Читать книгу The Sweethearts Collection - Pam Jenoff - Страница 24

Chapter 14

Through a mist of tears, Colenso watched her mamm disappear. Was she really in so much danger? Mara obviously thought so, for bangles jangling, she took up a pair of fancy handled scissors and slid elegantly into the seat Caja had vacated.

‘Best get you disguised before someone comes knocking on my door. Lovely hair you’ve got,’ she sighed, taking a handful and cutting it off somewhere near Colenso’s ear. ‘By the time it grows back we’ll be on the other side of the county. Still, it’s a small thing compared with the ordeal you’ve suffered. Lucky for you the crystal ball never lies,’ she added as she snipped with quick efficiency. ‘Right, now let’s get you changed. I’ve scavenged some old clothes from one of the tinkers but first we need to bind your chest.’

‘What?’ Colenso spluttered.

‘Well, you’ve got a fine bosom – too fine for a lad,’ the woman laughed, wrapping a band of material so tightly around Colenso she could hardly breathe.

By the time Colenso had squeezed into the boy’s shirt and trousers, she was exhausted, but as she went to lie back down again Mara shook her head.

‘Can’t risk you being discovered. Make yourself comfortable in here,’ she said, jumping up and lifting a hinged lid on the seat she’d just vacated. Colenso shivered as she remembered the dark tunnels, and stared dubiously down at the confined space.

‘Will I have to stay in there for long?’ she asked nervously.

‘By the time you wake we’ll be well on the road,’ Mara told her. Still in a daze, Colenso did as she was bid. ‘Whatever happens, don’t climb out until I tell you it’s safe, though judging by the look of you, you’ll have the sleep of the angels.’ Mara chuckled, her black curls bobbing as she bent over to cover Colenso with a blanket.

✳

Colenso woke with a start. Where was she? Why was someone banging on her head with a hammer? Why was her chest so tight? And why was she being rocked from side to side? As she screwed up her eyes trying to remember, she became aware of the clip-clopping of hooves and the metallic trundle of wheels. In the dappled light filtering through a gap in the wooden slats, she could make out the outline of trees and hedges passing by, feel the cool breeze on her cheeks. She went to sit up but banged her head and everything went black again.

When next she surfaced, so did her memory. She was in a van travelling to who knew where, dressed as a boy. As her hand went to ease the band at her chest, the roof above her was raised and the cheery face of Madam Mara smiled down at her.

‘Foretold you’d sleep well, didn’t I?’ she grinned through carmine lips. ‘Still, better dead to the world than dead full stop,’ she muttered. ‘Blood runs cold every time I think of what that father of yours did. Still, he’ll get his comeuppance. What goes around comes around.’ Colenso smiled at the woman’s avowal, for hadn’t Mammwynn always said the same. A thud followed by a dragging noise came from outside, making her jump.

‘Only the kumpania setting up camp for the night. Best stay where you are for now,’ Mara added, as Colenso made to climb out. ‘How does supper in bed sound?’

‘Supper?’ Colenso frowned. ‘But I’ve only been asleep a little while.’ Mara chuckled again.

‘You’ve slept through the moon, stars and rise of the sun, dearie. Now it’s sinking beyond the sea like a pink orange ball. How are you feeling?’

‘My head’s all muzzy and itches like mad,’ she replied, lifting off the woollen cap she’d covered her cropped hair with.

‘Best keep that on, dearie, in case anyone comes. This hedgerow tea will soon clear your noddle.’

‘Thank you.’ Colenso took the proffered cup and drank gratefully, for her throat was dry as dust.

‘Now for the bokoli. It’s one of the few dishes that tastes better when Queenie cooks it,’ Mara smiled, gesturing to the corner. Puzzled, Colenso looked over to see who this Queenie was, but there was only the cast-iron stove upon which Mara placed a skillet. ‘Usually I’d be broiling on the chitties over the yag with the others, but not tonight,’ she explained.

Bokoli, chitties, yag? It was like another language, Colenso mused, her head spinning, but the tea was comforting and she sat back and savoured its unusual flower-like taste. Soon an appetizing aroma filled the little van, making her stomach rumble.

‘Here we are, dearie,’ Mara said, handing her a tin plate then sitting on the seat opposite. So bokoli must be a pancake, Colenso thought, tucking in ravenously. The batter was light as a feather and filled with a mixture of bacon trimmings and cheese sprinkled with some spice she didn’t recognize.

‘Thank you, that was lovely,’ she said, handing Mara her empty plate.

