New Beginnings in Honeydale

(Honeydale Series, Book 5) K.T. Dady

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New Beginnings in Honeydale
By K.T. DADY
 New Beginnings in Honeydale
Published by K.T. Dady

Copyright © 2024 K.T. Dady

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the
author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, are
used fictitiously.

Cover design by K.T. Dady.

Cover photography: Canva.
The kindness of strangers.
Table of Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
About the Author
Acknowledgments
 1

Jack

There was a slight smell of burnt bread mingling in the stale air as Jack Warner opened the door to his new shop on Wishing
Well Lane. He never planned to return to his hometown of Honeydale. When he left the Scottish Highlands twenty years ago, he
was quite honestly done with the place. His childhood wasn’t exactly filled with the charm of the area.
He inhaled quietly, hoping he’d have five minutes to himself before Rich came bustling in. There were times his little
brother was a tad too cheerful for him.
The café Rich owned, a few doors down, hadn’t opened for the morning rush yet, but he knew his brother would still be up
and in prep mode for the day. Plus, word spread fast in Honeydale, which was another reason he moved away. Moving to
Newcastle gave him room to breathe.
It was strange being home. Rich had asked him to come back three years ago, but three years ago the only place he wanted to
be was six-foot under with his deceased wife.
Jack ran a finger along an old glass counter, wondering why Rich had asked the previous owner to leave it there. He needed
a large empty space, not signs of the old bakery.
He peered into the kitchen to see the basics still plumbed in, so that was something at least. He just hoped the flat upstairs
was clutter-free because that would be his storage space. Downstairs was for displaying the wooden toys he made.
Jack sat on the clean floor, shivered, and took in his surroundings. ‘Am I really doing this?’
There wasn’t anyone to reply, but somewhere in the back of his mind he heard his late-wife say, ‘Yes. It will be good for
you.’
Signs weren’t something he believed in, but it did seem he’d received some lately. Maybe she was trying to tell him
something. He shrugged it off as he curled his knees to his chest. There wasn’t any reason he could think of why his wife would
want him back in Honeydale. He even rented a cottage along Sugar Loaf Lane, and that wasn’t something he saw happening in
his future. The only good memory he had from living along there was his grandad, who had taught him how to make toys.
‘Are you the one giving me signs, Gramps?’
Jack shook his head at himself, giving up on life having any meaning whatsoever. All he knew was, once he’d moved away,
met his wife, made his business a success, and left the past alone, he felt complete. Now, his wife was gone, he’d relocated
back to the beginning, and nothing about his life made sense anymore.
The shop could wait. Jack got out of there as quickly as possible, making sure he avoided the front window of the café. He
jumped in his car and headed back to the quaint cottage that was his home until he could find something more permanent.
The little old house looked sweet enough, but Jack sat in the warmth of his blue car, not wanting to enter. Not wanting
anything in particular. Having arrived late the night before, he’d not really taken in the look of the place. He just went straight
to bed, ignoring the world once more.
January brought little to no flowers blooming in the window boxes, bedding, or along the brown picket fence. But the grass
was neatly trimmed, and the pathway cleared of any dirt or debris the cold breeze blew along.
He remembered the house from when he lived along the lane, and it was always well looked after back then, thanks to his
grandfather’s weekend efforts. He was never quite sure if his grandad was sweet on the woman who used to live there. They
had both passed, and the cottage belonged to someone else now, but not much had changed. He wondered who was living in the
home he grew up in, not that he cared for the dull place. Rich had their grandad’s house, so at least that went to a happy family.
He hoped whoever lived in his childhood home was happy.
Sugar Loaf Lane held an array of good and bad memories. Jack was starting to feel a touch overwhelmed being in its
presence, but he wasn’t about to let the past get to him. Those days were long gone, and he had a new beginning once more.
A thud hit his side window, scaring the life out of him. He shot around to see bright-yellow dungarees, a smiley face, and
large fake flowers entwined in ash-blonde hair.
Who the bloody hell are you?
Jack swallowed hard, frowning at the woman resembling a children’s TV presenter. She was interrupting his sombre mood.
She was still bent, looking straight at him, and he half expected her to sell him cookies or something.
He really could take no more. Winding down his window, barely an inch, he lifted his mouth to the chilly air entering his
vehicle. ‘Yes?’ he asked abruptly, in no mood for sunshine and unicorns. If he wanted that, he wouldn’t have avoided Rich.
‘Oh, hello. I was just wondering if you lived here?’
Jack glanced at the house before returning to the light-brown eyes twinkling his way. ‘I do.’ He went to do the window up,
but she waggled a finger back and forth between them.
‘I was wondering if you might have the key to the cabin.’
What cabin?
 He tightened his brow as he tried to remember what he’d seen out the kitchen window that morning whilst gulping down a
boiling hot cup of coffee, caring little for the health and safety of his throat.
Wasn’t that a shed?
He slowly scanned her from red Converse to cerise carnations, wondering why she wasn’t wearing a coat.
Is she the gardener?
Her wide smile hadn’t budged, making her look almost doll-like. Barbie sprung to mind. Had he attempted such an
expression, his cheeks would’ve definitely started cramping by now.
‘A key?’ she reminded him.
‘I’m not sure. I only moved in last night.’ Without adding to his sentence, he closed the window, switched off the engine, and
forced her back a step by opening his door.
‘Hello,’ she said quietly, still smiling. ‘I’m Mae Rawlings. Guess I could say your new neighbour.’ She snorted a laugh as he
glanced at the house next door. ‘Although, I should only be here two weeks, all being well,’ she added, jogging to keep up with
the long strides he was taking down the pathway towards the front door.
Jack had never been one for small talk, even his late-wife had chatted him up. He came to a sudden halt as he dropped his
keys, and Mae almost tumbled over his back.
‘Oof! Sorry.’ She straightened and peered around his shoulder. ‘So, you are?’
Avoiding you whenever I can.
Jack pointed at the cottage. ‘I live here.’
Mae’s big eyes seemed to giggle more than her voice. ‘Yes, I think we’ve established that.’
The slightest of groans rumbled through him as he turned the key in the lock and realised yellow dungarees was hot on his
tail as he made his way through the hallway.
‘I’m not sure where the key might be. Like I said, I’ve just moved here.’ He hoped the key would be somewhere obvious so
he could shoo her out the door. There wasn’t anything around him, so he headed for the kitchen, taking a moment to peer out the
window at the small log cabin at the bottom on the garden.
‘So, where are you from?’ asked Mae, searching the kitchen cupboards with him. ‘And don’t say Scotland. I can tell that
much by your accent.’
And I can tell you’re English, so don’t bother mentioning the obvious.
‘I was born here but moved away years ago.’ He glanced her way as soon as he heard keys rattle.
‘Ooh, found them. Look.’ Mae held high the hedgehog keyring holding two keys and a plastic strip engraved with the word
Cabin.
‘Great,’ he said, a little too cheery. ‘Feel free to start work whenever.’
Mae’s smile finally left the building and quite possibly the planet, judging by the way she was frowning at him. ‘What
work?’
‘Erm, aren’t you the gardener?’
‘No. I’m renting the cabin for a couple of weeks.’
It was then Jack noticed her belongings. He glanced at the window. The old cabin suddenly looked way too close to his new
temporary home. Something was amiss. ‘I’m sorry, I’m lost. How can you be renting here when I’m renting this cottage?’
‘I’m not renting this place.’ She pointed at the back door. ‘Just that place.’
‘Nobody told me.’
Mae dipped back to one heel, twisting her lips to one side, contemplating what, he didn’t know. All he knew was the
obvious lack of privacy that came hand in hand with his rented accommodation, which he would shortly complain to his
brother about, seeing how Rich organised the letting.
‘Is there a problem?’ she asked sweetly.
Yes!
‘No. It’s just a surprise, that’s all, but you said you won’t be here long, right?’ The memory of those words brightening his
day.
‘I hope. Once my mission is over, I’m going back home to Ipswich.’
Jack wasn’t really listening. He was too busy thinking that a couple of weeks would pass by quickly and it shouldn’t be too
much of a distraction, as long as she didn’t talk to him anytime he might work in the garden.
‘Once I shut down that stupid Honeydale Witch Festival, I’m leaving,’ she added.
I can manage a couple of weeks. As long as she doesn’t have rowdy guests, I reckon… Wait… What?
Jack leaned back on the worktop, narrowing his dark eyes her way. ‘What was that?’
‘Hmm,’ she muttered whilst nodding. ‘Have you heard of it?’
‘The Honeydale Witch Festival? Of course. It’s a big event here.’
‘So, you know then?’
‘Know what?’
 ‘How wrong it is?’
Jack shook his head in bewilderment. ‘It’s tradition,’ was all he could think to add to the strange conversation he was now
party to.
Mae no longer looked ready to perform a song about rainbows. Her hands slammed on her hips, and her button nose
crinkled up in disgust. ‘Well, I’m not having it!’
Why does she want to banish our festival?
He really had no words. All he knew was it wouldn’t just be his return to Honeydale that was about to make the local news.
 2

Mae

Thirteen minutes Mae had spent with the man renting the cottage on the same land as the cabin she was renting before he
disclosed his name. He seemed very standoffish, not even offering so much as a cup of tea, and it was blimming freezing.
Mae smiled at her cute surroundings. Everything was as quaint as the cottage at the other end of the garden. His end. She
slumped onto the squishy plum sofa and crossed her ankles.
It was obvious she would face some opposition during her quest, especially if the brooding Warner fella was anything to go
by. Even with his whole Poldark vibe going on, he appeared to come armed with thorns.
‘Oh, me and my big ideas,’ she said to the room, adding a huff.
She leaned over and flapped open her pink suitcase, not in the mood to unpack. The thought of a successful whirlwind visit
was the only thing inspiring her.
I suppose I’d better call Janey.
She pulled her phone out of a crochet bag resting against her foot and called her twin sister.
‘Finally!’ snapped Janey. ‘Nice to know you’re still alive.’
‘I told you I’d call as soon as I got settled. Well, I’m settled.’ Mae glanced over at the kettle, hoping the owner of the
holiday-let was thoughtful enough to stock teabags and milk, as shopping wasn’t on her to-do list.
‘So, any joy yet?’
‘I’ve just arrived. I’ve only met one person so far. You should see him, Jay. He’s all dark curls and strong features. He’s
living opposite me in a lovely little cottage, and I’m not sure he’s happy about that.’
‘Ooh, why? Did you tell him about our family?’
‘I didn’t get into details. He kind of bad-vibed me out the door.’
‘I guess he’ll find out soon. What’s your first stop, The Black Hat Inn or the local rag?’
Mae chewed her gum for a bit whilst deciding. ‘Maybe if I go to the pub first, I won’t come across as too hostile. If the
locals read about my plan over their morning slice of toast, they might not be as welcoming.’
Janey scoffed down the phone, causing Mae to move it away from her ear for a second. She quickly switched to
speakerphone, resting it on the arm of the sofa whilst she rummaged around in her suitcase for her baby-blue chunky cardigan.
‘I’m thinking the lady who owns the inn might understand where I’m coming from, if I wordplay. Oh, Janey, I still don’t
know how to start the conversation.’
‘Take a breath, Mae. You’ve got this. Best to cycle there, I say. That way, you’ll have blown away the stress by the time you
arrive.’
‘This whole thing will be stressful until I leave, and that’s if they don’t march me out the door with pitchforks.’
‘Hey, you have every right to go in there and tell them what’s what.’
‘Easy for you to say, Jay. You’re not here.’
‘I live in Spain.’
You can still travel.
Mae moved some items from her crochet bag over to a small red backpack. ‘I’m going to get on with it right now. It’s a pub
restaurant as well as a B&B, so hopefully I’ll get something to eat there, seeing how I haven’t had any brekkie yet.’ She
plodded over to the kitchenette to discover one pot of dried herbs, claiming to be rosemary, and little else. With a deflated
heart, rumbling tummy, and a pain in her right temple from too much frowning, she said goodbye to her sister, pulled on a
padded coat, and headed outside to unfold her silver compact bicycle and make haste.
On the map, Wishing Well Lane didn’t look that far away from Sugar Loaf Lane, but it certainly was a distance, especially
with the bitter chill in the air. Mae huffed and puffed her way along country roads, dirt tracks, and possibly someone’s land,
judging by an angry farmer frantically waving his fist her way.
She took a few stops along her journey. One to smile at a cute cottage, one to catch her breath, and one to avoid a big green
tractor heading straight for her.
Finally, she reached The Black Hat Inn. She remained perched on her bike to take in the medieval place at the other end of
the gravel. The sign had a black witch hat painted on its name, and it was obvious who that was supposed to belong to.
Wow! So, this is where she lived.
Mae figured the inn probably looked a tad different back in the day. Keeping an old building like that up and running would
definitely need some professional help. She tried to imagine her ancestor walking around outside by the main door.
There was an old drawing of Seniah that Mae had seen during her research, but no one was entirely sure if that was the
actual accused witch on trial in the story.
A sadness hit as Mae unbuckled her pink helmet and climbed off her bicycle. The thought of what Seniah went through at the
hands of the authorities. Imprisoned. Beaten, Tortured. Forced into a confession.
Mae sniffed and blinked away tears. She lifted her chin, rolled back her shoulders, folded her bike, placed it awkwardly
under her arm, and marched, with pure defiance in her eyes, straight into the pub where her ancestor’s murder was celebrated.
A few people were dotted around the restaurant area, having their breakfast, and one woman who looked around early-
thirties was behind the bar, wiping some glasses.
Mae was so glad to feel her lips defrosting. What she wouldn’t give for a hot bath, but she had a job to do, so she
approached the bar, lowering her bicycle to rest against a stool. ‘Hello, I’m looking for the owner.’
Blue eyes held warmth and a friendly smile as they came her way. ‘That would be me. Winnie Hart. Are you after a room?’
‘No. I’m here to talk to you about Seniah.’
Winnie’s dark eyebrows lifted. ‘All the tourists want to hear about our resident witch.’
‘She wasn’t a witch,’ snapped Mae, jolting herself along with Winnie.
A silence fell about the inn, but Mae ignored the eyes boring into her back and continued to glare at the landlady.
‘Erm…’ Winnie placed the glass and tea towel down, giving the impression she didn’t know what else to do.
Mae tried to make her thin five-three frame taller and stronger. ‘She knew things about the land. How to heal with plants.
That sort of thing.’
‘O…kay.’
Mae wasn’t doing a good job of saying what she meant. And she had a pitch she’d worked on as well, that had obviously
buggered off somewhere along a grassy verge. ‘The point is, Winnie Hart, you and your…’ she gazed around at the customers
glued to the show, ‘Brigadoon lot have no right celebrating the murder of my ancestor. In fact, I think you’re all extremely
cruel.’ She folded her arms in a huff to add emphasis to her words.
Winnie’s mouth gaped as she started to twiddle with her long dark hair. ‘I… We… Brigadoon?’
Mae shot out a waggling finger. ‘Just so you know, I’m here to put an end to your silly festival. It certainly won’t take place
this summer, that’s for sure, so kiss goodbye to the profit you make off my many-times-over aunt.’ And with that out in the open,
she grabbed her bike and stormed off, praying no one threw anything at her head.
Oh my goodness!
Mae had never pedalled so fast. Her face was flushed, her heart pounding, and her lungs were on fire by the time she made
it safely back to the cabin. A good night’s sleep wasn’t something she was sure she’d get whilst staying in Honeydale, but right
now that was the least of her problems. If she didn’t eat soon, she might just pass out.
There was a row of shops along the road. A quick shop around the local minimart should help limit her need to pop out
unnecessarily. She unloaded her small suitcase onto the bed, then wheeled that behind her all the way to the shop.
The sun was peeping out of fluffy white clouds, but the air held nothing but winter. It wasn’t the best day for a walk, but Mae
enjoyed the sight of rolling green fields and frosty hedges. She stopped to take some photographs so she could show her sister.
It was a shame she was in such a lovely place under negative circumstances, as she would’ve loved to stay longer and explore.
‘You’re not welcome here. Get out,’ said an old man.
Mae glanced at her foot about to cross the threshold of the local grocery shop. Surely he wasn’t talking to her. They’d never
met before. She mentally shook it off and went to take another step forward.
‘Didn’t you hear me, lass? We don’t want your sort round here.’
Mae touched her collarbone. ‘My sort?’
‘Troublemakers. Who do you think you are, eh?’ He marched out from behind the counter, waving her away. ‘Go on. Clear
off.’
‘But I—’
‘Don’t care.’
‘You don’t even know me,’ snapped Mae, hungry and in no mood for him.
‘We all know who you are.’ He scuffed his hand through his mop of thick grey curls. ‘And you are not welcome in my shop.
Oh, and you might find I’m not the only one feeling that way. So, off you go. And good riddance.’
Mae gasped, tightened her grasp on her case, and stormed off, ever so slightly confused.
By the time she got back, her stomach was taking full control of her dismal situation. Without further ado, she tossed her
suitcase inside the cabin and went to knock on Jack Warner’s back door. Surely he would be kind enough to share some food.
 3

