Knot of Isis

Chrid McGordon

Description

Modern-day novel, Victorian mystery, 'The Knot of Isis' is both.The riddle of an old family book sets off an unexpected series of events for Martin Farrant, a young man on a summer visit to Sweden. There he meets a lovely girl, but will romance work out for him? Meanwhile, as one circumstance leads to another, he gains access to the journal of his Victorian ancestor, Conroy Farrant, the 'black sheep of the family', and learns of his involvement with the mysterious Elvina Hartwood. Why does she seek the ancient amulet? What is the secret of the 'Knot of Isis'?

Informations

• Publié par: eBookPartnership.com
• Date de parution: 07 novembre 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781783015443
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 3 Mo

Extrait

2014 Chrid McGordon
Chrid McGordon has asserted his rights in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
www.eBookPartnership.com
Published by eBookPartnership.com
First published in eBook format in 2014
ISBN: 978-1-78301-544-3
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the Publisher.
All names, characters, places, organisations, businesses and events are either the product of the author s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Contents
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Elvina s Story
Part One
Time: Late spring, 2005
Place: A university, somewhere in England
Martin Farrant, perched high above the college campus, glanced down for a moment into the darkness that yawned between him and the little stone parapet that ran along the edge of the next rooftop. Should he try it or not? This wasn t the first time he d been here - on the short end of a roof on the far side of a chimney. Twice before he d arrived at this point, and twice before he d turned back. It ought to be easy. The next roof was a flat one and all he needed to do was make a fairly small jump, using the parapet as a stepping stone. It would only take a couple of seconds. But how could he be sure that the parapet was stable? It might be crumbling from age, or not firmly cemented at its base. And then
Martin settled himself into a seated position, straddling the roof with his back against the chimney. This was the latest of a dozen nights he d been out exploring the roofscape. It had started with the discovery of a hatch in the attic of his student hall. He d found a way of getting up to it and out on to the roof. From there he d moved to the next roof, and then another, and so it had progressed. This was so much more exhilarating (perhaps because somehow forbidden) than training in the regulated environment of the college climbing wall. But Martin, who was not incautious in his boldness, had set certain rules for himself from the start. Not to take stupid risks, for example, and not to venture out if he d been drinking.
In the beginning he d not had any particular goal but as time went by he d formed an ambition to make his way around the whole area - the entire matrix of buildings, with all its quadrangles, courtyards and alleys. And now tonight with only a few days left of the college year, the final unexplored rooftop lay just beyond his reach on the other side of this chasm. If the weather were to turn wet he d have to abandon his scheme; rain made the roof tiles slippery and treacherous. The best nights were clear and dry like this one.
He looked up at the sky. There were a lot of stars tonight. Funny about stars; how they made you feel both cosy and awe-inspired at the same time. He wished he could name more of them. He d been looking in a book at the constellations but it was difficult to make them out when you saw them in reality. He knew the saucepan, and how it pointed toward the pole star and the one opposite that was shaped like a w - Cassiopeia. Yes, and the row of three stars that made the belt of Orion, the giant with the little dog running at his heel.
Martin s eyes returned to the gap in front of him and the roof opposite. There was a small brick building in the middle of that roof. There was sure to be a door on the other side of it. Not far from him, on the right, he could see the curves of the top of a metal ladder. A fire escape - that was good. He rubbed his calves and thighs and flexed his limbs. Then he got up, moved carefully to the end of the roof and took a stance, one foot to the fore.
This is my lucky time, he thought, took three deep breaths and on the third one, bent his knee and jumped - clear over the parapet, landing on his right heel and rolling over. He lay for a moment, his heart pumping, but a smile coming to his face. He d done it. He d made the last rooftop. He got up and walked round to the other side of the little building. Sure enough there was a door, but it was firmly locked. He went to the far end of the roof and, keeping a step or two back, so as not to be seen, looked over the parapet. Below him was a street and beyond that a large open square with grass and trees and a little playground. He d come to the end of his area and he could get no further.
