Book One Charlotte Redhead Chapter 4

Instead of the ship she found the Barrow Farm beeches. They stood in a thick ring round a clearing of grey grass and grey light. John was standing there with a woman. She turned and showed her sharp face, the colour of white clay, her long evil nose, her eyes tilted corner and the thin tail of her mouth, writhing. That was Miss Lister who had been in Gibson's office. She had John now.

Forms without faces, shrouded white women, larvae slipped from the black grooves of the beech trunks; they made a ring round him with their bodies, drew it in tighter and tighter. The grey light beat like a pulse with the mounting horror.

She cried out his name, and her voice sounded tragic and immense; sharp like a blade of lightning screaming up to the top of the sky. A black iron curtain crashed down before her and cut off the dream.

Gwinnie looked up over the crook of her knee from the boot she was lacing.

"You made no end of a row in your sleep, Sharlie."

* * * * *

 She had dreamed about him again, the next night. He was walking with her on the road from the town to the Farm. By the lime kiln at the turn he disappeared. He had never been there, really.

She had gone out to look for him. The road kept on curling round like a snake, bringing her back and back to the white gate of the Farm.