Jack

Jack already knew who was lightly knocking on his back door. He opened it to see the sunshine in Mae’s eyes had turned to
rain. Against his wishes, his heart instantly felt sorry for her and allowed her access to his domain.
‘Thank you,’ she said sheepishly.
‘Hmm.’
‘I just wondered if you could spare a teabag until I get some shopping in. Perhaps some milk, maybe a slice of bread.’
He controlled his exhale and gestured to the kitchen table. ‘When was the last time you ate?’
‘Erm, last night.’
‘I’ll make you some breakfast. What do you normally have?’
‘I… Well, cereal, fruit, and a smoothie. Mostly. But I’ll have whatever you’ve got. I’m not a fussy eater. I am allergic to
some nuts though, and rabbits. Not that I’ve eaten one of those, but to touch, you know. I touched one once. Wasn’t good.’
Why me?
Jack laid out a rather nice spread, in his opinion, letting her help herself, which she did faster than he’d anticipated. He sat
opposite her, pondering over chit-chat. He rolled his eyes at himself whilst she tucked in to cornflakes and a sliced banana. ‘I
understand you’ve upset the locals already.’
She stopped eating and quickly swiped away the milk dribbling down her chin. ‘Word travels fast.’
‘This is Honeydale. The grapevine holds one grape. That’s how fast word spreads.’
‘Oh.’
‘Hmm.’
She shrugged slowly and swiped up another spoonful of cereal. ‘I wasn’t expecting a fanfare, and I certainly wasn’t
expecting to be practically frogmarched out of a shop.’
Jack bit his lip to stop himself from grinning. ‘What did you expect? You come up here to the Scottish Highlands, tell
everyone you’re going to end one of their traditions, and you do it in an English accent. Just how well did you think your
demand would go down?’
‘I’ll admit, it didn’t come out how I’d planned, but still. A little understanding wouldn’t go amiss.’
Jack raised his brow. ‘From what I heard, you didn’t give Winnie a chance.’
‘I was flustered, all right. I’m not used to confrontation.’
‘Well, you’d better get used to it, and fast.’
Mae finished her breakfast and sat back, giving the impression she was assessing him. Maybe she was deep in thought, he
couldn’t be sure, but he did start to feel a tad uncomfortable. For one, once word got out he’d fed the enemy, he couldn’t see his
new shop lasting five minutes. He dropped his shoulders and silently sighed.
So much for a quiet life.
He had a good mind to toss her out just for crossing his threshold, let alone his hometown.
‘I’m not going to give in to any bullying,’ she said suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts.
‘Good for you,’ was all he could think to say. It wasn’t as if he wanted to encourage her, but he also didn’t feel in the mood
to go over whatever her case was.
Mae folded her arms and pursed her lips, which really didn’t suit her naturally happy face. Everything felt off, and he really
could have done with her knowing when to leave someone’s house.
A thud hit his front door, not only making him jump but also bringing the slightest amount of relief, as it gave him something
else to focus on.
Three people he didn’t recognise stood practically on his doorstep, and he braced himself for sales talk or an unwanted
welcome-to-the-neighbourhood speech. Although, they weren’t exactly giving off good vibes. In fact, their faces were filled
with thunder, their fists clenched, and their arms linked, creating a wall of disgust aimed directly his way.
‘Can I help you?’ Jack asked, forcing politeness.
‘Yes,’ spat the man squished in between two middle-aged women, closer to old age than middle. ‘You can get rid of that lass
you’re hiding.’
Jack glanced sideways, checking his hallway for signs of said lass. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ He did, but
was already riled up by their presence alone. The demand only made him dig his heels in further, as he wasn’t one to be told
what to do. Had they spoken to his brother first, they would’ve arrived with that snippet of valuable knowledge and perhaps
tried a different approach.
‘Don’t give me that,’ said the man, practically snarling. ‘She was seen heading down this here pathway. Now, you’d better
tell her to get lost. We’ll not have troublemakers around here.’
 Jack stepped forward, forcing them back. Their linked arms wobbled as they all dropped back to one heel. ‘Seems to me
you’re the only one causing trouble around here, and if you don’t get off my property, I’m going to call the police.’
‘It’s not yours. You’re renting,’ said the woman, clasping the man’s left side.
‘Looks like we’ll be having a word with Mrs Willis about that,’ said the man, smiling smugly.
Jack took another step towards them. His tall frame towering over them. ‘Off you go then. Don’t let me keep you.’
A trio of huffs blew his way before they turned to march off to the road. They flapped their hands, had a private
conversation, then headed off.
As soon as Jack could no longer see them, he went back indoors. Mae was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, looking a
touch grateful in amongst afraid. The last thing he needed was to be tied in with the new local villain, but what was he
supposed to say when the so-called baddie had tears in her eyes and wore bright-yellow dungarees?
‘I’m going back to mine,’ she said quietly. ‘But thank you for sticking up for me.’
‘I didn’t stick up for you. I—’
She stood, straightening like a soldier. ‘I have things I need to do today. Thank you for the food.’ And with that, she left.
Part of Jack wanted to run after her, and even that part wasn’t sure why. He had his own day to get on with, so it was best to
concentrate on that and not spend time worrying about strangers living at the end of his garden.
He huffed and puffed whilst collecting his things, thinking a trip to see his brother would help clear his mind. Plus, he
needed to be back at the shop after lunch ready for the delivery company transporting his stock. Excitement wasn’t exactly the
word of the day. He hadn’t had emotions attached to anything happy in a long time.
The phone buzzed on the side with a text from Rich, asking where he was. Ignoring it, because he knew he was about to turn
up at the café, he headed outside to his car, glad to see no key marks or deflated tyres.
Jack checked up and down the road for any angry locals, but all was quiet. He hopped in his car and started the engine at the
same time Mae came cycling around the corner on a small silver bike.
Should I follow her?
Feeling daft, not to mention confused, he decided to get on with his day and hoped hers ended a lot better than it had started.
He didn’t hold much hope but silently wished her luck anyway.
She’s going to need it.
 4

Mae

Mae was pretty sure she’d found the right place. It was just the squawking noise coming from inside that created doubts. Surely
the office for the local newspaper would have the buzz of reporters as a more suitable sound.
She walked in, still unsure, to find a woman lying flat on the floor, arms stretched in front, gripping one end of a long green
scarf. Just that image alone was enough to widen anyone’s eyes, but the fact there was a goat attached to the other end of the
scarf was simply bizarre.
‘Get off, Cupcake,’ yelled the lady on the floor, before glancing in Mae’s direction.
Cupcake bleated on seeing someone new, let go of the scarf, and trotted out the door, bumping Mae’s legs, causing her to fall
back a step.
‘Oof! Erm…’ Mae made eye contact with the owner of the squawk.
The colourful parrot ruffled its wings, then slumped into its perch when the woman picking herself up off the floor glared its
way.
‘Sorry about that,’ said the woman, dusting the front of her floral blouse before offering out a hand. ‘Faye Turner, Town
Crier. Not me personally. The newspaper.’
Mae tentatively stepped closer to her desk, keeping one eye on the bird. ‘Erm, Mae Rawlings.’
‘Never mind Cuthbert,’ said Faye. ‘He’s loud but harmless. It’s Cupcake you have to look out for. She gets everywhere.’
Mae checked behind her, making sure there were no creatures sneaking up on her. She’d never felt so jittery in her life. It
was bad enough she had people with pitchforks to worry about, now she could add animals to the list.
‘How can I help?’ asked Faye, offering a chair the other side of her messy desk.
Mae sat, still wary of her surroundings, and cleared her throat. Faye’s Irish accent was reassuring. Knowing the reporter
obviously wasn’t a local fed her with hope that she wouldn’t be chucked out the door as soon as she explained the situation.
‘I’d like you to print a story for me, please.’
Faye’s brown eyes widened. ‘I’m all ears.’
Breathe. Focus on her lips. I wish I could pull off ruby-red.
‘Erm, well, the thing is… There’s this festival during the summer that’s held over in Honeydale every year. I’m here to close
it down, and I’d like you to report the truth about—’
‘Whoa! You’re her?’ Faye lowered her flapping hand. ‘Sorry. I only heard about you five minutes ago. My other half is
Winnie Hart’s brother. You, lady, have caused quite a stir.’ She rubbed her hands together in glee. ‘And I’ve got the story. Yay!
Erm, sorry. So, shall we start at the beginning?’
Mae sat back, crossing her arms tightly. ‘I’m not trying to make trouble. I just want justice for my ancestor. What happened
to her was horrendous, and I’m not having people celebrate that.’
‘Truth be told, I’ve not witnessed the festival first-hand yet, but I do know the Hart family, and I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t
celebrate anything inappropriate.’
‘Well, they are. Everyone in Honeydale thinks this is okay.’
‘Have you spoken to Winnie?’
‘We exchanged a few words, but we didn’t break bread or anything.’
Perhaps I should have explained more to her.
Mae shuffled in her seat and leaned a touch closer. ‘All I want is for the truth to be told about my aunt and for her to not be
ridiculed or mocked in any way.’
Faye flipped open a notepad and pulled out a pen. ‘Tell me about your ancestor. What do you know already?’
Mae reached into her crochet bag and pulled out her own notebook. ‘Not a lot. It was hard to find much. Her name was
Seniah, and the old stories say she was a witch, but I found one stating she might have been a local healer. If she was alive
today, she would have probably been a nurse or midwife or someone medical. She helped, cured, and even comforted the
dying. The Black Hat Inn was a sanctuary for those with nowhere to go. It’s possible she took in weary souls and fed and
clothed them. See, she was a good person.’
‘Uh-huh,’ mumbled Faye, scribbling away.
Mae continued. ‘They branded her a witch. Said she committed crimes. Killed the townsfolk, all of which was a blatant lie.
She probably had knowledge about energy and plants and so on and was into that sort of thing, but she didn’t turn anyone into a
frog or cast negative spells that destroyed anyone. Those kinds of tall tales are exactly that.’
Faye glanced up, chewing the end of her blue pen for a moment. ‘It’s just the way it was back then. There were loads of
witch trials, and we all know now how wicked they were.’
Mae didn’t have to be told. She’d done lots of research into those times. ‘It was the men, with their control and power who
were the evil ones. My aunt was dragged from her house in the middle of the night, taken to a dungeon where she was kept for
weeks. They stripped her naked, burned and beat her body, pulled out clumps of her hair and broke her fingers, made her
confess to things that simply weren’t true and gave her a trial that was completely unfair, sentenced her to death, then paraded
her through the streets, where people threw things at her head and spat in her face, then she was tied to a stake, strangled to
death, then burned. That’s what they did back then to those accused.’
Faye frowned with confusion. ‘I thought they drowned her in Honeydale River.’
‘You see what I mean. Somewhere along the line, someone changed the story of what really happened to her. She wasn’t
drowned. She was arrested and murdered the legal way.’ Mae scoffed at the thought of something so cruel being legal.
Faye took some more notes. ‘They toss pointy black hats in the river at the festival. I know that much.’ She glanced up,
offering a sympathetic smile. ‘I’ll have to speak to Cameron about this. He’s my partner. He’ll know more than me. He’s lived
in Honeydale all his life. Owns Emerald Tree Farm. Once you’ve stopped making enemies, I’ll take you up for a visit. Lovely
Christmas tree farm.’
‘I’m not trying to make enemies. I just want people to stop celebrating murder. I feel I owe it to Seniah. She was my family,
after all.’
‘I understand. But what I also understand is, when there are two different stories, there’s usually a middle where they can
meet.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
Faye moved her notes to one side and rested forward on her elbows. ‘I think you should talk to Winnie again. If you two put
your heads together, maybe you’ll find a compromise.’
Mae huffed, not feeling understood at all. ‘I don’t want to compromise. I want this silly nonsense about Seniah being
drowned in the river to come to an end. Everyone should know exactly how she died, and that she wasn’t the local serial
killer.’
‘I can print your story. Have it in tomorrow’s paper if that’s what you really want. I’m just advising you to talk to Winnie
Hart, and normally I wouldn’t do that because I want to run this story, but she’ll be my sister-in-law one day, so this article
won’t do me any favours with the Harts.’
‘Don’t reporters thrive on the truth? If you can’t handle my story, Miss Turner, I can find another newspaper that’s willing.’
‘Hey, I’m willing. I’m just offering a friendly alternative.’
Mae handed over her notebook. ‘My research is all in here. Power-hungry men. Abused women. It’s part of our history. I
don’t see why we should sugar-coat and rewrite the story of my aunt just to pacify the people of Honeydale.’
‘Traditions aren’t easily changed, Mae.’
‘It’s just not right they celebrate murder.’
Faye gave a slight nod. ‘Can you tell me how much you know about the festival?’
‘Honestly, not much. I read a bit online, but I’ve never seen it for myself. I only found out about my ancestor a few months
back.’
‘Hmm. Look, are you sure you don’t want another chat with Winnie? I can be there if you like.’
‘I’m thirty-six. I don’t need you to hold my hand. I just want you to tell Seniah’s truth. Perhaps then, the people of Honeydale
will decide for themselves that the festival is cruel, and I won’t have to speak to anyone.’
‘There are no guarantees how the locals will take this news, but I don’t think how Seniah died will change anything. Maybe
they’ll stop tossing hats in the river, but that’s about it. She’s a bit of a name around those parts, and the festival has been going
for years. All I’m saying is, Mae Rawlings, you’ve got a hell of a fight on your hands.’
 5

