by Linda Finlay
She helped Mara unhitch Ears and set up the van for the night, then unable to bear the itching any longer, followed the tiny stream until she came to a pond in the woodland. Noticing how quiet it was, she tore off the scratchy clothes and band binding her chest then, heedless of the murky water, dived in. She hardly noticed the cold puckering her skin as she revelled in the relief of being free from restraint. Flipping over, she floated on her back, watching the sun-streaked sky turning from crimson to rose and apricot.
A splash in the water close by disturbed her reverie. There was a rustling in the grass and she saw two amber eyes and a lolloping tongue staring at her from the bank. Her eyes widened as another figure appeared. Crouching further down in the water, she covered her breasts with her hands, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he would hear it.
‘I say, boy, could you retrieve that stick?’ the man called. ‘Threw it a bit hard and old Bosun here won’t go anywhere near water.’ Colenso swallowed hard and looked over to where the twig was hovering just out of reach. How could she retrieve it without revealing herself? Careful to keep beneath the water, she inched her way towards it. Grabbing it with one hand whilst keeping herself covered with the other, she aimed it arrow-like at the man.
‘I say, good shot,’ he cried. ‘Mighty obliged, boy. That water looks so inviting. Could be tempted to take a dip myself.’ As he leaned over, his shadow edging towards her, Colenso’s stomach sank. ‘Still, got to think of the dog. Thanks again, boy,’ he said and much to her relief, bent and retrieved the stick. He threw it in the opposite direction and then followed after the dog. She waited until he’d disappeared then let out the breath she’d been holding. Laughter bubbled up inside her. Boy indeed. If only he knew. Although the old clothes had served their purpose, she felt so invigorated there was no way she was putting the coarse garments back on again.
‘I’d like to wear my own blouse and skirt now,’ Colenso told Mara when, holding the jacket in front of her to protect her modesty, she entered the van.
‘I told you, we need to check with Big Al that it’s safe,’ the woman frowned. She’d removed her scarf and was sitting on the cushion, combing out her curls. As the light caught the sheen of her long tresses, something snapped inside Colenso.
‘You’re meant to be the fortune teller so why don’t you consult your crystal ball?’ Mara dropped her comb in surprise. ‘I want to be a woman again,’ she added, her voice softer now.
‘Very well,’ Mara said, taking down the velvet bag. ‘But I think you should put those clothes back on before we see what it has to tell us.’ She covered the globe with her hands then removed them and peered closely into it. Her eyes widened but, instead of saying anything, she went pale.
‘Well, what does it say about me?’ Colenso asked impatiently as she sat down beside her.
‘Me, me, me, that’s all you think of,’ Mara roared, jumping to her feet and running from the van. Colenso stared after her before turning back to the crystal. Although she gazed hard into its depths she could see nothing but swirling mist. A knock on the door brought her back to the present, and looking up she saw Jago staring worriedly at her.
‘Everything all right in here?’ he asked.
‘I didn’t know you were here,’ she smiled, pleased to see him.
‘Only arrived a few minutes ago. I heard shouting and then saw Mara stomping down to the stream.’
‘I asked her to look in her crystal ball but she wouldn’t tell me what she saw.’
‘Oh,’ he murmured. ‘Well, whatever upset her, I’m sure she’ll be back soon. In the meantime, are you joining us for supper?’
The others looked up curiously as they took their places beside the fire but nobody said anything. Colenso accepted her plate and ate her meal automatically, hardly tasting the herb-laden potage. She watched the flames becoming brighter as the shadows around them lengthened.
‘Mara’s not back,’ Sarah said when they’d all finished eating. ‘Shall I go and check she’s all right?’
‘Probably wants a bit of space. Not used to sharing her home, she isn’t,’ her husband replied. Colenso stared at them in dismay. She’d been so caught up in her own problems she hadn’t given any thought to the generous lady who’d taken her in and cared for her these past few weeks.
‘I’ll go,’ she said, jumping up and hurrying towards the water. She followed the path along the bank for a while until she spotted Mara sitting under a tree, her back leaning against its thick trunk.
‘I’m really sorry, Mara,’ she apologized.
