by Natasja Rose
That was a standard policy, especially if it meant keeping customers. With such a small group, and outside of the normal tourist season, it wouldn't cost much, and certainly a lot less than if they had broken down somewhere else. "If you'll excuse me, I have to figure out how to get the bus and everyone's luggage back here over roads that are probably in a horrible condition."
One of the Gap-Year students, who Tina thought was named Marissa, leaned over from the next table. A pretty red-head, she had a tendency to fall in love every few days, usually after all of five minutes after being introduced. "You could always ask the Innkeepers if they know anyone who might be willing to help out."
Another of the students, Sean, who had more maturity than was usually found in the average teenage male, and an even bigger crush on the oblivious Marissa, frowned. "Why? The bags aren't that heavy."
A married couple on holiday, who owned and operated a mechanic shop in Canada, had arrived downstairs just in time to hear the tail end of the conversation. "No, but if we end up having to push the bus, it'll be good to have help."
At least the bus was small, seating only about a dozen people, and if worst came to worst, they could detach the luggage trailer and drag that back by itself. Lizzy spotted her two friends from last night, who had mentioned last night that they were helping out around the inn as a holiday job while visiting their friend from university, the Innkeeper's grandson, the one who had called her Bess.
The driver explained the situation, and one of the boys left to round up a few more hands, while the Innkeeper's grandson gave Lizzy an almost roguish smile. "You'd all best finish breakfast, first. Nan would string me up by my toes if I let you go off for that kind of job without a proper meal in you."
Lizzy's return smile was the closest thing to flirtatious that Tina had ever seen on her friend. "Can't have that," she paused as she glanced at the Gap Students. "Ah, Sophie, what are you eating?"
Marissa's tag-along looked up from a few small, round disks that Tina had foregone in favour of toast and eggs. "Something called Black Sausage. A bit more solid and bland, compared to the other kinds, but not bad."
Marissa picked one up off her friend's plate, examining it. "I wonder what's in it."
Tina was struck with a bad feeling that hadnothing to do with being psychic. Marissa had managed to get onLizzy's permanent bad side by calling Tina a 'crazy freak' after a psychic episode, and the glint in her dark eyes suggested that not only did Lizzy knowexactly what was in Black Sausage, but that the information was most definitely not something you wanted to hear over breakfast.
James wore the almost trapped expression often seen in Year Nine Maths, when someone is desperately hoping that they won't be called on to answer. Lizzy waited until Marissa had popped the disk into her mouth. "It's a recipe that probably originated in Scandinavia or the other northern parts of Europe, especially places where the climate made it difficult to grow things, and they had to use everypart on an animal. Black sausage, or the related black pudding, is basically congealed domestic animal blood, thickened with flour and occasionally mixed with spices and other ingredients, then fried or boiled."
Tina tried not to laugh as Marissa turned green and choked as she tried to spit the food out mid-swallow. She elbowed her straight-faced friend. "That was mean."
James sent Lizzy another roguish grin, which she returned with a mischievous smile.
If Tina had been paying attention, rather than shutting things out, she would have noticed the soft psychic glow that briefly surrounded the two.
Chapter Three
James had been having strange dreams for the last two nights.
The night before last, it had been the sense that he was riding over the surrounding countryside, dressed in clothes very much not of the 21st Century. Last night, when a spectacular storm had left a small tour group stranded at the Inn, he had been a boy, barely in his teens, aiming longing looks at his employer's daughter and receiving shy glances in return.
The dreams had been vivid, so lifelike that his best friends, Ben and Will, had been forced to call his name twice before he remembered that his name was not John, and created such a sense of familiarity that he had spent half the night staring at one of the tour guests from afar, instinctively calling her Bess, even though he knew that they had never even met before.
Not that he entirely minded watching.
Ben had originally called her a 'grenade', the less-attractive friend of a girl you wanted to hit on – only for both of James's friends to spend most of the night ignoring the cute blonde while competing for the brunette's attention.
James planned to tease them about that as soon as the tour group had moved on - no sense or need in causing hurt feelings if any of the ladies in the tour group overheard - especially since it only supported his own stance on the topic.
James personally thought that the whole 'grenade' idea was not only appallingly disrespectful, but also fundamentally flawed, since it relied on the assumption that either girl wanted to sleep with you in the first place, and if the pretty one was a lousy enough friend to leave her companion in the lurch, rather than stating that the only similarity to a grenade was that you had just blown your chances with either of them to kingdom come with the insult to her companion.
It was probably a good thing that none of them had said it aloud within their hearing, since the pretty blonde looked like the kind of self-respecting, loyal friend who would deck anyone stupid enough to use the 'Grenade Play'.
When the brunette, who had corrected his instinctive 'Bess' to her preferred 'Lizzy', asked if he knew anyone who could give them a hand moving the small tour bus somewhere that wasn't the middle of the road maybe a twenty minute walk away, James couldn't stop a grin.
Innkeepers and their families knew everyone, and James could think of several lads who would help out just for the entertainment value of watching a few of the tourists attempt to slog it over the moor in stiletto heels, and the opportunity of learning new swear-words.