Jack

The café on Wishing Well Lane was busy, so Jack knew his brother would be in the kitchen wishing he had an extra set of
hands, not that Jack was willing to assist.
He made his way through the hustle and bustle, waving one hand to Rich’s wife, June. Her hands were full, so she nodded
her hello before turning back to her customers.
The kitchen smelled more like bacon than anything else, and Jack’s lunch decision had been made.
‘Jack,’ called Rich, over by the hotplate. ‘About time you showed up. I was up extra early as well. Thought you might need
a hand with the shop.’
‘My stock arrives after lunch. If they don’t get lost.’
Rich laughed, plating up some steaming baked beans. ‘They all get lost, don’t they?’
‘I only popped in to say hello. I can see you’re busy, so I’ll let you get on. I’ll have my lunch, then perhaps see you later,
once the rush has died down.’
‘Hang on a minute.’ Rich gave a nod to one of his assistants to take over. He manoeuvred Jack to a side room filled with
pots and pans and other kitchen equipment alongside large tins of food.
‘I don’t want to get in your way,’ said Jack, unable to escape his brother blocking the doorway.
‘This is the first time I’ve seen you in over a year. The least you can do is sit awhile.’
‘We both work and have work to do now.’
‘Oh, shush. Tell me, you okay?’
Jack tried not to huff or scowl at the intrusion into his emotions. Rich always wanted to talk feelings. Not exactly Jack’s
favourite subject. His wife died three years ago, so why Rich felt the need to go over it each time they locked eyes was beyond
him. He thought he’d nip it in the bud this time.
‘I’m fine, Rich. Here, aren’t I?’ Rich went to speak, but Jack cut him off. ‘If you really want to show me some love, go make
me a bacon sandwich.’
‘Erm, let’s forget about food for a moment. I want to know about this wanted criminal you’re harbouring.’
‘Seriously?’
‘It’s the talk of the town. Pushed you straight to the back burner.’
Well, that’s a plus, at least. Not so much for Mae. I wonder if she’s okay.
‘June received a call about an hour ago,’ added Rich. ‘Did you know this woman wants to tear down The Black Hat Inn? It’s
not looking good you being chummy with her.’
I’m not chummy with…
‘What?’
Rich nodded, then brushed back his dark hair that had flopped forward from beneath his white hat. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Mae—’
Rich grinned. ‘Mae?’
Jack ignored him and continued, feeling the need to put the record straight, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what record
it was. ‘Mae is here to talk to Winnie about the witch festival, that’s all.’
‘That’s not the word on the street.’
‘I don’t care what the word is. She’s not here to upset anyone.’
Why am I getting involved?
‘Just stay away from her,’ said Rich, heading for the door.
‘I’m far too old for you to tell me who I can play out with.’
Rich huffed and shook his head. ‘You don’t need trouble, Jack.’
‘She’s renting the cabin at the bottom of my garden. I can hardly avoid her. Besides, she’s not stopping long.’
‘Good. The sooner she’s gone, the better. Now, see if you can secure a table, and June will bring you some lunch, then I’ll
pop to the shop with you to help with the unloading once the delivery people show up.’
Jack entered the noisy café whilst wondering if Mae would be able to buy lunch anywhere. If his brother was hearing
rumours so utterly wild, he dread to think what other gossip was being spread far and wide.
I should have got her phone number. No. I should mind my own business.
As soon as his lunch arrived, he took it with him to his shop. For one, the café was too loud, giving him an instant headache,
and the other reason was, he wanted to get things sorted as quickly as possible so he could get back home.

***
The day seemed to drag, even with Rich helping to unpack boxes upstairs whilst Jack filled shelves in the shopfront. He really
wasn’t in the mood for making everything look pretty and welcoming. It didn’t come as a surprise. Not much excited him since
his wife passed away. He knew the new shop wouldn’t spark the joy in him that Rich had hoped when pitching the idea of the
place.
It was getting late. Jack’s tummy was rumbling, and Chinese food was calling. After he finally managed to get his brother to
go home, he locked up and sat in his car, deciding what to order.
Should I get some for Mae? I bet she hasn’t eaten. It won’t matter if she doesn’t want any. It’ll keep in the fridge.
The dilemma was so annoying. Nothing about the woman had been on his agenda. He had enough on his plate making him
grumpy without her making an appearance. He called the Chinese takeaway, placed his order, then drove towards the restaurant
to pick it up on his way home.
The first thing he did on entering his kitchen was to peer outside the window to see if he could spot her bicycle, but no luck.
With a stomp to his step, he set about laying the table, placing out the many containers of food he had bought, which was
enough for a family of four. He had no idea what Mae liked so opted for a little of each meat dish and some veggies thrown in
with noodles and rice.
After some back and forth chit-chat with his brain whilst pacing the room, he knew the food would go cold if he didn’t
decide his fate for the night.
The deal was made.
Jack lightly rapped his knuckles on Mae’s door, part of him hoping she wasn’t in so he could quickly sprint back to the
warmth of his cottage and forget she existed.
Mae opened the door. Her light-brown eyes smiled in a way that made it appear they hadn’t smiled all day. ‘Hello.’
He pointed behind him. ‘Have you eaten? I bought Chinese food. There’s plenty. I always buy more than needed. It’s in the
kitchen, if you want. Don’t feel obligated. Just saying. If you’re hungry. Feel free. I—’
Mae joined his side. ‘Ooh, lovely. Thank you.’
‘I, erm… Okay.’ Taking long strides, he headed to the cottage, with Mae jogging to keep up with him.
‘I managed to buy a sandwich from a coffee shop in Angelmeade. Didn’t think I’d get much joy anywhere around here.’
Probably not.
Jack started to plate up some food for himself whilst Mae did the same. ‘Did you buy any more food while there?’
‘I got a few bits, but it’s not easy to carry much when I’m on my bike. Anyway, I didn’t stick around long. Not sure if I’m
just paranoid now, but towards the early evening, I felt I was being watched, so I came home.’ She breathed out a laugh as she
glanced at the back door. ‘Home. Well, you know.’
Before he had time to think, he quickly said, ‘Pop in here anytime you need to eat. The kitchen is stocked, and, unlike you, I
can shop around here.’
‘Oh, erm, thank you. I don’t know what else to say.’
Heat was rising up Jack’s neck, he was sure. He swallowed hard, then focused on eating.
‘I can give you some money towards the groceries,’ she added, flashing her sweet smile his way.
‘No need.’ He removed his gaze from her lips. ‘You won’t be here long, so it’s not as though you’ll eat me out of house and
home.’
She snorted a laugh. ‘Ooh, I might.’
There was a crinkle to the bridge of her nose whenever she did that, which Jake thought cute. He turned his attention to the
fridge. ‘Wine?’ Whether she wanted any or not, he was downing a few glasses. He hardly drank but had a sudden need.
‘Yes, please.’
Jack went to the sort the drinks whilst chastising his nerves. What was going on?
 6

Mae

The Chinese food went down well. The wine, not so much. Mae wasn’t a big drinker but after the day she’d had, she figured a
couple of small glasses might help her sleep. Being Honeydale’s most wanted was sure to have her lying in bed each night with
one eye open.
She was a tad woozy, and her body completely relaxed, almost slouching on the kitchen chair. Two small glasses had turned
into Jack opening a second bottle for them to share.
Picking at a prawn cracker, she hiccupped, then laughed. ‘Oh, goodness. Sorry. It’s the wine. It’s rare I drink. I like to save
myself for Christmas, when I get totally sloshed.’ Her smile faded as the painful memory returned to haunt her yet again.
‘You okay?’ asked Jack.
Not really.
Mae’s forced smile drooped to one side. It wasn’t easy pretending to be jolly when the alcohol warming her veins was a
truth serum. ‘I’m okay. I just don’t like Christmas anymore, that’s all.’
Jack seemed to have the same tilted grin. ‘Nor me.’
She wasn’t expecting that. Not that she was expecting to talk about Christmas at all. ‘Why don’t you like it?’ She didn’t ask,
the wine did.
‘My wife died on Christmas Eve, three years ago.’
Mae gasped a little louder than intended. ‘That’s a crap day to die.’
He breathed out a laugh as she frowned at her statement. ‘You’re right. There’s never a good day, but for some reason, death
seems worse during the festive season. It shouldn’t matter, but it does.’
There were some dregs of wine in her glass, so she quickly knocked it back to stop her frazzled mind from feeling the need
to blurt out something else that sounded stupid.
‘Your turn,’ said Jack, tipping his glass her way.
Mae started twiddling another prawn cracker. She couldn’t remember a time anyone had asked her to talk about the
Christmas from hell. ‘It’s a sad story,’ she mumbled, making him scoff.
‘I just told you my wife died. What have you got that trumps that?’
Well, when you put it like that…
‘Three years ago, on Christmas Eve, I woke up to find my boyfriend packing his suitcase. He told me he didn’t love me
anymore. Wasn’t sure if he ever had. He’d met someone else. So off he went to live with her. I’m still not sure why he chose
that particular day to hit me with his news, but there you go. Christmas being the next day wasn’t the worst part. It was who he
had fallen in love with.’ She raised her eyes to meet his curious ones. ‘My sister. My identical twin.’ She took a breath as Jack
refilled her glass. ‘They live in Spain now. They’re happy, and I’m okay. It’s just that time of year does something to me.’
‘It’s called a trigger.’
‘He even took the presents I bought him.’
‘Arsehole.’
Mae chewed her bottom lip, trying not to laugh. ‘He really was.’
‘Do you speak to you sister anymore?’
‘I didn’t for the first year, but we talk every so often now. We’ll never be as close as what we were, but we communicate.
She begged me for so long to forgive her. I caved in the end. After all, who am I to stand in the way of true love?’
‘You’re a better man than me. Woman. Man. Erm…’
Mae clinked glasses with him, then stared over the cold chow mein, mouth gaping. ‘Oh, I’ve just realised. We share the
same day. You said three years ago, right?’
Jack nodded, lowering his glass. ‘Yes.’
‘Must have been a dodgy moon that year.’
They sat in silence for what seemed like ages. Mae’s brain was too tired to think, let alone form sentences. Speaking with
Jack about their shared worst day ever took the wind right out of her sails.
Jack stood first, and Mae took that as her cue to leave. She followed him to the back door, stopping to face him as he
grabbed the handle. Flopping her head all the way back so she could meet his face, so high up, she went to thank him for the
food and company, but her words fizzled away to somewhere filled with twinkling stars.
Maybe that was because she’d moved her head too fast, or perhaps it was because his gorgeous brown eyes somehow
owned her soul in that moment.
Jack leaned forward, dipped his head, and placed his lips upon hers.
A tingle of something more comforting than the wine hit her from the toes up, and before any form of life reached her sozzled
brain, she kissed him back.
The world slowed at first, then whirled so fast, Mae’s feet left the ground. Literally, as Jack picked her up, swiped the
leftovers off the kitchen table, and put Mae there instead whilst frantically removing all clothing.
She joined in as best she could, grabbing his body everywhere she could reach. Adrenaline pumped and her heart ran out of
beats. Alcohol and sob stories took control, and bah bloody humbug to the past.
Mae arched her back across the table, encouraging him to take her higher into the clouds where she could float away without
a care in the world.
He tasted of wine and impulsiveness, and nothing else mattered in that moment because someone was loving her, caressing
her, holding her as close as possible.
Jack moaned out her name close to her ear, and she was lost in him.
 7

