There was the sound of a key in the shop door below Juanita's bedroom window.
She called out, 'Come on up, Diane.'
Was the Glastonbury First meeting over already? Maybe it had been a total flop, about four people in the audience.
Sure. And maybe a UFO had come down on Wearyall Hill and Joseph of Arimathea had strolled out with his staff and the teenage Christ in tow.
'Juanita, I'm frightfully sorry.' Diane appeared, puffy-eyed and flustered, in the bedroom doorway. 'I sort of… I couldn't stand to hear any more.'
'That bad, huh?' Juanita sat up and swung her legs from the bed.
'Juanita,' Diane sank down, making the mattress howl. 'You can't imagine just how bad.'
'They couldn't do it.' Juanita walked to the window. High Street looked damp, detached and faintly hostile. 'There's no way they could get that through.'
'They got away with it at Stonehenge when all the hippies and travellers and people went to worship the sun at midsummer and started having festivals and things and causing chaos. They got a special Act of Parliament to make it into a restricted area.'
'Yes, but…'
'And now nobody can get in at all. You have to look at the stones from behind a fence or through binoculars from across the road or something.'
'But the Tor isn't an ancient monument, apart from the tower. I mean, it's an ordinary hill… Well, OK, an extraordinary hill, but you can't fence off a hill.'
'Juanita, they've got it all worked out. It begins with a complete parking ban in Wellhouse Lane. The next step would presumably be some kind of tasteful wire-mesh fence, with metal gates, and no access to anyone after dark.'
'That's impossible. Anyone wants to get in, they'll do it.'
'It worked at Stonehenge. They say it's a completely sterile place now. The great temple of the sun where nobody can go in and watch the sun rise any more or feel the rays on the stone. And now if Archer gets his way, nobody'll be able to see it set, looking out from the top of the Tor to Brent Knoll and Bridgwater Bay. There'd be security patrols at the solstices, they'd have…'
Juanita blinked. 'People supported this in there?'
'They loved it. No more hippies. No more pagan rituals. The farmers were ever so excited. There were all these muddy Mendip growls of approval. "You're one of us, zurr," this sort of thing.'
'God,' Juanita said. 'Woolly will blow a fuse. I mean, the Tor would, you know, lose all its magic, all its mysticism, if you had to buy a ticket or something.'
'Oh yes, rather, and Archer was absolutely up-front about this. The undesirables don't come to Glastonbury to see the Abbey ruins or the Tribunal building, they come for the Tor, and if the Tor's no longer accessible, Glastonbury will lose its magnetism and we'll get "decent" tourists and "decent" shops and local people will be able to walk the streets without tripping over drug addicts and if they want to go to the Tor they'll be able to go at a "civilised" time without having to tread in faeces and vomit and, oh Juanita, it's just awful, awful, awful…'
She saw that Diane's eyes were full of tears. Stains all down her cheeks Which didn't seem as plump as they used to. Was she losing weight?
'It's terribly personal for me, you see,' Diane said. 'I've loved the Tor all my life.'
'It won't happen, Diane. There'll be an outcry.'
'There was an outcry over the new road, but that's going to happen. It all depends on who's crying out…'
She stopped, fingers at her mouth. Sitting on the edge of Juanita's bed, she began to sway.
'You OK, Diane?'
'Oh gosh.'
'Diane?'
'Crying out. That explains it. It was the Tor crying out.'
'What?'
The visions. The vinegar bottle… the salt pot… the washing-up liquid. Don't you see?'
'I'm afraid not.' But Juanita was awfully afraid she actually did.
'It knew! The Tor knew! The Tor was crying out. Something bad was coming and the Tor knew, Juanita!'
Suddenly, Juanita was rather glad she hadn't taken Diane to the police station.
'It was calling out,' Diane whispered. 'To those who are close to it.'
'Diane, listen to me' Juanita sat down next to her on the bed. 'I hate what Archer and Griff are planning as much as anyone. And I'll fight it on freedom of access grounds. We can't have them putting Britain behind bars. But if you start putting two and two together and getting sixteen…'
'Juanita, I know this in my heart. It called me back.'
Juanita said gently, 'Colonel Pixhill thought it had called him back too, and he wasted the rest of his life trying to work out why and never did, just went bonkers.'
But Diane wasn't even listening. She wouldn't even look at Juanita. just gazed at the walls, at Jim's picture, anything.
'I was thinking, Why me? I'd concluded that it wasn't me at all it wanted, it was Nanny Three. Violet. Dion Fortune. I thought Ceridwen could perhaps explain it, if… you know… if they could get through to her. But now I know it is me.'
'No, Diane…'
'Because Archer's the threat. To the Tor and all the magic of Glastonbury. Avalon out. Don't you see? It wants me because I'm Archer's sister. It wants me to stop him.'
'Sure. Fine. As long as…'
'And you were right, Juanita. With The Avalonian. It was meant. You have a purpose too.'
'Well thanks. Thank you very much, Diane.'
There was a long, fraught silence, Diane staring hard at the picture on the wall. Then she said, 'That's the same picture, isn't it? The one you've had for ages.'
Diane had gone pale. She looked close to fainting. It was ridiculous. She shouldn't go dashing about, working herself into a state. People carrying too much weight around, there was always a danger.
'I'll make some tea,' Juanita said.
'No.' Diane didn't move. 'Why's it gone dark? 'The sun-line in the picture. Why's it gone dark, Juanita?'
'I'll ring him again.' Trying to sound calm, but her too-thin, nervous fingers prodding at the wrong numbers. She held the phone up to the light, began again.
And the phone rang and rang and the old bastard didn't answer.
Juanita pulled feverishly at her cigarette. There was a time when she didn't actually need to smoke. Didn't need the wine. Never over-reacted.
The breeze tossed some rain at the window like a handful of pebbles.
'OK. How did you mean?' Her voice limp. 'How did you mean it had darkened?'
Diane swallowed. 'That red fine. Like a red-hot wire. It had gone black. It was a black line. It was like a thin cut bleeding… black. All over the painting.'
'Why can't I see it?'
'I can't see it now. These things don't last.'
Juanita started to shake her head, wrapped her arms around herself, began to pace the room, staring down and rocking.
'Diane, you'd… OK, listen, you'd come in off the street, into a darkened shop, darkened hallway, and then you burst into a lighted room…'
'Juanita, sometimes you've got to trust me.'
Juanita blinked. 'Look, OK, 'I'll go over to Jim's. Check him out. You stay here. Stay by the phone, just in case.'
'You're not going on your own.'
'Well, you're not coming.'
'Juanita, I can be frightfully stubborn. You are not going on your own. If I have to get the van going and follow you.'
Juanita told her why it was impossible. She told her that her friends, the Pilgrims, were back. Not all of them. Maybe half a dozen. But back. They'd be spread all over the hill.'
'Oh.' Diane became very still. 'In that case, there're a few things I need to ask them. About Headlice.'
Juanita's calves ached: varicose veins, was it, now?
Your time is close, woman. It'll happen sooner than you dread.
Diane said, 'I'll get the van.'
'No. OK. We'll take the Volvo.' Juanita was sweating. Her posh, grey jacket felt like rags.