by Linda Finlay
‘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.
Chapter 15
‘The big vans have arrived,’ Mara announced, peering through the window the next morning. ‘I’ll go and feed Ears then get my tent ready for the first punters.’
‘Why is he called that?’ Colenso asked,
‘Because he doesn’t miss anything,’ Mara laughed. ‘Never known a pony like it. We complement each other though, him with his hearing and me with my sight.’
‘What can I do while you’re out?’ Colenso asked. Having just finished a hearty breakfast of pancakes laced with some kind of fortifying cordial, she was eager to help.
‘Lie low,’ the woman replied, setting the little chintz curtain back in place. ‘It’ll be pandemonium while they set up the stalls and rides so nobody should come knocking. I’ll try and nip back later but can’t promise as it’s always hectic on opening day,’ she added, tying a red scarf around her hair and rubbing liquid from a little glass phial over her lips until they were the same bright colour. Then, gathering up the velvet bag with its crystal ball and the carved casket, she disappeared outside.
With a sinking feeling, Colenso watched her go. How was she going to get through another long day with nothing to do? Then she remembered the other book and settled down to read it. This one was written in beautiful copperplate and illustrated with colourful drawings of sweetmeats and other wonderful confections she’d never seen before. Eagerly, she turned the pages, enthralled to read recipes for preserving fruits and nuts with sugar, candied orange slices, clotted-cream fudge. Although Mammwynn had taught her to make a tablet concocted from flowers, this was entirely different. Fascinated, she lost all sense of time and had just reached the page detailing bullseyes and rose rock when Mara returned, closing the door quickly behind her.
‘Just got time for a brew before the fair opens,’ she announced, scuttling over to stoke the stove and place the kettle to heat. ‘Fair parched, I am,’ she added, grinning at her pun as she collapsed onto the brightly coloured cushions which turned into her bed at night. ‘Find that interesting, do you?’ she asked, pointing to the book.
‘I had no idea you made such things,’ Colenso told her.
‘I don’t,’ Mara laughed. ‘Jago the Journeyman does, or rather his mother and sister do. He left his grandmother’s journal here last year. You might get to meet him, though not until we’re well clear of here. Still too close to home for you yet.’
‘Let me make it,’ Colenso offered, jumping up as the little kettle whistled.
‘Save the leaves in the jar with the rest for brewing again,’ Mara told her. ‘There’s always those who want a reading.’ Colenso stared at the woman in admiration. Was there no end to her talents?
‘Got the gift passed down from my grandmother,’ Mara said as if seeing into her mind. ‘Didn’t understand what it was at first. Thought everyone saw the things I did.’
‘What do you mean? What did you see?’ Colenso frowned.
‘Spirits of people who’d passed over. First happened with my dear Grandma. Loved her so much and was devastated when she died. Anyhow one day our dog Benjie started barking excitedly and there she was beside us. I was chatting away to her, telling her everything that had happened, when Mother came into the room and asked who I was talking to. Thought I was making it all up cos she couldn’t see Grandmother herself. It happened a few times but I learned to keep it to myself. Not many have the gift, you see.’
‘Mammwynn used to say her pentacle foretold things,’ Colenso told her.
‘The one you gave to your mother,’ Mara nodded.
‘Which I hope she remembers to give to Kitto with my message,’ she sighed.
‘If it’s written in the stars then it’ll happen,’ Mara told her, patting her hand. ‘For now, let’s enjoy our drink.’
After Mara had left, Colenso settled back to her reading. However, it wasn’t long before the tea made its inevitable journey. Knowing she couldn’t wait any longer, Colenso dragged on the jacket, pulled her cap right down over her face then stole outside. The organ was churning out its brash music while the field rang with an assortment of strange noises and laughter. Certain she wouldn’t be spotted amongst the melee, she hurried towards the edge of the field. However, when she emerged a few minutes later, she heard a
man yell.
‘You boy, over here.’ She broke into a run but the man followed and moments later caught her firmly by the arm.
‘Think you can disobey me? Well, think again. We don’t carry no shirkers here,’ the swarthy man with greying hair roared, pushing her roughly towards a queue. ‘These people are waiting for the overboats, so look sharp and start turning that handle.’
‘I can’t …’ Colenso began, but he’d already turned away.
‘Right folks, two at a time please, two at a time,’ he told them, taking their money and slipping the coins into a leather pouch at his side.