Jack

Jack stood at the foot of his stairs with Mae, after waking together that morning in his bed. They were both fully clothed,
speechless, and in desperate need of strong coffee.
He didn’t know what to say. From the moment he woke, to sliding out from under the covers, to hotfooting it to the
bathroom, he’d fought a ton of emotions.
Mae looked just as lost in the small hallway.
You’re forty-two, Jack. Act like it.
He went to say something but was interrupted by a brick smashing through the small window at the top of the street door.
Glass sprayed over his back as he quickly covered Mae with his body. Her scream died in his hands as he grabbed her face to
check for cuts.
‘Jack,’ she mumbled, lips trembling.
‘You okay?’ There was a small nick above her right eyebrow, but apart from that she looked unharmed. He rushed to swing
the door open, but no one was out there. Not even a curtain twitched at the neighbour’s house. With his heart pumping hard, he
went to head back inside but noticed a rolled newspaper on his doorstep. Picking it up, he turned to check on Mae.
She was looking at the blood on her fingertip from where she had touched her small cut.
‘Let’s sort that.’ Jack took her to the kitchen, tossed the paper on the table, sat her on a chair, and set about finding the first
aid kit, completely ignoring the mess of the Chinese takeaway splayed all over the floor. That could wait. Everything could
wait.
‘It’s just a scratch.’ Mae went to stand, but he sat her back down. ‘We need to clear away the glass.’
‘No, we need to clean your wound.’ He dabbed a sterile wipe over her eyebrow, flapped his hand over it to help the
dampness dry, then covered the sore with a wide plaster. ‘That should do the trick.’ He stared into her watery eyes. ‘It’s okay,
Mae,’ he said softly, before pulling her close to him for a hug.
‘I’m okay,’ she mumbled into his top. ‘Just startled, that’s all.’
‘That makes two of us.’ He moved towards the kettle. ‘Let’s get some coffee in us and some breakfast.’
Mae unrolled the newspaper and gasped, bringing his attention back to her. ‘I’ve lost my appetite.’
Jack leaned over to see the headline ‘Well, that explains the brick through the window.’
‘I thought that Faye lady at the paper was nice as well, but look. She’s made me sound like some sort of monster wanting to
tear down Honeydale.’
‘I’ll sort that later. We’re going to line our stomachs, call the police, then clear the mess once they’ve seen it for
themselves.’
Light-brown eyes widen his way. ‘You don’t have to do anything. This is all on me. I’ll… I’ll… I don’t know what to do
now.’
‘Hey, hey, please don’t worry. This is just a simple misunderstanding, and, together, we can fix it. I know a lot of people
here. Let me help.’
‘Someone just lobbed a brick through your window. I don’t think they like you much at the moment either.’
The kettle boiled. The police was called. The paper was fully read, and Jack could see that even though Mae’s story was
written in a way that was a tad dramatic in places, the reporter hadn’t actually misled the readers too much.
‘I’ll see what my brother and his wife can do to stop this from blowing up even more. They speak to everyone, and I have to
go to my shop in a bit, so I’ll pop in then and have a word.’ He shook his head as he stood to clear up the kitchen before the
police arrived. That was the kind of disturbance they didn’t need to see.
Memories of his shared night with Mae flashed in and out of his head as he got busy with some kitchen roll and a black bin
liner. He couldn’t think about her like that. Not only was she going home soon, it was a drunken mistake, and one he was sure
she was regretting as she browsed the newspaper for the hundredth time.
‘I’m not going to go out today,’ she told him quietly. ‘I think I’ll let the dust settle, then go over to The Black Hat Inn first
thing and speak to Winnie again. I don’t want the people of Honeydale hating you. You have to live here, and you’ve done
nothing wrong.’
‘Don’t worry about me.’
‘How can I not? They think you live with me.’
They locked eyes, and just for a moment the morning’s craziness disappeared.
Get a grip, Jack.
He looked away first, needing to focus on something other than those beautiful sad eyes looking so helpless. ‘You can come
to the shop with me if you like. No one will see you. The windows are still blacked out, and in all honesty, I could do with the
help unpacking my stock. It’s taking longer than expected.’
A small smile hit her lips, making his racing heart settle a touch. The day may have started awkwardly and badly, but he was
sure they could salvage the rest of the day. The sun had popped out, the mess she had made could be sorted, and he needed her
to be safe. All was okay, he was sure, as long as he kept her close and out of trouble.
‘Go and get washed and changed, and I’ll meet you back here in a bit.’ He watched her until she was safely in the cabin
before turning back to his own home.
Oh, it’s going to be one hell of a day.
 8

Mae

As soon as Mae saw the black spray paint covering Jack’s shop door, she cried. He hurried her inside, swiftly followed by his
brother, who locked the door behind them.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ snapped Rich.
Mae had to pull herself together. ‘It’s my fault. I—’
‘Oh, I know it is, lass,’ said Rich. ‘My brother doesn’t need this. He’s come here for peace and quiet. He—’
‘Can speak for himself, thank you, Rich.’
So much guilt consumed Mae, she didn’t know who to apologise to first. The last thing she wanted was Jack’s brother hating
her too.
‘I’ve seen the paper,’ said Rich, pointing back at the door. ‘Everyone has.’
‘I’m calling the police again.’ Jack pulled out his phone, and Mae went to speak but was interrupted by Rich.
‘What do you mean, again?’ he asked.
Mae explained about the window whilst Jack went into what used to be the old bakery’s kitchen to speak to the police.
Rich looked so much like his brother, only Jack didn’t have anger in his eyes. She was sure Rich would frogmarch her all
the way to England, if his glare was anything to go by.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, her words catching in her throat. She swallowed hard, rolling back her shoulders. ‘This wasn’t
my plan. And I’m going to make sure no one tries to hurt Jack again.’
‘Is that right?’
Oh, he hates me.
Mae backed away until her arm hit the glass counter. She gazed over to the kitchen door, hoping Jack would hurry. All she
could think of was going home, crawling into bed, and forgetting Honeydale altogether. It was her sister’s big idea for her to go
to Scotland and rattle some cages. But did Janey join in? No, she didn’t. Mae was fighting the fight alone.
Rich paced by the street door, mumbling something about paint remover and opening days.
Mae didn’t want to listen to him. She didn’t want to listen to herself.
A loud thud on the front door made them both jump. She watched as Rich cracked the door open enough for him to peer
outside, and she crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping it was someone friendly.
He swung the door wide. ‘You’ve got some nerve.’
Faye entered the shop and immediately faced Mae. ‘I’m so sorry. It wasn’t me. Well, it was my story, but then I handed it
over to my boss, and, well, as you probably saw, he kind of… exaggerated.’
‘And now look,’ snapped Rich, gesturing at the paint on the door. He slammed it to a close and folded his arms in a huff.
‘You two don’t know me very well, but I’ll tell you now, it takes a lot to give me the hump.’
Mae went to speak, but he wasn’t finished.
‘I don’t care about your cause, lass, and I sure as hell don’t care about headlines. What I care about is my brother getting
wrapped up in this madness.’ He pointed his finger at Faye. ‘Get it sorted. Get it sorted now.’
Jack stood in the kitchen doorway. ‘The police are heading over. They’re going to check everyone’s security cameras. See
who the real villain of the story is around here.’
Mae felt like pointing at herself. How could one mess create so many more? She wanted to cry again, but another part of her
wanted to stand her ground, defend her corner, and not allow the bullies to win. She twiddled with the strap of her purple
flowery dungarees, trying for fighting words and some sort of oomph to add to her posture. ‘I’m going to see Winnie Hart right
now.’
Jack was suddenly blocking the street door. ‘Nope.’
‘What do you mean, nope?’
He shook his head slightly, keeping his eyes locked with hers. ‘Leave it till tomorrow. If you go around there now, heads
will roll because everyone is too wound up to think straight.’
Faye nodded. ‘I agree. Let me talk to the Harts at dinner tonight. I’m seeing them all later. I’ll settle the situation and arrange
for you to sit down with Winnie after breakfast tomorrow. At least by then people will be ready to talk.’
‘But there’s too much anger out there today,’ said Mae, pointing to the blacked-out window to her side. ‘What do you expect
us to do about that?’
Jack took her hand, surprising more than her it would seem, judging by the look on Rich’s face. ‘What we planned to do. Get
this place ready. It’ll take us all day, and we’ll be out of sight.’
Mae could hear his words, and they made sense, but the butterflies in her stomach were concentrating on his hand in hers,
and that wasn’t something she could think rationally about whilst being in the doghouse with his friends and family.
 Rich blew out a sigh filled with obvious frustration as he moved around Jack to go outside. ‘I’ll go fetch some bits to clean
the door.’
Jack caught his arm. ‘See if Butters has any black paint.’ He glanced at Mae as his brother left. ‘He’s the man who owns the
hardware shop just along there.’ He nodded outside, then closed the door and turned to Faye.
‘Erm, I’ll leave you to it, and I’ll make the arrangements for the sit-down with you and Winnie.’ Faye left, and Mae had to
laugh.
‘Sit down? She makes it sound as though I’m about to face the mafia.’ The thought sent a shiver down her spine. After all,
she had no idea who she was dealing with. ‘Oh, what are the Hart family like?’
A twitch hit the corner of Jack’s mouth as he waved her towards the stairs. ‘From what I remember, a nice bunch. Come on,
let’s sort this place. It’ll help clear your head for a bit.’
He wasn’t wrong. There were boxes everywhere. She had no idea a toymaker would have so much stuff.
‘How long have you been in this job?’
‘Since I left school.’
‘And you make these by hand?’ She held up a small wooden boat carved from pine.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘You’re very clever.’
‘Nope, just takes practice, that’s all.’
Mae opened a small box and smiled at the peg people inside. ‘Are these toys or for hanging out the laundry?’
He grinned over his shoulder. ‘Both. The paint’s waterproof in case your clothes did get caught out in a downpour.’
‘Oh, I could make a story for these guys.’ She picked up two and started to make them have a conversation with each other,
then giggled to herself.
‘That’s the best thing about toys. They make you play no matter how old you are.’
Mae plopped herself on a pile of flattened boxes, as it was the softest thing she could find. ‘Would it be okay if I took some
photos of these pegs for inspiration?’
Frown lines appeared with a breathy laugh. ‘Inspiration?’
‘I write children’s books. Pre-school. And these little peg people would be ideal for a book.’
‘You write books? Well, erm, sure. If you think you can make a story out of them. Feel free.’
‘It’s not so much stories I write. More educational books. Counting. Colours. That sort of thing. I’m more of an illustrator
than a writer. I could create a book using these.’
Jack squatted to her side, placing his hand in the peg box. ‘I just make these and paint them to look friendly. If you think you
can bring them to life in a book, you go for it.’
She shuffled closer, wanting to snuggle under his arm but thought better of it. ‘I won’t use your designs, or I could and pay
you. It’s your work, after all.’
His dark eyes warmed her heart and brought her butterflies to the surface again. ‘You don’t have to pay me. Take my designs
and go teach the little ones how to count. I don’t mind.’
She was sure she blushed. Unless the central heating was warming her.
Oh, Mae, you’d better change the subject or kiss the man.
She opted for something to break the moment that she wasn’t sure she was having alone. ‘Is Rich your only sibling?’
‘I think so. We have different dads but were both raised by our mum, who had numerous boyfriends over the years, bringing
so much drama into our lives. Neither of us really know our fathers, so I couldn’t tell you if my dad has any more kids knocking
about. Rich is enough, anyway.’ He laughed.
‘He doesn’t like me much.’
‘Rich likes everyone. He’s a happy chappy. Normally quite lively. He’s just worried about me. Habit of his. Anyone would
think he’s the big brother.’
‘At least he cares. I’m not sure how Janey feels about me. Our relationship is… odd.’
‘When it comes to Rich, I guess we’ve always looked out for each other because we didn’t have anyone else. We didn’t
have the best upbringing. Quite sad, when I think about it. Sometimes I wonder if that’s why Rich is hell-bent on being happy as
an adult.’
‘Maybe that’s why you became a toymaker. You want to see all children smile.’
Jack flashed her a lazy smile that brought a delightful fizz to her head. ‘Do you have a lot of friends back home?’
Mae didn’t have a lot of anything back home, but that wasn’t worth giving him earache over. ‘I’m a bit of a loner.’
‘Me too. I just work, mostly.’
‘Me too.’
They shared a laugh and another moment where she was sure she might just kiss him. The night she’d spent with him wasn’t
that much of a blur. He’d faffed about in the bathroom whilst she’d stirred in his bed, and she’d had no regrets. She was a big
girl. If she needed someone to love her just for one night, then so be it. But why did she suddenly want more than one night?
 9

