“Yes,” he replied.
She nodded and with a rough movement jerked her arm away. She had to get away from him, now. She could get lost in him, she knew, especially when he turned into sweet, teasing Colin. When he was like that, Sibyl could start pretending that this was more than it was and she mustn’t ever do that.
Ever.
She snatched her robe off the hook on the back of the door, shrugged it on, grabbed some clothes and ran out of the room.
She dressed in the bathroom.
Then, with effort, throughout her errand of the morning, she kept her mind carefully blank.
After she arrived back from Mallory’s walk, Colin was gone.
Chapter Eleven
Reprieve
“I’m dreaming about him.”
It was the next Monday morning and Marian was having her breakfast with Sibyl.
Marian was also realising that Sibyl clearly needed a confidant.
“Yes, my dear?” Marian prompted. “Who?”
Sibyl looked distracted, the streak of fine weather had broken and the day was grey, rainy and cold and Sibyl was gazing moodily out of the diamond-paned windows. They were eating in a small breakfast nook in Sibyl’s warm and cosy yet elaborate kitchen. Marian had visited Granny Esmeralda’s abandoned cottage many times when the last owners left it unoccupied for years but she had not been there since the unknown (now known) Americans had bought it and refurbished it as a holiday home.
She’d been delighted when Sibyl suggested they not meet at a café but instead asked Marian to come to her house and Sibyl would cook for her. She’d been captivated by the loving renovation that Sibyl explained she and her father had done to Granny Esmeralda’s sweet cottage. It felt welcoming and warm and Marian was immediately relaxed and at peace there.
And her young friend was an excellent cook, making Marian homemade American pancakes with maple syrup and big bowls of bite-sized pieces of ripe, delicious fruit.
Now, food consumed, Sibyl was on her second cup of coffee and Marian was finishing a pot of tea.
“He’s away in London for three days,” she changed the subject, or at least Marian thought she did.
“Who?” Marian asked again, thinking she knew who but uncertain.
Sibyl started and seemed to come back to the room. She blinked at Marian and gave her a feeble smile.
“I’m sorry. It’s Colin. You should know Colin and I are together now,” Sibyl hesitated, then finished. “Well, sort of.”
Marian smiled encouragingly. “I guessed that when I saw you two the other night but, how do you mean, ‘sort of’?”
Sibyl shook her head and gently changed the subject. “And I’m dreaming about him, all the time, nearly every night. Except he’s blond and he’s…” She paused then stated, “This is going to sound stupid.”
But at her words, Marian’s heart skipped a joyous beat.
What did she mean, he was blond? Was she dreaming of Royce?
Dear goddess, was Sibyl Godwin clairvoyant?
“Go on, nothing’s stupid. You can tell me anything,” Marian urged, her voice betraying her excitement (she couldn’t help it, it was exciting).
Sibyl shuddered and then forged ahead. “It’s like he’s from another time. I’m there too, always. We’re wearing old clothes… not old as in age, a different style, clothes from a different time period, a long, long time ago. But the dreams are so vivid, so clear they almost seem real.” Sibyl turned to Marian. “Marian, I know you’re going to think this sounds a million kinds of crazy, but they don’t seem like dreams at all,” she leaned forward, her eyes intense but confused, “they seem like memories.”
Marian’s mouth parted in surprise.
She was a clairvoyant.
Hallelujah!
Sibyl, clearly oblivious to Marian’s elation, kept speaking.
“He makes me call him Royce in the dreams and he refers to me as Beatrice. And I get this very bad feeling that although they’re beautiful together, their story is not a happy one. I know that sounds even more stupid, considering they’re only in my mind, but I just get this sense, you know? Just like Colin and I will not end well.”
Marian closed her eyes to hide her joy, her heart skittered again and, when she opened them, she smiled reassuringly at the younger woman.
“You’re falling in love with Colin, aren’t you?” she said sagely.
“No!” Sibyl exclaimed instantly and strangely somewhat desperately.
Her forceful cry made Marian rear back.
Sibyl, being the sweet girl she was, noticed Marian’s reaction and immediately apologised. “I’m sorry Marian, but no, I’m not falling in love with Colin. I can’t,” she announced firmly.
This was not good news, nor was it what Marian expected to hear.
“Why on earth can’t you?” Marian’s voice had just the slightest edge and it, too, was desperate.
“He’s not the one. I’m supposed to…” She stopped talking, closed her eyes tight, and, when she opened them, she continued, “All my life I knew there was one perfect man out there for me. A man like Royce is to Beatrice. My match. I have a space in my heart that only this person fits into.” She bit her lip, her expression pained before she finished, “And it’s not Colin.”
Marian’s heart felt light at this news. It was all too right.
“How do you know it’s not Colin?” Marian asked, trying to appear calm.
“Trust me,” Sibyl answered, her voice sounding awful, “I know.”
Marian’s mind whirled with what to say.
This was all perfect, dreaming of the doomed lovers (without even knowing they existed!), living her life yearning for the special man that fits in her heart. It was perfect, beautiful, sublime.
Marian wished she could tell Sibyl about the legend, she itched to tell her. But she’d promised Colin. She had a tentative hold on his trust already; she certainly shouldn’t fall at the first hurdle. Marian could see in her crystal ball that things were still not quite right with the pair. Although, she could never hear the words they said, there was just something wrong.
Marian believed, though, that true love would find a way.
It did with Royce and Beatrice, even though, at their beginning, they’d had a time of it.
Just, it seemed, like Sibyl and Colin were.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” Marian invited in a soothing tone.
Sibyl shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. He’s gone for three days and I’m glad.” Marian noted she didn’t sound glad, she sounded positively gloomy. “I can’t seem to get my head around things when he’s around. He’s overpowering. He fills a room… no, the entire house, with his presence. He didn’t let me out of his sight all weekend.”