It was a fitting end to the year, his second at the college and it gave him a bigger sense of achievement than the more or less adequate progress he d made in his history course. What else had he been doing? Apart from a bit of jogging now and then and some climbing, he hadn t done much sport. Certainly none of the team sports that they always tried to rope you into. Of course, you met a lot of new faces at college, and he had friends but he didn t feel the need to hang out with them all the time and often preferred, like tonight, to be by himself. He was slim, a little over middle height, with curly chestnut hair and quite wide-set dark blue eyes and at times he thought he wasn t unattractive to girls but he had a romantic streak in him that tended to make him shy and susceptible to crushes and he wondered now and then if he wasn t waiting for some great romance to happen to him. It hadn t happened yet. This didn t mean he hadn t had experiences with girls. Since being at college he d had a few encounters but these had seemed graceless or silly or sordid even and the sex, such as it was, had hardly been worth the ensuing awkwardness. There d also been a couple of longer liaisons from which he d felt compelled to extricate himself after a week or two due to his fear (whether justified or imagined) that something resembling a going-steady type of set-up was in process of establishing itself. Thinking about it, he d never ended up with any girl who he d been really really attracted to and the ones he d had crushes on had been - because he hadn t dared to approach them - simply unattainable. His most recent crush had blown over a while ago (do crushes ever really blow over?) so at the moment there was no one in particular that occupied his thoughts or his desires.
Still, who knew what the future might bring? The summer vacation was just around the corner and this year, for the first time in his young life, Martin had some extra money in the bank. Not from his parents - they weren t rich - but from an unexpected source. The thing was, a great-uncle on his mother s side had passed away. Martin had never known him; he d lived in Canada; but it turned out that he d been - rather unbeknownst to his relations in England - sitting on quite a pile and Martin had been one of his beneficiaries. This meant that he had the means to take a holiday this summer. Not just being back at his parents house in Leicester (which, OK, he usually had to himself as they were often away on work-related expeditions) but a real holiday, a trip to Cornwall, maybe, or why not abroad? He might meet a pretty but quirky French girl in St M lo and they would fall in love and have a wonderful summer hanging out on the beach and going to caf s and she would speak only a few (though adorably inflected) words of English and he d work hard on his French and become fluent enough to hold his own when they sat with her friends around a table in the garden and discussed life and love like in an Eric Rohmer movie.
Oh well He looked at his watch. It was nearly two o clock. He turned and walked to the other end of the building but when he reached the top of the ladder he got a shock. His fire escape was nothing more than a few rungs leading down to a trapdoor on the small flat roof of a stairwell that jutted out from the main bulk of the building. He climbed down and pulled and tugged on the handle of the trapdoor but it must ve been bolted for it wouldn t budge.
How the hell was he gonna get down? He went back to the place where he d leaped over and had a look at that. There was no way he was gonna try jumping upwards to catch hold of the end of that tiled roof. If only he d had a rope with him. But one of his self-imposed rules had been to do everything without special equipment.
He walked around the whole rooftop again. There were no drainpipes, no safe routes down. The street below was deserted. If only he d had a mobile with him, but Martin wasn t fond of mobiles and often didn t carry his. What was he gonna do? Sit up here till morning?
What kind of building was this anyway? Wasn t it a hall of residence? Again he went around the rooftop, leaning over to see if he could see any signs of life in the top rooms but all was dark and quiet. He checked for open windows and at last, just near to the ladder, he saw that one was wide open. Thank God there was someone who liked fresh air! Would it be possible to lower himself down from the parapet and get in? But what was he thinking? The window was a modern one that swivelled horizontally. You could only get into such a window from below. Perhaps if he could get the attention of the person inside Martin climbed down the ladder to the little roof and sat down with his legs dangling over the edge. Then he began calling softly: Hello!
Nothing.
Hello!
Still nothing.
He called a bit louder. There was no response. Then he began calling quite loudly: Hello! Are you awake! Hello! Wake up!
At that moment he noticed a flicker of movement behind the window to the left