Jack

Finally, Jack’s shop looked like a toy shop, and he couldn’t help but smile. It was the first time since buying the place that he
felt happy about the move.
Mae had turned the old glass counter into a display case for his smaller toys, and talked paint charts, bunting, and murals all
day, which amused him no end. Anyone would think it was her shop. At least her mind was occupied and she looked relaxed.
As was he. No one had bothered them all day, with the exception of Rich popping in some food at lunchtime.
‘Bright colours would be best on the eye,’ Mae said, gazing up at a window. ‘It’ll be better with natural light once these are
cleared.’
Cracking his back and creaking his neck, Jack grabbed his keys. ‘I think it’s time we headed home and had some dinner. I
don’t know about you but I’m thinking pizza and…’ He stopped, thinking wine probably wasn’t something he should add to the
end of his sentence, or meal.
Should we even talk about last night?
He waited for Mae to nip to the loo and took that time to check outside for any potential threats. He shook his head at the
thought of feeling like a bodyguard. The coast was clear, and Mae was ready for their ride home.
‘Are we going to collect the pizza on the way home?’ she asked, and he could tell she was nervous and figured it was
because she was out in the open again.
‘Nah, I’ve got one in the freezer. It’ll do with a bit of salad. What do you think?’
She smiled and snuggled further into her seat, and that was all the reply he needed.
Entering the cottage, even with its boarded window, made Jack smile, and he was starting to worry about having that much
work going on with his cheekbones lately. Something just felt different. The old place had a sudden homely vibe. He watched
Mae pottering around the kitchen and wondered if maybe she had something to do with that.
There was a lot going on in his head all evening, by the time they were ready for bed, he had a pounding headache, a twinge
kept hitting his inner ear, and his shoulders were sore from the heavy lifting he’d done throughout the day.
Mae dithering by the back door did little to ease his soul.
‘You okay, Mae?’
Her head lowered along with her voice. ‘I’m tired, Jack, but I don’t think I’ll get any sleep tonight.’
Ah, she’s worried someone might attack her in the night. Well, not on my watch.
‘Stay here. You can sleep in the room next to mine.’ He glanced out to the cabin at the bottom of the garden. ‘It’s safer in
here.’ He hoped.
The dullness in her gaze brightened, and he knew he’d made the right choice.
‘I’ll just grab my PJs.’ She hesitated at the door.
‘I’ll help. Not with your nightwear. I mean all your stuff. You might as well bring the lot over. Until this mess is sorted, you
can stay here. That way, I think we’ll both get a good night’s sleep.’
She nodded her agreement, and Jack went into bodyguard mode again, checking the dimly lit garden before venturing
outside.
Once he had locked up for the night, checked the windows were all secure, twice, and brought them both up a glass of
water, he climbed into bed, glad the day was over and nothing more had gone wrong.
Sleep called, and it wasn’t long before his eyelids fluttered to a close and his body melted further into the mattress.
‘Jack?’ came a delicate voice.
Unsure if he had heard the sound at all, he peered over at his opened door to find Mae fidgeting her feet in the doorway. He
quickly shot up and moved to her side, feeling a pain hit him straight between the shoulders. ‘What’s wrong? Did you hear a
noise?’
‘No. It’s just, well, I can’t sleep. I keep worrying someone will break in.’
‘No one will do that. Crime has always been quite low around these parts.’
Until now.
Jack offered a reassuring smile, for what good it did. She still looked wary and so, so alone. ‘Erm… I know, get in my bed,
and I’ll sleep across the doorway.’
‘I can’t let you do that.’
‘It’s done. We need to sleep, Mae. I’m whacked, and I can see your eyelids are dying to close. Wait here.’ He went to the
bedroom next door, pulled the single mattress off its base, tugged it to his room, and flopped it down so it stretched sideways
across the threshold. ‘If anyone’s getting in here, they’ll have to tread on me first, and I’ll tell you something for nothing, that
won’t end well for them. So, come on, pet, get in bed.’ He snuggled under the covers, hoping it would stop any more disputes.
 Her movements were slow, but she climbed in the bed, flopping her arms over the top of the duvet, and he stayed awake
until he was sure she was asleep, which thankfully didn’t take long at all.

***

All throughout breakfast, Jack had tried hard to convince Mae to let him join her over at Winnie’s, but she was adamant she
could handle the meeting alone. Mae agreed to him driving her to The Black Hat Inn. It did little to settle him, but knowing he
could still wait in the bar whilst she was out back in the office helped matters.
The drive seemed longer than usual, maybe because he was going as slowly as possible, simply because he didn’t want her
to go at all. However, it needed sorting, and Rich and June could only do so much spreading the rights and correcting the
wrongs.
Mae clambered out the car, took an obvious deep breath, then shooed him away.
He followed her inside, regardless, scouting the tables and stools for any sign of trouble, then relaxed when Winnie
appeared behind the bar, waving them forward.
 10

Mae

Mae was surprised that Winnie didn’t lead her to her office, and even more surprised that Jack was still tagging along. She’d
told him umpteen times he wasn’t needed. She hoped, anyway.
It was another cold day, but the breeze was light and the sky clear. Mae glanced around the frosted green fields surrounding
the area as she followed Winnie to an old side door on the inn.
‘This is one of the oldest parts of the building,’ said Winnie, walking down the stone steps. ‘It’s untouched and still sturdy. I
thought you might like to see it. As far as I’m aware, it has always been used as a storage space, but it’s too small for me,
which is why I use a barn instead.’
Mae glanced back at Jack following her down. He was staring up at the low ceiling of the stairway, tilting his head. She
wasn’t sure why Winnie was being so nice, giving guided tours, but she was pleased she was. It felt warming to hang out where
her ancestor once lived. She could imagine Seniah walking down the stairs to fetch some old barrels like the one she saw at the
bottom.
‘Small and authentic,’ said Winnie, splaying her arms. She pointed to some stacked chairs and proceeded to pull three off
the top, with Jack stepping in to help.
‘Do you want us to talk in here?’ asked Mae, taking an offered chair.
Winnie smiled. ‘Seems appropriate, which is more than I can say for what’s been going on.’
Mae went to speak, but Winnie showed her palm. ‘Before you say anything, I want you to know I’ve got to the bottom of the
trouble. It was my mate Michelle’s twin nephews. Normally they’re good enough, but they got word you were going to set fire
to Honeydale, so they attacked first in the way ten-year-old lads do. Anyway, I’ve cleared up the confusion with pretty much
everyone I’ve spoken to, and the police have had a word with the boys.’
‘Thank you,’ said Jack.
Winnie shook her head in annoyance. ‘Well, I could hardly let that sort of behaviour carry on. It’s not the Honeydale way.
Speaking of which…’ She turned her attention to Mae. ‘Let’s talk about Seniah.’
Mae was happy to, and she felt being in her aunt’s old basement, of sorts, that things just might swing her way. ‘The story in
the paper was exaggerated but mostly true. Seniah died a horrible death, and I just don’t think it’s right it’s celebrated.’ She
looked at Jack for confirmation and warmed at the soft smile he offered.
Winnie nodded. ‘I completely agree, and my grandad has taken the time to do some research too, and you’re right, there are
some articles saying different things. However, what I want to tell you is, we don’t celebrate Seniah’s death. We celebrate her
life. You see, she’s a celebrity around here. No one would cheer for murder or the terrible things that happened to women
during the witch trials. That’s just all kinds of wrong. No. What we do is far from that. Seniah brings in the tourists, and the
locals are happy about that. She’s part of our history, and an interesting part. We all like her.’
Mae shuffled in her uncomfortable chair. ‘Oh. I didn’t know she was liked. I thought more… mocked.’
‘Oh, people make up silly spells on the day down by the river, or toss a black hat in the water, but that’s not mockery, just
silliness. This all started when the locals back then thought it best to honour her spirit to keep their stock safe. You know, like
some sort of lucky charm. Things changed as the years went on, and now it’s just a day of fun in her honour. We get loads of
witches up here as well, celebrating Seniah. Lovely people they are. Very spiritual. Often the same groups come back each
year. I’d like to invite you to come here in the summer to see for yourself what a grand day it is.’
Now Mae didn’t know what to think. She was all riled up for a dispute not an invitation. The thought of coming back just to
see Jack thrilled her, but it wasn’t about him. It was about doing justice for her ancestor.
Winnie leaned closer. ‘I promise you, Mae, we don’t hate on your old aunt. In fact, I consider her a good friend.’
‘You do?’ asked Jack, grinning.
Pointing up, Winnie smiled. ‘I talk to her when no one’s around. I reckon she protects me. I had a horrible ex once, cheating
on me he was. Well, funny thing, he used to have a lot of bumps when he stayed here, but not my fella now. She likes this one. I
can tell.’
Mae giggled as Jack laughed out loud, and Winnie joined in.
‘I reckon she was one hell of a character around these parts,’ said Winnie.
Mae went to speak but the ground started to shake. A loud rumble swept through the air, moving dust motes and rattling
barrels, then a piece of stone tumbled from the wall behind Jack, smashing to pieces on the hard, dusty floor. Just as quickly as
the tremor started, it stopped.
Silence loomed for a moment whilst everyone warily looked around.
‘Was that an earthquake?’ asked Mae, unsure if they were a thing in Scotland.
‘I don’t know what that was,’ said Winnie, looking at the ceiling. ‘Never happened before.’
 Jack stood, checking the stairway. ‘Still in one piece, so we’re not blocked in. At least that’s something, because for a
minute there, I had visions of us trapped in a mine.’
Gesturing to the mess on the ground, Mae’s stomach flipped. ‘That’s the only part of the wall that crumbled, thankfully.’
Winnie got up to assess the damage. ‘And there was me telling you this place was sturdy. I’ll have to get someone in to look
at… Whoa, look. I’ve found something.’
Mae jumped up as Winnie reached inside the hole the fallen stone had left behind. ‘What is it?’
Winnie pulled out an old torn book, and everyone gathered around its mysterious blank cover tied in thread.
Jack lightly traced a finger over the top. ‘Be careful opening that. It looks ready to turn to dust.’
Mae carefully pulled at the dark thread, unravelling the loose bow, and Winnie opened the book to the first page.
‘Wow, that writing is old,’ said Jack.
‘I can understand bits.’ Mae homed in on the dark squiggly words. ‘Who’s Agaline?’ She pointed at the name written as a
header. ‘I guess this belonged to her. Maybe her diary.’
‘Or some old recipe book,’ said Jack. ‘We’re going to need an expert to decode this.’
Winnie grinned from ear to ear. ‘Stay here. I know just the lad. I’ll nip up to get a service and give him a call, and he’ll be
back here in a jiffy.’ She hurried up the stairs, leaving the book on the chair between Mae and Jack.
Mae leaned closer to him. ‘What just happened?’ she whispered, feeling more shaken than the inn a moment ago.
Jack nodded towards the old book. ‘I think Seniah has something to say.’
‘Oh, you don’t believe in any of that, do you?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s a bit weird.’
She couldn’t argue with that. Sitting down, she placed the book on her lap and tried to see if she could make anything else
out before Winnie came back with help.
‘You never know,’ said Jack. ‘That book might answer a lot of your questions, then you’ll be happy to go home.’
A hefty weight hit her shoulders as she stole a glance his way. She already knew she was going to find leaving Jack difficult.
Oh, how had one simple trip to Scotland turned into such a mess?
 11