‘Well, get to it, we ain’t got all day,’ he snapped as the lads seated in the boats stared at her expectantly. Grabbing the handle, she began turning. ‘You’ll have to go faster than that or they’ll be wanting their money back,’ the man shouted.
As the fair organ with its brass trumpets emulated the sound of a military band and people milled around, laughing and shouting, Colenso lost all track of time. She could hear the shot of rifles, the crack of balls against the coconut shies, the cries of delight when people won. Conscious of people watching the ride, she tried to pull the cap down further over her face.
‘Put your back into it, boy,’ the man cried, taking fares from yet more punters. The smell of frying onions wafted on the breeze, making her stomach churn as she turned and turned the handle. Her arms were aching and the band across her chest constrained her breathing, inhibiting her movements. But there was no respite, for no sooner did one ride finish than the boats were refilled with yet more people eager to experience the thrill of being swung into the air.
Finally, her arms went dead and, unable to carry on any longer, the handle slipped from her grasp. As the punters voiced their disapproval, the swarthy man turned on her.
‘What the hell you playing at?’ he roared, grabbing her by the shoulders. Then he stared at her closer. ‘Why, you ain’t no boy.’ As people stopped and stared, wondering what all the fuss was about, Colenso saw Mara pushing her way through the crowd.
‘Leave her alone, Al,’ she called.
‘What’s going on, Mara?’ he growled. ‘You know my rules, no hitchers.’
‘Not here. Come to my van and I’ll explain.’
‘Flippin’ ’eck, I got a show to run,’ he huffed, hands on hips.
‘All the more reason to get this sorted without making one, don’t you think?’ she asked. Then linking her arm through Colenso’s, she began walking towards her van. He swore under his breath before, calling to a straw-haired youth to see to the ride, he followed her.
‘This had better be good,’ he growled as Mara shut the door behind them.
‘Regrettably, Al, it’s not good at all. In fact, it’s the most despicable story you ever heard. Sit down and I’ll get us all a stiff drink.’
With a glare at Colenso, he sank onto the cushions while Mara poured rose-coloured liquid into tiny glasses. She handed them round and Colenso sniffed hers tentatively.
‘Get it down you, it’ll do you good,’ she encouraged before turning to Al. His face remained stern but he listened without interrupting until Mara had finished telling him how Colenso had come to be here.
‘I should throw you out of the fair, Mara,’ he grunted. ‘You know the rules.’
‘But you won’t because, for all your bluff and bluster, you hate bullying. Besides, I’m one of your biggest draws.’ The man gave a sharp intake of breath and as he ran a rough hand through his thatch, Colenso was certain Mara had gone too far. To her surprise though, he raised his glass, the hint of a smile on his lips.
‘Touché, Madam Mara. But if the girl’s to stay she must earn her keep. Obviously she’s too weak to be of any use on the rides, so what do you suggest?’
‘Colenso’s willing to work her way, but we’re still too near The Lizard for her to risk being outside. There’s no telling what those evil men will do. My conscience simply won’t allow her to risk being spotted.’ Mara shuddered and took a long mouthful of drink. Then to Colenso’s surprise she changed the subject.
‘By the way, Jago’s sister burned her hand testing the rock and can’t make up the cones for his Nelson’s buttons and bullseyes. It’s a shame for you know the punters will pay more if the sweets are nicely wrapped. They do like a little memento to take home.’ She paused, then as Al took a sip of his drink, winked at Colenso.
‘What say the girl makes up the cones in here?’ he cried, his blue eyes brightening as he gestured around the van.
‘Why Al, what a marvellous idea,’ Mara gushed. ‘What do you say, Colenso? Isn’t Big Al here clever to think of such a solution?’ she asked, turning to Colenso.
‘Er, yes,’ she replied, trying to keep a straight face, for clearly Mara had outfoxed him.
‘Well, after what Mara’s told me, it wouldn’t be human to throw you out,’ he muttered in Colenso’s direction. ‘Can’t have no fancy names so you’re to answer to Col and keep dressed like a boy, all right?’
‘That’s fine and I really do appreciate …’ Colenso began but he’d already turned back to Mara.
‘Don’t want no trouble so I reckon she should stay in the van until we reach Zennor.’
‘That sounds sensible, Al,’ Mara agreed, again making it sound as if he’d come up with the plan she’d originally devised.
