by A V Awenna
***
Tom Gently, gentleman that he was, had offered to obtain an umbrella for Heledd, to protect her on her way home in the storm.
‘I do hope your friend didn’t get caught out in this,’ he said. ‘She didn’t have a Macintosh with her, did she?’
‘I doubt it. But she might have made it home by now,’ Heledd replied.
‘It’s like the monsoon out there,’ Tom said. ‘Look at the raindrops bouncing off the patio!’
‘I quite like being indoors watching the rain when it’s like this,’ Heledd said. ‘It’s exhilarating – although I do feel sorry for anyone caught out in it. Shall we have another cup of tea and see if it eases off? Even with an umbrella I’d get drenched; it’s bouncing back almost knee height.’
‘Come to the dining room’, said Tom. ‘I’ll introduce you to a friend.’
So they went to the dining room, where Heledd was offered a moderately exciting biscuit to accompany her drink. They obviously hadn’t heard of triple chocolate cookies here – bourbons and custard creams were as far as it went, although one resident had managed to obtain a Jammy Dodger, which occasioned a certain amount of tutting and whispering.
They’ll remember that at his funeral, thought Heledd.
Tom Gently led Heledd to a table where a woman was already sitting. She was plump, and her smiling face was all wrinkles, but her expertly dyed hair gave her a youthful appearance. With colourful clothes and bright jewellery she looked to be in her early 60’s, but Heledd guessed she was probably much older.
Tom introduced Heledd to Mary, and invited Heledd to explain her project.
‘I’m collecting stories about local folklore and old superstitions.’ Heledd said. ‘Fairy tales, haunted places, cursing wells, that sort of thing. I want to record some folk history before it’s lost for good.’
‘You don’t think it’s just a load of silly superstition, then? You seem like a modern girl,’ Mary said.
‘I’m interested in stories, and how beliefs change,’ Heledd said. ‘You know, like when you throw a penny in a wishing well, you’re copying your ancestors making an offering to the water gods, the same way people have done for centuries, all over the world. I love that. It shows we haven’t changed that much, and it’s a reminder of how precious water is.’
‘You seem to have your head screwed on,’ Mary said. ‘I was worried you’d be one of those New Age girls, all big hair and bangles, the sort who’s always losing things, but you don’t seem the type to talk to the fairies.’
If only you knew, Heledd thought.
Mary said, ‘I’ve lived in this area all my life, and that’s a long time, I don’t mind telling you. I was born in the Garden Village when it was still new. The old Mill was still there, near the Butcher’s Arms, and there was a little cottage we called the Witches’ House. I don’t think there were any witches there, that was just what we called it.’
‘Is it still there? I’d like to see it?’ Heledd said.
‘No, they knocked it down about twenty years ago,’ Mary said, ‘and put two modern houses in its place. Shame – I mean, it had gone to wrack and ruin, but it was enchanting, a little old-fashioned cottage at the end of a path through the flowers. There were a few tales about it, but I think they were just kids’ gossip.’
‘Could I record this?’ Heledd asked. ‘It can all be confidential. We can use my phone.’
Mary was happy to be recorded, but as Heledd was getting her smartphone out of her bag, one of the staff approached, explaining she’d just finished her shift, and offering Heledd a lift home. ‘I know you usually walk, but I didn’t think you’d want to be out in this weather,’ she added.
‘Much appreciated,’ Heledd said. ‘Bye everyone. It was nice meeting you Mary – I’ll see you both tomorrow.’
The carer tried to engage Heledd in conversation, but her mind was too full of the treasures she’d unearthed. Books of Chinese herb magic, and a lead on a local witch – maybe another of Aelwen’s relations. Not bad for a day’s work.