That Ella was in charge was unquestionable. The other three had by now surrendered themselves to her. They all knew why they were here, but they were waiting for Ella to summon them to order. She seemed to have the power to draw something out of them, to distil something from the brooding silence. When Ella did speak, the others were steeled to listen.
“No one’s in any mood for sleeping; and we all know why that is. In any event I’m wide awake, and the dawn will be up in an hour or two. Better save it for tomorrow night, when we will need to sleep. We have to take that walk together on dreamside.” Ella paused for effect, and released a deep sigh.
“Tomorrow,” she continued, “or rather when it gets light, we’ll go and take a look at the lake. We’ll just spend the day together, however much effort that takes. It’s what Burns showed us. It worked before and it will work for us again. Tomorrow night we sleep, and we do it. Agreed?” Ella looked from person to person but all eyes were averted. “There can’t be any stragglers.”
“Ella,” said Brad self-consciously, making a waving sign at his mouth.
“Sure,” said Ella. “Lee, I hope you didn’t forget Brad’s medicine?”
“What?”
“Did you bring anything for him?”
“Oh sure,” said Lee, glad to do something useful. He went out and returned with a half-empty bottle of whiskey. “Don’t scowl at it; there’s more in the car.”
“Don’t give him ideas,” said Ella, but not before Brad had hooked back a good belt of Scotch.
Before the candles had burned down, the first grey light of the day leaked into the room. The dawn chorus was in song before they realized it, followed by a brighter light. Honora went round snuffing out candles, slowly, like a church acolyte. Ella watched her and was afraid for her. She had spent most of the night in complete silence, haunting everyone else with her inward stare. Now she stood poised over the last candle, thumb and forefinger moistened to nip out the flickering light, but arrested in the motion. She gazed steadily into the flame without blinking. It was as if her soul was a fine thread being unwound from a thick spool and pulled in toward the heart of the flame.
“Look at her,” Ella whispered to Lee, “something is taking her, a little at a time.”
“What is it?”
Ella shook her head. “Stop her.”
Lee moved up behind Honora, gently reaching over her shoulder to nip out the candle flame. She seemed to wake up.
“Have I been sleeping?” she asked.
Lee looked over at Ella, but they said nothing. Then Ella pulled back the curtains, looked up at the sky and pronounced that it was going to be a fine day. Brad snorted.
“We’ll go for a walk,” said Ella. “Take a look at the lake.”
’I’ll stay here,” said Brad.
“No. We need your cheerful company.”
The sun came up fast, blood-red. Just as quickly it mellowed to a pallid disk. They were a strange troupe, filing down the hill of the country lane without speaking. Honora walked on a few yards in front. Brad straggled behind. Ella and Lee wanted to grip hands but were for some reason impelled against it. It was no short distance to the lake, and in the chill, damp air of the early morning they completed the hike in silence.
When they got there, the lake was dead.
Or if not completely dead, it was locked in a state of suspended, strangled ugliness. The breath of spring, which abounded in everything else, had passed it by. A yellow, oily foam like detergent had collected in raked scum patterns on the surface of the water. It clung to dead branches and Coke cans and other debris at the lake’s edge. The towering oak had failed to come into leaf and the rough bark was stripping itself on the side leaning over the water. The willow that had once dipped into the lake would never recover; it had withered into dry twigs and run the colour of rust. The colonies of birds and insects that should have regenerated had either died with the lake or had migrated, never to return.
“Where did all this pollution come from?” said Brad. He sounded as if he took it personally.
Ella found some kind of an answer pinned to a tree. It was a notice of a public meeting, placed there by a Conservationist group.
If you are disturbed by the pollution of this and other areas of local beauty by the illegal dumping of chemical wastes, please attend the public inquiry to be held in Penmarthern Town Hall. Representatives of the Lytex chemicals company will be in attendance.
The notice was already out of date: the meeting had gone by two days earlier.
“Lytex?” said Lee, puzzling over the notice. “Sounds familiar.”
“Forget it,” said Brad.
Honora stood at the very edge of the lake. “It’s poisoned,” she said, gazing into its depths. Then her face set in that same expression Ella had identified earlier. She swayed slightly on the bank above the polluted water, as if played on some invisible cord, with some still, small part of herself unwinding into the lake. Ella saw it again. Honora looked pale, beautiful and unearthly, but anaemic, as if her life-blood was leaking away. This time it was Brad who made a move to save her, but Ella stopped him with a gesture. Then she stepped forward, put an arm around the other woman and turned her away from the water.
“I’m losing myself,” said Honora.
“It’s all right. I’ll watch over you.”
Lee fingered the diseased bark of the tall oak. Ella peered from the bank as the iridescent scales of a detergent slick writhed slowly on the water. Even amid the corruption and pollution she could see the shining scales of a dragon, or a winged serpent, or a beautiful, silver-armoured company with banners fluttering below the surface of the water. It was difficult to look away. “Let’s get out of here,” she said.
She led them from the lake over to the woods, where afternoons had been spent strolling in Burns’s company, when they were wide eyed and receptive to his sharp definitions of life and to his quiet revelations. Even in waking time on those afternoons, Burns had made the woods a place of jewelled cobwebs, a place inhabited by satyrs and dryads. Now they were wandering without purpose through the mouldering scrub of a thin damp copse.
Ella was circumspect as they walked; constantly glancing around her as though she expected to discover something or to encounter someone. If the others noticed, they made no comment.
They took the path back to the house, Honora still in advance and decisively separated from Brad by the other two. Occasionally they changed positions. Ella was anxious about leaving Honora alone with her thoughts, where she was like a weak swimmer at risk from strong currents. She sent Lee up to talk with Honora; Ella dropped back to talk with Brad; then Lee talked to Brad and Ella with Honora; but Honora and Brad never talked. And all of this was conducted against the rumbling, prophetic thunder of what the night held. On this night, they must sleep and dream.
Brad hung his cropped head, eyes fixed on the narrow path before him as Ella walked at his side. “Why are we doing this?”
“To make a connection,” said Ella, glancing hopefully about her.
“I’ve made a connection. Can I be excused now?”
Ella took his arm. She was softening to his helplessness.
“Do you really not remember, Ella?”
“Remember what?”
“That time. Of dreaming. Just the once.”
“Don’t start that again.”
“It’s important to me.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“There’s a reason why,” he said softly, even shyly. “You say that it didn’t happen—”
“Which it didn’t.”