Читать книгу The Sweethearts Collection - Pam Jenoff - Страница 28

Chapter 18

As the sun rose higher, Colenso felt herself flagging. The trail of wagons, their owners and children alongside, were leaving the moor behind and descending towards a valley where, to her relief, the lane was shaded by trees that were coming into leaf. It still amazed her that these people carried all their worldly goods and the wherewithal to make a living, along with them. True, they didn’t have many but then, what worldly goods did she possess? It was a sobering thought to think she only had her clothes and the boy’s cast-offs she was wearing to her name.

Suddenly through the bushes she saw an enormous round granite rock on the ground. It must be as high as their wagon, she thought, stepping closer and looking up at it.

‘Whatever is that?’ she asked.

‘Legend has it that stone was used by the giants Trecrobben and Comoron to play Boule,’ Mara replied delightedly.

‘Not another one of your myths,’ Colenso said, shaking her head.

‘I prefer the word legend and there are hundreds of them around these parts. Of course, nobody really knows how that boulder got there, but it’s fun to imagine a couple of big men playing with it,’ Mara laughed.

‘Well, I’m too hot and tired to even think of playing,’ Colenso sighed.

‘It’s not far to the river where we’ll be stopping to rest and have a cooling drink.’

Sure enough, minutes later they came to a mill and above the creaking of its wheel Colenso could hear the brook chuckling. Ears picked up his pace, coming to a halt on the bank where Mara released him from the shafts. While he drank thirstily, the children kicked off their boots and jumped laughing and shrieking into the water. Colenso was tempted to do the same, but Mara was holding out the kettle for her to fill.

‘I’ll rack up the stove and we’ll have a nice brew afore we go foraging,’ she told her. ‘This is a good spot for chickweed and cuckoo flowers, then further on we might find some three-cornered leeks to go with them. Should have the makings of a good garlic soup and salad tonight,’ she said, rubbing her hands together delightedly.

Later, refreshed from their rest, they went in search of the wild plants Mara had spoken about. The woman’s knowledge and enthusiasm for them reminded Colenso of Mammwynn and she couldn’t help feeling a pang for the grandmother she’d loved so much. And yet, almost without realizing it, she knew she was beginning to come to terms with her loss. The cycle of life, she thought, placing the fresh green ramson leaves carefully into Mara’s basket.

With the basis for a good supper neatly stored in the tiny kitchen area, they rejoined the group and headed north where the country gave way to grime and dirt as they passed the iron foundry belching out plumes of black smoke. Trundling along the long straggling street, local people stopped to observe their progress. Some smiled but others glared.

‘Why are they staring at us like that?’ Colenso asked.

‘Probably making sure we’re not camping here. They don’t trust the folk of the fairs. Regrettably there are some who steal, or worse, which gives us all a bad name,’ Mara sighed.

Having left the buildings behind, Mara hopped up on the cart and gestured to Colenso to do the same.

‘Nice and flat for quite a while now, so we can give our legs a break,’ she said, wiping the perspiration from her brow. To Colenso’s delight, they followed the line of the sand dunes for some miles and she revelled in the tang of the salty air and the cries of wheeling gulls. Then the vista changed as they reached the dirty, noisy towns of the tin- and copper-mining area.

The smelters and factories were blanketing the sky with smoke and soot, while the constant hiss and clunk from stream-driven pumps in the engine houses reminded Colenso of the noise at the serpentine works.

‘Down we get again,’ Mara sighed, as they reached the hilly main street and Ears began to labour. It was lined with grand granite houses, but as Colenso peered down the side streets she saw they were crammed with smaller run-down terraced cottages. Beyond them, ragged children played barefoot among the spoil and slag heaps.

‘This is terrible,’ she shuddered.

‘I know, there’s no vegetation at all so there’ll be no foraging here,’ Mara said sadly. ‘Too much copper and arsenic in the ground.’

That wasn’t what Colenso had meant, but they’d begun to leave the oppressive area behind them and she let the subject drop. When they reached the open moorland again, she raised her face and breathed deeply of the fresh air.

‘Bet you don’t think the countryside’s so bad now,’ Mara said, giving her a wry look. They continued the journey on foot, over undulating hills, past farm fields bordered by hedges, until they reached Blackwater where they set up camp for the night. After the hullabaloo of the previous days, Colenso revelled in the gentle company of the kumpania as they sat around the fire.

‘Looks like you enjoyed that,’ Mara said, gesturing to her empty dish.

‘It was delicious. I never knew you could make such wonderful meals with a few flowers and leaves.’

‘We’ll make a country girl of you yet,’ Mara grinned.

✳

The next day followed much the same pattern as they trekked on through the countryside, passing yet more farms bordered by high hedges. The sun beat down relentlessly, and by the time they’d climbed the steep hill out of the valley at Zelah, Colenso could feel the perspiration dripping down her back. How she wished she could throw off that wretched cap and jacket.

