‘Might I enquire who you are, young lady?’ the man asked, lowering his glance until it was addressing her chest. His voice was brisker than the local dialect she was used to.
‘Colenso Carne, sir, daughter of Peder, labourer here. Why do you ask?’
‘I saw you leaving my office and want to know what you were doing there.’
‘Your office, sir?’ she replied, wishing he’d stop gawking at her body. Finally, he raised his face, his lips lifting into some semblance of a grin.
‘Indeed. I am the new manager here,’ he declared, moving closer. ‘And as such I insist on knowing what you have in your basket, Miss Carne.’
‘Only cuttings, sir. They were left for me to collect.’ She lifted the hessian back for him to see.
‘You mean you have been pilfering our fine English marble?’ he asked, quirking a brow. She opened her mouth to protest but he ignored her. ‘Be sure we shall meet again, Miss Carne,’ he added, the steely glint in his eye belying his smile. With a curt nod, he strode inside, leaving her seething. What an obnoxious man. Meet him again? Over her dead body. She’d make sure she had nothing more to do with him, she thought, hefting her basket over her arm and stomping her way back up the hill.
Colenso stamped her way back up the track and had reached Ruan before she’d even begun to calm down. The new manager’s high-handed attitude was unnecessary and uncalled for. Pilfering indeed. Why, she’d been collecting bits of trimmings and offcuts for months now, spending her precious spare time fashioning and polishing items for the nascent tourist trade. Although she failed to see why people would want to holiday on a peninsula which, at this time of year, was often shrouded in swirling mist, the trees bent and twisted like little old men by the prevailing winds. Still, if they were keen to purchase souvenirs to take home, why shouldn’t she provide them? It was satisfying and contributed much-needed money to the family food pot at the same time.
Realizing she was passing Mammwynn’s final resting place, she felt her spirits rise. What better place to open her present from Kitto, she thought, hurrying through the rickety gate that led to the sheltered piece of land where her grandmother had grown her beloved herbs. She settled herself on the wooden bench that stood as if waiting for its owner to reappear, and stared at the cairn of stones sited on the exact spot Mammwynn had insisted she be placed. Not for her a plot in the churchyard. ‘Why waste good money?’ she’d cried. ‘My spirit will have long since returned to the Summerlands. I shall be reflecting on lessons learned here and finding out what is yet to come, not worrying where my old body’s rotting. Better it be returned to the ground here where it can help nourish all these,’ she’d said, her hand making a sweeping gesture around her cherished plants. Colenso sighed as she took in the sad state of them, all withered and wasted. Then she recalled how Mammwynn had explained they were merely resting and would thrive again. There’s a proper time for everything and everything has its season, she’d said.
‘Tell me all.’ It could have been the wind whispering in the rowans that bordered her patch but Colenso felt sure it wasn’t.
‘Kitto loved his pasty Mammwynn, and guess what? He had something for me too,’ she cried, taking the package from her basket and holding it up for the woman to see. Then unable to wait any longer, she tore off the wrapping and smiled. Fashioned out of the serpentine stone was a heart, carved with their initials. It must have taken him ages, she thought running her fingers over the gleaming red surface.
‘Oh, Kitto,’ she murmured. No wonder he’d been dismayed when the hooter sounded. ‘It seems we were thinking the same, Mammwynn,’ she announced excitedly. The rowans rustled vigorously, as though dancing for joy, and she felt warmth steal through her chilled limbs.
‘Before I leave, I know you like to be kept up to date with what’s happening. Well, there’s a horrid new manager at Poltesco. He’s got an upcountry voice and doesn’t look you in the face, just sneers like he’s better than us. Not only that, he accused me of stealing his rotten old offcuts,’ she sighed, but as she got to her feet, she again felt that stabbing at her chest. ‘Oh Mammwynn, I’m too large to wear your dainty necklace,’ she cried. The rowans stopped their rustling and everything went still. Suddenly the air felt oppressive, as if a storm was brewing and grabbing her things, she hurried for home.
Hoping to share her news with her mamm, she burst into their living room, disappointed to find it empty. She dumped her heavy basket on the floor then busied herself adding wood to the range and setting out the plates ready for their family supper. Although family was a somewhat of a misnomer now that William had left home and Tomas spent as much time as possible away from their domineering drunk of a father.
When she was satisfied everything was prepared, she rummaged through the bag of trimmings to see what could be used to fashion into trinkets. As ever, most of them were too small to be of any use although a few looked promising. Then, she spotted the paper package and clutching it tightly to her, ran upstairs to the room she shared with Tomas.
It was cramped, containing two beds, a tiny chest and the tattered curtain strung up along the middle to protect her modesty. Placing the heart on the shelf, she threw herself down on the woollen blanket and thought about her meeting with Kitto earlier. He’d clearly been trying to say something. Had he been summoning the courage to propose? Although he was kind and loving, he wasn’t given to sentiment. Suddenly she heard the back door clatter open.
‘Colenso, get down here now.’ As her father’s angry voice carried up the stairs, she quickly hid Kitto’s present under her pillow. Goodness, she must have dreamed away an hour or more, for it had grown dark and she hadn’t even noticed.
Slowly she descended the stairs to find her father had lit the lamp and was sitting in his chair drumming his fingers on the table. Grim-faced at the best of times, he was looking positively severe.
‘What you bin up to?’ he snarled, hazel eyes eyeing her suspiciously. ‘Mr Fenton pulled me aside as I was leaving work.’ Frowning, he clamped his mouth over his pipe. Nervously, Colenso watched the curl of smoke disappearing into the clean clothes hanging beside the herbs on the wooden airer.
‘Mamm not back yet?’ she asked, knowing how much her mother hated him smoking in her kitchen.
‘Don’t change the subject,’ he growled, his eyes narrowing. ‘Don’t know what you’ve done but you’re to come to his office with me first thing Monday morning.’
‘But I haven’t done anything wrong. I only collected the cuttings you said were waiting,’ she said, gesturing to her basket.
‘Well, you’ve to take them back and samples of them gifts you make,’ he added. Just then, the door clattered open again and Colenso’s mother hurried into the room. ‘You’re late, woman,’ he barked, turning his attention to his wife. ‘And not for the first time this week.’
‘Sorry, Peder,’ Caja puffed, clearly out of breath from hurrying up the lane. ‘Mrs Janes took her time passing and then I had to lay …’
‘’Tis supper I want, not excuses,’ he grumped, drumming his fingers on the table again.
‘Yes, Peder,’ she replied, scuttling over to the range.
‘It’s all right, Mamm, I baked pasties this morning,’ Colenso said seeing how tired and drawn she looked. Not for the first time, she
