Demensions - Shangrana's Power: Part Three

     The next day seems to fly by. As promised, she reads to little Billy's class in the morning. It goes well, a tale of witches, princesses, and knights in shining armor. Her own class was reasonably well behaved. Only Mark Atkins spoiled the day when he climbed on top of the bookcase and fell off, cutting his knee. It was terrible. Hatty fainted at the sight of the blood, even though there wasn't much and they had both been taken to the Nurse. Hatty had recovered and come back into class but Mark's parents had to be called to take him to hospital to see if his leg needed stitches. After that excitement the children had been as good as gold for the rest of the day!
     Saying 'Good night' to Rose at home-time, Mira told her of her plans.
     "Oh, Pet. I hope you have a nice time. It sounds like just what you need!"
     "Thanks Rose. It should be lovely. Anyway, better go home and pack!" Smiling she leaves for home.
     By the time Paul arrives back from the office, she has their bags packed and they are ready to go. With jazz on the car radio they travel to the hotel in companionable silence. As she turns off the road into the hotel's long sweeping driveway Paul turns to her looking slightly shocked.
     "Redmond Hall? We're staying at Redmond Hall?"
     Misunderstanding his reaction, "It's okay Paul, honest. I've already paid. I took some money from my savings account. Just relax and enjoy it. Come on, let's go in."
     Jumping from the car, Mira rushes up the steps into the hotel's imposing reception area. Paul just stands by the car - thinking.
     When Mira and Paul were married many people said he married her for her money. Her parents had been will insured and as the only recipient she had ended up quite wealthy. The problem was he had married her for her money! He had managed to persuade her never to touch it as he needed it as his safety net, his assurance for his business, and now she had spent some of it. But this wasn't what had shocked him so. No, it was something else entirely.
     Miranda had finished booking in and was waiting by the lift with a bellboy, who proceeded to show them to their room.
     "Oh, isn't it wonderful?" She twirls round and round, taking in all the splendor. The room is sumptuous - red and gold soft furnishings in the bedroom, with old oak furniture. The bathroom is very tastefully done in white and sky blue with oak fittings. "Just enough time to unpack and then have a soak." Laughing, she matches actions with words.
     When she comes out of the bathroom to dress, Paul goes in and when he emerges he gets his second shock in as many days. Mira is truly beautiful. She is wearing a long, deep red evening dress, velvet and very slinky. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a riot of curls. She is stunning. He crosses the room to her side and holding her gently, bends his head to shower kisses on her neck.
     "Ah, that's nice. You had better get dressed or we'll miss dinner! I'm starving. Funny, I always seem to be hungry lately."
     Dinner is superb. The food is excellent, the wine is sparkling, and the conversation is very good. For the first time in months, Paul really listens to her and she finds herself totally overwhelmed. The stories about little Billy and Mark Atkinson, her shopping trip with Joyce and the meal in the pub. Everything she says receives avid attention. Towards the end of the meal, over coffee and liqueur, he even reaches over the table to holds her hand. All the while gazing adoringly into her eyes. It is a magical meal.
     "Shall we have a brandy in the lounge now, darling? Or should we have one ordered from room service?"
     For a moment the fact that he'd called her 'darling' amazed her so that the meaning of the words didn't register. "We can… oh!" Blushing madly she peaks up at him through her eyelashes. "Room service would be all right." He laughs and takes her hand to lead her to the lobby, and the lift to their room.
     Later, much later, Mira lies in bed trying to work it all out. For months Paul has acted as if he barely likes her. There was no doubt in her mind that he was falling out-of-love with her. But after tonight she is left feeling very confused. The trip away had been meant to bring them closer together, but this was so much more than she had hoped for. Whey they had reached the bedroom, Paul turned on one table lamp - leaving the room in semi-darkness. He then approached her and slowly kissed her, gently caressing her body. He was so considerate of her needs, undressing her slowly, exploring each newly exposed spot lovingly and tenderly. It hadn't been until they were on the bed, both naked, that he had let his passion show. Then the urgency and intensity of his need for her had taken her breath away until she had succumbed to her own passion, rising on a wave of sensation and fueling to an explosive pitch, only to gently return to earth with him holding her, whispering warm words in her ear. It had been so wonderful.
     But what does it all mean? Is he still in love with me? Maybe it is just the pressure of work that makes him seem distant? He has been just like the man I married tonight - will it last? I must still love him, even after all that has happened. Perhaps this is what we need to make it better? Oh boy. I need some rest. So sleepy, limbs feel all heavy and weak.
     Two minutes later the only sound in the room is deep, steady breathing.