Finally, they reached their destination of Summercourt, a hamlet of terraced stone cottages built around a crossroads.

‘We’ll be coming back for the fair in October,’ Mara said, as they turned into a field beyond the alehouse, but Colenso was so hot and dusty it was all she could do to murmur an answer.

She helped Mara unhitch Ears and set up the van for the night, then unable to bear the itching any longer, followed the tiny stream until she came to a pond in the woodland. Noticing how quiet it was, she tore off the scratchy clothes and band binding her chest then, heedless of the murky water, dived in. She hardly noticed the cold puckering her skin as she revelled in the relief of being free from restraint. Flipping over, she floated on her back, watching the sun-streaked sky turning from crimson to rose and apricot.

A splash in the water close by disturbed her reverie. There was a rustling in the grass and she saw two amber eyes and a lolloping tongue staring at her from the bank. Her eyes widened as another figure appeared. Crouching further down in the water, she covered her breasts with her hands, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he would hear it.

‘I say, boy, could you retrieve that stick?’ the man called. ‘Threw it a bit hard and old Bosun here won’t go anywhere near water.’ Colenso swallowed hard and looked over to where the twig was hovering just out of reach. How could she retrieve it without revealing herself? Careful to keep beneath the water, she inched her way towards it. Grabbing it with one hand whilst keeping herself covered with the other, she aimed it arrow-like at the man.

‘I say, good shot,’ he cried. ‘Mighty obliged, boy. That water looks so inviting. Could be tempted to take a dip myself.’ As he leaned over, his shadow edging towards her, Colenso’s stomach sank. ‘Still, got to think of the dog. Thanks again, boy,’ he said and much to her relief, bent and retrieved the stick. He threw it in the opposite direction and then followed after the dog. She waited until he’d disappeared then let out the breath she’d been holding. Laughter bubbled up inside her. Boy indeed. If only he knew. Although the old clothes had served their purpose, she felt so invigorated there was no way she was putting the coarse garments back on again.

‘I’d like to wear my own blouse and skirt now,’ Colenso told Mara when, holding the jacket in front of her to protect her modesty, she entered the van.

‘I told you, we need to check with Big Al that it’s safe,’ the woman frowned. She’d removed her scarf and was sitting on the cushion, combing out her curls. As the light caught the sheen of her long tresses, something snapped inside Colenso.

‘You’re meant to be the fortune teller so why don’t you consult your crystal ball?’ Mara dropped her comb in surprise. ‘I want to be a woman again,’ she added, her voice softer now.

‘Very well,’ Mara said, taking down the velvet bag. ‘But I think you should put those clothes back on before we see what it has to tell us.’ She covered the globe with her hands then removed them and peered closely into it. Her eyes widened but, instead of saying anything, she went pale.

‘Well, what does it say about me?’ Colenso asked impatiently as she sat down beside her.

‘Me, me, me, that’s all you think of,’ Mara roared, jumping to her feet and running from the van. Colenso stared after her before turning back to the crystal. Although she gazed hard into its depths she could see nothing but swirling mist. A knock on the door brought her back to the present, and looking up she saw Jago staring worriedly at her.

‘Everything all right in here?’ he asked.

‘I didn’t know you were here,’ she smiled, pleased to see him.

‘Only arrived a few minutes ago. I heard shouting and then saw Mara stomping down to the stream.’

‘I asked her to look in her crystal ball but she wouldn’t tell me what she saw.’

‘Oh,’ he murmured. ‘Well, whatever upset her, I’m sure she’ll be back soon. In the meantime, are you joining us for supper?’

The others looked up curiously as they took their places beside the fire but nobody said anything. Colenso accepted her plate and ate her meal automatically, hardly tasting the herb-laden potage. She watched the flames becoming brighter as the shadows around them lengthened.

‘Mara’s not back,’ Sarah said when they’d all finished eating. ‘Shall I go and check she’s all right?’

‘Probably wants a bit of space. Not used to sharing her home, she isn’t,’ her husband replied. Colenso stared at them in dismay. She’d been so caught up in her own problems she hadn’t given any thought to the generous lady who’d taken her in and cared for her these past few weeks.

‘I’ll go,’ she said, jumping up and hurrying towards the water. She followed the path along the bank for a while until she spotted Mara sitting under a tree, her back leaning against its thick trunk.

‘I’m really sorry, Mara,’ she apologized.

‘Don’t be, it comes to us all,’ the woman sighed, getting to her feet. ‘Reckon you can wear your own clothes tomorrow,’ she added. Colenso was so delighted that it was only later she remembered the woman’s first remark. By then Mara was snoring gently and she resolved to ask her about it first thing in the morning.