Jack

Why did he have to go and mention Mae going home? Jack didn’t want her to go anywhere. How quickly he had got used to
seeing those colourful dungarees, and her soft features that brought warmth back into his heart, especially when he had made
love to her. And he did make love to her, no matter how he tried to sugar-coat it in his mind, passing it off as a one-night stand
they both needed.
Perhaps it was time to say something about his unexpected feelings, but sitting in a dingy basement surrounded by dust didn’t
seem the time. Besides, there was a ghost around wanting attention, if the stone falling out the wall was any indication.
What with his wife handing out signs and now the resident witch, maybe it was time to sit up and take notice of life again.
Jack cleared his throat to speak, and to rid his tonsils of dust, but Winnie came plodding down the steps, carrying a tray of
hot drinks, swiftly followed by a young lad, looking to be in his late teens.
‘This is Kirk. He has his own history web thingy. Trust me, he knows loads.’ She placed the tray on the floor in the middle
of the chairs. ‘Thought these might go down well.’
Jack thanked her as he took a coffee, handing it to Mae.
Winnie helped Kirk remove his oversized backpack, then sat him down and handed him the old book.
‘Wow!’ said Kirk, pushing his glasses back up to the top of his nose. ‘This is great.’
Mae pointed at the wall. ‘It was tucked away up there behind a stone. Guess it was loose and that’s why it fell out during the
earthquake.’
Kirk frowned. ‘What earthquake?’
‘The one we had about ten minutes ago,’ said Jack, seeing the lad was none the wiser. ‘You didn’t feel anything?’
‘Where were you?’ asked Mae, as Kirk slowly shook his head.
‘In the field out back, with my metal detector. There was no earthquake,’ he replied.
Jack swallowed hard, not sure what was more bizarre, the odd earthquake, the mystery book, or the fact Kirk was dressed
like a Ghostbuster.
Winnie pulled out another chair and squeezed in next to Kirk. ‘Well, can you understand it?’
Much to everyone’s relief, Kirk nodded. ‘Yeah. I’ve already been speed-reading the first few pages. Interesting.’
‘Would you care to share?’ asked Jack, rolling a hand his way.
‘Hmm.’ Kirk nodded, then went back to reading. ‘Basically, it’s a diary.’
‘Yes, we figured that much,’ said Winnie. ‘What does it say?’
Kirk placed the book closer to his glasses. ‘This Agaline woman was Seniah’s housekeeper, and friend, it would appear.
She’s just writing about life at the inn.’
‘Is there anything about Seniah’s trial?’ asked Mae, and Jack could see she was holding out for some good news.
He took Kirk’s reading time to look around the room, hoping no more sudden movement happened again. A shiver had
already waved over his spine more than once since sitting down. Glancing at Mae, and seeing how preoccupied she was with
Kirk’s speedy reading skills, he wondered how she might feel about him if he told her how his feelings had grown.
Stop being daft. It was just a holiday fling or whatever. She’s got a life elsewhere.
It was quite annoying having it swirling in his head, and it caused him to snap at Kirk for not speaking sooner.
All eyes shot his way, then Kirk pointed at the page he was on.
‘Says here what happened to Seniah.’ He beamed as though he had discovered a long-hidden truth.
Jack was too irritated to play the tension game. He was tense enough. ‘Yes, come on, Indiana Jones, spit it out.’
Kirk sniffed, adjusting his glasses. ‘What Mae told the paper was true. Seniah was taken from here, locked up, beaten and
so on, but, and here’s where it gets interesting… Agaline put out the fire as soon as the crowd left. Hang on, I’ll read it so you
understand.’ He held the book up again. ‘I quickly dowsed the flames, took her remains to Honeydale River, as was her death
request, and lit the craft she had built long ago in preparation.’ He looked around his chair. ‘Apparently, it was kept at the inn.’
Everyone gazed around the underground room.
‘Do you think she knew her fate?’ asked Mae.
Jack shook his head. ‘Nah, it was probably just the funeral arrangements she made with her mate. She wanted to be
cremated on her raft, that’s all.’
Winnie nudged Kirk’s arm. ‘What else happened?’
‘Erm, after that was done, Agaline tossed one of Seniah’s hats into the river, and that’s what the townsfolk saw floating the
next morning. Scared everyone, except Agaline, who laughed to herself and wrote in her diary, good bloody job, or words to
that effect.’
Jack thought it funny too, and by the look on the women’s faces, they were also highly amused. ‘At least we now know
where the story of her drowning comes from.’
‘They thought her spirit rose up from the ashes, then floated to the river and sank,’ said Kirk, reading some more. ‘Funny
what people think.’ He scratched his ear and sniffed.
‘And how stories change over the years,’ said Mae.
Jack offered her a warm smile, hoping she felt better about her ancestor. Not that the poor woman’s cruel death had changed.
What a way to go!
He scrunched his nose at the thought. ‘How are you doing, Mae?’
She shrugged, still looking at the book. ‘I don’t know. It tells the truth, at least. And soon everyone will know the full story,
especially when I tell Faye.’
‘And we can add more of Seniah’s backstory to the festival, Mae,’ said Winnie, looking hopeful. ‘We can print out pages
from this book and have them on the walls in the pub for the tourists, and give Agaline a mention too. I love what she did for
her friend. Little did she know it would stir the locals.’
Mae laughed. ‘Serves them right.’
Kirk sat up straight. ‘I’ll make sure no one thinks Seniah’s a murderer. Look, says so right here how she took in weary
travellers, helping to feed and clothe them. Agaline has put names. We’ll get this in the local museum. I reckon there might be
people around these parts who could be related to those she helped.’
Mae put her drink back on the tray and reached over to clasp Jack’s hand. ‘I knew she was good.’
A flurry of delight filled him at her touch. ‘I know you did. And look, now Honeydale has more history, thanks to Agaline,
and the mysterious earthquake.’ That still had him rattled.
They all glanced up at the hole in the wall.
Kirk spoke first. ‘I guess she wanted someone to find the truth one day. This story has only ever been half told. We all know
about what went on during the witch trials, but at least we can prove Seniah wasn’t a bad person at all.’ He sighed loudly. ‘Life
would be a lot easier if history wasn’t so muddled in places.’
Winnie smiled. ‘Between now and summer, I’ll find out as much as I can about Agaline so we can add her into the festival.’
She looked directly at Mae. ‘What do you say? Do you still want to shut it down?’
I hope not. I need them to like her. What am I going on about? Shut up.
Mae was clearly mulling over her choices. ‘As long as Seniah and Agaline are respected and not mocked, then I’m happy
for their lives to be celebrated, especially the part where Agaline spooked them all.’
‘Good,’ said Jack, louder than he’d meant. He was just glad the whole mess was sorted, and by the look on Winnie’s face,
so was she.
Mae lowered her eyes. ‘I didn’t come here to cause problems, and I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you when we first met,
Winnie.’ She turned to Jack before Winnie had a chance to respond. ‘And I’m sorry for the trouble I brought to your door.
You’ll be glad to see the back of me.’ She breathed out a small laugh, and Winnie patted her arm.
‘Hey, I understood where you were coming from, even when you called us Brigadoon.’
Kirk laughed. ‘Brigadoon?’
‘It was my grandfather’s favourite film,’ said Mae sheepishly. ‘I watched it loads with him when I was young.’
Jack thought about his own grandfather. He too loved the film. Oh, Mae was more than in his head. She was taking space up
in his heart, and it seemed signs were pointing her way. Could there really be a thing such as ghosts guiding people?
Nah!
A slight rumble vibrated beneath their feet, causing everyone to look down and Winnie to laugh.
‘Time to leave,’ she told them. ‘I think Seniah’s work here is done.’
‘Or maybe it’s been Agaline floating around this place all these years, playing pranks and scaring the community,’ said Kirk,
grinning as he carefully placed the old diary inside his backpack, ready to take to the museum on his way home.
Winnie shoved him up the stairs. ‘Go on, you. Get away, putting the heebie-jeebies up everyone.’
Kirk’s laugh echoed back down to the basement, where Jack was studying Mae.
‘Are you really okay?’ he asked softly, taking her hand back, as it had slipped away.
‘It’s still a sad story, but if the festival is a happy event that can also spread awareness so this kind of thing never happens
again, then I guess it’s a good thing, now I’ve had time to think it over.’
‘Your old aunt was a good soul, helping people.’
Mae giggled. ‘And Agaline sounds a scream, doesn’t she?’
Jack went to leave but tripped over the tray left on the floor, completely forgetting it was there. He stumbled straight into
Mae, and she quickly latched on to his arms, steadying him in a hug.
‘Nearly,’ she said, laughing.
Their mouths were so close, all he had to do was lean down and join their lips. He felt a shiver run down his spine again
and wondered if the housekeeper was matchmaking or if it were just his feelings for Mae surfacing.
Sod it.
 He kissed her, pulling her closer into his chest, no longer caring about where they were, who was in charge of the moment,
or that she was leaving soon. All that mattered was the here and now, and here and now she was in his arms, kissing him back.
 12

Mae

It was the grand opening for Jack’s toy shop, and although Mae was pleased to be there for the event, she was sad knowing it
was time for her to leave Honeydale. She had already stayed longer than expected. The plan to visit again in the summer for the
festival was set in stone, but she knew it would be a long hard wait.
Watching Jack mingle with the small crowd on Wishing Well Lane filled her heart with joy. He looked so different to the
man she’d first met a few weeks back. His whole persona had changed.
Mae walked over to an empty seat outside the café to have a moment to herself. Since Winnie had spread the truth, Mae was
allowed in the shops again, as the residents of Honeydale were now friendly towards her, which was a huge relief, so sitting
alone outside Rich’s café wasn’t so alarming, just cold.
It had a been a whirlwind of a trip, filled with unexpected twists and turns, and now a deep longing to stick around. What
did she have back home? Unhappy memories, an empty home, and no family. It was easy to understand why Rich had been so
determined to get his brother closer to him. If only her sister felt the same. Not that she wanted to move to Spain or see her twin
canoodling with her ex every day.
Faye plonked herself on the chair to Mae’s side. ‘Hey, how you doing?’
Mae shrugged, trying hard to hide how she really felt. ‘Okay now the pitchforks have been put away.’ She gestured to a
middle-aged woman over the road by the green. ‘She even said hello to me.’
‘Who’s she?’
‘One of the women who came to Jack’s door, trying to run me out of town.’
Faye laughed, then nodded towards Jack. ‘What a stir you caused, and he was there for you throughout it all, wasn’t he?’
I guess he was.
Mae smiled as she met Jack’s eyes through the crowd. She held his attention for a brief moment before someone else stole
him away for a chat.
‘I think he likes you,’ said Faye.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘The way he just looked at you. My Cameron holds the same look when he sees me.’
‘Was he the reason you came to Honeydale?’
Faye laughed. ‘No, not at all. I was after change. I got a job and a flat, then met Cam. And we didn’t exactly get on.’
Mae glanced once more in Jack’s direction. ‘I’m not sure Jack liked me at first.’
‘Because of the Seniah thing?’
‘No. Just because he doesn’t like people much.’ Mae laughed. ‘I think, but you wouldn’t know that judging by the way he’s
schmoozing away over there.’
‘Aye, well, he’s back home now. Perhaps he feels settled here. I know I do, and I only arrived late November.’
That caught Mae’s attention. If Faye could take to a new place so quickly, then why not her too? Oh, what a thought. Did she
really have the courage to uproot her life?
What life?
The thought tormented her whilst Faye got up to hug a woman looking to be in her late-twenties.
‘Mae, this is Zoey Chambers. She’s Blake Hart’s other half. They own Honeydale Lodge, just up the road.’ Faye nodded
forward. ‘Zoey, meet Mae Rawlings, new kid on the block.’
Zoey blew out a chuckle as she joined their table. ‘Yes, I’ve heard all about you. I think everyone knows who you are. Quite
the celebrity.’
Mae blushed. She hoped not. ‘Truth be told, I much prefer a quiet life, hiding in the shadows.’
Flicking back her long blonde locks, Zoey grinned. ‘There is no hiding around here. Everyone knows your business. The joy
of small-town living.’
‘I can hear you’re English, so what brought you up here?’ asked Mae, not feeling so much like an outsider anymore.
Zoey’s blue eyes sparkled with laughter. ‘Oh, long story, but the short version is, I used to date Blake back in uni. We fell
out when a couple of so-called mates got hold of our phones and sent us each a Dear John. We didn’t find out till I came up
here to ask him for help with a family matter.’
‘Oh, that sounds horrible,’ said Mae.
Zoey nodded. ‘It was, but it was our own fault for not looking further into it back then. Blake has now. I told him to leave it
alone, but he wanted to know who did that to us. Anyway, after a few calls to old uni friends, he discovered the truth. It was all
down to jealousy, rather than a prank gone wrong. One of my housemates fancied him so got another so-called friend to help
split us up.’ She shrugged and shook her head. ‘That’s in the past, as far as I’m concerned. What we have now is all that
matters. We love each other and we’re happy. Best thing I ever did was come here.’
Mae gazed over at the wide green space, focusing on the frost on the tips of the grass. Could she fit in Honeydale as well?
The thought made her heart smile, but would it make Jack’s. She needed to speak to him, but it was impossible at his opening,
as everyone wanted to shake his hand and wish him well, not to mention ask about his royal connections, seeing how he had
made toys for them. Perhaps the flowing champagne had gone to her head. All the talk of new beginnings and finding love was
someone else’s dream. Her reality was back in Ipswich, back behind her desk, creating educational books for the nippers.
Jack’s life was with his family and friends in Honeydale.
‘Oh, I wish you were sticking around,’ said Faye. ‘It would be nice to have another friend around here.’
‘Have you ever thought about moving?’ asked Zoey.
Mae wasn’t sure if she was lying or not when she replied, ‘No.’ It was partly true. She had no intention of setting up house
somewhere else, until now.
Zoey pointed over at an elderly lady with light-pink hair. ‘At least you could still stay at Sunshine Cottage now that Jack’s
buying the place from her.’
Mae smiled. ‘Is that what it’s called? I didn’t… Wait, what?’
Zoey nodded and leaned closer. ‘Just between us, I overheard them discussing it before I came over here.’ She pressed her
index finger to her lips. ‘Shh! Best not to mention it until he tells you, Mae.’
It wasn’t any of her business what he did, so there wasn’t any reason for him to tell her about his new purchase, but what a
thought. Being in the cottage with Jack. It made her feel slightly better about leaving. And if he didn’t want her invading his
home, or cabin, Winnie had already promised The Black Hat Inn would always have a room available for her.
The two women at Mae’s table chatted away about the changes happening in the area, questioning Mae about her life back
home, and made blatant suggestions that involved moving to the Scottish Highlands to be their new mate, if nothing else.
It was all that filled Mae’s mind as she headed back to Jack’s in the back of someone’s car. Whose, she didn’t know, but
they all seemed to know each other and, apparently, calling a cab was out of the question.
It wasn’t until she was back in the cottage with Jack that she raised the subject left lingering in the air.
‘I guess it’s time I went home.’
 13

Jack

Jack was having such a good day, up until Mae wanted to talk leaving dates. He had his home and business sorted, and now he
wanted her, but what was he supposed to do about that?
‘I’m thinking I’ll head off tomorrow,’ said Mae, twiddling with the mug of steaming tea he’d just made.
He swallowed hard as he joined her at the kitchen table, removing all thoughts of how they had once made love there.
Dinner time would never be the same again for him, as that image refused to budge. Thinking it best to say something, he
shuffled closer, but Mae got in first.
‘I want to show you something before I go. Look.’ She reached into her bag and pulled out her drawing pad, flipping it open
to show a wooden peg family. ‘I thought, Counting with the Pegs.’ She breathed out a small laugh with an added snort, which
made him smile.
Jack stared at the drawings as she turned each page. They were very good. Her talent jumped off the page, and her warm
eyes jumped further into his heart. ‘I look forward to stocking this book in my shop. You can have a bookcase in the corner just
for your books.’
Mae blushed. It was cute. ‘Oh, wow, really? Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. Anyway, your books will make my shop look better, so you’re doing me a favour, really.’
She closed the pad and placed it back in her bag. ‘Thanks for everything, Jack. I don’t know what I would have done here
without you. You’ve been a lifesaver. Well, at the very least, my food supplier.’
Pointing at the fridge, he laughed. ‘Anytime.’
‘Do you mean that? Only, I was hoping I could come back and stay here in the summer for the festival.’
Jack slowly nodded, feeling all words melt at the back of his throat. Was it madness to ask her to stay for a while longer?
Forever. ‘Of course,’ he managed, forcing a smile. ‘I’m in the process of buying this place, so feel free to pop by whenever.’
Or just don’t leave.
Mae glanced at the back door. ‘I never did spend much time in the cabin.’ She sighed deeply, burying her head in her arms
on the table. ‘Oh, what a crazy trip this has been, and all because my sister riled me up enough to make me act out my thoughts.’
‘I’m glad she did.’ He watched her head lift and waited for her eyes to meet his. ‘We’d never have met otherwise,’ he added
softly.
‘I’ll miss you, Jack.’
‘I’ll always be right here whenever you need someone to talk to.’ It wasn’t what he wanted to say at all, so why weren’t the
words matching his thoughts?
‘My train is booked for the morning, so it’ll be our last meal together for a while. What should we eat?’
The thought stole his appetite.
All throughout the evening, Jack bit his lip on his thoughts and feelings, not wanting to upset the apple cart. It amazed him
how close he felt to Mae and that it was possible he had those kinds of feelings again, because after his wife died, he was quite
sure he would never feel anything ever again.
It all got too much for him, so he told her he was having an early night. If he looked into her eyes any longer, he was sure his
whole heart might just pour out and make him look stupid.
‘It’s just a silly crush, that’s all,’ he mumbled to his bed covers, not in the least tired.
So much for a happy return to Honeydale. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting once back home, but it sure as hell
wasn’t what had happened. The Black Hat Inn was still creeping him out, sending the occasional shiver through his spine, and
he was sure his wife was close by, having something to say about his recent life choices.
Jack sat up as he heard Mae enter the bedroom next to his. She had settled into the cottage nicely, which meant he no longer
had to sleep in doorways. He smiled to himself at the memory.
It wasn’t until the wee small hours of the morning that he finally fell asleep.

