The Wishing Well was off the track, deep in a thicket of bushes of briars and gorse. By the time they made their way to the old stone structure, their clothes and hands were badly scratched.
“This had better be worth it.” Gabriel helped her pick off the bristles from her clothes.
Something seemed to have changed between them, unless it was only inside her own head and she was – what was it Nicole had called her? One foot here, another in outer space?
Actually, her feet were firmly on the soil of the island and she could feel a definite bond, an understanding, a new trust.
“Ready?” he asked her with his usual smile.
Not trusting her voice, she nodded and waved him towards the wishing well.
The goddess statue, overgrown with moss and weeds, perched on the rim of the ancient well like a woman washing her feet in the water.
Gabriel took a couple of experimental snaps. She knew his routine by now; he always took a few photographs from different angles, studying the scene, getting to know it. Only when he had integrated himself into the surroundings would he start taking the real pictures.
“Okay, tell me about this,” he said, wading closer to the old statue.
With an effort, Pierre pulled her thoughts into order.
“She is Frig, as far as I can tell, or Fria depending on which language. But basically, she was the goddess of marriage and love.”
He brushed lichen from the stone face. Pierre could just make out the shape of a cheek and mouth as he worked.
“The wishing wells idea was more about water being sacred. Most ancient cultures believed in the magical powers associated with rivers and springs, so having both Fria and the well is a doubly powerful wishing well.”
His fingers moved in careful circles, getting gradually closer to the mouth. “So, what did people do here?” He brushed the lip with his thumb slowly, almost lovingly.
When she didn’t answer, he looked back at her. She didn’t realise she’d been standing frozen, watching him, as if she herself was a stone statue.
“Ancient peoples marked sacred pools with statues of deities,” she gabbled, almost reciting in her nervousness. “People believed that the guardians of the well had to be paid a price. They whispered the wish so only the goddess heard it.”
Gabriel placed his arms around the statue and bent down as if speaking into its ear. The action was funny, but his face was very thoughtful, and there was a faraway look in his eyes.
Then he stepped back and beckoned to her. “Can you act this out and I’ll take the pictures?”
She hesitated. “I’m not sure I want my face in the book.”
“No?” he asked, then closed the distance between them. “Hold this.” He handed her his camera.
She took it, not understanding why he was giving it to her. Until his hands went around to the back of her neck. “May I?” he asked.
Okay, she tried to say, but no sound came out, her mouth suddenly too dry.
He loosened her braided hair and combed it out with his fingers, bringing half of it over her shoulder to curtain her face. “The lens won’t see you.” He took the camera from her hands and ushered her towards the wishing well.
She shrugged to move her shoulders, to wake up her muscles. “I’m not an actress, really.”
“Don’t act, then. Think of something you actually want to wish for.”
Lord M’s health. She would wish for Lord M to recover and come back to them. That was all she would wish for.
Her skirt snagged on the thorny gorse; she had to lift it out of the way, bunched up in her hands until she got to the statue. Thank God she was wearing leggings, otherwise Gabriel would have had an eyeful.
Once at the statue, they had another problem; Pierre was much shorter than Gabriel, so the statue was too high for her to reach.
“Wait,” he said, “we need to build you something to stand on.”
“All this for a picture?”