‘I’ll have to do a lot of dukkering if you’re going to eat like that,’ Mara chuckled. ‘That’s fortune-telling to you,’ she added as, bangles jingling, she got to her feet and peered through the drawn curtain. ‘The others are still eating so if you want the privy, best go now.’ Colenso stared around the tiny wagon. ‘Not here, outside. I’ll wash the dishes further downstream while you do what you need in the bushes.’

Cramped and stiff, it took Colenso a few moments to extricate herself from the wooden box before struggling into the coarse jacket she’d been given to complete her disguise. Following Mara out of the little door, she just had time to take in the group of people sitting around a crackling fire over which a blackened pot was swinging from a crook. Beyond was a circle of wagons, a huddle of trailers and horses munching the grass to one side. The woman gestured towards a row of trees then, with plates clattering, took herself off in the other direction.

‘Not joining us, Mara?’ a man called.

‘Not tonight, Jimbo, I need to make more tisanes and teas for the next fair.’

‘Still got a few days for all that …’ But Colenso had reached cover and the rest of the conversation was lost to her.

Back in the van, feeling much better for her rinse in the flowing water, she went to climb back into her box, but Mara shook her head.

‘Don’t worry, dearie, the others will soon be making merry. They’ll not bother us tonight, though they’ll be up at break of dawn to strike camp. Come and tell me about yourself,’ she said, patting the seat beside her.

‘There’s not much to tell, really,’ Colenso shrugged. But as she sat in the dying light, heat from the stove warming her chilled body, she found herself opening up. ‘One minute I was happily arranging my handfasting to Kitto, the next that Mr Fenton arrived at the works. For some reason he decided he wanted to marry me, and Father encouraged it.’

‘Hmm, your mother explained about that. Got to know her quite well when she came to treat young Domo’s leg. He’d been carried in here and between us we fixed him up. When she returned later in the day, we shared a brew and got chatting. Right worried about you, she was, yet couldn’t explain why.’

‘But she was as bad as Father for encouraging me to wed Fenton. They were going to sell me, can you believe?’ Colenso cried indignantly.

‘Avarice,’ Mara tutted. ‘It can turn a person’s head.’ She shook her head so that the golden hoops at her ears flashed in the glow from the stove. ‘Can’t understand this obsession with material things myself. Give me the open road, the wind on my face and my little home any day.’

‘So, what do you actually do?’ Colenso asked, intrigued by the striking woman and her funny way of speaking.

‘Live life, my dear, and enjoy doing it too. I travel round the country with the kumpania, visiting the fairs and feast days, earn money by dukkering, forage for food.’

‘It sounds a lovely way to live,’ Colenso sighed.

‘It is. New people to meet, acquaintances to catch up with and of course the friends I travel with. Although it’s hard work pitching and striking camp at each new place. By the end of the season I’m ready to take things easier.’

‘You mean you have a real home like a cottage to go to?’

‘This is my real home, dearie,’ Mara chuckled, gesturing around the van. ‘I have everything here that I need. But tell me about this man you’re betrothed to – Kitto didn’t you call him?’ At the sound of his name, Colenso’s heart flipped, and as she began telling Mara about him the woman listened attentively.

‘Sounds like a decent young man to care for his mother and siblings so. And he must be handsome to have caught the eye of a pretty young girl like you.’ As Colenso’s hand went to her shorn locks, Mara reached over and patted her shoulder.

‘By the time you see Kitto again, your hair will be back to how it was. In the meantime, I promised your mother I’d keep you safe, so remember to stay well hidden. No use escaping one web just to be caught in another, now, is it?’ Colenso nodded thoughtfully, for hadn’t she been feeling like a fly being drawn ever closer to the spider’s mouth?

‘Of course, you’re bound to be spotted sooner or later, but hopefully by then we’ll be on the other side of the county,’ Mara continued, placing a little ornately carved chest on the table.

‘Now, let’s see what’s in store for us,’ she said, raising the lid.

‘Goodness,’ Colenso murmured as the woman pulled decorative cards from beneath a covering of gemstones and herbs.

‘Need to protect the tarot else they can pick up negative forces that affect the reading. Here, you shuffle them and let them pick up your energy,’ she instructed, handing them to her. ‘That should do it,’ she said, taking them back moments later. ‘Now to put them in order.’ Colenso watched as she laid them out in rows of three on the little pull-out table. ‘Right, now let’s see what the spread says. Oh …’ her voice trailed off.

Colenso briefly caught a glimpse of staring faces and figures before Mara hastily gathered them together and returned them to the chest. ‘Not working tonight,’ she shrugged. ‘Time we were abed anyhow.’

As Colenso climbed into her hidey-hole under the settle, she glimpsed Mara peering into a crystal globe and could tell the woman was troubled. But too exhausted to think anymore, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

✳

Men were shouting, banging things around. The clattering of hooves resonated.