***

Jack woke, tired, achy, and feeling very much alone. Even though he didn’t want to get out of bed and face the day, he flopped
his feet to the floor and forced himself to a stand.
The house was quiet already, which did little to raise his spirits. Whilst heading for the kitchen, he questioned his decision
to buy the cottage. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but that was because he felt a warm connection to the place because
of Mae. Without her there, something felt off.
He shook his head as he headed straight for the kettle. He was being daft. The cottage sale was going through, and he was
going to make a go of his new life regardless.
 Jack pulled out two coffee mugs from the cupboard above him, then turned to notice a folded note addressed to him resting
against the fruit bowl on the table.
Something about him already knew what it would say, because his heart had flipped along with his empty stomach. He was
right. Mae had left Honeydale. Left him.
Quickly grabbing his phone, he called his brother.
‘Jack? What’s wrong? This is early for you.’
Rich wasn’t wrong. Jack had had a terrible night, tossing and turning, then managed to only catch a few hours’ sleep.
‘Mae’s left,’ he muttered, then cleared his throat so he could be heard clearly. ‘She wasn’t supposed to go until later on
today, but she left a note saying she caught an earlier train.’
‘And you’re calling me because…’
Jack’s shoulders slumped along with the rest of him as he sank into a chair. ‘I didn’t want her to go.’
‘Did you tell her that?’
Jack shook his head, mouthing the word, ‘No.’
As there was silence, Rich spoke again. ‘Jack, you still there?’
‘I’m here,’ he replied quietly.
‘Did you tell her you like her?’
‘I didn’t tell her anything, Rich. I kept my mouth shut, and now she’s gone.’
‘She’s coming back in the summer.’
That didn’t help. It was far too long to wait, and phone calls in between wouldn’t be enough.
Jack closed his eyes and sighed heavily. ‘I wasn’t expecting any of this, Rich.’
‘We hardly ever see love coming.’
Jack snapped his eyes open. ‘I never said anything about love.’
‘Sounds to me like you’re pining.’
‘I am not pining. I just… Well, I just… It’s just…’
Rich laughed. ‘You need to tell her.’
‘And say what? We haven’t known each other long, and let’s be frank, it’s all been a bit… weird.’
‘Happens when it happens and in its own way. All you need to focus on is letting her know how you feel. That’s step one.
So, get off the phone to me, and call her.’
Before Jack could respond, Rich hung up. He stared at his phone for a moment.
‘This needs to be said face to face.’
 14

Mae

The taxi Mae ordered first thing dropped her off at Honeydale Station, which had a route directly to the second train she
needed to board. When she had arrived a few weeks ago, she didn’t take the time to absorb her surroundings, as she was way
too fired up with her task. This time, and with thirty-five minutes to spare, according to the typed schedule stapled to the
noticeboard by the ticket booth, she studied the area, wanting to collect as many memories as possible.
It was a quaint location, best suited to an old chocolate box, she thought, pulling out her sketchpad. Not only would doodling
occupy her mind, she would have some ideas for another book.
Low cast-iron supports held the ornamental structure of the forest-green hut, and hard wooden benches gave little comfort to
waiting passengers. A bird’s nest was squished into one corner of the ceiling, and the ticket booth below was just as
unoccupied.
Mae sat there alone, drawing the scene, thinking up ways a small train station could be educational for toddlers. She relaxed
in the peace her work brought and finally accepted her journey home, believing that some dreams were just plain old daft and
best left to sleep.
Stretching her legs, she left her bag and bicycle and walked to the end of the platform to stare at the small brown-stone
house on the corner. It held a sign telling her it was called Stationmaster’s Cottage. The prettiness alone made her smile, and
she turned quickly to fetch her drawing pad, as the quaint little home needed to be added to her collection of memories.
‘Oh!’
It was Jack. He was by her belongings, looking around his feet as though in a panic. A thousand butterflies took flight as
their eyes met, and the biggest smile filled her face.
‘Hello,’ she said, stepping closer.
‘You didn’t say goodbye.’
That was because she had struggled with the word from the moment she knew she would have to leave him.
‘It’s early. I was going to send you a message later on.’
‘Saying what?’
She had no idea. The words she wanted to say were hiding behind a wall made of shyness.
‘I have something to say,’ he added, seeing how she was silent.
Every part of her hoped he would say something that matched how she was feeling. ‘Is that why you’re here?’ she asked
softly, holding eye contact.
Jack gave the smallest of nods. ‘I was wondering if you might like to stay a few more days.’
‘Oh.’ That was disappointing. ‘I have to get home.’
His attention went to the ground. ‘How much do you like Honeydale, Mae?’
She didn’t need time to think. ‘Very much. It’s hard not to fall in love with the place.’
He glanced up. ‘And?’
‘And what?’
‘Anything else?’
Mae shrugged. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
Jack breathed out a laugh as he shook his head. ‘I don’t know what I mean either. Oh, crap. I’m making a right pig’s ear of
this.’
Mae had to laugh even though her heart was racing, her legs had turned to jelly, and she desperately wanted to fling her arms
around his neck and hold on forever.
Say it, Mae. Tell him. Now or never.
‘Jack. I wish I could stay in Honeydale. In Sunshine Cottage. With you.’ She crinkled her brow, bruising her head. She had
to say more. Make herself clear. ‘I—’
Warm, soft lips pressed down upon hers, taking away any extra words she wanted to add. The train station disappeared
along with the birds tweeting, the sun shining, and the cold breeze blowing their hair.
‘Don’t leave,’ said Jack through their kiss.
‘I don’t want to,’ she mumbled.
He pulled back and smiled. ‘I know it’s all been a bit strange, and we haven’t known each other long, but would you move
here? Start something with me?’
Mae nodded. ‘I want to. I’m just not sure how to. Goodness, that sounds lame. I just—’
‘You’re afraid of change?’
‘A bit.’
 ‘Me too. It took my brother three years to shift me, and now here I am trying to get you to move within weeks.’
‘Weeks? I was thinking today.’
Jack laughed. ‘Are you serious? Would you really move in with me today?’
Mae shrugged, tugging him closer into her arms. ‘Why not? We’ve done all right so far. But are we being foolish?’
‘Probably, but we won’t know until we try, and I want to try.’
‘I do too.’
Jack turned to her things by the bench. ‘Okay, so am I putting them in my car?’
‘I have more than that at mine.’
‘Then what are we waiting for?’
Mae was unsure of his intentions. ‘You want to drive to Ipswich right now?’
‘I’m game if you are.’
When Mae sat on the bench in the station, she had somehow managed to accept her lonely life. Jack Warner was just going
to be a wonderful memory from a crazy time she once spent in the Scottish Highlands. But now he was asking her to be his
partner. To live in his home. To relocate.
Having never taken risks in her life, the trip to Honeydale had not only brought out the ghosts and truth, it had helped
kickstart her confidence and reignite her love for life that had been ripped from her core the day her ex upped and left for her
twin.
Mae gazed into waiting brown eyes, filled with affection and hope. Her sister had moved to Spain, Agaline had fooled her
neighbours, and Jack was creating a new beginning for himself. It would seem anything was possible.
‘Okay,’ she said, smiling. ‘Let’s go to Ipswich and pack my things.’
‘You sure, Mae?’
She nodded. ‘I’m sure. In such a short time, we’ve shared some crazy moments. Don’t see why we should stop now.’
Jack laughed out loud, then lifted her into a spin, kissing her head. ‘You know what, Mae Rawlings, you bring the magic to
Honeydale, and to me.’
She gave him a peck on the lips and smiled. ‘And you, Jack Warner are my magical new beginning.’
 About the Author

Hello, I’m K.T. Dady. I’m the bestselling author of the Pepper Bay series. I’m also a chocolate lover, mum to a grown-up
daughter, and a huge fan of a HEA. I was born and raised in the East End of London, and I’ve been happily writing stories
since I was a little girl. When I’m not writing, I'm mostly reading, baking cakes, or pottering around in my little garden in
Essex, trying hard not to kill the flowers.

I love hearing from readers, so please get in touch over at my website or sign up for my newsletter and receive a free Pepper
Bay short story that you won’t find anywhere else.

Newsletters go out once a month and often contain free gifts, previews, and writing tips amongst the news. Head over to my
website at ktdady.com

If you enjoyed reading my book, please leave a rating or review on Amazon or Goodreads. It really helps to bring the story to
more readers. Thank you so much.

You’ll also find me on my social media accounts.

Instagram – @kt_dady

Twitter – @kt_dady

Facebook – @ktdady

***

Honeydale is a spin-off from the Pepper Bay series:

Starlight Cottage
Honeybee Cottage
Pepper Pot Farm
Lemon Drop Cottage
The Post Office Shop
Pepper River Inn
Silver Blooms Flower Shop
The Old Boat Clubhouse
Castle on the Mead
Christmas Memories at Waterside Cottage
 Acknowledgments

Thank you to everyone reading the Honeydale stories. So many readers are a constant support to this series, and I want you to
know that I am so completely and utterly grateful to each and every one of you.

***

As always, sending lots of love and light your way. Keep reading. It’s good for the soul.

