you’ve got Bonbon here to thank,’ the swarthy man continued, winking at Colenso. ‘Make sure you play fair, Jago, know what I mean?’
‘Course, I will. You know me,’ he replied airily.
‘I do,’ Big Al replied, shooting him a level look. ‘Right, Bonbon, I take it you’ve had no trouble from Marco.’ It was more statement than question and Colenso guessed he must have had a word with the Illusionaire.
‘No, I haven’t, although I’ve given his tent a wide berth.’
‘Very sensible,’ Big Al nodded. ‘Got to help yourself. You’d do well to learn from your assistant here,’ he added, turning back to face Jago. ‘Remember what I said.’ With a curt nod, he swaggered over to where swing boats were now being dismantled. Colenso grinned wryly, remembering the first time she’d met him. How different everything seemed now. Dressed as a girl again, she’d been accepted by the travelling people and was beginning to enjoy her new roving life.
‘Ruddy Mr Know-All,’ Jago growled after him. ‘Lives off the back of us, he does.’
‘Mara says he works hard,’ Colenso replied. ‘As have I,’ she added, looking at him expectantly.
‘Yes, well when we get to Truro I’ll work out how much I owe you,’ he muttered, turning back to his packing-up.
‘But …’ Colenso began, not sure how to pursue the matter. ‘Look, Jago, it’s only right you should pay me something now. I can’t continue living off Mara’s generosity.’
‘When did a few wild leaves cost anything?’ His voice was muffled as he’d started taking down the Panam and was hidden under folds of striped canvas. Colenso shook her head. Although Jago was happy when money was coming in, it was becoming increasingly obvious he didn’t like paying any out.
‘I’m looking forward to meeting your sister,’ she said. ‘And learning how to make sweets.’
‘Good,’ he mumbled. ‘See you in Truro,’ he added, bending down to roll up the Panam. Knowing the fair people came together then went their separate ways before meeting up again, Colenso nodded. Her money could wait another day or so.
✳
As the sky lightened to a pearlescent pink, the kumpania began making its way south towards Truro. Colenso walked alongside Mara, happy to see the woman had regained some of her colour. They watched as mewling buzzards circled the gentle hills, inhaled the perfume of the rich pink whistling jack and blue columbines, picked comfrey and the hedge woundwort whose leaves contained antiseptic properties for treating wounds.
‘And these make a good mattress-filler,’ Mara told her, pointing to the hedges festooned with creamy white plumes of bedstraw. ‘Sleep on those with your lover and your union will be blessed, as well as having a comfortable romp, of course.’
‘Mara,’ she gasped, feeling the heat stealing across her cheeks.
‘Sorry,’ the woman replied, sounding anything but. ‘But if you make the most of nature’s summer bounty, you’ll be set up for the winter. I can’t believe it’s the first week of June. The summer solstice will be here before we know it.’
‘Mammwynn celebrated Litha by rising before dawn to greet the sun on its day of greatest power.’ Her smile was tinged with sadness as she remembered the excitement of sitting on Mammwynn’s little seat and waiting for the first ray of light to appear. The air was always filled with a sense of expectation, which turned to wonderment as the grey sky turned to blush pink then rosy red.
‘The day the reigns of the Oak and Holly Kings are reversed and old Lord Holly comes into his own once more,’ Mara nodded, breaking into her thoughts.
‘You understand,’ Colenso cried excitedly, for there were many – her father included – who scorned such beliefs.
‘Of course I do.’ There was a moment’s pause. ‘I would have liked your grandmother,’ Mara murmured. She said it in her usual straightforward way and Colenso knew the two women would have got on well.
‘I shall miss celebrating with her this year,’ she sighed.
‘Well, we’re going to Marazion after we’ve done Truro, so we can rejoice together on the beautiful Mount of St Michael. You couldn’t wish for a more serene place to mark the solstice,’ Mara said, reaching out and patting her arm. ‘As long as your Kitto hasn’t whisked you away on his white charger by then,’ she chuckled.
Colenso fell silent as thoughts of Kitto began spinning around in her head once more. How was he and what was he doing? Would she hear from him? Although Mara seemed positive he would contact her somehow, so much had happened that she felt her confidence wavering at times.
‘Look, you can see the china-clay workings over there, which means we’re edging towards Bugle,’ Mara said breaking into her thoughts.
‘Jago pointed out the spoil heaps when we were on our way to Bodmin.’
‘Well, you’re about to see them close up, my girl. I know it brings vital work but those poor people who live here … well, look,’ she sighed, gesturing ahead to little terraces of rundown granite cottages covered in white dust from the mining.
‘Heavens,’ Colenso exclaimed, grimacing at the spoil heaps that towered menacingly over the town.
‘Something to be said for the open road with its fresh, green countryside, eh, my girl?’ Mara said with a sideways glance.
‘And definitely the roar and crash of the waves on the beach, the tang of salt in the air,’ Colenso smiled.
They laboured up the hill then down the other side with overgrown white mountains of old clay waste on both sides of them. The sun beat down relentlessly from a cloudless sky and, as they trudged on, Colenso couldn’t believe how far these people travelled between each fair. Finally, tired and thirsty, they came to a stream where they stopped to water the ponies and have a rest. It was then Colenso noticed Mara wasn’t eating much. The pallor had returned to her skin along with the dark smudges under her eyes.
‘Why don’t you have a sleep in the van?’ she asked as the kumpania made ready to leave.
‘But I won’t have to walk, the road is flat enough for us to ride from here to Grampound where we’ll spend the night. Besides, who would steer old Ears?’
‘Me, of course. I’ve watched you often enough and he should know me by now.’
Mara stared at her thoughtfully. ‘Hear that, Ears,’ she said, patting the pony’s head. ‘Behave yourself for Colenso and you’ll get an extra feed.’ The pony whinnied softly and Mara handed over the reins and climbed into the back of the van.
Colenso carefully steered them back onto the road then followed the trail of wagons as they passed through a valley blanketed with dense woodland before it opened out into farmland and scrub. It was then she felt the stabbing. Her hand went to her chest, except her necklace wasn’t there. She stared around but could see nothing but fields and vegetation. Thinking tiredness was making her edgy, she tried to relax. The others were some way ahead and she urged Ears on, but the pony ignored her and continued plodding at his own pace.
Then she heard the sound of hooves and the rumble of wheels