‘Don’t be, it comes to us all,’ the woman sighed, getting to her feet. ‘Reckon you can wear your own clothes tomorrow,’ she added. Colenso was so delighted that it was only later she remembered the woman’s first remark. By then Mara was snoring gently and she resolved to ask her about it first thing in the morning.
The pleasure of pulling on her soft blouse over skin not constrained by the tight band made her shiver with happiness. She was just running her fingers through the tufts of hair, the delight of not having to wear the itchy cap again outweighing the loss of her long tresses, when Mara returned, Jago following behind.
‘Well, look at you,’ he said, his eyes widening in surprise. ‘Scrubbed up well, eh Mara?’
‘No more than I would have expected,’ Mara smiled, her black mood of the previous day having disappeared.
‘Should draw more punters in now,’ Jago said, rubbing his hands together gleefully.
‘Jago has to pick up supplies for the Panam so is leaving for Bodmin now. He wonders if you might like to accompany him?’
‘Really?’ she asked, hardly able to contain her excitement. ‘But won’t you need help packing up?’ she asked.
‘Managed perfectly well afore you arrived so I’m sure I’ll cope,’ Mara replied. ‘Besides, it’ll be nice to enjoy the peace of the countryside without you asking stupid questions every few minutes.’ Although her voice was brusque, Colenso saw her lips twitching and knew she was teasing. Impulsively, she kissed the woman’s cheek, surprised at how papery it felt, but she had little time to dwell on the matter, for Jago was already heading out of the door.
His van was larger than Mara’s but the woodwork was plain and looked dull compared with the brightly painted flowers that adorned hers. However, his horse was also larger and capable of pulling the wagon uphill with them in it as well. Seated beside Jago, she watched as they passed moorland covered with bracken, golden gorse and yet more low, scrubby trees.
‘Mara seems like her old self again this morning,’ Jago commented. ‘But it will probably do her good to have some time to herself.’
‘You mean you engineered this trip?’ Colenso asked, turning to him in surprise.
‘I need to collect more confections, for that is my job of a journeyman after all.’ Well that told her, she thought. Then he turned towards her and smiled. ‘Thought you’d like to meet some of the people who make them.’ They travelled on in silence and Colenso couldn’t help thinking how much nicer it was to be riding rather than walking along the dusty roads, especially as she was wearing her skirt again.
‘They’re the china-clay workings over there.’ She wrinkled her nose at the large mountains of dirty white spoil beyond the boggy moorland.
‘Going to be another hot day by the look of it,’ Jago sighed, gesturing to the sun rising like a great yellow ball in front of them. ‘I’ll have to make sure the sweets don’t melt.’
‘Do you want me to check them for you?’ she asked.
‘Later perhaps. Let’s use the time to get to know each other better. You know I hail from Truro, but where are you from?’ Not wishing to divulge any personal information, Colenso gestured to the tin mines they were passing.
‘I didn’t realize there were so many around here,’ she commented. Giving her a knowing look, he nodded and lapsed into silence again. After a while, the landscape became less rugged, with more fields farmed. Jago tugged on the reins and the horse obedientl
y turned down onto a track.
‘Mrs Manning has the farm here. She ran it with her husband until he got caught under the wheels of his cart. Nasty business. Caitlin’s carried it on since his death, yet still manages to concoct her speciality for the Panam in her spare time. She’s from Scotland and makes their native tablet. I’ve told her I’ll understand if it gets too much, but she insists she finds the process therapeutic,’ he said. He gave another tug on the reins and the horse trotted round to the yard. The moment they pulled up outside a grey, formidable-looking farmhouse, the door opened. A pretty woman in her late twenties with auburn hair coiled around her head smiled and waved, but as soon as she saw Colenso her expression changed.
‘Caitlin, how are you?’ Jago asked, oblivious. ‘I’ve brought Colenso with me. She’s been helping me on the Panam.’
‘Och, how kind,’ she replied in such a patronizing voice Colenso wanted to pull tongues at her. However, she refrained and smiled back politely. ‘Forgive me, Jago dear, but I’m all behind today. It’s hard managing by myself, though as you know, I do my best,’ she simpered.
