We left the White Heron by the garden gate and followed the familiar path towards the orchard. The afternoon was mild, with a little breeze coming down from the hills. Beyond the garden wall, the old fruit trees stood in the slanting light, their branches moving gently above the grass.
We found Rowan beneath the largest apple tree, working on a basket. He looked up as we approached.
"You're looking for Elian."
It wasn't a question.
"Mrs Bell said she wanted to speak with her."
"Then you've come to the right place. Or you would have, if she'd stayed."
"Has she gone?"
Rowan considered this.
"She's here somewhere."
He returned to his basket.
We walked further into the orchard. The silver-grey tree was still in blossom, although the other trees had begun to lose their leaves. Beneath it stood the little table, but the three apples were gone. In their place lay a folded piece of paper.
We opened it.
The road remembers those who have travelled it.
There was no signature.
A little further on, we found Elian standing beside an old pear tree. She was examining a branch that had grown through the fork of another, as though the two trees had become entangled over many years.
"Mrs Bell is looking for you," we said.
"I know."
"She wants to speak about the church."
Elian rested a hand against the trunk.
"Yes. I thought she might."
We told her about Samuel, the two bells, the listening room and the brass key. We also mentioned Clara's map and the road that Mrs Bell believed had disappeared.
At that, Elian turned towards us.
"Has she shown you the map?"
We unfolded it.
Elian studied the red line, following it with her finger. When she reached the word HERE, she smiled.
"Clara has done rather well."
"Do you know where the road leads?"
"Of course."
"Where?"
"Out of the valley."
We waited.
"That's not very helpful," we said.
"No," she agreed. "But it's accurate."
She handed the map back.
"The road was used for a long time. People came into the valley by it, and people left. Then, gradually, fewer people used it. Eventually, the paths grew over, the markers disappeared, and everyone began to say that there was no road."
"Why did people stop using it?"
Elian looked towards the mountains.
"Some found what they were looking for. Others discovered that they had somewhere else to go. And some simply forgot that they had arrived by a road at all."
She bent to pick up a fallen pear.
"Mrs Bell remembers it. Alden remembered it. Perhaps Clara has found a way of remembering it without having been there."
We asked whether the road was connected with the church.
"Everything is connected with the church," Elian said, "if you look at it from the right direction."
She smiled at our expression.
"Don't worry. I don't mean that everything leads to the church. Only that the church was built where several old paths met. The listening room was there long before the walls."
"And the key?"
"That belongs to Mrs Bell."
"But she says it was made by Alden."
"Yes."
"Does it open the listening room?"
Elian considered this.
"It might. But I don't think the room needs opening. I think it needs someone to listen."
A voice came from behind us.
"That's what I've been trying to tell people for years."
Mrs Bell was standing at the edge of the orchard, carrying her basket of pears. Rowan had apparently seen her coming, but had made no effort to announce her arrival.
Elian greeted her warmly.
"You're late," she said.
"Only because I stopped to collect these."
Mrs Bell held up the basket.
"Besides, I knew you'd still be here."
The two women stood together beneath the old pear tree. For a moment neither spoke.
Then Mrs Bell said, "I think it's time we went back to the church."
Elian nodded.
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"The river is changing its course tonight."
Mrs Bell looked towards the hills.
"Again?"
"Not quite in the same way."
Rowan, who had joined us, gave a small sigh.
"Well, that's inconvenient. I was hoping to mend the bridge."
Elian laughed.
"Then you'd better wait until it has decided where it wants to be."
She turned to us.
"There's something I want you to see before we go to the church. A place beyond the orchard, where the old road begins."
We looked at Clara's map.
"Is it the place marked HERE?"
Elian smiled.
"Not quite. But it's a good place to start."
She walked towards the far end of the orchard, where a low stone wall disappeared into a stand of hazel trees.
We followed.
At the wall, she stopped and pointed to a narrow opening between two stones. Beyond it, a path descended towards the river, then climbed again towards the mountains.
It was overgrown, but unmistakably old.
On one of the stones, almost hidden beneath moss, was a carved mark: three interlocking circles.
Elian touched it lightly.
"Here," she said, "is where the road remembers itself."
And somewhere beyond the trees, we heard the sound of a bell.
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