then that her tears burst through the dam. Shaking with sobs she clung to his body and wept as though her heart would break.
When she rose at last to her feet she found the king and Brigit at her side. Lugaid was staring down at his son, weeping openly. Behind him men and women were flocking out of their houses as the news spread. They parted to let Carta through as she turned away, her face white and strained. She headed not towards the round house behind her but towards the shrine where she had made her offerings to her goddess.
‘I gave you rich gifts. I begged you to take care of him!’ Her voice rose to an anguished shriek of misery as she stood before the wooden statue in a darkness lit only by dim lamps fed by sweet oil. ‘You promised. You promised you would watch over me and mine. You came to me and you assured me. Why did you let him die? Why?’
Her hand went to her stomach suddenly and she gave a sharp cry of pain. ‘My baby!’ She fell to her knees on the stones. ‘Sweet Lady, forgive me. Help me!’
No one had followed her. They had held back in respect. As blood began to soak into her skirt, Carta screamed in her rage and fear and desolation, alone but for the woman who watched, helpless, two thousand years away.
She didn’t realise that she had picked up the phone. As she put it to her ear her eyes were fixed on the scene in the smoky shrine, her ears full of Carta’s screams.
‘Viv? It’s Steve. Viv, are you there? Viv, is something wrong?’ The voice in the receiver echoed into the past unheard.
Wrong? Of course something was wrong. Everything was wrong. Suddenly she was crying. Heart-rending sobs she couldn’t hold back.
‘Viv, it’s Steve. Wait there. I’m coming over!’
Then the doorbell was ringing. The scene in the temple drew back into the shadows.
‘Viv, let me in!’ She could hear a voice calling; hear frantic banging on the door.
Wearily she dragged herself to her feet.
‘Steve.’ She saw him staring at her as she pulled the door open and realised after a second how she must look. She was pale and exhausted. Her eye make-up had run, leaving streaks of coppery green on her cheeks. Her hair was on end and her clothes crumpled.
‘Are you all right? Viv, what’s wrong!’ He seized her hands and pulled her to him protectively. He was scanning the living room apprehensively. ‘Is there someone here?’
‘No. Yes.’ Oh God! She shouldn’t have opened the door. Gently she pushed him away, embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry, Steve. There wasn’t any need for you to come.’
‘Of course I had to come. You’re upset. You sounded so frightened.’ He stepped past her, still looking round. ‘What’s happened? Is it Hugh?’
‘Hugh?’ She stared at him. ‘No, it’s not Hugh.’ The tears were coming back. She was disorientated and confused. Shaking her head she pointed helplessly to the flickering computer monitor on the desk.
He followed the gesture, puzzled. ‘What is it? Is there something wrong with the computer?’
‘Look at it.’
He frowned. ‘All I can see is text.’
‘Read it.’ She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as Steve sat down at the desk but before he could start reading she had begun to talk, unable to stop herself, words falling over one another in her hurry to get the story out.
‘She grabbed me by the throat!’ Her hands were shaking. ‘As soon as I came in she was in my head. It’s automatic writing, Steve. Oh God, what am I going to do!’ She sat down abruptly, rubbing her palms up and down her face.
Steve was silent; after glancing anxiously at her he turned back to the screen and was at once engrossed in the text unrolling before his eyes. ‘You were certainly writing this very fast,’ he commented cautiously. He glanced across at her again, puzzled. ‘It’s breathless.’ The text was littered with little red squiggly lines denoting spelling errors.
He lapsed into silence again, reading intently while Viv, too restless to sit still, got to her feet and paced up and down the floor behind him. When he finished at last he turned away from the computer.
‘That’s incredible prose. So vivid.’ He hesitated. ‘You’re writing a novel, yes?’ He studied her face.
‘No!’ She came to a standstill behind him. ‘It’s not a novel, Steve. It’s real!’
‘What do you mean, real?’
‘It’s true!’ Suddenly she was sobbing.
He frowned. ‘It’s weird and frightening.’
‘And convincing.’
‘It certainly reads convincingly.’ He sounded dubious. ‘But it is a novel you’re writing. It must be.’
‘No! No! I told you, it’s true! You’ve got to believe it. I didn’t make it up.’
He said nothing for a moment. ‘I don’t understand. I don’t know what to think. How can it be real?’ He scanned her face. ‘Look, Viv. You must calm down. Tell me exactly what happened.’ He was anxious.
‘She is there. In my head. I can’t stop her! I don’t want to stop her!’
‘You can’t stop who?’ Steve stood up and put his arms around her. She seemed so vulnerable. So unlike herself.
‘Cartimandua. I told you.’
For a moment he was speechless. ‘You don’t mean you think she is dictating all this?’
‘I just said so, didn’t I!’ She was trying to control her trembling. ‘It’s overwhelming. I can’t fight it. She’s there. All the time. Just out of sight. Not out of sight. Tasha saw her. And Pete.’ She choked back a sob.
‘Who are Tasha and Pete?’ Steve was incredulous.
‘Friends. They saw her. Oh God, what am I going to do?’
‘You must calm down.’
‘You mustn’t tell anyone about this, Steve. Promise. I shouldn’t have told you. Nobody must know. Especially not Hugh –’
‘I won’t tell a soul.’ He stared at the screen again. ‘It can’t be real, Viv.’
‘It is.’ Her mouth was dry, her lips sore where she had chewed them. She moved away from him and sat down on the sofa. ‘She’s haunting me, Steve.’
He went and sat down beside her on the sofa. Taking the tissue out of her hand, he leaned forward and dabbed at her cheeks then hesitantly he put an arm around her shoulder again. They sat for a while, unmoving.
‘Why don’t I go and make some coffee,’ he said at last. ‘I know where everything is.’
When he came back she was still sitting where he had left her but she seemed calmer. ‘Steve, I’m sorry.’ She looked up at him wanly. ‘I shouldn’t have got you involved in all this. You rang at just the wrong moment.’
‘I’m glad I did.’ He put a mug into her hands. ‘Look, you know this is not real, Viv. I don’t have to tell you that. It can’t be. You’re not being haunted. It must be some kind of stream of consciousness creative thing, coming from deep inside you.’
She shook her head. God, he sounded just like Cathy. Rationalising. Always rationalising. Making it sound normal.
‘Viv, it’s –’ He started, then stopped, unable to find the words. ‘It’s amazing, but it’s not true.’
‘It is!’ She was anguished.
He sighed. ‘Whatever it is, you have to stop.’
‘I can’t stop!’ It was a whisper.
There was a long silence as they both contemplated the screen in the corner of the room. With a sigh, Viv climbed to her feet and went over