The Warrior’s Princess. Barbara Erskine

liquid. The pages were crumpled and one of the pictures had been scribbled all over. Jess reached for the light switch. ‘Who would do that?’ she whispered. ‘Dan –?’

      ‘No! Not me. I swear it! How could you even think it?’

      ‘Is it wine?’ Rhodri leaned over the table and touched the picture with a fingertip. ‘It’s sticky. Oh my God, it’s blood!’ Shocked, he stood back. ‘It was you!’ he accused Dan. ‘You’re the one bleeding all over the place!’

      ‘I told you it wasn’t!’ Dan replied angrily. ‘I would say if it was me, for goodness’ sake! I never went near the pictures.’ He strode over to the door. ‘Someone else has been in here. Look, the front door is open.’

      ‘That was me,’ Rhodri said. ‘Steph always leaves it open. I’m afraid I didn’t think.’ He took several steps out into the hall, looking round. ‘But who would do such a thing?’ There was real anger in his voice. ‘And why?’ He strode out into the courtyard. ‘There’s no one out here!’

      Jess shook her head miserably. ‘Well, the drawings weren’t that special, I suppose. Nothing I can’t do again.’

      ‘That’s hardly the point!’ Dan said sternly. ‘Should we call the police?’

      ‘No.’ Jess shook her head. ‘They have long gone, whoever they were. Or at least –’ She broke off, glancing back towards the staircase.

      ‘I’ll go.’ Rhodri strode back inside and stood with his hand on the newel post, looking up. They all listened. Taking the steps two at a time he vanished across the landing. They heard doors opening and closing and his heavy tread across the floorboards. ‘There’s no one up here.’ His voice floated down to them. Reappearing he ran down. ‘I don’t think anything’s been touched up there. You’ve left some gold bangles on your dressing table, Jess. They wouldn’t still be there if anyone had gone upstairs. I suppose it must have been some deranged kid who popped in for some quick vandalism. It sounds unlikely but can you think of anything better?’ He shrugged. ‘You sometimes get strangers walking or biking on the tracks up through the woods.’

      Jess glanced at Rhodri thoughtfully. It felt oddly unsettling suddenly to think of him peering round her bedroom. She pushed the thought aside. ‘But why? Why do that? Why spoil my pictures?’ She realised she had started to shake. She turned back into the dining room and stood looking down at the table. The sky outside had blushed deep red with the sunset and filled the room with a warm glow. Only the pool of electric light on the table was harsh. Reaching out to the blood stains she dabbed them gently. The blood was already dry.

      ‘I really do have to go,’ Rhodri called from the hall. ‘I’m so sorry this has happened. If there is anything I can do …’

      ‘You’ve done enough by leaving the door open,’ Dan retorted curtly.

      ‘Dan!’ Jess was indignant.

      ‘No, he’s right. And I am sorry.’ Rhodri moved towards the front door. ‘Look, I’ll leave you now, but if you need anything from the farm you know where I am.’

      Dan grimaced as the door slammed behind him. ‘Tosser!’

      ‘It wasn’t his fault,’ Jess retorted sternly.

      Dan sighed. ‘No, it wasn’t.’ He gestured at the sketchbook. ‘What do you want to do with this, shall I chuck it out?’

      ‘No!’ She spread her hands over it protectively. ‘No, leave it!’

      ‘At least let me clear up the glass.’ He glanced up at her. ‘No? OK, I’ll tell you what. Let’s have another drink before we go to bed.’

      Jess froze. She stood for a moment unable to move then at last she looked up. ‘Dan –’

      He glanced up enquiringly, eyebrow raised and she looked away, embarrassed. He hadn’t meant it like that. Of course he hadn’t. She smiled uncomfortably. ‘No more for me, thanks. I think I’ll go up now. I’m a bit tired …’ Refusing to catch his eye as he moved towards her, obviously intending to give her a goodnight kiss, she stepped back sharply. ‘Goodnight, Dan. Can you turn all the lights off for me.’ In seconds she had dodged round the table towards the stairs, leaving him looking after her with a puzzled frown.

      Hours later she woke with a start. The latch on the door had clicked up. She stared across the room in the dark, her heart hammering. The house was totally silent.

      ‘Dan?’ She whispered the name soundlessly. But there was no further noise. Quietly she slipped out of bed and tiptoed across to the door, pressing her ear against the oak panels. There was no movement from the other side as she ran her fingers gently over the small brass bolt she had found there. Without wasting time to wonder why Steph had thought fit to put bolts on her bedroom doors she had been almost ashamed to find herself drawing it closed against Dan. She did not have to ask herself why she had been overwhelmed by this sudden feeling of revulsion at the thought of anyone coming to her bedroom, or why she had even for a second suspected Dan would suddenly be interested in her that way. He was, after all, a married man she had known for years as a friend. There had never been anything between them. It was an instinct; self-preservation. An automatic response to violation and fear.

      She tensed at the sound of a slight creak from the landing and almost unconsciously she ran her fingers over the bolt again, pressing it in place, reassuring herself that it held, her cheek pressed against the warm wood of the door.

      She stood there for a long time, aware of the silence which had settled over the house. Outside the starlight was slowly veiled by the drifting mist. In the darkness raindrops began to fall.

      Jerking awake with a start she realised she had fallen asleep on her feet, leaning against the door. The house was quiet. The drumming rain on the studio roof outside her window was a steady background to the inner silence. With a groan she stumbled away from the door towards her bed and threw herself down on it. Within seconds she was asleep again.

      The woods were dark and filled with the noise of the wind. Rain drummed on the leaves and somewhere nearby a fox gave a sharp angry bark. Gwladys lay huddled against her little brother, trembling.

      ‘Togo?’

      He didn’t reply

      ‘Togo? I’m scared.’

      She could see nothing; the ground was cold and hard and the roots of the trees hanging round them dug into her. ‘I don’t like playing this game. I want Mam.’ She began to rock backwards and forwards, humming to herself. ‘Where’s Eigon? Why doesn’t she come? She’d sing to us.’ She was near to tears. ‘I’m hungry. Are you hungry, Togo?’

      Still he didn’t answer. She put out a hand to him. He was warm and solid, fast asleep in his own little world of dreams. Suddenly making up her mind she crawled away from him and stood up. Away from the shelter of the overhanging ditch the wind was very strong. The noise it made was frightening. No one would hear her if she called. She turned round, confused. Which way should she go? Where were the others?

      ‘Eigon? I don’t like this game. Can we stop playing now?’ Making up her mind, she set out down the track, her back to the wind, her pale hair blowing round her head, her eyes fixed on the bushes in front of her. ‘Eigon? Mam? Where are you?’ In seconds she was completely lost.

      Behind her Togo woke suddenly in the darkness. He put out his little hand for his sister and found himself alone. Frightened, he began to cry.

      Jess woke up late to the sound of the steadily beating rain. Pulling on jeans and a sweater after a hasty shower she ran down to find Dan’s holdall standing by the front door. She glanced into the kitchen. There was a pot of coffee on the table and it was set for two but there was no sign of him.

      ‘Dan?’

      ‘I’m in here.’ His voice came from the dining room. ‘Come and look at this, Jess.’

      Reluctantly she walked over to the doorway and glanced in. He was