Into the Grey

David nodded and shook his head in response to all of this, and when he started to dig through his wallet for money for the room, Mrs. Williams told him he could pay her in the morning. Thanking her, he went out the door and up the stairs to his room. He turned up the heater and changed into warm sleeping clothes, feeling somewhat numb. He dropped his worn clothes in the center of the floor, suddenly too tired to put them away. He reached out to flick off the lights, and the room fell into complete darkness. He turned for his bed, and stopped in midstep. There, at his second floor window, was the face of the woman in white, staring at him with those dark eyes. With a stifled shout he slapped the lights back on and crossed to the window, taking the last few steps slowly. The face was gone, replaced by pitch black; even with the room's light reflecting in the window he could see it wasn't there. He drew tight the curtains at the window and did the same for the other windows in the room. Then, his eyes still searching for signs of the face at the cracks of black around the edge of the curtains, he fell into bed. He slept with the lights on.

David woke up late the next morning. He might not have woken up for morning at all if Mr. Williams had not knocked at his door around nine-thirty. He ate breakfast downstairs again, paid for his room, and asked if he could take the room for another night; Mrs. Williams said, "Certainly, love."

The fog from the last night had remained through to the morning, and it was cold enough for there to be a light frost on the ground. David took a bus down to the end of the Gower Peninsula, to Rhossili. He took the steps down the cliffs and walked along the beach, staring out at the sea. Grey met grey with a fading grey spanning the distance between. Rhossili was supposed to be one of the most beautiful spots in the whole beautiful Gower -- postcards attested to this -- but it felt dead today. Even the green grass crowning the islets of Worm's Head looked black and dreary. There were no birds. Sometimes he would see spots of white on the water, but it was only the wavecaps. Eventually he turned around and went back the way he had come.

By the time he'd climbed up the steps from the beach back to the town, David had decided to skip lunch and go back to the museum. It was not an impossible walk to Llanmadoc from Rhossili if he hurried it, but it was past one already and he was not sure how late the museum would be open. The bus was not by any means direct, but it was still faster than walking.

He went through the iron gate, and paused to wipe his feet before going through the large white door into the museum. The curator was sitting on the same stool reading the same book. She looked up and smiled at David before she recognized him. "You were here yesterday, weren't you, and bought a book?" She was friendly, and evidently surprised to see a return visitor. When David nodded, she asked, "Did you know about our two-day pass? It is good for any of the Cadw historical monuments, and is less than the cost of two tickets."

David shook his head. "No, I didn't. I had not thought I'd come back until just a few hours ago, but thank you." The woman smiled and sold him his ticket.

David skipped past what he'd seen the day before, especially the bedrooms, and took the rest of the tour through the museum. His mind was not on it, though, and after standing in the Observatory, watching the grey out the large windows, he went back to the bedrooms.

He did not know the time when the curator came through looking for him. He was staring at the pictures of Jack and Katherine Davies again. She stopped in the door. "The museum will be closing in a quarter hour, sir."

David turned to look at her, then nodded. "This picture -- do you notice a resemblance? With me, I mean."

She looked past him to the large portrait of Jack. She tapped a finger against her lip, and looked between the picture and David. "Yes, I think I do. It is quite strong, actually, except for the chin, though I would not have noticed but for you asking. Are you related to Lord Davies?"

David shrugged. "I don't know for sure. I don't know of any Davieses in my lines, but there could be."

"What is your name, then?" she asked.

"Jones."

"Yes, there could be. Jones and Davies both are good Welsh names. You might consider looking into it." She smiled. "I can sell you a two-day pass for minus the price of your ticket, if you'd like to come back tomorrow."

He shook his head but smiled. "No, but thank you though. I'll be right along."

She left him, and a few minutes later he followed. She said goodnight to him and locked the door when he left. It was dark already, and he didn't have his flashlight with him. The fog filled the spaces between houses and trees and road, making it difficult to see where to go, but in a town this small it was not difficult to remember where the bus stop was. There was a bench, which he sat on. After about fifteen minutes passed, a bus came along, but it was the wrong line and David waved it on. Another fifteen minutes passed, and then it was half an hour. He realized he must have just missed the last bus, since they came every hour. Rather than continue to wait, he decided to walk back to the museum. Even if he missed the bus again, there should be three more, and he could walk to the inn from here if it came to it.

He made his way in the fog, back to the large house, around the iron fence to the back, where it joined the old castle. The ground sloped down steeply where the house stopped and the castle started, so he had to walk slowly so as not to slip. He knew the house would be locked up tight, especially with the value of the furnishings inside, but since the castle had never been completely restored, openings in the walls still remained. He had not considered the slope into the equation before then, though, so he stood at the bottom of the castle for a few moments looking at those large cracks some twenty feet above him. Finally he set hand and foot to the rocks below the broken wall and scrambled up to and through a crack. A bright light illuminating the small courtyard blinded him momentarily, but he slipped behind a wall and let them re-adjust to the dark. He crossed the walkway to the tower and stepped inside the doorway. There was not enough light in the tower even to make out the first stair, but he felt with his feet and leaned against the wall, and slowly made his way around and around and up to the top step and the Observatory.

The fog was low, apparently, or the tower high enough to receive some moonlight; there was enough light, in any case, to see the pale outline of the window seat. He crossed to it and sat down, looking out the window. In the darkness grey blanketed grey, and a silver-blue glow frosted its edges. The tips of a few evergreen trees below the tower dully reflected the yellow courtyard light.

He woke up when the light in the courtyard was turned off; or at least he could not see the yellow against the trees anymore.

He woke up again when the fog had cleared considerably, enough for him to see the black waters of high tide holding at the edge of the marsh a mile off. There were a few dim stars, and the moonlight showed the outlines of the trees. He shifted on the cushion and rubbed his neck to loosen it. His eyes began to blink slowly, heavily, but he forced them open. They resisted. He placed his hands on the window; it was freezing, but it did nothing to wake him up. He looked out over the marsh again. There, on the edge of the waters, where grey ghosted along black, a white shape moved softly. His breath fogged the window and he wiped it off, but the white was still there. It was still now, and seemed almost to be looking back up at the tower. David watched it, and then it was gone. He searched to the left and right, along the edge of the river and between the trees, but there was no trace of it.

He rose, and turned for the stairs. There, at their head, was the woman in white. She stood there, staring at him with those depthless black eyes, and he stared at her. She blocked the exit. Her cold and David's warmth swirled through the room, coalescing and eddying, sending chills through his chest. She took a step closer. "Jack." Her voice was a broken whisper. "I ...I thought I saw you. You were waiting for me. You are home. I ...I was out on the beach, Jack. Waiting for you."

David sat down on the seat again, and she came and knelt before him. Her eyes had been black before, hugely black with no pupil, but now instead they seemed a pale blue. Her hair had taken color, as had her lips. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, they glistened. "You are returned to me, and you will not leave again." Her voice was softer now, a true voice instead of a whisper. "It could not be, Jack. I could not bear it, and I would die." She blinked, her eyes wet. "Jack?"

Jack answered. "Yes?"

"Say you'll not leave again. Say you'll stay with me forever."

Jack pulled her to him, and she embraced him, kissed him. A tear from her eye brushed his cheek. She was still cold, but when their lips met he gave her his warmth and shared her cold until they met in the middle. He pressed her face to his chest, and she clung to him. The grey had seeped in through the windows, and it clung to both of them. "I say it, Katherine. Forever."