The pleasure of pulling on her soft blouse over skin not constrained by the tight band made her shiver with happiness. She was just running her fingers through the tufts of hair, the delight of not having to wear the itchy cap again outweighing the loss of her long tresses, when Mara returned, Jago following behind.

‘Well, look at you,’ he said, his eyes widening in surprise. ‘Scrubbed up well, eh Mara?’

‘No more than I would have expected,’ Mara smiled, her black mood of the previous day having disappeared.

‘Should draw more punters in now,’ Jago said, rubbing his hands together gleefully.

‘Jago has to pick up supplies for the Panam so is leaving for Bodmin now. He wonders if you might like to accompany him?’

‘Really?’ she asked, hardly able to contain her excitement. ‘But won’t you need help packing up?’ she asked.

‘Managed perfectly well afore you arrived so I’m sure I’ll cope,’ Mara replied. ‘Besides, it’ll be nice to enjoy the peace of the countryside without you asking stupid questions every few minutes.’ Although her voice was brusque, Colenso saw her lips twitching and knew she was teasing. Impulsively, she kissed the woman’s cheek, surprised at how papery it felt, but she had little time to dwell on the matter, for Jago was already heading out of the door.

His van was larger than Mara’s but the woodwork was plain and looked dull compared with the brightly painted flowers that adorned hers. However, his horse was also larger and capable of pulling the wagon uphill with them in it as well. Seated beside Jago, she watched as they passed moorland covered with bracken, golden gorse and yet more low, scrubby trees.

‘Mara seems like her old self again this morning,’ Jago commented. ‘But it will probably do her good to have some time to herself.’

‘You mean you engineered this trip?’ Colenso asked, turning to him in surprise.

‘I need to collect more confections, for that is my job of a journeyman after all.’ Well that told her, she thought. Then he turned towards her and smiled. ‘Thought you’d like to meet some of the people who make them.’ They travelled on in silence and Colenso couldn’t help thinking how much nicer it was to be riding rather than walking along the dusty roads, especially as she was wearing her skirt again.

‘They’re the china-clay workings over there.’ She wrinkled her nose at the large mountains of dirty white spoil beyond the boggy moorland.

‘Going to be another hot day by the look of it,’ Jago sighed, gesturing to the sun rising like a great yellow ball in front of them. ‘I’ll have to make sure the sweets don’t melt.’

‘Do you want me to check them for you?’ she asked.

‘Later perhaps. Let’s use the time to get to know each other better. You know I hail from Truro, but where are you from?’ Not wishing to divulge any personal information, Colenso gestured to the tin mines they were passing.

‘I didn’t realize there were so many around here,’ she commented. Giving her a knowing look, he nodded and lapsed into silence again. After a while, the landscape became less rugged, with more fields farmed. Jago tugged on the reins and the horse obediently turned down onto a track.

‘Mrs Manning has the farm here. She ran it with her husband until he got caught under the wheels of his cart. Nasty business. Caitlin’s carried it on since his death, yet still manages to concoct her speciality for the Panam in her spare time. She’s from Scotland and makes their native tablet. I’ve told her I’ll understand if it gets too much, but she insists she finds the process therapeutic,’ he said. He gave another tug on the reins and the horse trotted round to the yard. The moment they pulled up outside a grey, formidable-looking farmhouse, the door opened. A pretty woman in her late twenties with auburn hair coiled around her head smiled and waved, but as soon as she saw Colenso her expression changed.

‘Caitlin, how are you?’ Jago asked, oblivious. ‘I’ve brought Colenso with me. She’s been helping me on the Panam.’

‘Och, how kind,’ she replied in such a patronizing voice Colenso wanted to pull tongues at her. However, she refrained and smiled back politely. ‘Forgive me, Jago dear, but I’m all behind today. It’s hard managing by myself, though as you know, I do my best,’ she simpered.

‘And very well you do too,’ Jago replied gallantly. ‘Do you need a hand packing up the tablet?’

‘I need help making it,’ Caitlin giggled, batting her eyelashes at him. So that was the way of things, Colenso thought.

‘Now don’t you worry, Colenso here wants to learn how to make our sweet confections so she can stay and help you.’

‘But I thought you could,’ Caitlin pouted, laying a hand on his arm.

‘I’m afraid I’ve other collections to make before the fair opens tomorrow. Look, I’ll call back early this afternoon, that should give you enough time. You’ll give Caitlin a hand, won’t you?’ he asked, turning to Colenso.

‘Delighted to,’ she smiled, trying not to laugh out loud as the woman’s lips tightened into a line.

‘Surely you’ll stay for a drink like usual?’ she asked, her Scottish lilt becoming more pronounced.

‘That’s kind of you, Caitlin, but I’d hate to delay you.’ With a quick nod, he turned and walked back to his wagon. There was a strained silence as they both stood there staring after him.