what’s wrong,’ Colenso wailed, running her fingers through her tufts of hair. ‘That and the fact that she has always had her eye on Kitto.’
‘What’s for you won’t pass by you,’ Mara said gently.
‘Oh, you and your silly sayings,’ Colenso shouted.
‘Calm down and think about it. You said Kitto loves you, and presumably you still love him?’
‘Of course I do,’ she cried.
‘Then shouldn’t you trust him?’ Mara asked, staring at her intently.
‘What do you know about it? You’ve never been married, have you?’ Colenso was so overwrought, she hardly noticed the woman flinch.
‘No, that’s true, I haven’t. But I was promised to someone once. Someone I loved with all my heart.’
‘So what happened?’ Colenso asked, feeling a pang of remorse as she saw the desolation in Mara’s eyes.
‘He died in a mining accident,’ she whispered. Then she went silent, a faraway look in her eyes. Colenso watched as, with a supreme effort, the woman continued. ‘They thought they’d found a new vein of copper and he was offered a goodly sum to go deeper underground and investigate. I had a dreadful feeling about it and pleaded with him not to go. However, we were saving to be married and, knowing the extra money would come in handy, he insisted but …’ Her voice quavered then petered out. Colenso rushed over to the woman and put her arm around her.
‘It’s all right, you don’t have to tell me,’ she murmured.
‘But I do,’ Mara said, her voice quiet. ‘The roof collapsed and he was buried under tons of soil and rock. It was too dangerous for anyone to go back down so his body was never found.’
‘Oh Mara, that’s terrible. I had no idea.’
‘How could you?’ Mara shrugged. ‘But love is a precious thing, Colenso, so think hard before you throw it away on perceived grievances. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to turn in.’
‘Thank you for telling me. I’ll write to Kitto tomorrow.’
After a restless night tossing and turning, her dreams punctuated by the fair-haired schoolmistress smiling adoringly at Kitto as he sat learning his letters, Colenso woke to hear Mara rooting through her little cupboard.
‘What are you doing?’ she muttered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
‘I was thinking last night that you could do with something new to wear and I remembered these,’ she said holding up a green skirt and matching top. ‘You can’t go around in those old clothes any longer,’ the woman told her. ‘They’re all worn and torn.’ Colenso stared at the brightly coloured garments then laughed.
‘But I’ll never get into those. I’m much too big.’
‘Have you taken a look at yourself lately? All that walking has paid dividends, my girl. I’ve even found an emerald scarf for you to tie around your head. Go and try them on whilst I go and get some water for a brew.’ Before Colenso could reply, she snatched up the kettle, unbolted the little door and hurried outside.
Colenso ran her fingers over the pink and yellow daisies that had been embroidered on the blouse then noticed they’d been replicated around the flounce of the skirt. How lovely it would be to wear clothes as pretty as these. Hardly expecting them to fit, but not wishing to offend Mara, she jumped out of bed and slipped them on. To her amazement not only did the buttons on the blouse do up, the skirt skimmed her hips. Delighted, she danced around the tiny room, revelling at the swishing sound the fine material made. Running her fingers through her growing tresses, she twirled the scarf around her head, letting the ends drape elegantly down her back as Mara did. Peering in the tiny mirror beside the cupboard, she gasped in surprise. No longer plump and awkward, her reflection showed a slender outline with sparkling dark eyes and skin that was tanned and healthy. The bright green of the outfit seemed to bring her colouring alive somehow.
‘Well, look at you,’ Mara beamed, returning with the filled pot. ‘All you need now are some golden hoops in your ears and you’ll really look the part.’
‘These clothes are so pretty. Can I really wear them?’ Colenso asked.
‘Why bless you, they’re yours to keep, dearie.’
‘Really? How much do I owe you?’ Colenso asked, taking the coins out of her basket. ‘Jago finally paid me yesterday,’ she explained. ‘His sister insisted.’
‘Well, I’m glad about that but you keep your money. It will be lovely to see the clothes being worn at last after the hours I spent stitching those daisies.’ She blinked and looked out of the window, her expression taking on that faraway look.
‘I’m sorry, Mara,’ she murmured, guessing their conversation of the previous evening had stirred up sad memories.
‘Don’t be, it was all a long time ago.’ She forced a smile. ‘Now, put those coins somewhere safe.’
‘But you haven’t taken anything for my keep and …’
‘Money holds no import for me. I have everything I need and, as you’ve seen, Ears and I always find enough to eat and kindling to heat along the way. Now,’ she continued as Colenso made to protest, ‘Sarah and I are going into Truro before the fair opens, so get that reply written to Kitto and I’ll post it while I’m there. While you’re doing that, I’ll make us tea and nettle champ. Opening day’s always hectic so we’ll need a good breakfast inside us.’
Colenso took out the card she’d bought the previous day, addressed and stamped the envelope then reread Kitto’s letter. She let out a long sigh.
‘What’s the matter now?’ Mara asked, looking up from the potatoes she was chopping.
‘He didn’t say much so I’m not sure how to answer.’
‘Well, if he’s been learning his letters it probably took him all his time to write what he did,’ she pointed out. ‘Tell him you’re pleased to hear from him, you miss him and can’t wait to see him, but as you’re travelling around at the moment he should send his reply to the post office at Marazion.’
‘Right, I’ll do that.’
‘Now, come and eat. I see you’ve lots more cones to make,’ she added, nodding towards the pile of paper in her basket.
‘Hmm, Jago wants them by this afternoon. I suppose I’ll have to wait ages for him to pay me again. I never realized he was so mean.’
‘He is careful with money, I agree. Have you ever wondered why, though?’ Mara said, handing her a plate of food.
‘Suppose he wants to keep it all for himself,’ she said, eagerly tucking into the fried potatoes mixed with nettles and onions.
‘Since he was little, Jago had to make a little money go as far as possible. His father ran off with a younger woman, leaving him to fend for his mother and sister. It was through his own hard work that
