The Sweethearts Collection. Pam JenoffЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.
‘The big vans have arrived,’ Mara announced, peering through the window the next morning. ‘I’ll go and feed Ears then