When Colenso stirred, the van was swaying gently from side to side. Peering through the wooden planks, she could make out the outline of buildings, horses and carts, people walking. Her limbs were cramped and she needed some air, so she pushed on the lid above her head. To her surprise, it gave way easily and she climbed gingerly out. The room was empty and she guessed Mara must be outside steering the pony. Everywhere was immaculate, the things they’d used the night before neatly stowed away. The pans and brass handles on the cupboard and drawer were polished to a sheen and, although the space was smaller than their living room at home, it felt homely and loved.

Suddenly, the van lurched to a halt and, unable to resist taking a peek, she lifted one edge of the chintz curtain. They’d drawn up in a field, which to Colenso’s eyes seemed to be crowded with vans and trailers. She just had time to glimpse big burly men erecting what looked like stalls, when the door opened and Mara appeared.

‘Get away from there,’ she growled. ‘Have you not got the sense you were born with?’ Colenso stared at the woman in bewilderment. Gone was her smile and kindly eyes.

‘I was curious to see where we were,’ she murmured.

‘And you know what curiosity did,’ Mara countered, slumping down onto the settle and thumping one of the brightly coloured cushions into shape behind her head. She looked dirty and dishevelled, smudges of purple beneath her eyes.

‘Has something happened?’ Colenso asked.

‘Nothing for you to worry about. Just got here a bit earlier than planned.’

‘Where’s here?’

‘Helston. We come every year and set up our stalls ready for the Feast of St Michael – or Flora Day as they call it here. It’s a celebration of the passing of winter and the arrival of spring. Lovely it is, with dancing and everyone wearing lily of the valley, which is the town’s symbolic flower. You never been before?’ Colenso shook her head.

‘Never been off The Lizard in my life before.’ Mara’s eyes widened.

‘Then you’ve never lived,’ she replied, her voice softening. ‘This is one of the biggest fairs we attend. Over the next few days other wagons and trailers will be arriving with all manner of attractions.’

‘You mean it’s bigger than the Cuckoo Fest at Cadgwith?’ Colenso asked.

‘I should say,’ Mara hooted. ‘Anyhow, I’m whacked. Weren’t taking no chance of being followed so left before dawn. Old Ears weren’t happy at being hurried, I can tell you. Still, he’s getting on in pony years so you can’t blame him. Now, let me get some shut eye, will you? There’s a couple books in that drawer to help pass the time,’ she said, gesturing towards the kitchen area. ‘But for both our sakes, don’t venture outside. Promise?’

‘I promise,’ Colenso replied.

‘We’ll have a brew when I wake,’ Mara mumbled, her eyes closing. A few moments later she was snoring gently.

Colenso sat listening to the sounds of banging and shouting coming from outside. From the little she’d seen, the men were obviously setting things up for the fair, and she was seized with the urge to go and look. Still she’d promised Mara she wouldn’t.

Instead, she reached out and opened the drawer, marvelling again at how close at hand everything was. The first book contained handwritten recipes of strange-sounding dishes like Kerrit Bora, made with mutton, vegetables and wild ransoms; Ballivas, a suet pudding filled with bacon scraps and herbs; Coro Shoshoi which on reading she realized was jugged hare or rabbit depending on what was caught; rook or pigeon stew and Panni Sappor which translated to stewed eel. So, Mara hadn’t been joking when she said she foraged.

There were also receipts for treating ailments. Ginger cordial for colds or bringing down a fever, sarsaparilla for cleansing the blood, lemon barley water for disorders of the bladder, raspberry vinegar for sore throats, elderflower junket for sneezes. Colenso smiled, remembering how Mammwynn had always maintained that nature provided the cure for any illness. Automatically, her hand went to her throat, but of course the necklace wasn’t there. She hoped by now her mamm would have given it to Kitto and explained what had happened. Unless she’d conveniently forgotten to pass on her message – again.

‘You look like a wet summer’s day,’ Mara said, sitting up and eyeing her shrewdly. ‘Time for that brew,’ she added, snatching up her kettle and going to the door. ‘Remember, if anyone knocks don’t answer.’

When she returned a short time later she was bearing two fragrant-smelling pasties along with her filled kettle.

‘One good thing about these parts is the food,’ she grinned, her spirits fully restored.

Although she was ravenous, as Colenso bit into hers, she couldn’t help thinking of the one she’d made for Kitto. Why did everything remind her of him? The answer was obvious, of course. It was because she loved and missed him. So much had happened recently, she couldn’t help wondering if she’d ever see him again.