Philippa Carr - Midsummer's Eve

“Sales take a long time to go through,” he pointed out.

“I know. But just at the moment I don’t want to think about selling.”

I saw Rolf now and then. Knowing how fond I was of riding, he told me to use his stables when I wanted to. I took advantage of the offer and often when I was riding, I met him, and we rode as we used to, galloping our horses along the shore. I looked up and saw the towers of Cador and remembered how I used to stand there, looking out through the battlements at the sea. I was overcome with sadness. There were too many memories here. Sometimes I thought I ought to go back. Rolf was fond of me, but it seemed that he had given up all thought of our marrying. I had deceived myself into thinking that we might come together again. Why is it that one thinks if one repents, everything can go on as before? Of course he would never trust me again. If we decided to marry how did he know that I should not reject him again?

He invited me to dine at the Manor. Expectantly I went. But there were other guests and although he was the perfect host, it was just a pleasant evening.

He called at the cottage and I gave him coffee. Usually Kitty made it. She delighted in playing the maid and looking after me. I had rarely seen such a change in a girl. She loved the country; she had her friend Mabel; she was a welcome visitor to the Cador kitchen; her life had changed miraculously. I made up my mind that whatever happened I must keep her with me.

I looked forward to the morning rides. I always hoped that I would meet Rolf. I invariably did, and the thought came to me that he looked for me as I did for him.

We talked a great deal about the old days, and I noticed how often the Cresswells came into the conversation. He was also very interested in Jonnie.

I talked very enthusiastically about the child and about the Cresswells. The weeks I had spent at the Mission, I told him, had done a great deal for me.

I tried to make him realize what a wonderful woman Frances was—so strong, so determined, and so unsentimental for all her desire to do good.

“Like her brother Joe?” asked Rolf.

“Not in the least. Frances is herself and no one is quite like her. She changed Peterkin completely. I used to think he would never do anything, and when we met her and went to the Mission, he found a purpose in life and he fell in love with her.”

“Well, she is one of the Cresswells.”

“She reminds me of Uncle Peter in a way. She kept her head up when all that was going on. She didn’t let it affect her work.”

“And now your uncle is climbing out of the slime of scandal with the help of the Cresswell Mission.”

“They are such a charming family. I spent a week-end there once … long ago, it seems, before all that happened. Mr. and Mrs. Cresswell are so delightful. It was good to be in the heart of such a family.”

“Which contained Frances and Joe.”

“Yes and all the others. Oh, I do wish Joe would try to get back.”

“I’ve no doubt you will persuade him.”

We had come to a field and he broke into a gallop.

They were happy mornings. I did not want to give this up, for always in my heart was the hope that something would happen … some little word, some little action, and I would be confessing how I felt and he would tell me that he had never changed.

Then the rumors started.

Kitty had been out with Mabel and she told me that one of the boys from the stables had been in the woods when he had seen a fire.

“It was where the old witch’s cottage used to be,” said Kitty. “It wasn’t an ordinary fire. There was something funny about it.”

“Funny?” I asked. “How can a fire be funny?”

“Ghostly. Like it wasn’t there … and yet it was.”

“Do you mean it kept disappearing?”

“I don’t know, but young James was so scared he just ran, and he didn’t stop running until he was back in the stables. He said it was like having the Devil at his heels.”

I told her that there had always been a certain feeling about that particular part of the woods since one Midsummer’s Eve when a mob had set fire to the cottage.

“I expect it was just a tramp making a fire,” I said. “What else could it have been?”

“Mrs. Penlock thought it might be Mother Ginny come back to haunt the place. Mr. Isaacs even said he wouldn’t go near it for a gold watch … not even for a farm.”

I did not take much notice. But the rumours intensified. Someone saw a figure there. It just appeared among the trees. It wasn’t possible to see who it was but it looked like an old woman.

Few people went to the woods and certainly no one did after dark. There was a certain tension everywhere. It reminded me of those days just after that Midsummer’s Eve. People looked a little furtive and I wondered how many of them were remembering that night.

I went down to the quay one morning with Kitty to buy some fish. Jack Gort was there with his creels and his tubs.

I said: “Hello, Jack. Had a good catch?”

“So-so, Miss Cadorson,” he answered. “Could have been better. Wind’s a bit strong. Couldn’t stay out as long as I’d have liked to. I dunno. These winds do blow up sudden, like something’s behind it all.”

“Oh?” I said.

“Well … all this going on in the woods. Fires and figures like … It don’t be healthy if you’m asking me.”

“You don’t believe Mother Ginny’s come back to haunt all those people who sent her to her death?”

“Oh, ’twas her own doing. Her should know that. But they say as some don’t rest and I reckon she be one of them.”

“Poor Mother Ginny! It was a terrible thing that happened to her, and those who had a hand in it might be conscience-stricken.”

“Oh, ’twas her own doing,” he insisted. “Her ran right into the fire.”

“You were there, Jack …?”

“Aye.”

“With half the people in this place.”

He nodded. “You be right there, Miss Cadorson.”

I thought: They should feel uneasy. Let them remember. That way it may never happen again.

I went back with Kitty.

Mrs. Penlock called to see me.

“Oh, ’tis nice to see ’ee settled in,” she said. “I reckon you won’t want to be leaving.”

“I’m quite comfortable here.”

“But for all that, ’tis not the place for you. Up at the big house, that’s where you belong to be.”

“That’s all over, Mrs. Penlock.”

“’Tis a strange life. A bit topsy-turvy it do seem. But you’ve got that nice girl Kitty to do for you … couldn’t be a nicer girl. She and Mabel get along like a house on fire. She’s got such tales. I reckon that London be a terrible place, and wasn’t it wonderful the way she went to that Mrs. Frances? I reckon she’s a bit of a saint, that one. Could do with more like her in the world. Kitty just about idolizes her. It’s Mrs. Frances this and Mrs. Frances that … and she’s got a good word to say for you, too. Then she talks about that nice brother … a fine, upstanding fellow … just the sort of brother she’d expect Mrs. Frances to have.”

“I can see she is keeping you well-informed.”

“I like to hear about what’s going on up there. And I’d like to see you nice and happy. I always had a soft spot for you … even more than your brother and I’ll say it even though he’s gone. I can see you now, sitting on that high stool at the table watching me kneading the dough … and every now and then when you thought I wasn’t looking that little hand would shoot out and take a raisin or a nut. I saw you. ‘I’ve got eyes in the back of me head,’ I used to tell you; and you said, bright as a button, ‘Your hair’s covering them so you can’t see out of them.’ Sharp little thing you was. You were the favourite in the kitchen, I can tell you now, and there was a few tears shed when you was pushed out and Madam came to take your place. Nothing will make me believe she has a right and that goes for Mr. Isaacs and the rest of us.”