Читать книгу Instructions In The Cauldron - Serena Longhi Gelati - Страница 5

The following weekend was mainly rainy and cold.

“That’s not bad”, our granny told us. She always saw the positive side in every situation.

“The new seeds need also rain and I have a lot of work to do. Old Mal invited me to take part in our May Fayre at Higginson Park, I’ll have my own stall! I’m going to sell mainly knitting and some herbal oils I produce by myself”.

Old Mal was a dear family friend.

“That’s great, granny! Can we help you sell?”, my sister exclaimed enthusiastically.

“Of course, Sarah”.

“Alison’s mother used to have a stall too, when they lived in London, in Camden Town”, she went on in her dreamy way.

“That’s really a very large market!”, our granny claimed, brushing poor Kiki.

“They sold stones, amulets, incense…you know, those little sticks which are sweet-smelling if you light them. But she said it has become too commercial now and she doesn’t like it anymore. What does commercial mean?”

“It means that most of the goods are alike, they aren’t original, they just follow trends. London is a tourist city, people goes to Camden expecting they can find some particular goods. There are various trends: punk, rock, gothic and hippie, but, as she said, they have turned into a commercial style, to avoid disappointing expectations and to be sure they’ll sell. Unfortunately, everywhere is like that…excepting Chalice Well’s gardens and the Tor, of course”.

Our granny’s family came from there, she always took a dreamy mood when she was talking about her village. We had never been there, mum said it was a den for crazy people and granny always scolded her because she didn’t understand the magic of that place.

“Is old Mal your fiancé?”, Sarah asked her impudently.

We had always suspected it, but we had never had the courage to ask her.

“Absolutely not! He’s just a dear friend, we keep company to each other. We’ve known each other for ages”.

Granny had told us again and again that she still missed our grandpa; he had died ten years before. A heart attack, he had passed away from morning to evening, without any notice. Our mum was just eighteen, she had never got over the shock.

We liked old Mal, as she called him. He was tall, with greying hair and a smile which always made you feel well, he could have been the perfect fiancé for granny. He was kind, smiling and he always took strawberry candies for us. He was fond of horses, he had two, Smelly e Shelly, and he was ready to saddle them and take us for a tour whenever we wanted to. I always insisted on not riding Smelly. He was famous in Marlow because he organized the yearly May Fayre with stalls, merry-go-rounds and gastronomic stands. If it wasn’t for him, the fair might not be so nice; at least that was what granny kept saying.

“While you are knitting, can we watch Harry Potter?”, I asked as I turned on the TV.

“That’s ok. I’m really curious, everyone is talking about that young wizard”.

“Great! Dad bought us the first boxed set, we could watch the first one today and the second one tomorrow…”, I suggested.

“We’ll see…you know, I don’t like letting you stay before the TV set for too long”.

We crouched down on the sofa for the whole length of the film, spellbound by the story. We knew it by heart, but there was some new detail to be discovered every time. It was absolutely our favourite movie. Granny never stopped knitting, she only got up to make tea. I couldn’t understand if she was either following the story or  thinking about something else.

“So, did you like it?”, I asked as soon as the film ended; I was curious to know her point of view.

“If I liked it? It’s great, girls! The author deserves all the success she is having. Absolutely gifted, a fancy worth of a great mind”. Granny was really enthusiastic.

“And you still haven’t watched the second one!”.

“I especially liked a detail”, she went on, “The idea of platform 9 and ¾: creating a passage to get into a different reality…neither the usual doors in tree trunks like in “Nightmare”, nor the holes in the ground like in “Alice in Wonderland”. Do you remember, little girls, when Alice is following the White Rabbit? She falls into a hole and, after a nice flight headlong, she finds herself before a door”.

We had watched that cartoon hundreds of times.

“Another clever idea is the transformation of Professor McGranit into a cat…really nice. I liked it. But children, that’s not magic, remember that. That’s fancy. Waving a magic wand and saying a formula quickly isn’t enough. Magic is something more: it starts from our work on ourselves to understand what we want to change and why. And above all, it doesn’t hurt anybody. Never! It sends away, but doesn’t hurt. Life, God, Mother Nature, Karma or what you call it will punish the ones who behave badly. Remember that: tit for tat.”

“You also taught us: don’t hurt, don’t be afraid”, I went on.

“Exactly.”

Someone rang the door at that moment. Who could it be? Tea time had passed and it was raining hard outside.

Granny ran to open it.

“Oh, Mal! Come in, what’s happening?”

“Pizza! Pizza for the most beautiful women in the county! Someone should feed you…”

“Old fox; come in, it’s a pleasure to have you here.” She immediately took his umbrella and laid the pizzas on the table.

“Where are the two little monkeys? Here they are, they are getting more and more beautiful! Miss Sarah, Miss Anne, how are you?”

After a long bow, he took two strawberry candies out of his sleeve. I can’t remember seeing him without them, even once. “The sweets after the pizzas, girls. Now wash your hands and lay the table.”

“You’re so demanding with them, Susan.”

“Rules, Mal. Rules.”

“Yes, Madam! I see that the production for the stall has taken off: there’s violet wool everywhere. Don’t overdo it, Susan.

Mal was looking around himself bewildered: when our granny did something, she always put her best care in it. “I don’t want to cut a poor figure, it’ a honour for me to join it. Who is going to get the proceeds this year?”, she asked him, handing  him the glasses and the cutlery to lay the table.

“The proceeds will be partly used to build a town gym and partly for research on multiple sclerosis.”

“Excellent Mal, as usual.”

We spent a pleasant evening, between pizza with cheese and frankfurter, a Scrubble match and the old man’s jokes. He didn’t go away late, however we were already exhausted.

“Granny…”

“Yes Anne, tell me.”

I was in my bed, but before she turned off the light, I had to tell her something: “When I come here, it seems to me I’m getting into another reality.”

“What do you mean, my child?”, she asked me, sitting down at the foot of the bed.

“Here at yours, I feel like Harry, when he goes through the wall at King’s Cross Station.”

It was something difficult to admit for me, my part involved not believing in those things.

“It might be like that…maybe it’ s the old oak out there, next to the gate…”

My granny was smiling satisfied. Her big green eyes were shining and the light of the abat-jour made her red hair still brighter. She looked incredibly like Molly Weasley, Ron’s mum in “Harry Potter”.

“Why the oak?” I didn’t understand what the oak had to do with it.

“You should know that oak is Duir in Gaelic, which is where door comes from. And what’s a door? An opening between two worlds, a passage. The ancient oak can open a passage for you, towards something nice. I’m happy, Anne, that you’ve told me. You are two special kids and I have the duty of teaching and passing all my knowledge to you, as time passes by.”

She leaned and kissed me on my forehead.

“Will you teach us to make the best chocolate cake in England?”

“Not just that Sarah, not just that. Now you just have to enjoy your age. Childhood is a special time, you must play and stir your fancy. Good night my little girls, shall the Goddess bless you now and forever.”.

Granny always talked like that before we fell asleep, I’ve sometimes heard my mum saying it too. I knew other children told Mary or Jesus their prayers, Alison and her mother lit a candle before Buddah’s statuette, Aysha’s family celebrated Ramadan instead…

Granny kept saying: “The important thing is to feel at ease with a deity, we can call and fancy it just as we wish to.” She called it Goddess Mother, or sometimes Brigid or Ecate…I had sometimes heard her name also a Pan, which was in my mind Peter Pan.