to accept what she’d told me? Her story matched what I’d seen too cannily for it to be a fluke.
‘I don’t want to believe it. It’s too …’
‘Witchy?’ she said, laughing at me. ‘Listen, Bess. I don’t think it matters too much. Just accept the experience and the lessons, Gwennie said. She does a lot of this stuff, but she warned me to be careful. People can talk themselves into anything given the right circumstances.’
I didn’t find that comforting. Could my mind, all on its own accord, manufacture a scene of high drama to explain why I kept my distance from my stepmother? If that was so, then what was the reason behind the peasant boy, and what was my mind going to come up with to explain my relationship with Mum?
Later. I’d process all this stuff later.
‘Why did you start talking about this now, though? And how did you know I’d get what you were on about?’
‘Just a feeling,’ she said. ‘You were jumpier than usual around me. You’d taken yourself into drunken oblivion quite uncharacteristically. Could have been anything, of course — but I go by my intuition, and it was telling me the time had come to talk to you.’
She was possibly more of a witch now than she had been in that other life. Other life . I was accepting it?
‘You’re so different from Mum. She doesn’t do intuition.’
Iris had a wicked glint in her eyes. ‘I’ll take you to see Gwennie,’ she said. ‘She can relax you and instruct you to go back to the cause of the difficulties between you and your mum.’
I batted that away. I did not want to delve into … whatever it was that Gwennie did. ‘D’you think the pictures will go away now? For me, I mean?’
She shrugged. ‘Don’t know. I’m not an expert. I hope so, though. They’re not pretty.’
Whether or not they would, one thing had come out of this strange afternoon, and that was the huge relief of talking about it.
I stood up. I had to go. I had a bank manager to ring.
Chapter Eight
‘I’M TRYING to get hold of Beverly Maketawa. Is this the right number?’
It was, and in a couple of seconds Beverly herself was speaking to me. ‘Hello, Bess. Is
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