When James got back to the Inn with a half-dozen others he had rounded up, Ben and Will were talking with the cute blonde, who was looking pained, for some reason. James put it down to a combination of his two friends, and that Lizzy had gone ahead with the rest of the tour group.
The blonde, who had introduced herself as Tina after the third time Ben or Will had referred to her as 'Um…Lizzy's friend…' while talking to Lizzy, looked even more pained when they caught up to the university students who made up the majority of the tour group, four of whom looked miserable as they attempted to navigate the muddy roads on six-inch heels.
The redhead who had made a very bad attempt at 'come-hither-eyes' while introducing herself as Marissa perked up when she saw them approach, then tried to look melodramatic. "Oh, my feet are killing me! It's going to be murder dragging everything all the way back!"
James didn't need to look behind him to know that at least two of the volunteers were already grinning at the impromptu street theatre. Marissa's attempt failed even more when Tina gave her a look that could have frozen a bonfire, accompanied by a heartless "Suck it up, princess."
Lizzy was not quite so harsh, but her voice still carried the exaggerated patience of one who had possessed the foresight to wear sensible shoes, and been stuck listening to complaints from those who had not been so practical. "We were told to bring walking shoes, on the brochure, in the tour package information, and by the travel agents, If it's such a hassle, why don't you just take the heels off and hose your feet down when you get back?"
Two of the other miserable-looking girls glared at Lizzy's back, while the last only offered a resigned sigh and continued walking. James grinned again, falling into step with Lizzy, who was pointedly ignoring the university students.
Oh yes, watching this was so worth any amount of pushing!
The bus was small, as buses go, and they at least managed to get it out of the muddy ditch. That was all, though, as whatever part had broken had managed
to jam the brakes along the way.
But, any Roadside Assistance would find it easier to get to the bus if it was on the road, rather than detouring into the village, and the half-hour warning call would give the driver time to walk out and meet the mechanic.
In the end, they left the bus where it was and simply unhitched the baggage trailer, slowly dragging that back to the Inn-yard, at which point the tourists all disappeared to their rooms to wash and change.
John watched as Bess disappeared upstairs to her room, masterfully ignoring the other newly-recruited boys trying to catch her attention.
She returned almost instantly with a wrapped package, which looked like boots from the shape of it. "You'll be doing a lot of marching, I suppose, and I walked the blisters out already."
John smiled at her thoughtfulness, and Bess suddenly looked shy. "I paid the tanner and the cobbler from my own money. They were made here, for you, so I hope one day they'll carry you back to me."
John was tongue-tied, overjoyed that his affection was not one-sided. Bess was beautiful, and a very eligible catch, as she would one day inherit the Inn. She could have her pick of boys for that fact alone, but he had never dared hope that she would pick a penniless bastard, who could rarely even afford the blunt to attend a public assembly.
He hesitated a moment too long, however, and Bess was called away by her father to help with the customers.
When the soldiers and the new recruits marched away, the whole town turned out to see them off. John surrupticiously looked around to see if he could spot Bess, and broke protocol to wave back at the Inn window where she stood.
It wasn't the boots that would bring him home, one day.
The rain had returned, though this time it was in a steady drizzle, rather than the storm of the first night, so most people were staying at home, or, in the case of the tour group, in the Common or Sitting Rooms of the Inn.
Still, if the current conditions were less than ideal, the scenery more than made up for it.
The Inn was located on the outskirts of the village, and the common room and upper bedrooms had a fantastic view of the surrounding moor. The rolling hills, intersected by the occasional country road, were the same as they had seen just outside the cities, but the bright swaths of red poppies, yellow buttercups and late flowering rapeseed were replaced with the darker green and purple of heather, the dark red of autumn moor-grass, and the near-white of bog moss.
Inside the Inn, the atmosphere was warm and cozy, with hot chocolate, a crackling fire, and Marissa trying to hum to the tune of the wind, which became harder when she spontaneously burst into giggles listening to Ben, Will and James. The trio, temporarily excused from outside chores due to the weather, had moved on from local stories to making up conspiracy theories about the places the tour had visited so far, in an attempt to impress Lizzy, who was resting her voice after an hour of reading classical English poetry.
Right now, they were on the story about choosing the location of Salisbury Cathedral by standing on a hill near the fort of Old Sarumand shooting an arrow. That story was usually discounted, as the actual location was over two miles away, but listening to the 'but what if this happened' theories was fun, if Lizzy's grin was anything to go by.
Will sent Tina's friend what he probably hoped was a surreptitious look. "Storm winds could carry an arrow further than it would usually go."
Ben shot his friend down with a provocative grin. "Not that far and still stay in the air, though. It would have to be hurricane-force, and those come with rain that would drive a wooden arrow into the ground."
Lizzy shrugged, taking a sip of Chocolate. "Welsh longbowmen had a pretty good range, and Church and Army didn't always get on, so maybe they wanted the cathedral as far away from the fort as possible, but still with the 'sign from god' aspect?"
