Читать книгу The Sweethearts Collection - Pam Jenoff - Страница 33

Chapter 23

After a restless night tossing and turning, her dreams punctuated by the fair-haired schoolmistress smiling adoringly at Kitto as he sat learning his letters, Colenso woke to hear Mara rooting through her little cupboard.

‘What are you doing?’ she muttered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

‘I was thinking last night that you could do with something new to wear and I remembered these,’ she said holding up a green skirt and matching top. ‘You can’t go around in those old clothes any longer,’ the woman told her. ‘They’re all worn and torn.’ Colenso stared at the brightly coloured garments then laughed.

‘But I’ll never get into those. I’m much too big.’

‘Have you taken a look at yourself lately? All that walking has paid dividends, my girl. I’ve even found an emerald scarf for you to tie around your head. Go and try them on whilst I go and get some water for a brew.’ Before Colenso could reply, she snatched up the kettle, unbolted the little door and hurried outside.

Colenso ran her fingers over the pink and yellow daisies that had been embroidered on the blouse then noticed they’d been replicated around the flounce of the skirt. How lovely it would be to wear clothes as pretty as these. Hardly expecting them to fit, but not wishing to offend Mara, she jumped out of bed and slipped them on. To her amazement not only did the buttons on the blouse do up, the skirt skimmed her hips. Delighted, she danced around the tiny room, revelling at the swishing sound the fine material made. Running her fingers through her growing tresses, she twirled the scarf around her head, letting the ends drape elegantly down her back as Mara did. Peering in the tiny mirror beside the cupboard, she gasped in surprise. No longer plump and awkward, her reflection showed a slender outline with sparkling dark eyes and skin that was tanned and healthy. The bright green of the outfit seemed to bring her colouring alive somehow.

‘Well, look at you,’ Mara beamed, returning with the filled pot. ‘All you need now are some golden hoops in your ears and you’ll really look the part.’

‘These clothes are so pretty. Can I really wear them?’ Colenso asked.

‘Why bless you, they’re yours to keep, dearie.’

‘Really? How much do I owe you?’ Colenso asked, taking the coins out of her basket. ‘Jago finally paid me yesterday,’ she explained. ‘His sister insisted.’

‘Well, I’m glad about that but you keep your money. It will be lovely to see the clothes being worn at last after the hours I spent stitching those daisies.’ She blinked and looked out of the window, her expression taking on that faraway look.

‘I’m sorry, Mara,’ she murmured, guessing their conversation of the previous evening had stirred up sad memories.

‘Don’t be, it was all a long time ago.’ She forced a smile. ‘Now, put those coins somewhere safe.’

‘But you haven’t taken anything for my keep and …’

‘Money holds no import for me. I have everything I need and, as you’ve seen, Ears and I always find enough to eat and kindling to heat along the way. Now,’ she continued as Colenso made to protest, ‘Sarah and I are going into Truro before the fair opens, so get that reply written to Kitto and I’ll post it while I’m there. While you’re doing that, I’ll make us tea and nettle champ. Opening day’s always hectic so we’ll need a good breakfast inside us.’

Colenso took out the card she’d bought the previous day, addressed and stamped the envelope then reread Kitto’s letter. She let out a long sigh.

‘What’s the matter now?’ Mara asked, looking up from the potatoes she was chopping.

‘He didn’t say much so I’m not sure how to answer.’

‘Well, if he’s been learning his letters it probably took him all his time to write what he did,’ she pointed out. ‘Tell him you’re pleased to hear from him, you miss him and can’t wait to see him, but as you’re travelling around at the moment he should send his reply to the post office at Marazion.’

‘Right, I’ll do that.’

‘Now, come and eat. I see you’ve lots more cones to make,’ she added, nodding towards the pile of paper in her basket.

‘Hmm, Jago wants them by this afternoon. I suppose I’ll have to wait ages for him to pay me again. I never realized he was so mean.’

‘He is careful with money, I agree. Have you ever wondered why, though?’ Mara said, handing her a plate of food.

‘Suppose he wants to keep it all for himself,’ she said, eagerly tucking into the fried potatoes mixed with nettles and onions.

‘Since he was little, Jago had to make a little money go as far as possible. His father ran off with a younger woman, leaving him to fend for his mother and sister. It was through his own hard work that he was able to set up the Panam. Then, when he saw an opportunity for them to make some of the sweets, he built an outhouse to work in.’

‘Yes, Karla said one of his so-called friends helped him do that.’

‘Sounds like a true friend to me if he was prepared to assist.’ She paused and stared at Colenso intently. ‘As I said last night, friends come in many guises, so don’t be too quick to judge.’

✳

Colenso settled down to make the cones, her thoughts moving as quickly as her fingers. Was she too quick to judge? When she’d first read about Kitto spending time with the pretty schoolmistress her reaction had been less than charitable. As Mara had said, he wouldn’t have bothered learning his letters if he hadn’t cared deeply for her, and she would focus on that. As for Jago, now she understood his preoccupation with money, she would be more tolerant. And, like Mara, she’d be more accepting of people. Although she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to accept what her father and mamm had done to her. Poor Mara, life had dealt her a terrible blow and yet she spent her time giving hope and pleasure to the countless people who flocked to her little tent.

Hearing the music start up, Colenso piled the cones into her basket and headed out into the sunshine. No longer did the ticking of the clock rule her life; she moved to the beat of the organ now.

She walked along the banks of the estuary, revelling in the feel of her new skirt swishing around her ankles. A heron was standing motionless in the shimmering water, seagulls screeched as they wheeled overhead and, for the first time in a long while, she felt contented. Ahead she could see the stalls already thronging with people.

