Philippa Carr: Midsummer's Eve

“You’ve all made me feel so welcome back here,” I said.

“Welcome! Why shouldn’t ’ee be in your own cottage … and what should be your home, too. And would be if I had any say in it. We like to see you about and we like your Kitty, but I suppose you’ve got to think of the future and what we all want at Cador … from our side of the house, that is … is your happiness. We was all upset when you turned down Mr. Rolf. But you know what’s best, I reckon. We’d like to see you married to someone nice … and with babies … even if we do have to read about them in the newspapers.”

“Why should you read about them in the papers?”

“Well … Parliament and all that, you know. If you was to marry one of them … they put it in the papers when there’s a baby.”

I realized that Kitty had talked a great deal. She was devoted to Frances and that meant Frances’s brother; and I expected she had already decided that I was going to marry Joe and was glorifying my relationship with him to such an extent that the Cador staff had decided he was the man for me.

It was no use trying to stop gossip. It had always been and always would be.

I found myself becoming obsessed by that presence in the woods. Very few people went there nowadays and when they did it was usually in twos and threes. They saw nothing. It was only if you were caught alone, they said.

I was overcome by a desire to discover.

I went there one morning. I sat by the river where Digory and I used to throw stones into the water, straining my ears for the sound of a footstep, the crackle of bracken which would tell me that someone was close.

There was nothing but the sounds of the woods, the faint breeze ruffling the leaves on the trees, the gentle murmur of the water.

After a while I rose and went to the clearing. There was the burned-out cottage and beyond it the broken-down shed and the overgrown garden where Mother Ginny used to grow her magical herbs.

And as I stood there thinking of that terrible night, the half-broken door of the old shed creaked and started to open. I felt a shiver of alarm. They were right. There was a presence here. What I expected, I was not sure. The ghost of Mother Ginny as I had last seen her, mud-bespattered, her grey hair wet from the river …?

A man stood there.

I gasped and we stared at each other. Then it struck me that there was something vaguely familiar about him. He seemed to feel the same about me. Then a wild idea came to me. I said: “You … you are Digory.”

“I know you now you speak,” he said. “Miss Cadorson.”

“Digory! So you have come back.”

“I served me term,” he said. “I always intended to come back. There’s something I have to do.”

“How are you living?”

“Here.”

“In that old shed?”

“I’m used to roughing it.”

“But what do you live on?”

“There’s fish … hares … rabbits … I’ve got these woods to myself.”

“I’ve thought a lot about you, Digory. I’ve wondered where you were. We were in Australia …”

He nodded. “It was in the papers. Everyone was talking. I’m sorry for you, Miss Cadorson.”

“Thank you, Digory. I can’t let you stay here like this.”

“I be all right.”

“What is it you’ve got to do?”

“I’ve got to make it up to me granny.”

“Make it up to her?”

“Him that killed her,” he said.

“It wasn’t one. It was the mob.”

“It was one who egged ’em on like. They’d have sport with her per’aps. But her could take that. She wasn’t afraid of ’em. It was him. I saw him clear. I’m going to kill him or make it so’s he won’t be as ’andsome as he was.”

“This is madness, Digory. I’m going to take you back with me. I’m at Croft Cottage now. I’m not at Cador. It turned out it didn’t belong to me after all. It’s a long story. Perhaps you’ve heard.”

“I ain’t heard nothing,” he said. “They’m all frightened of me. Makes me laugh it does. Anyone comes through these woods and I only have to make a little noise and they run for their lives. I’m frightening them, you see, like they frightened me granny … and me too. All this time it’s been with me. I used to say to myself, I’ll go back and frighten ’em all … all them that was there that night and none of them doing a hand’s turn to save her. But him … I’m going to get him because he was the one. He had a covering-up … a grey thing he was wearing that come right over his head, so he thought you couldn’t see his face. But I did. I saw. It was when they was dragging her to the river. The hood moved and I saw him as clear as I see you now. And he said, ‘Come on. She bain’t fit to live.’ And I said to myself, ‘And you bain’t fit to live and one day I’ll get you.’”

I was trembling. I was not the only one whose life had been dominated by that terrifying night.

I saw murder in Digory’s face and I thought, He plans to kill Rolf. He had never forgotten … never forgiven.

I said: “Listen to me, Digory. If you carry out this plan you know what it will mean. The hangman’s noose at worst. At the best sent back for the rest of your life.”

“I be past caring.”

“It’s murder.”

“It’s what they call justice and since the law won’t do it someone must.”

“Don’t act rashly.”

“I’ve planned this for years.”

“Listen to me. You must be half starved.”

“No. I have money. I bought things on my way here. I’ve got a little store. I’ve got tea and flour. I make a fire. I make dampers. Then I catch fish and rabbits, as I said. I know how to live in the outdoors. I can look after meself. I’ve planned this … for years. When I’ve done it, I’m going back. I worked me way over on a ship and I’ll work me way back. No one will know I’ve been here but …” He looked at me fearfully. “I shouldn’t be talking to you. You’ve made me tell you …”

“There was always a special friendship between us, Digory. You remember that night. My brother and I looked after you, and my father did too. He gave you work.

Everything would have been all right if you hadn’t stolen the pheasant.”

“That wasn’t ordinary stealing. ’Tweren’t meant to be.”

“It was stealing whichever way you look at it. I am not going to leave you here. I am going to take you back to my cottage. There’s a shed in my garden. You can sleep there. Remember how you used to sleep in the Dogs’ Home? I have a maid … just one … Kitty. She’ll know and no one else will, I promise you.”

“You’re spoiling my plans.”

He put his hands in his pocket and drew out a gun.

“Digory! Put that away. Do you want to be caught with that in your possession? Do you want to be sent back to Australia?”

He looked at me through narrowed eyes. “You’re spoiling my plans,” he repeated. “I don’t want nobody to know I’m here. I could do what I’ve got to do and be away. Nobody would know I’d been here … ’cept you.”

“I see. So you think you can shoot me, bury my body and nothing will be said?”

“You was always a bold one. I don’t think I could shoot you. You was good to me, you was … you and your brother … so was your father. But if you tell I’m here, it will spoil everything. And what am I doing, telling you what I plan?”

“You are telling me because you are not sure that your plan will work. In fact you know it is very risky. Moreover I’m an old friend. I saved you once … and I’ll save you again.”

“She was me granny,” he said. “I hadn’t got no one else.”

“You stole, Digory. You were a thief. The first time I noticed you you were stealing fish on the quay.”