‘Right, well, better get back. I’ve a show to run out there, you know,’ he grunted, draining his glass. ‘Nice drop of sloe gin, that.’
‘The hedges were generous with their bounty last autumn,’ Mara grinned. ‘I’ll speak to Jago first thing tomorrow.’ She waited until he’d left then turned to Colenso. ‘Right, now that’s sorted, let’s get you cleaned up. Colenso frowned down at her blood-encrusted hands then winced as Mara gently dabbed them with a kerchief soaked in the gin. ‘You’ll have blisters come morning but could have been worse.’
‘Why are you helping me like this?’ Colenso asked.
‘What am I meant to do, leave you to the mercy of those beasts?’ Mara muttered.
‘But …’
‘No buts. Let’s just say someone once helped me when I needed it and now it’s my turn to return the favour. Right, all done. You get some shut-eye while I go back to my tent. There’s a goodly crowd out there with money burning holes in their pockets. I can’t afford to miss the opportunity of having my palm crossed with silver,’ she grinned and, before Colenso could thank her, disappeared outside.
✳
‘Have you made cones before?’ Jago asked her the next morning. With his hazel eyes and shock of white hair, he appeared older than Colenso had expected. However, his gentle, unassuming manner soon put her at her ease.
‘No,’ she admitted.
‘Oh well, ’tis easy. Must be, else Karla would never manage,’ he grinned. ‘Look, all you do is cut out circles of paper, fold each into four, unwrap, and slice down the creases,’ he said, demonstrating deftly. ‘Roll each one into shape, mould the pointed end like so, then paste the edges,’ he said, dipping his finger into the flour-and-water mixture. ‘Then, hey presto,’ he said, triumphantly holding up the finished cone. ‘Now you try.’
It took Colenso a couple of goes before she’d grasped the technique to his satisfaction but finally he nodded.
‘That’s good. Sometimes for special occasions like the Flora Day, Karla fashions scallops out of the edges of circles before she cuts them but that’s up to you. I’m just mighty obliged for any help you can give me.’
‘Let me master this, then I’ll give the fancy ones a try. The time passes slowly cooped up in here so I’ll be happy to have something to do. Not that I’m complaining,’ she added quickly in case he thought her ungrateful. ‘And I really enjoyed reading your sweetmeat journal.’
‘Did you?’ he asked, looking pleased. ‘It was Grandmother’s life’s work to ensure all her receipts were recorded. She drew all the pictures of how they should look, too. When you’re allowed out, as it were, come and see me at the Panam
stall. I’ll be delighted to show you what we sell.’
‘Do you and Karla make all the sweets?’
‘Mostly, although it varies from fair to fair, depending on how long we stay in each place. I’ve gotten to know ladies who make different confections that I collect along the way. Adds variety to the Panam and gives them the opportunity to earn some money. Don’t know how long Karla will be out of action though. Her hand turned nasty so I told her to stay home with Mother until it heals.’
‘How did she manage to burn it so badly?’
‘Testing the consistency of the syrup,’ he sighed. ‘Didn’t get her finger out in time,’ he shrugged.
‘That’s terrible,’ Colenso gasped, her blisters suddenly seeming mild by comparison.
‘Occupational hazard,’ he shrugged. ‘Don’t look so shocked, she knew the risk. Besides if she hadn’t been daydreaming about her follower, it wouldn’t have happened.’ Follower? How old was his sister then? Perhaps Jago was younger than she’d first thought for, although he had that shock of white hair, his eyes were clear, his skin smooth.
‘Well, I’d better leave you to it,’ he said, interrupting her musing as he got to his feet. ‘Get Mara to drop those over to the Panam when you’re done.’
‘Do you sell a lot of sweets?’ she asked.
‘Oh yes. If the men don’t win something on the stalls for their ladies to take home then they have to purchase them a gift or their lives wouldn’t be worth living. Then there are the children who want to spend their precious pennies on rock or barley-sugar twists,’ he grinned.
Pleased to have something useful to do to pass the time, Colenso pulled out the little table and settled down to making the cones. It was an easy enough task, even within the confines of the little van and with all the noise and kerfuffle going on outside.
As the pile grew, she found her mind wandering. She thought of Kitto and wondered how he was getting on. Had her mamm given him her necklace yet? And if she had, what would his reaction be? Would he be able to get time off from work to follow after her? His family were reliant on his wage after all.