Patrick George Callaghan

Episode 46… The Gwyllt (Part One)

A narrow path led off to her right, upward and through the thick undergrowth and toward the headland plateau above her. It was a steady and breathless climb and at one point she could just make out the top of some house or building structure. Then suddenly, she had reached the plateau. Her path had opened to a narrow area of what looked like old onyx pillars with ivy covered marble seating and beyond this she saw the house for the first time. It was derelict and crumbling and had not seen use for many years, perhaps the building she had glimpsed earlier. She walked on. Her footsteps softened within the stillness of the place. Then strange thoughts began to enter her mind. At first she took them to be induced by this odd setting she now found herself. A woman’s gentle voice found favour in her head… “By Gwyllt Pond…A lovers bond…Lay Rebecca Haig’s remains” She stood in front of the ruins gazing into its hopelessness. One time long ago a profound turret had danced its way to the heavens, crafted by unseen hands and deliberate tools. Now grasping Ivy clung to its worn and used structure with a tooth decaying relish.

“I listen to your heartbeat…Esme…Yes I know you” The voice was sweet to her thoughts.

Esme stepped amid the ruins of the once manor house. For that was clearly what it had been. The voice in her head spoke again. “Love awaits me when I arise”

Esme had no fear of the voice in her head. She asked: ‘Are you Rebecca?’

“Yes, I am Rebecca… And this is our home Esme!” .

Episode 45… A Sighting

It was that time of the morning when the trivia of the day before was forgotten and the ocean would open itself to the lonely walker. Around the Bay large curios gulls swooped over its soft sands and called out to a gentler Atlantic. She had not noticed him before and now her eyes were fixed on a single figure walking towards her from the far side of the Bay. She thought it odd because Margarita had said that she would not meet anyone. The person seemed to be coming from the direction of the outcropping rocks near where the sea was crashing into the headland. Perhaps there was a path around the head, she told herself.

A burst of sunlight ran into her eyes for several moments and she cupped a hand to her forehead. When the watery eyes began to clear. The figure had gone. Esme took a few steps forward, straining for another glimpse of the stranger. There was none. She thought the figure could have been a man, perhaps a young man. His stride was purposeful and energetic!

Somehow the thought of Toby Westlake ran in her mind. It couldn’t have been Tobias. He was in London looking after Charles interests, again she told this to herself. But the thought still nagged her. Had the event on Hinckley Common distorted her reasoning and she was seeing familiar faces in her sub-conscious? Was she going out of her mind?

Episode 44… Reason

He looked at Charles with open eye. ‘Beats your town living Charlie!’ he remarked.

It was only the second time Esme had ever heard anyone call Charles: Charlie. In her mind he was a Charles not a Charlie. The surprise on her face was self evident.

Charles picked up on it. ‘It’s ok… Bill’s allowed… After all, he’s the finest painter I know… Apart from Picasso!’

‘You know Picasso!’ Bill burst forward with total percussion. ‘You’ve never said!’

Esme suddenly went into a fit of laughter at the expression on Charles face, then Bill fell in with it and laughed loudly showing his great white teeth once more.

After breakfast Bill insisted he wanted to show Charlie his latest work and other works yet to be given a public airing. ‘Tell me what you think in all honesty.’ he asked.

Esme said she would like to take a long walk along the shore line and enjoy the fresh sea breeze. ‘I want to blow London right out of my mind.’ she had said to Margarita, after they had finished the washing up. ‘Do you mind if I go alone. I want to put my life and thoughts into some sort of perspective. It’s so different and peaceful here.’

Margarita said she didn’t mind and that she had a few things to busy herself with. ‘Take a good long walk around the head and back. Bill loves to do that. You won’t meet a soul, only the Gulls.’

Episode 43… Good Company

There was much small talk over supper and Esme seemed to take to Bill and Margarita, odd couple as they appeared, with some delight. There was even agreement that she would pose for the painter sometime during their stay. By way of return Charles said he would take pictures of Margarita one morning in a walk along the shore line.

It was the Herring Gulls that first woke Charles and Esme the following morning. In the bric-a-brac of the early morning light they seemed to swoop and call in ever increasing numbers. It was cold in their little room and even cuddling together during the night had not kept them warm.

‘I said it would be freezing!’ Esme muffled her head firmly under the covers.

‘Don’t worry.’ he replied. ‘You’ll be ok once your up and dressed, put on some warm clothes. I guess breakfast can’t be far away.’ He could detect the enticing smell of bacon frying. He pulled the covers back and sat on the edge of the bed.

‘What time is it?’ came her muffled voice. ‘No… Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.’

‘Time you were up.’ he grinned, and began to dress.

Breakfast was even more splendid than their supper. Fresh baked bread rolls, thickly sliced fried bacon, large silver-grey goose eggs and Margarita’s own special potato scones, all supplied with heaps of tea. Bill had even picked mushroom at first light stating that the hillside “Is my back garden if I care to climb!”

Episode 42… Arrival

He was instantly likeable, as with so many of Charles odd arty friends and Charles was not surprised at his friend’s enthusiasm for Esme, his reputation as a painter was widely recognized. The reference to their “Commotion” on arrival was due to Bill Porrit’s acute hearing. It was the very reason the Porrit’s had left London in order that Bill could paint in quiet solitude.

‘Come on inside both of you. We’ve got supper on the go.’ However, just before they could do so, a miniature woman with bright red eyes and a Humming Bird head stepped into the light of the doorway.

‘Margarita!’ Chanted Charles almost at once. ‘It’s lovely to see you again.’ His eyes danced over her. She was diminutively beautiful and unashamedly proud of her looks. He had seen many nude paintings of her over the years and had long admired her perception and gallantry in showing off her body against much public narrow-mindedness.

‘Charles my darling! and you have brought your lovely friend. She is all you said she was… And more!’ Margarita’s voice match her perfectly small and rounded face. Somehow, there was a slight Mediterranean touch to her decorousness… As if she had lived before in some warm and sunny climate.

The meal was sumptuous after the long trip from London. Bacon sizzled in blue smoke and a giant pot of tea warmed gently from the top of a fireplace oven. Margarita fussed over Esme and Charles and brought out a huge Welsh Cheese from her stone larder and fresh baked bread hot from the oven to be thickly spread with creamy Welsh butter.