James laughed, getting into the spirit with a far less subtle glance at Lizzy. "There would have been plenty of animals around, too. Maybe the archer hit one non-fatally and it staggered the rest of the way before dying of blood loss?"
Tina had to snicker at that idea, and at the sunny grin Lizzy gave him in return, before she returned to watching the Gap Year students playing cards. Snap had ended after only a few games, when it turned out that long, manicured nails were less than ideal when you had several hands fighting for dominance of the card pile. Now they were onto Diminishing Whist, while the Driver and the Canadian couple played a quieter game of Clue. Tina lay on a couch, lazily watching the scene, her legs draped over Lizzy's lap and off the armrest while her friend decided that her voice was recovered enough and tried to achieve the appropriate amount of spookiness while reciting 'The Raven' from the book of poetry balanced on Tina's legs.
Tina thought that the solomn tone and slight dramatic pauses, coupled with the low, soothing note that was Lizzy's default for reading out loud, pulled it off quite well, though she preferred the overt sarcasm that crept into her voice during the rendition of 'The Charge of the Light Brigade'. Lizzy had been slipping into an English accent over the past day or so, which made it even more realistic, but that was probably just a reaction to their surroundings
As she finished, a quiet laugh came from nearby. "So you're a one for ghosts and legends, are you, lass?"
The older couple who ran the Inn had come in at some point, the lack of customers giving them a bit of spare time. The wife was giving her grandson and his friends a patiently amused look, since they were still lying on the floor near Lizzy's couch in an attempt not to drip on the furniture, even though they had already dried out after the day's yardwork. Her husband had been the one to laugh.
Tina answered for her friend, who had blushed and looked down. Not everyone was as tolerant of her history obsession as Tina was, and Lizzy was far too used to being bluntly told to shut up. Tina explained for her. "Ghosts, legends and History in general. Ask about any historical period, and Lizzy can probably give you a random fact. Eek!"
Lizzy, annoyed at being spoken for, had poked Tina on the sole of her foot, where she was insanely ticklish. Tina yanked her feet out of Lizzy's reach as Ben perked up. "Huns?"
Lizzy grabbed for Tina's feet again as the blonde tried to scramble away, intent on retaliation for putting her in the spotlight. "Horse dung was a common source of fuel."
Tina laughed helplessly under Lizzy's attack and accidentally kicked her in the stomach as she fell of the couch, squashing Will in the process. Another of the Gap Year students, Aaron, looked over from the final round, ignoring how ridiculous he looked holding a single card over his forehead. "Victorian Era?"
Lizzy put down the poetry book as Tina scrambled for her slippers. "Legs and trousers were considered to be rude words, and there was a boatload of euphemisms for it."
The Canadian couple stopped setting up the board for a second game. "Eighteenth Century Russia?"
Lizzy gave Tina what is known as a 'telling look'. This one was the town gossip. "Tsar Peter III had a rat court marshalled for nibbling on one of his toy soldiers. Probably a good thing that he only ruled for six months, though not that surprising."
The Innkeepers laughed again. "Well, would you like to hear a few of the local stories? Our grandson's friends may have told you a few, but they only know the bare bones."
Nearly the entire group perked up at the offer. They had come on the tour for History and Hauntings, after all. Tina cautiously settled back down next to Lizzy, double-checking the barrier holding back her psychic sense. Lizzy leaned forward eagerly. "We'd love to, if you have the time."
The old man's face nearly disappeared into the laugh-lines as he smiled, happy to have an audience. "Well then, which tale to start with… "
Chapter Four
Between them, the Innkeepers had an incredible stock of traditional tales, local legends and ghost stories, all of which they were happy to tell to a keen audience who hadn't already heard them a dozen times over.
Lizzy's enthusiasm for the stories had been a source of vast amusement for
Sean and his friends, who had finally found something that turned the serious young woman into a child with a love for bedtime stories. They weren't about to tease her, though; mostly because of the killer look Tina shot them whenever they tried.
It was one of the few times that people thinking Tina to be a little unhinged looked as though it would come in handy. Getting out of family events where two sides of the family didn't get along was another time, but Tina and Lizzy were missing out on three of those while they were on the tour.
No, of course they hadn't timed the trip for exactly that reason. Honestly.
This afternoon, in the break between cleaning up after lunch and getting a start on preparing for dinner, it was the local legend that had given the village its popularity, and drawn the tour group there in the first place. Will was taking a turn manning the bar, for the benefit of any who came in for a quiet drink or to watch the Sports with friends between mealtimes, Ben was making the daily grocery run, and James was sitting on a chair next to where Lizzy and Tina were again curled up on the sofa.
The Innkeeper was an incredible storyteller, and it showed. "…The Landlord's daughter watched for her love every night, waiting for him and fearing for his safety, for even Highwaymen are loved by someone, and this Highwayman had done a great deal of good for those in need. But one night, the King's soldiers came with no warning, and the Innkeeper's daughter was no longer the only one waiting for the Highwayman. The Highwayman was clever, and escaped their trap, but they came upon him the next day, when he was returning to our little village, and shot him dead."