     "Wake up sleepy head." Mira kisses Paul on the head and gently shakes him awake.
     Slowly rousing from his sleep he reaches for her with a satisfied smile. "And why are you so happy this morning? Hmmm?"
     "Well last night this really wonderful man made mad, passionate love to me and..." she squeals as she gets pulled into the bed. "Leave go!" More squeals. "I've got to get up. I'm going to the health club for a facial."
     Wriggling free of his grasp, she grabs her bag and coat and heads for the door, then, "Oh, must just go to the loo. I've ordered your breakfast - it should be here any ... oh! That will be it now. Get that sweetie? There is a robe on the end of the bed." She rushes into the bathroom pulling the door to behind her. She hears Paul go to the door and let the maid in with his breakfast. He tells her to put it on the edge of the bed and then...
     "Where is Miss Susan, Mr Kennedy? Is she not wanting her usual breakfast today?"
     In the bathroom Mira gasps and hurriedly turns on the sink faucet. The noise masking the rest of the conversation she stands there and stares at herself in the mirror.
     I must have been mistaken! While trying to convince herself to the opposite Mira gets a dreadful, hollow, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. How could he? No. Hang on a minute. 'How could he?' what? I don't even know if he 'did' anything yet. There must be a logical explanation; after all, he's far too busy with work.
     Checking her face in the mirror once more - and noting the tight white lips, she fixes a smile in place, takes a deep breath, and leaves the sanctuary of the bathroom.
     He is sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. He jumps and looks round as she shuts the door with a bang.
     "Sweetheart. Let me explain." The look of horror on his face explains it all. He realizes that he can't explain, and sits, quietly watching the gamut of emotions flying across her face.
     Looking at her husband, really seeing him for the first time in many months, she realizes that she no longer knows him. Who is this man who sits and begs her forgiveness with his eyes? Why isn't he explaining? Apologizing? At least trying to say something? A cold sense of detachment comes over her as she watches him calmly from across the room.
     "The maid said 'Miss Susan'. Would you care to enlighten me? Or should I just guess?"
     At least he has the sense to look ashamed!
     "Ur, em, well... It's Susan Cavendish, you know, she's a..."
     "Yes I know. She's a teacher at the school." An icy hand grips at her heart as her head admits - Oh My God, This is REAL!
     "So? Come on Paul... How long? How often? Did you always meet at this hotel? Tell me for Gods sake." A slight note of hysteria enters her voice as it raises pitch.
     "I'm so sorry, Randy..."
     "Don't you ever call me that again," she growls, then glares, waiting for the answers she needs but doesn't want to hear.
     "It started shortly after you joined the school. You remember the end of term drink we all had in the pub? Well, it started then. We didn't meet frequently and then, it just seemed to grow, faster than we wanted and into something bigger than expected. We've been together at least twice a week since then." He stops, seeing the look on her face.
     "Twice a week?" Suddenly her legs won't support her and she slumps into a chair. "But why? I thought you were happy? Did you EVER love me?" She takes a gasp for air that was almost a sob. "No, don't answer. I don't want to know. I did everything for you. I was a good wife, kept a wonderful home for you. We even had a good love life!" Sharp laugh. "At least that's what I thought. Ha, what a joke that must have been. I bet you spent many a cozy night tucked up in bed with 'Suzy' on your so-called business trips, laughing over that one. God what a fool I've been. I can't believe it's been going on for so long. Two years. My God, that's almost all of our married life! You bastard! You never loved me did you?"
     Her voice rising, she was almost shouting now, the tears were streaming down her cheeks. Paul made as if to move towards her and she instantly jumped up, hands in front of her to ward him off.
     "Don't come anywhere near me. Do you hear? I don't want you near me. Oh, I can't stand this - it hurts too much."
     With that she reaches for her handbag, car keys and coat and dashes for the door. Leaving a stunned Paul wondering just how things had gone so wrong so quickly. It was only an affair - he wasn't going to divorce her for heaven's sake. But she was gone, running down the hall, long before he could tell her.

