The Sweethearts Collection. Pam JenoffЧитать онлайн книгу.
nodded. Her money could wait another day or so.
✳
As the sky lightened to a pearlescent pink, the kumpania began making its way south towards Truro. Colenso walked alongside Mara, happy to see the woman had regained some of her colour. They watched as mewling buzzards circled the gentle hills, inhaled the perfume of the rich pink whistling jack and blue columbines, picked comfrey and the hedge woundwort whose leaves contained antiseptic properties for treating wounds.
‘And these make a good mattress-filler,’ Mara told her, pointing to the hedges festooned with creamy white plumes of bedstraw. ‘Sleep on those with your lover and your union will be blessed, as well as having a comfortable romp, of course.’
‘Mara,’ she gasped, feeling the heat stealing across her cheeks.
‘Sorry,’ the woman replied, sounding anything but. ‘But if you make the most of nature’s summer bounty, you’ll be set up for the winter. I can’t believe it’s the first week of June. The summer solstice will be here before we know it.’
‘Mammwynn celebrated Litha by rising before dawn to greet the sun on its day of greatest power.’ Her smile was tinged with sadness as she remembered the excitement of sitting on Mammwynn’s little seat and waiting for the first ray of light to appear. The air was always filled with a sense of expectation, which turned to wonderment as the grey sky turned to blush pink then rosy red.
‘The day the reigns of the Oak and Holly Kings are reversed and old Lord Holly comes into his own once more,’ Mara nodded, breaking into her thoughts.
‘You understand,’ Colenso cried excitedly, for there were many – her father included – who scorned such beliefs.
‘Of course I do.’ There was a moment’s pause. ‘I would have liked your grandmother,’ Mara murmured. She said it in her usual straightforward way and Colenso knew the two women would have got on well.
‘I shall miss celebrating with her this year,’ she sighed.
‘Well, we’re going to Marazion after we’ve done Truro, so we can rejoice together on the beautiful Mount of St Michael. You couldn’t wish for a more serene place to mark the solstice,’ Mara said, reaching out and patting her arm. ‘As long as your Kitto hasn’t whisked you away on his white charger by then,’ she chuckled.
Colenso fell silent as thoughts of Kitto began spinning around in her head once more. How was he and what was he doing? Would she hear from him? Although Mara seemed positive he would contact her somehow, so much had happened that she felt her confidence wavering at times.
‘Look, you can see the china-clay workings over there, which means we’re edging towards Bugle,’ Mara said breaking into her thoughts.
‘Jago pointed out the spoil heaps when we were on our way to Bodmin.’
‘Well, you’re about to see them close up, my girl. I know it brings vital work but those poor people who live here … well, look,’ she sighed, gesturing ahead to little terraces of rundown granite cottages covered in white dust from the mining.
‘Heavens,’ Colenso exclaimed, grimacing at the spoil heaps that towered menacingly over the town.
‘Something to be said for the open road with its fresh, green countryside, eh, my girl?’ Mara said with a sideways glance.
‘And definitely the roar and crash of the waves on the beach, the tang of salt in the air,’ Colenso smiled.
They laboured up the hill then down the other side with overgrown white mountains of old clay waste on both sides of them. The sun beat down relentlessly from a cloudless sky and, as they trudged on, Colenso couldn’t believe how far these people travelled between each fair. Finally, tired and thirsty, they came to a stream where they stopped to water the ponies and have a rest. It was then Colenso noticed Mara wasn’t eating much. The pallor had returned to her skin along with the dark smudges under her eyes.
‘Why don’t you have a sleep in the van?’ she asked as the kumpania made ready to leave.
‘But I won’t have to walk, the road is flat enough for us to ride from here to Grampound where we’ll spend the night. Besides, who would steer old Ears?’
‘Me, of course. I’ve watched you often enough and he should know me by now.’
Mara stared at her thoughtfully. ‘Hear that, Ears,’ she said, patting the pony’s head. ‘Behave yourself for Colenso and you’ll get an extra feed.’ The pony whinnied softly and Mara handed over the reins and climbed into the back of the van.
Colenso carefully steered them back onto the road then followed the trail of wagons as they passed through a valley blanketed with dense woodland before it opened out into farmland and scrub. It was then she felt the stabbing. Her hand went to her chest, except her necklace wasn’t there. She stared around but could see nothing but fields and vegetation. Thinking tiredness was making her edgy, she tried to relax. The others were some way ahead and she urged Ears on, but the pony ignored her and continued plodding at his own pace.
Then she heard the sound of hooves and the rumble of wheels behind them. She turned her head but could only see the side of the vardo. A large, ornately decorated wagon drew alongside making her gasp. The lane was barely wide enough to accommodate both vans, and she held her breath as the two sets of wheels nearly collided. Instead of passing, the wagon slowed to their pace and to her dismay she saw Marco smiling menacingly at her. Slowly, inch by inch, he steered his horses closer. She pulled tightly on the reins but it was no good, the van tilted into a ditch on the side of the road. As she sat there stunned, she heard Marco’s cruel laugh as he whipped his horses and they took off at an alarming rate, the wagon bouncing behind.
‘What the blazes …?’ Mara muttered, appearing beside her. ‘You all right, girl?’ she asked.
‘I think so. It was Marco, he ran me off the road,’ she shook her head, pointing ahead to where his wagon had veered off the lane and was heading north.
‘Bloody man,’ Mara shouted, shaking her fist at him before leaping down and patting Ears. ‘There’s a good boy,’ she crooned. ‘Many a pony would have bolted, but not Ears,’ she told Colenso as she jumped down beside her. Together they studied the van. It was well and truly stuck, with both nearside wheels embedded in the ditch.
‘It’s no good. We’ll never get that out, so we’ll have to leave it here and walk,’ Mara said, unhitching the pony. ‘Get someone from Grampound to come and help us shift it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Colenso murmured.
‘Not your fault. That madman should be locked up.’
‘But why would he do such a thing?’ Colenso persisted.
‘A proud man, is Marco, and you spurned him, didn’t you? Asked you to be his new assistant, didn’t he?’ Mara added, seeing her frown. ‘His ego wouldn’t allow rejection, see? Illusionaire Extraordinaire, indeed. Come on, Ears,’ she said, taking hold of his bridle.
‘So what does he do exactly?’ Colenso asked.
‘Makes things and people disappear,’ she said grimly. ‘Literally.’ Colenso shuddered as they began walking. As if to add to their mood, the sun disappeared behind the clouds that had gathered.
‘Typical,’ Mara muttered. ‘Going to rain now. Still, I guess it’ll wash some of the dust off us.’
They hadn’t gone far when they heard hooves and the rumble of wheels. Spinning round, they saw Big Al waving to them from his wagon.
‘What caused that?’ he asked without preamble, drawing to a halt beside them.
‘I was taking a nap in the back when Marco tried to run Colenso off the road,’ Mara told him, her eyes narrowing to dark slits. ‘Wicked, he is. Time someone put a stop to his trickeries.’
‘Agreed,’ he nodded. ‘You all right?’ he asked, turning