‘You’re looking bonny, Bonbon,’ Big Al grinned, falling into step beside her. Colenso glanced down at her new outfit, a rush of pleasure tingling through her.

‘Mara’s been so kind,’ she replied by way of explanation.

‘Most folk here are. There’s always the exception, of course. Talking of which, you needn’t worry about Marco anymore.’

‘Oh?’ she asked, looking askance.

‘Let’s just say that dirty deed was his last. Were you to catch sight of him again, it would be an illusion extraordinaire,’ he guffawed. Whatever did he mean, Colenso wondered, watching him stride away. However, she didn’t have time to dwell on his strange statement, for Jago was calling for her to hurry.

‘Thought you were coming early to help me set up the stock,’ he grumbled, frowning as she slipped behind the stall. ‘Suppose you’ve been frittering your money on gewgaws and furbelows being as how you’re all done up like a dog’s dinner. Doesn’t excuse you for being late, though.’

‘I’ve made up lots of cones so I hope we’ll be busy,’ she smiled. Having learned it was better to ignore his moans, she tilted her basket and emptied them out onto the stall. ‘I really enjoyed learning how to make these,’ she told him, rearranging the rock canes into an artistic fan.

‘Doesn’t mean you can alter my display,’ he growled. His frown turned to an indulgent smile as children began swarming around, holding out coins in their grubby little hands. Colenso helped them make their selection, not minding what mix of sweets she made up for them. Seeing their looks of wonder and delight made her feel warm inside and she couldn’t decide what she liked more, making the sweets or selling them.

Later, when the children had gone home for their supper, she made her way through the fair towards the van. The sun was like a rosy red ball as it sank beyond the estuary and, as ever, the lapping of the water filled her with contentment. Hearing the sound of rifle shot, she spun around. Her eyes widened in astonishment as she saw the targets on the range were covered with pictures of Marco. As another shot rang out, hitting him right between his glassy eyes, she laughed out loud. So that was what Big Al had meant. They’d sought their revenge on the ostentatious, evil man in the way they knew would hurt him the most. An illusion extraordinaire indeed.

✳

It seemed no time at all before they were packing up and back on the road again. This time it was only the small kumpania travelling together. As ever, Jago was to join them once the fair was set up.

‘Don’t you get fed up with moving around all the time?’ Colenso asked as they descended the long hill to Carnon Downs.

‘Not at all. When you travel your thoughts move along with you. It stops you living in the past or dwelling on petty niggles,’ Mara replied, smiling knowingly at her. Colenso was pleased to see the woman had regained her humour after her recent outpouring. ‘Besides, it increases one’s knowledge both of the area and the flora and fauna. For example, this stone bridge spans the wide drying creek to Perranwell. And see that pretty woodland over there?’ She pointed to the trees in the distance. ‘That’s Kennall Vale, which houses the old ruins of gunpowder mills. Now, you didn’t know that before, did you?’

‘No,’ she laughed. ‘And I suppose you have other pearls of wisdom to impart?’

‘Well, if you’re interested, there’s the Giant’s Chair. And if you’re good, when we stop later, you can sit on it,’ Mara grinned. ‘But first we need to forage for food and gather some kindling. Keep your eyes peeled, for this area’s good for fat hen.’ Colenso stared at the woman sceptically. Surely you couldn’t find fat hens in the hedgerows? Mara snorted as if picking up on her thoughts.

‘It’s a bit like spinach, although the leaves are green on top but creamy white underneath. Goes well with ramsons but they’ve probably finished by now,’ she told her. ‘You’ll thank me for sharing this knowledge with you when you and Kitto wed and have a family to cook for.’

Kitto – her heart flipped at the mention of his name. He should have received her letter by now. Why, even now he might be penning her a reply.

‘Anyhow, best start looking, for when we reach the granite quarries there’ll be nothing but spoil heaps,’ Mara said, bringing her back to the here and now.

Although they walked a fair distance, Mara kept up her knowledgeable commentary on the topography, and Colenso found the time passed quickly. When they finally reached Godolphin Hill where they were to stop for the night, her brain was buzzing with facts and their little van filled with the makings of a good supper and a goodly supply of sticks for the stove.

The kumpania set up camp and once again Colenso was amazed at the way the travellers quietly pulled together. Soon the appetizing aroma of supper simmering in a pot over the yag filled the air. Later, when they sat down to eat it in the gathering shadows, she couldn’t help contrasting the serenity with Karla’s steamy outhouse.

‘Did you enjoy your supper?’ Mara asked when they’d finished their potage.

‘I still can’t believe you can eat so well on a few leaves.’

‘It’s what you do with them,’ Mara laughed. ‘The alchemy.’

‘Like turning raw sugar into glistening jewel-like confections,’ she replied.

‘You’re learning, girl. Of course, the food we forage is far more nutritious, although you do need to supplement it with bread or potatoes or your stomach would be growling from here to Goldsithney. Now do you want to sit on the Giant’s Chair before we turn in?’ When Colenso nodded, they climbed up the steep-sided hill and ambled over to a mass of rock rising out of the gathering darkness.

‘Goodness, it really does look like a huge seat,’ Colenso said, surveying the smooth hollow with the back slanting off at an angle.

‘Let’s see if we can follow the giant’s example and hurl these blocks of granite to Prospidnick. It’s only about four miles as the crow flies,’ she laughed.

‘Might have known you’d have another yarn to tell me,’ Colenso snorted. ‘Come on, time for bed,’ she said, holding out her hand as the woman yawned.

It was only later, when Colenso looked back on that evening, that she realized it marked the turning point in their relationship.