by A V Awenna
***
Heledd was enjoying her research at Golden Grove even more than she had anticipated. Many of the residents were keen to talk to her, although most just chatted about everyday life in the past rather than the folk history Heledd wanted to hear about. But that was okay. It was good practise, and a lot of it was interesting, if irrelevant. And even if it wasn’t interesting, Heledd was good at hiding her boredom, and she could see the old people valued the attention.
But Tom Gently was a star. Witty, intelligent and well-read, with a gift for telling a good story, he had a lifetime’s interest in the things that fascinated Heledd. He knew all about local myths and superstitions, and had recommended several useful publications. But he also warned her that there were some who still believed any interest in pagan or folk beliefs was tantamount to Satanism. ‘I’ve crossed swords with the Farris family many times,’ he told her. ‘They’re a touch obsessive – they even campaigned to have the dragon removed from our flag because they think it’s a satanic beast. I’d suggest you steer clear of them, but it’s good for you to know of them – if you see any of their pamphlets, you’ll know to take them with a pinch of salt. They’re certainly interesting material for a psychological analysis, if you’ve a strong stomach.’
‘Thanks for the warning, Mr Gently,’ Heledd said. ‘I’ll probably avoid them for now, but, as you say, it’s good to be warned. It’s too easy to assume that just because something’s published, it has to be true.’
‘Gosh, you’ve a wise head on your shoulders,’ the old man said. ‘It’s good to know there are young people like you and your friends around. It would be very easy to believe everyone under the age of 30 spends their days in state-funded debauchery.’
Heledd couldn’t help laughing at that.
‘Where are your two friends?’ Mr Gently asked. ‘I haven’t seen them today.’
‘They aren’t here,’ Heledd replied. ‘Demi’s back at school – not happy about it, but she doesn’t have much choice. Vicky’s doing some job applications.’
‘So we might not see them again? Shame. They’re nice girls, even if Demi-Lee does sound like a cheese spread.’
‘Some call her Demali,’ Heledd said. ‘Sounds better, and she seems to like it.’
‘Demali. That’s a name I haven’t hard for a long time. Reminds me of my time in the East.’
‘Do tell. Should I press “record”?’ Heledd made herself comfortable in anticipation of a good story.
‘Demali – or something very like that – was the name of an obscure little port I visited frequently when I was doing National Service, in 1950. It was a refuelling stop, so we made plenty of visits. We’d stop for a few days’ R and R while we took on fuel, water and supplies. Demali was a bit of a legend among the sailors –it was in the tropics, but they said the weather was never as hot as the girls – excuse my French. Well, I was very shy and I wasn’t interested in the bars and the girls, but I still used to look forward to it.’
Heledd couldn’t help thinking that shyness wasn’t the only reason for his disinterest in women, but said nothing.
‘During one of my first visits,’ Tom continued, ‘I was just exploring the town, and I found the spice market. Now that was a fascinating place. Bags and baskets of all sorts of herbs, flowers, leaves and grains. Most of it was just for cooking – the food there was delicious, by the way – but a couple of the stalls had medical herbs, and one had a reputation for making love potions and other magics. I’d been told you could recognise the two magicians easily enough – they were identical twins, Chinese men with vivid green eyes. Supposed to be a sign of fairy blood, you know.’
Heledd raised an eyebrow at the mention of fairies, but Tom Gently didn’t seem to notice.
‘I found them in a corner of the spice market. Very discreet, but very obvious at the same time. One was standing beside a little barrow, with a chicken and a little white rabbit on it, and he kept repeating, “Rabbit, Chicken, English, Fortune-Telling”.’
‘The poor animals!’ Heledd said.
‘Oh, he looked after them well enough. Kept them in the shade, made sure they had plenty of food and water. The little white rabbit seemed contented, she was always washing her ears like a cat, and the chicken was better off that one of those miserable battery beasts. Anyway, the man with the barrow had bright green eyes, and so did his brother, behind a stall advertising herbal teas, medicines and magic. I thought I’d have a go with the fortune teller. It was only a few coins, so I thought I might as well. It was a simple trick, but entertaining the way they’d thought it out. He had some rolled-up slips of paper with ‘fortunes’ written on them; the idea was, you gave some seed to the chicken, whispered your problem into its ear, then it picked out a slip for you.’
‘What did it tell you?’
‘Oh, it was the usual sort of thing. Something along the lines of, “You will meet a new friend”. The kind of vague, generalised statements they use for horoscopes – something you can interpret however you want, written in slightly odd English.
‘Anyway, I got talking to the brother with the animals, and when he found out I was interested in herbalism, he told me they had some English books on herbal medicine, and asked if I could spare some time to help translate them. He offered hospitality and some herbal knowledge in return. Well I was nervous, I won’t tell a lie, had all sorts of ideas of what they might do to me once they’d got me to their home, but I spent some time getting to know them, decided they were genuine, and that was the start of a fascinating friendship.’
‘So the chicken told the truth!’ Heledd said.
‘Ha, they used to like to remind me of that. But they were honest, they never pretended the fortune-telling chicken was anything more than a bit of fun. It was a way of bringing people to them, breaking the ice if you like. And they told me a lot of the advice they ‘divined’ was gained from reading their customers; basic psychology if you like. But as herbal doctors they were wonderful. I helped them make sense of Culpeper’s Herbal – it’s a classic you know, a lot of people still use it for minor ailments, although I’d rather trust the NHS for anything major. And they taught me a lot about what they claimed were the magic herbs – although I suspect a lot of them were hallucinogens.
‘I asked them once, what did the rabbit do – I’d never seen her do any ‘fortune telling’, she just seemed to keep the chicken company. So they gave me some tea, which made my head spin, then told me to talk to the rabbit. Well, it must have been some sort of hallucination, because the little white rabbit stopped washing her ears, looked me in the eye – and her eyes were green, just like the brothers’ – and told me she was their sister who’d been placed under an enchantment. Then she told me never to turn down the chance to help anyone, because some day it would earn me the most wonderful reward. So,’ he laughed, embarrassed, ‘maybe the reason I’m telling you all this is because 60-odd years ago, I dreamt a little white rabbit told me to always be helpful. I hope that doesn’t make you think I’m crazy.’
‘No, not at all, although that is an amazing story. Did you ever get the reward?’ Heledd asked.
‘I enjoyed a lot of friendships and experiences that I wouldn’t have if I’d turned away from those in need. But she did tell me this reward would come towards the end of my life,’ Tom said.
‘Did the rabbit ever talk to you again?’ Heledd asked.
‘No, that was the only time. And, do you know, I kept trying to look at her eyes again, to see if they really were green, not red as you’d expect, but every time I saw her she was washing her ears with her eyes closed. I didn’t make a big deal of it, because I didn’t want the brothers to think I was potty. But I kept in touch with them until they died a few years ago. They died within a few days of each other, and do you know, they still had the chicken and the rabbit, although I doubt it was the same ones. I received a letter from their solicitor, attached to a parcel of books
they’d left for me. So if you ever want to see their books, just let me know. I know you’re good with languages - can you read Mandarin?’