     She had no idea how she came to be here, but was pleased she was. Her earliest childhood memories had been of this place. It was a perfectly round hill, a drumlin she'd later learned, left over from the last ice age. The hill had always fascinated her. It somehow held a certain magic in its symmetry. The lower, smooth, slopes of the hill had been a favorite picnicking place for her and her parents. They would spend many happy days there soaking up the warmth of the sun, or exploring the woods on the far side of the hill. Her mother had liked to collect raspberries in wicker baskets while her Dad had pointed out the wonderful and varied birds that flew around its peak. It was a warm and gentle place, full of memories and past happiness.
     Hours went by and she just sat, doing nothing, not looking, and certainly not thinking. Somewhere deep down inside her, she knew that if she started thinking it would hurt; unimaginably painful hurt. So she didn't. She just sat. The hours passed and passed. At one point she felt vague hunger pangs but she pushed them aside because they were a feeling and feeling were dangerous. At some point her mobile phone rang but she just reached into her bag and switched it off - then everything was okay again. Time went on and she didn't move. Clouds gathered behind the hill and the sky darkened. And she sat. Part of her took note of the darkening sky but it didn't register. She was locked, deep inside herself where the outside world couldn't reach her. Back in a time when she'd been truly happy, back with her parents, sitting on her hillside with no cares to worry her.
     Mira? Hear me Mira? Open to me, and let me help to ease the hurt. Mira?
     Something was trying to take her away from her perfect world. She was with her Mom, watching Dad sketching a kestrel, hovering overhead. She didn't want to leave. It hurt and she wouldn't let it hurt.
     Mira. Please. We need you!
     NO! Leave me alone.
     A mistake. She shouldn't have answered. Slowly she could feel the real world asserting itself. Her safe haven slipped away until...
     "...No! I want to go back. I miss them. I HATE him. I..." Crying hysterically she staggered to her feet.
     Mira. Calm down. Listen to me. Please. We need you.
     The voice in her head was stronger now. Please go away. Panicking now, she starts running. The night had closed in while she'd been sitting. Her memories had come rushing back. The scene in the hotel room, her wild flight in the car, her numb stumbling walk to her favorite spot - even the hours of silence, sitting without thinking, then the memories. All of it came back. So she ran.
     It was so dark now. There were no lights to be seen. The nearest road, where the car was abandoned, was a quiet country lane with no lights. Nothing. Just the dark, looming presence of the hill in front of her Really frightened now, Mira runs around the curve of the hill, hoping to find the road. It has to be there if she goes far enough round the hill, surely? Arms out in front of her in the darkness she half runs, half stumbles along. Suddenly she feels something grab at her sleeve. She squeals, then realizes it's just a tree branch. She's ran all the way round the hill and is in the forest on the other side. Slowing her headlong flight, she feels around herself for the trees.
     The forest isn't really big enough to be a forest. It's more the size of a wood but somehow in the dark it seems huge and 'forest' feels right somehow. It's an ancient wood. It had seen many turnings of the moon and many people have used it in years gone by. The heart of the wood is a place of power. It sits atop a confluence of lines of power that Druids and Wicca used for their various rituals long ago. It has seen many comings and goings over the eons and the passing of one woman is hardly worth its notice. Until Shangrana's people speak to her. Then it knows what to do. It slowly guides her faltering steps, nudging her ever onward, deeper into itself, towards the confluence, towards its heart.
     Mira. Come to us. We can help you and you can help us. Come be safe. Away from the pain!
     Get out of my head! Panicking and frightened she runs wildly into the woods, following the path of least resistance, never realizing that she is being herded.
     Suddenly she falls into a clearing. The stars shine brightly on the moss-covered ground. There is a faint mist lying around her feet making everything look otherworldly, as if part of a dream. Kneeling back on her heels she stares around her, eyes bright with fear and shock. In the center of the clearing there is a half overgrown stone. It really is enormous. As she approaches it, she can see where it has been partly obscured by rambling ivy and ground elder. It is about six paces a side and roughly square, the top only six inches above the surrounding earth and strangely smooth. The trees have left a margin between themselves and the stone, not even a branch overhangs the very edge of it. Curious now, she reaches down and touches it, expecting cold, hard, wet stone beneath her fingers.
     With a shock she jerks back her hand, her fingers still tingling. The stone had felt warm and slightly electric. Trying again she finds the tingling sensation quite pleasant and decides that this would be a good place to rest for a while, just until she gets her bearings.
     Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the stone, Mira relaxes and lets her thoughts drift. Yes, there it is. Her music is with her, growing steadily louder, soothing her wounded soul. Stretching her cramped muscles she turns on her side and curls up. Like a babe in the woods, she thinks as she gently drifts into a deep sleep.
     Only the trees are there to witness her departure. One moment there is a tired, bedraggled yet hauntingly beautiful woman asleep on the strange stone slab. The next - nothing, only the wood, and the stone remain. All is silent; content with the small part it has played in this story. All will be well - eventually.

     Pulling up on the side of the road, Joyce is beside herself with worry. Alf is at home minding the children and she is here, on a wild and windy night, alone in the dark, searching for her friend.
     Paul had called her at about 6 o'clock. Frantic he told her Mira had walked out on him! Over the next few minutes the whole sorry tale had come out. Joyce was at first incensed, all that time she'd been making excuses for him. Joyce felt so shamed and embarrassed, she should have stood by her friend more, given her more support. Well, hopefully it wasn't too late. All she could wish was that she could find her. So, she'd jumped in the car, with a large flashlight for company and searched all the places she could think of; she'd even been to the crematorium. No luck, no Mira.
     Then in a flash of inspiration she'd remembered Mira's hill, and sure enough here was her car, abandoned on the grass verge with no sign of her friend. Gathering her courage she left the car, turned on the flashlight, and ran towards the hill.
     It felt as if she had been searching for hours but it couldn't have been even one hour yet. The wind had eased a little and it was no longer raining, which was a blessing. There was only one place left to search - the wood. Flashlight held in front of her like some mystical talisman, she slowly walked into the trees. Joyce had no chance of tracking her friend if she had been here before her. She had no wood lore or tracking skills, in fact she had never believed in bunkum like that. The world was a very sane and recognizable place for Joyce. No religion, magic, or otherworldly influences in her life. She only believed in what she could see and everything always had a logical explanation. Until, that is, she stepped into the clearing at the heart of the wood.
     There in front of her was a large stone slab and lying in the center of it was Mira's handbag, but no Mira. Stifling back her tears, Joyce climbed onto the low platform and sank to her knees besides the bag, looking wildly around her. No matter where she shone her torch there was no Mira, only herself, the bag and a lonely, cold stone slab. Bending her head she gave in and wept for her vanished friend. Then she called the police.

Shangrana's Power: Part Three

© 2002 Christi Newby