Chapter 1
Lime Lane, Swainshurst, Wealdshire. Saturday 9 May 1998
Josie Gardiner pushed the map to one side, stood up, and walked over to the window. In the rain-streaked glass she watched a contorted image of herself slip the object from her wrist and hold it tightly in her hands. She closed her eyes and tried to wipe everything from her mind except the shape and feel of the object — not easy with the rain lashing noisily against the panes. Her brow furrowed as she concentrated.
'I want to know where you came from. I want to know who sent you to me,' she repeated over and over again like a mantra. It was no use. The sound of the rain beating against the glass made it difficult for her to focus her attention.
She opened her eyes, unclasped her hands and gazed at what she was holding. Some people are supposed to be able to do this, she thought. Just by holding something they're able to divine all sorts of information about it — where it has been and who has touched it. I wish I knew where this had come from. I'd love to know who sent it.
Josie had been given the item yesterday. It was her sixteenth birthday and she'd received the usual things that sixteen year olds like to be given — a couple of CDs, some make-up, a pair of shoes, and money from those who would never have a clue what sixteen year olds wanted for their birthday. The object which she held now had been an unexpected extra.
Mrs Gardiner had picked up a rather grubby-looking box from the dining room table and, holding it out to Josie, had said, 'This isn't from Dad and me. And it's no use asking who it's from because we don't know. It arrived a couple of years ago — addressed to Mr & Mrs Gardiner, Lime Lane, Swainshurst — and we haven't the faintest idea what it is or where it came from.'
'A couple of years ago?' Josie queried. 'But why have you waited until now to give it to me. I don't understand.'
As Josie gingerly took the box, her mother picked up and unfolded a sheet of paper which she placed on the box where Josie could read it. 'This note came with it.'
Josie peered at the paper and struggled to decipher the faded words.
'Please give this to Josie on her 16th birthday.'
There was no name — no clue as to the identity of the sender.
'Two years ago?' Josie asked again. 'Why would anyone want to send me a birthday present two years early?'
Her mother shrugged. 'I haven't the foggiest idea. Dad and I have been wondering about it ever since the parcel arrived.'
'Weren't you tempted to open it?'
'Well, I suppose we were at first.'
'I couldn't have done that. I'd have opened it straightaway. How could you have waited two years to find out what's in there?' she asked incredulously.
Mrs Gardiner laughed. 'You don't seem to be in any hurry to open it now.'
'I'll open it! I'll open it!' She hesitated. 'Dad won't mind, will he? If I open it while he's at work, I mean.'
'No, of course not. It's your present. You open it. Here you are — you'll need these,' she said, handing her daughter a pair of scissors.
Josie put the box back on the table and snipped through the string. Then she slowly lifted the lid and peered inside.
'What on earth's this?' she said.
Mrs Gardiner looked into the box. 'It looks like wool from a sheep. Maybe there's something wrapped inside it.'
Josie reached into the box and patted the fleece with her fingers. She felt something. She carefully pulled the fleece apart and then gasped as she uncovered the object. It looked like a bracelet — a gold bracelet — but quite unlike any item of jewellery that either she or her mother had ever seen before.
Josie gazed at the rain-streaked window and slowly slipped the bracelet back onto her wrist. When her father had come home he had been as surprised as the rest of the family. 'It looks like a shackle,' he said, 'A manacle. The sort of thing that was used to fasten chains to convicts and slaves. But I've no idea why anyone would want to make a golden shackle. It's obviously not a real one because that chain hanging down is much too thin and flimsy. Any self-respecting criminal could have snapped it in seconds. Also, of course, a real shackle would have been fastened with a bolt or rivet whereas yours has a clasp.'
Neither would a real shackle have been inscribed with the words:
Time will make you free as a bird
The mystery surrounding the bracelet was compounded by a discovery which Josie's father had made later. He had taken the accompanying note to the university where he worked, to see if anyone could offer an explanation for the fact that while the paper seemed to be very old, the note must have been written recently. An analysis had revealed that both the paper and the ink were over a hundred years old. The writing, however, seemed to be in a very modern style. The only conclusion that could be drawn was that someone, for reasons best known to themselves, liked to write their notes on antique paper using ink that was well past its sell-by date.
The riddle had deepened even further when Mr Gardiner had remembered to mention that the parcel had been sent from Australia. As far as he and his wife were aware, no-one in the Gardiner family had any connections with Australia.
Oh well, sighed Josie as she gazed at her rain-jumbled reflection, maybe one day I'll find out who sent it. Not bad though — solid gold. Must be worth a bit. Shame it's not magic.
She stepped back to the table where her map was spread out, and resumed her search for leys, smiling to herself as she heard a loud curse coming from the next room. Chris was not a happy bunny today.