The Sweethearts Collection. Pam JenoffЧитать онлайн книгу.
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‘How about a ride on these splendid fellows?’ he suggested, pointing to the dobbies. As memories of the previous year came flooding back, Colenso shook her head. ‘Perhaps another day, then,’ he said, mistaking her look. ‘Don’t worry, old nosey-nocks won’t come calling again. His legs won’t allow it,’ he grinned. Then seeing her puzzled look, he shrugged. ‘You learn a lot of useful moves in my job. Besides, Mara said she feels the presence has moved away. Come on, it’s getting late and she’ll be wondering where you’ve got to.’
While they’d been wandering round, the shadows had gathered over the fairground, and now light from the lamps cast pools of murky yellow over everything. Leaving the noise and hustle behind, they wandered back to the relative quiet of the site where the kumpania had lit their campfire. It had been quite an afternoon and Colenso was keen to be back in the security of Mara’s cosy van.
‘Want me to see you inside?’ Titan asked. She shook her head.
‘No, you get back to your family. Thank you for showing me around, Titan. It’s been most enlightening,’ she smiled.
‘My pleasure,’ he said, handing over her basket. ‘The little ’uns would love a couple of cones sometime,’ he grinned, then with a mock salute made his way past the kumpania to the other corner of the field where his van was.
✳
It was the end of the week and, having packed up their things, they were on the road again. Although it was early, the air was already hot, the road dusty. Colenso sighed at the thought of the long trek ahead of them.
‘Don’t you ever get bored with all this walking?’ she asked. Mara, who’d been murmuring encouragement to Ears, looked up and frowned.
‘Bored? Whatever do you mean, child? How could you possibly get weary with all this to look at?’ she said, gesturing to the countryside around them. ‘Apart from anything else, you should be keeping your eyes peeled. It’s a fine time of year for foraging nature’s bounty. Ramsons, elderflowers, nettles, and if it rains we could even strike lucky for dryad’s saddles – that’s mushrooms to you.’
‘Funny name.’
‘Dryads are the wood nymphs who inhabit trees, and they say the mushrooms are the saddles they ride on. Don’t look like that,’ she said when Colenso rolled her eyes. ‘They’re found at the base of dead trees so it could be true, you know.’
‘Maybe but I wish we were heading that way,’ Colenso said, pointing to the sea to her left.
‘Ah, a mermaid born and bred, eh?’ Mara chuckled. ‘The local lads will have to watch out.’
‘Pardon?’ she asked, wondering what tangent the woman was going off on now.
‘Legend has it that a very beautiful lady periodically attended the church in Zennor. No one knew who she was or whence she came, but she had the sweetest of singing voices. A local man called Mathey Trewella, himself a fine singer, was beguiled by her beauty and followed her one day but never returned. ’Twas said she was a mermaid who’d enticed him to her abode deep below the sea.’
‘Really,’ Colenso burst out laughing. ‘Apart from the fact my father said I’m built like a bal maiden, my singing would wake the dead not entice anyone.’
‘True or not, the story put a smile on your face. Anyhow, just think, when we reach Bodmin you can transform back to a girl. Surely that’s enough to spur you on.’ Immediately, Colenso brightened. To be able to wear her thin skirt and blouse would be bliss after these coarse clothes especially as it seemed summer had arrived. She stared around at the primroses and dog violets in the hedgerows. Everything seemed to bloom later here in the north of the county compared with on The Lizard.
‘Them mauve beauties be good for the treatment of piles,’ Mara said, following her gaze. ‘Still, those periwinkles winking over there might be more appropriate for you. ’Tis said if a woman and man eat the leaves together love will blossom between them.’
‘Hmm,’ Colenso murmured sceptically. ‘But that reminds me, I’m going to send Kitto a card when we arrive,’ she told Mara. ‘What address will I give him?’
‘The Kumpania of Cornwall,’ the woman quipped. ‘Seriously though, you’d better give the address of the post office at Truro. We’ll be there for the June fair. Make sure you seal the envelope though. Don’t want it getting in the wrong hands.’
‘I can’t wait until we get to Bodmin,’ she cried, eager to write and tell Kitto where she was. She’d ask him to tell her what he’d been up to in his reply.
‘Well, you’ll have to hold your fire for another three days, my girl, for that’s how long it’ll take us.’
‘Oh,’ Colenso murmured, her heart sinking like a stone.
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