Miriam's Talisman Read Online Free Page A

the line of the chain as they sought to touch the pendant. A talisman, the man had called it. Wasn’t that some kind of good-luck charm? My fingers traced its outlines and I became aware that Greg was watching me.
    â€˜I noticed you were wearing it when you came in,’ he said. ‘I’ve never seen her without it.’
    â€˜She gave it to me. It was the last thing she did.’
    â€˜It’s an unusual ornament. It has a strange sheen about it. Even in a dull light it seems to glow. I often meant to ask her about it, but somehow I never did.’ As he said that, I realised that I’d never asked her about it either, even though it had fascinated me for as long as I could remember.
    â€˜Uncle Greg, did Miriam ever mention a young man to you?’ I described him briefly. ‘His name is Iolair.’
    â€˜What was the name again?’
    â€˜Iolair. It’s odd, isn’t it? Celtic, apparently.’
    â€˜Yes, that figures. No, I don’t recall the name. Who is he?’
    â€˜Just someone I came across recently. He seems to haveknown Miriam, but I’d never seen him before and I don’t remember her ever mentioning him.’
    â€˜She had a lot of friends. We couldn’t know them all.’
    â€˜No, of course not. I was just curious about him, that’s all.’ Strange, it was Iolair who had sent me to Greg. Perhaps there was some reason Miriam had wanted their association kept quiet. Anxious now to avoid unnecessary explanations, I pretended to change the subject.
    â€˜What I really came to see you about was the funeral. I insisted that I would arrange everything. I suppose I needed to feel I was doing something, and that was the only thing left to do. Hannah tried to take over, of course, but I managed to stand my ground. Only now I realise I don’t have a clue how to go about it. I wondered if you had any idea what Miriam would have wanted.’
    â€˜But of course. That’s why I was trying to contact you earlier. There’s no need for you to worry. It’s all arranged. Miriam saw to everything.’
    â€˜
Miriam
did?’
    Uncle Greg rose and crossed the room to one of the old wooden filing cabinets, returning with an armful of folders and envelopes, which he spilled onto the desk. ‘Now of course we can leave all this other stuff until another time—there’s nothing that needs urgent attention. However, I do have…somewhere among this lot…Ah, here it is. Funeral arrangements.’ He handed me a large envelope and I studied the lettering, written in Miriam’s ornate script:
    For Cliohna Blackthorn
,
      
Instructions for the burial rites of
            Miriam Katherine Shaw
    I stared at it for a long time, until Greg whispered, ‘I think you’re supposed to open it.’
    â€˜Yes, of course.’ The flap was secured with old-fashioned red sealing wax, the sort of dramatic touch that could only have been Miriam’s doing. I levered the wax off with a paperknife, then up-ended the package. Out slid a sheaf of papers, some handwritten and some printed on various headed notepapers, along with several cassette tapes and a book of poetry.
    â€˜What’s all this?’
    Greg sorted through the papers, then handed me a page in Miriam’s handwriting. ‘I suggest you start with this one.’
    â€˜Good God, it’s instructions for the service. And a list of who to invite. What are all these notes in the margin? Oh, I see, that’s people who should be invited to speak. Look, there are even some suggestions for readings—that must be what the poetry book’s for. Yes, look, Yeats and Tennyson. She says something about her doing a reading from
Beowulf
.’
    â€˜Yes, it’s on one of those tapes. She wants that played back as part of the proceedings.’
    â€˜Good God. Look, she’s even given us a list of