‘And very well you do too,’ Jago replied gallantly. ‘Do you need a hand packing up the tablet?’
‘I need help making it,’ Caitlin giggled, batting her eyelashes at him. So that was the way of things, Colenso thought.
‘Now don’t you worry, Colenso here wants to learn how to make our sweet confections so she can stay and help you.’
‘But I thought you could,’ Caitlin pouted, laying a hand on his arm.
‘I’m afraid I’ve other collections to make before the fair opens tomorrow. Look, I’ll call back early this afternoon, that should give you enough time. You’ll give Caitlin a hand, won’t you?’ he asked, turning to Colenso.
‘Delighted to,’ she smiled, trying not to laugh out loud as the woman’s lips tightened into a line.
‘Surely you’ll stay for a drink like usual?’ she asked, her Scottish lilt becoming more pronounced.
‘That’s kind of you, Caitlin, but I’d hate to delay you.’ With a quick nod, he turned and walked back to his wagon. There was a strained silence as they both stood there staring after him.
Chapter 19
The wagon disappeared in a cloud of dust and Caitlin turned to Colenso, eyeing her critically. Thank heavens she was wearing her own clothes, she thought, for clearly the woman had dressed up for Jago’s visit.
‘Well, come on then,’ Caitlin snapped, leading the way into an outhouse.
‘I thought we’d be making it in the kitchen,’ Colenso murmured as they entered the cool interior of the dairy.
‘I will be,’ she said, emphasising the word ‘I’. ‘You can start by greasing these.’ She pointed to rows of shallow tins set out on the cool surfaces, then to a dish of golden butter. With a baleful glare, she stomped back outside. It didn’t take Colenso long to finish the simple task, and while she waited for Caitlin to return, she took a look around. Everything was spotless, with jugs and pans lined along a shelf, and dishes, moulds and cutters on another, while in the corner stood a cheese mill. It was easy to see what the milk was used for, she thought, gazing through the window where reddish brown cows contentedly munched the grass. Lucky you, having your meals provided, she thought as her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since the previous day. Fed up with waiting for Caitlin to reappear, she made her way outside and following the sounds of pots being banged found her way to the kitchen.
‘All done,’ she said brightly. ‘What would you like me to do now?’ To her surprise, instead of snapping at her, the woman’s lips widened into a grin.
‘If you really want to help, you can scrape down the insides,’ she said, indicating the huge pan she was stirring. Colenso’s eyes widened as she saw the mixture bubbling and frothing up the sides. ‘Well, jump to it, else crystals will start forming,’ she added brusquely, inclining her head towards the pastry brush. As the woman stared challengingly at her, Colenso snatched it up and did as she’d been asked.
The heat rising from the mix was unbearable, burning her skin and making her eyes water, but she continued wiping the mixture back down until the woman grudgingly told her to stop. ‘Test time now. You putting your finger in or am I?’ Colenso stared at the seething inferno and thought she was joking until she remembered Jago telling her about his sister. ‘Och really,’ the woman tutted, sticking her finger into the pan then quickly removing it and licking off the liquid. ‘It can come off the heat now,’ she nodded, lifting the pan onto a big trivet on the kitchen table. Then taking up a big wooden spoon, she began beating it hard.
‘What are you doing?’ Colenso couldn’t resist asking.
‘Beating it until the mixture begins to form crystals.’
‘So now you want crystals?’ Colenso asked, staring at her in surprise.
‘Och aye, of course. ’Tis called graining.’ Colenso watched fascinated as the woman thumped the mixture with all her might before slowing to a stir. ‘You and Jago sweethearts?’ Caitlin asked without stopping what she was doing.
‘Good heavens, no. I’m betrothed to a man from Cadgwith,’ Colenso replied, her heart flipping at the thought of Kitto. Immediately, the woman’s manner changed.
‘Is that so?’ she grinned before resuming her stirring. ‘Right, that’s it, we’re away to the dairy now,’ she said, picking up the heavy pan and carrying it outside.
Back in the dairy, the woman tilted the pan and poured the mixture quickly into the prepared tins. Taking up a knife, she spread it evenly then tapped each one on the surface.
‘This releases any bubbles,’ she explained, seeing Colenso’s puzzled look. ‘Right, all done. Just got time for a wee cup before we need to score the surface.’
Once she knew Colenso wasn’t a threat, Caitlin proved to be entertaining company, and by the time Jago returned, the tablet was set, cut into pieces and wrapped in muslin.
‘So how did you find the redoubtable Mrs Manning?’ Jago asked as they rejoined the road to Bodmin.
‘She was fine once she knew I didn’t have any desires on your affections,’ Colenso replied truthfully.
‘You don’t?’ he asked, raising his brows enquiringly.
‘Of course not. You’re much too old,’ she grinned.
‘Oh, how you wound a man,’ he cried, theatrically slapping his hand to his chest.
‘Mrs Manning certainly desires you, though.’ When he didn’t answer, she changed the subject. ‘At least I got my first lesson in sweet-making.’
‘Ah, now you’re talking my language, woman,’ he quipped. ‘So what’s her secret receipt?’ he asked, looking serious.
‘Receipt?’ she frowned. ‘I don’t know, Caitlin had already mixed everything by the time I’d got back from greasing the pans.’
‘The first rule of sweet-making is to gather as many receipts as possible. That’s how my grandmother started,’ Jago told her, trying to keep his voice calm. ‘Can you remember what ingredients she used?’
‘There was milk and cream in the kitchen, oh and a big cone of sugar,’ she said excitedly.
‘All confections contain sugar,’ Jago groaned. ‘Oh well, it’s my fault for not having mentioned it earlier. In future, remember the golden rule.’
‘Yes, Jago,’ she replied.
‘We’ll soon be in Bodmin so you might as well sit back and enjoy the rest of the ride.’
They had left the moorland behind, and Colenso stared in fascination at the fields that were rectilinearly partitioned and looked like a gigantic patchwork quilt.
‘I need to stop in the town and buy a card,’ Colenso said as they approached the outskirts and the horse laboured up the long slope.
‘The fair is on the west side before we enter the town itself and I daren’t make a detour in this heat or my stocks will melt.’
‘But I need to send one,’ she told him, frowning as they veered off the road and bumped their way down a track towards the field.
‘Don’t worr
y, we’ll be here for quite a few days so you’ll have plenty of opportunity. My, it’s busy already,’ he said, nodding to where stalls had already been erected. ‘And look, there’s Mara’s little tent over by the graveyard. Don’t know how she manages to find one, but she always does. No, not yet,’ he said, putting out his hand as Colenso made to climb down. ‘We’ll find out where your kumpania are camped and I’ll deliver you to Mara’s door.’ She was about to protest, but when she saw the crowds of people, vans and wagons converging onto the field, changed her mind.
‘Wondered where you’d got to,’ Mara grunted as they drew up beside her van. She was sitting on the step and Colenso just knew she’d been waiting for them to arrive.
‘I’m going to check my stocks and set up the Panam, so I’ll see you later,’ Jago said as Colenso climbed down.
‘Do you need any help?’ she offered.
‘No ta,’ he replied. ‘All right, Mara?’ She nodded and went inside, leaving Colenso to follow.
‘Been having a tidy-up,’ the woman said, pointing to the hidey-hole Colenso had been sleeping in. It was now topped by a brightly coloured crocheted blanket and matching cushion.
‘Oh yes, so I see,’ Colenso frowned. Obviously, the others had been right and Mara wanted her own space back.
‘Don’t look like that,’ Mara said. ‘Stands to reason that now you’re wearing your own clothes, you won’t need to stay in there anymore.’
‘No, of course. I’ll go right away. Before I do though, I’d like to thank you for looking after me.’
‘Go? Where are you going?’ Mara cried, looking alarmed.
‘Well, obviously you want your van to yourself and …’
‘Fiddle. I might like my own company but you’ve still so much to learn about the countryside. Whilst I appreciate your love of the sea, it’s my duty to teach you about Mother Nature’s bounty, so you’ll make a good wife to that Kitto of yours. Now, kettle’s boiling, so stop talking rot and make us some tea.’ Relief rushing through her, Colenso nodded and hurried over to the stove.