***
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
most ha rágondolok, mi mindent mondtam önnek, látom, hogy már
régen nem beszélhettem ilyen őszintén.
Félretolta a vadászfegyver závárzatát, a fegyvert ketté hajlította
és kivette a patront a csőből.
– A vadászatból már nem lesz semmi. Nem jönne velem a
kastélyba?
– Ilyen vendég szégyenére válnék.
– Egyedül vagyok, – felelte, – de ha nem volnék egyedül, akkor is
meghívnám vendégül. Talán túlbecsülöm a jólétet, amely
osztályrészemül jutott, de mégsem annyira, hogy föláldoznám neki
szabadságomat.
Előbb a reggeli napfényben a fatörzsön közösen
megreggeliztünk. Elfogott bennünket az a lassú kijózanodás, amely
mindig jelentkezik, valahányszor szellemi foglalkozás külsőséges
dologgal váltakozik és elfogódottan tekintettünk egymásra. De mert
mindenikünk fölismerte a másiknak zavarát, ez futólagos
megértésben ismét összekötött bennünket. Mégis mintha valami új
tárgyat kellett volna keresnünk a beszélgetésre. Egyikünknek sem
volt kedvére, hogy közönbös dologról beszéljünk, mert első
találkozásunk nem folyt le eléggé gyanútlanul és sokkal
idegenebbek voltunk egymásnak, semhogy valami könnyelmű
fecsegés ismét megteremthette volna azt a komolyságot, amelyre
mindketten áhítoztunk.
– Mégis csak jobb lesz nekem, ha tovább megyek a magam
útján, – mondtam hirtelen, csaknem akaratom ellenére.
– Ejnye, minden vakmerősége ellenére is mennyire el tudja
veszteni a bátorságát, – mondta a fiatal hölgy, – de ahogyan önnek
tetszik…
– Engem csak az ellenállás tesz bátorrá, – feleltem.
De jobban foglalkoztatott ez a gondolat, mint a szomszédnőm.
Tudtuk mindketten, hogy nem akarunk elválni. És mintegy
magammal beszélve, folytattam elmélkedésemet:
– Azt kérdezem magamtól, vajjon mindig úgy voltam-e a
bátorságommal, mint ahogyan az imént mondtam; nem így van és
csak egészen különös esetekre áll. Teljesen attól függ, milyen az
állapotom és főként, hogy az a föladat, amellyel meg kell birkóznom,
elég nagy föladat-e. Arra gondolok, hogy jó vagy rossz erőnket és
tulajdonságunkat hozza-e mozgásba. Eltűrtem olyan megalázást és
vereséget, aminőre remegés nélkül gondolni sem tudok és amely, ha
csak ráemlékezem, a düh könnyét kergeti a szemembe. Amíg ezek a
sebek begyógyulnak és amíg forradásuk, hogy úgy mondjam, az
ellenállás páncéljává lett, addig gyakran gyáva voltam egészen a
gyalázatig. Gyakran gondolom, hogy a bosszú olykor határozottan
megváltás kell hogy legyen. Nem bosszulhatom meg magamat…
– Az életben jelentkező akadályok legyőzését mindig ilyen
módon teszi föladatává? – kérdezte szomszédnőm teljesen átérezve
azt, ami foglalkoztatott.
Megreszkettem a boldogságtól és ránéztem. Lesütötte a szemét
és vonásai valami kedves, gondolatokba merűlt aggodalmat árultak
el. Majd fölvetette a fejét és gyorsan ezt mondta:
– Én a könnyebb végét választottam a dolognak. Nekünk nőknek
a gondolatok világába való menekülés csak ritkán adatik meg
vigaszul, mi könnyebben meg tudunk változtatni valami gonosz
helyzetet, mint megérteni vagy magunket benne megérteni. Talán
kevesebb a lelkiismeretünk és ezzel csekélyebb a felelősségünk.
Amikor először ébredtem erőim tudatára és egyszersmind közülük
azokéra, amelyek az életben külsőleg hasznomra lehetnek, nem
törődtem többé azzal, hogy használatuk valami más téren nem
járhat-e számomra kárral. Hogy az ember ezt megfontolgassa,
ahhoz a léleknek sorsában való elviselhető egyensúlya kell, amivel
az én lelkem akkor nem rendelkezett.
– Elérte, amit célul tűzött ki magának?
– Úgy van. Mihelyt megtudtam, hogyan lehet boldogulni a
világon, mindent elértem, amit megkivántam, de nem lettem boldog.
Ámbár azonban elégedetlen vagyok, nincs erőm arra, hogy
lemondjak arról, amit kiküzdöttem magamnak. Semmiféle igéret,
még ha a belső nyugalom és megelégedettség egész egét hozná is,
sem tudna elcsábítani, hogy lemondjak megszerzett életmódomról,
mert ha csak gondolatban is eloldódik a kezem, nem látok mást,
mint feneketlen mélységét a pokolnak, amelyből kimentettem
magamat.
Együtt lassan útnak indultunk, amerre a fiatal hölgy vezetett.
Pompás erdőn át mentünk, de dombos irtásokon is haladtunk,
amelyeken a nap forró sugarától szürkére halványított facsonkok
közt magas fű nőtt. Egy elhagyott rókabarlangnál, amelynek
bejáratát szederbokor buján benőtte, kisérőnőm ismét leült és
mintha a bevezetést csak gondolatban mondta volna el, szinte
ennek folytatásaként ezt beszélte el:
– Nem sok világosság jutott abba a pincébe, amelyben szüleim
éltek. Anyám beteg volt és apámtól már régóta nem kapta meg azt,
ami neki és nekünk gyermekeknek a megélhetésre kellett. Nem sok
az új dolog ebben a szomorú történetben. Az apám annak idején
talán más reményekkel, talán erejének ama gondatlan
túlbecsülésében kötött házasságot, amely jellemének sajátossága
volt, talán minden megfontolás és meggondolás nélkül, mint
ahogyan fiatal teremtések a mi társadalmi körünkben rendesen
házasságot kötnek. A pincelakásnak két helyisége volt, de ajtó nem
választotta el őket egymástól. Nyolc éves voltam, amikor lassan
kezdtem megérteni azt a lealacsonyítást, amelynek az anyám
lassanként áldozata lett. Ha már ebben a korban nem kellett volna
három évvel fiatalabb öcsémről gondoskodnom, akkor valószínűleg
elpusztultam volna ama benyomások és gondok hatása alatt,
amelyek bennünket négyünket ebben a sötét lyukban fojtogattak.
Nem tudom, hogy az utolsó években mi volt az apám foglalkozása,
de valószinüleg nem csinált már semmit, mert az anyám kereste
meg a kenyerünket, ha csak féligmeddig egészséges volt. Láttam őt
apám ökle alatt összeroskadni, láttam második kis öcsémet
születésétől kezdve egészen a haláláig, mindjárt a születése után. A
hangok, amelyek fiatalságomat betöltötték, lárma volt és jajgatás,
könnyeket láttam és elvetemültséget, piszkot, sötétséget és a
börtönömön kivül levő világból alig láttam többet, mint
pinceablakaink előtt sárban vagy napfényben az utcán elhaladó
emberek lábát. Az emberekből csak a test szükségletére való durva
fölhasználhatásukat ismertem, a péknél és füszeresnél
megtanultam, hogy nyomorúságommal élelemre váltsam föl azoknak
a mohóknak a szánakozását, akik maguk is keserves harcban
állottak az élettel, megtanultam, hogy sajnálatraméltónak mutassam
magamat és így egy pohár tejet koldulhassak öcsém, a gyerek
számára. Azután az apám a kikötőben rakodáskor részegen két
vasuti kocsi közé került, testének összetört roncsait a barlagunkba
hozták és amikor végül elvitték, az anyámmal együtt fölmostam vérét
a kőkockákról.
Jóval későbben, amikor az anyám már régen el volt temetve, egy
nénémtől, aki gondozásba vett, megtudtam, hogy anyám jó
családból származott és csakis apám iránt érzett szerelme sodorta
abba a mélységbe. De ennek a ragaszkodásnak ott nem szerelem
volt a neve. Rám azután olyan idő következett, amikor szájam
lélekzetvételét, az éhségemet csillapító kenyeret és az éjszakai
nyugvóhelyet kegyelemként kellett fogadnom, jótéteményként,
amelyért nem lett volna elég nagy semmiféle köszönet. Minden fillért
a szememre vetettek és véremet nem érte fénysugár, hogy már
előbb mint megalázást el ne szenvedtem volna. Egy este messze
künn a kikötőben, ahol kirándulás után a csónakját a fészerbe húzta,
megszólított egy fiatal úr, megsimogatta a hajamat, jó meleg
szavakat intézett hozzám úgy, hogy megremegtem és utána
futottam. Magához fogadott és én nála maradtam. Tizennégy éves
voltam akkor.
Ekkor tudtam meg, hogy a hajam szőke és a szemem világos,
megtudtam, hogy szájam nevethetett anélkül, hogy megszidtak
volna érte és hogy mosolygása egy ember keblében kegyességet
szült és örömet keltett. Hallottam hangom csengését, láttam lábam
lépését és éreztem szívem dobogását. Az életemet adtam volna
oda, ha mindennek fönségességét csak sejtettem volna mily
korlátlan odaadással nyujtottam oda mindent, amit e gazdagság
egész teljességeért elvártak tőlem. Mit jelentene, ha azt mondanám,
kinyilt előttem az élet? Üres, semmitmondó szó lenne ama
menyországhoz képest, amelynek fényébe beléptem.
Mindent amit tettem, ezért a férfiért tettem. Még mindig nem
mertem hinni, hogy az én életemnek is vannak jogai. Az ő kedvéért
megtanultam, amit föladatomnak tűzött ki, neki öltözködtem az ő
kedve szerint, reszketve lestem a kivánságát, megölt a szégyen és
aggodalom, félve attól, hogy valamivel adósa maradok az ő
barátságosságának. Meghatva látta szívem ügyetlenségét, de
amikor egyszer le akarta csillapítani szerelmi buzgalmamat, ellágyult
és könnye a kezemre hullott, amelyet a kezében tartott. Ez az
életemmel ajándékozott meg…
Az elbeszélő elhallgatott és körülnézett helyünk napfényes
világában, mint az az ember, aki az erdőben mély gondolatokból
ébredve föltekint és észreveszi, hogy eltévedt. De amikor rám
nézett, megütközése lecsillapodott és kezét nyujtotta. Arcomról
bizonyára leolvasta részvétemet és aggódásomat, mert mintegy
feleletül ezt mondta:
– Nem, sohasem fogom megbánni, hogy nyiltan beszéltem önnel
és annál inkább hiszem, hogy ön bizalmat érdemel, mert nem
szándékosan történt, Bánt azonban, hogy változtatnom kell azon a
rólam kapott képen, amelyet tisztává és értékessé tett a szánalom
és a természetes vonzalom. Változtatnom kell rajta, mert irtózom
attól a titkos megalázástól, amely sajátmagunk egyoldalú leírása
után lenyom bennünket, akár többnek akár kevesebbnek mutattuk
be magunkat, mint ami vagyunk. Milyen egyszerű volna, ha úgy
fejezhetném be ifjúságom rövid történetét, ahogyan az emberek kis
ideáljaik szegényes igényeihez képest az élettől elvárják. Velem
másként történt és úgy, ahogyan történnie kellett, mert az apám vére
volt bennem, az a vér, amelyet a padló gödrös köveiről töröltem föl.
Aki az életben igazán fölébred, mindig a maga öntudatára ébred;
ameddig az ember idegen akarat vagy idegen gondolatok és
nézetek hatása alatt él, alszik, mint a legtöbben. De jobb ébren lenni
a pusztában, mint a paradicsomban aludni. Ezzel az igazsággal
vigasztaltam magamat. Kinek ne jutna ez az eszébe olyan időben,
amikor harcolni kell? Nem maradtam a barátomnál; tizennyolc éves
voltam, amikor elváltam tőle. Az is lehetséges, hogy ő vált el tőlem.
Ki tudná ilyen esetekben a cselekedetünk okául szolgáló érzelmeket
tisztán megkülönböztetni? Úgy vettem észre, hogy én közönbösebb
lettem a szemében, az ő jótéteményei pedig számomra vesztettek
értékükből, minél inkább elveszteni véltem a szerelmét. Akkor, amint
mondani szokás, nagylábon éltünk, az élet örömmámorában és
szellemi, meg muló élvezetekben teltek el a napok és az éjjelek.
Amikor szemem más férfira pillantott, akkor éreztem először a
számomra megnyíló lehetőségek korlátlanságát és mert úgy láttam,
hogy ez az én értéktelenségemet bizonyítja, csökkent az
akaraterőm. Így hát nemsokára, amint ti mondani szoktátok: kézről-
kézre jártam, de helyesebben úgy kellene mondani, hogy tetszésem
szerint magam választottam és bocsátottam el. Nem dicsekszem
vele, de nem is hallgatom el. Lelkem mélyén sejtettem, hogy amikor
először engedtem át magamat, a természetemen kegyes
erőszakféle esett meg, amely végzetésé vált, amikor szúnyadó
véremet hálás lelkem zálogául kellett adnom. De a szerelem dolgait
csak a szerelem szemével lehet fölismerni, később már csak
bizonytalanul és még saját emlékezetünkben is csak mint fény, de
nem mint alak marad meg a szerelem. Ma tehát nem tudom már a
titkot megfejteni, bizonyos azonban, hogy megmaradt számomra az,
hogy a vérem hangját magamban figyelni tudom, mint a vándorló az
erdőben a forrásét, de nem mint a fa a maga zugását.
Két kezemre támasztva a fejemet, fatönkön ülve a leányra
tekintettem, aki hozzám e szavakat intézte. Azt a tiszta
természetességet, amely benne volt, mindenben ami tőle jött
hozzám, elhomályosította a csodálat kínos megmozdulása, amelybe
ellenmondással teli idegenszerű megkivánásnak mély
nyugtalansága vegyült bele, amellyel nem tudtam tisztába jönni.
Gyors döntő cselekvésre éreztem harcrakész vágyódást és egyúttal
alázatos megadásra való hajlandóságot. Csaknem dühössé,
dacossá és némává tett az az égető kivánság, hogy gyorsan és egy
csapásra érvényesüljek. Új volt az életemben ez az erő, amelyet
ebben a nőben találtam és sokkal erősebben hatott reám, mint maga
az elbeszélés, bármennyire meghatott is ez. Ezt gondoltam: nem
úgy beszél, mintha egy harmadik személy lenne köztünk? Hűvös
fuvallatot éreztem, de ez a lehellet lángra lobbantott.
A leány hallgatott és a messzeségbe nézett, ám nem szomorúan,
sem elgondolkozva, hanem szilárd tekintettel. Valójában most láttam
az arcát először és rájöttem, hogy az élet, de nem vonásainak
szabályossága adta meg a szépségét. Korát nehezen lehetett
meghatározni, körülbelül harminc évesnek tartottam, de voltak
pillanatok, amikor arcának kifejezése olyan volt mint a gyermeké.
Folyton változott, de öntudatos magatartás állandó határai közt. E
kép életteljes játékából mintha egyetlen vonás sem hiányzott volna,
amely ne lett volna igazán nőies. Csodálatosan szép volt a keze,
világosbarna és kissé széles, finom, de nem gyöngéd.
– Mi a neve? – szóltam bele hirtelen a hallgatásunkba.
Felelet helyett levette a kalapomat és határozottan és
egyszerűen, szinte csak azért, hogy több tere legyen a tekintetének,
elsimította a hajamat homlokomról. Vizsgálódva nézett reám, azután
lassan így szólt:
– Teja a nevem. Nevezzen csak így. Reánk asszonyokra
tulajdonképpen csak az a név jellemző, melyet életünk későbbi
folyamán azoktól kapunk, akik közel állanak hozzánk és amely nevet
bizonyos tekintetben magunk választunk a számunkra. A családi név
csak a férfiaknál jelent valamit. Én Teja vagyok.
Gondoltam: ritkán mosolyog, mint azok az emberek, akik
másoknál sok vagy semmi megértést sem tételeznek föl és akik
bizonyosra veszik szavuk hatását, vagy akik nem törődnek azzal,
helyesen értik-e meg őket. Az a mód, ahogyan föltételezte az
emberiességet, értelmet és erkölcsöt, kitüntetett és boldoggá tett,
úgy éreztem, mintha az ő lényével szemben semmi alávalóság sem
rosszaság nem tudna megállani, szabad volt és erős és mégis tele
titokkal. Emellett azonban nem volt jó abban az értelemben,
amelyben rendesen jónak szokták mondani az embert, sőt inkább
hiányzott a természetéből az önzetlen gyöngeség értelmében vett
minden jámborság, jó volt és veszedelmes. Szívem a boldogságtól
és nyugtalanságtól hevesen dobogott. Ezer gyors szó égett a
véremben az ő dícséretére, ami elszomorított és nem tudtam
tisztába jönni, vajjon hallgatásom búsított-e el vagy az a kényszer,
hogy dícsérnem kell azt, amitől féltem.
– Sokáig, sokáig kellene élnem, – mondtam hirtelen.
Teja rám nézett, mintha ezt kérdezné: miért mondja ezt
egyszerre? De nem kérdezte, mert nem akarta hallani azt, hogy
gazdagságának és okosságának titka kínnal és szerelemmel azt a
vágyat ébresztette bennem, hogy minden élővel való
összefüggésben egészen megértsem és méltányolhassam őt. Talán
tapasztalásból tudta, hogy mi férfiak, ha önálló nőben okosságot és
bájt találunk, kényszerítve vagyunk arra a szenvedélyes
túlbecsülésre, amelyet csupán ébredező szerelmünk igazol saját
magunk előtt. Én nem tudtam és még ma sem tudom, mert ez a
föltevésem valószínűleg már arra a túlbecsülésre vall. Teja futólagos
rövid gondolkodás után, olyan hangon, amellyel udvariasan, de nem
túlságosan komolyan, valami véletlen megjegyzésről szokott az
ember beszélgetni, ezt mondta:
– Sohasem törődném sokat azzal a fiatalemberrel, aki nincs
meggyőződve arról, hogy sokáig kell élnie. A kacérkodás a korai
halállal gyönge természetre vall vagy éretlenségre, amellyel nem
lehet komolyan foglalkozni. Az ilyen fölfogás csak a viszonyok
kiegyenlítetlenségét, a saját jogokkal és határokkal szemben való
elfogultságot vagy vakságot árulja el.
– Aki így hallja önt beszélni, szívtelennek tarthatná.
– Kérem, – felelte hüvösen.
De azután komolysága hirtelen vidámsággá változott, az
arcomba nevetett és így szólt:
– Azok a napok, amelyekben életemet leélni kénytelen vagyok,
elmulásukig arra fognak esküdni, hogy a szív melegét és jóságát
nem lehet a vakságtól, érzékenységtől és szerénységtől
elválasztani. Az okosságot nem tudják elképzelni hidegség nélkül, az
éleselméjűséget hamisság és az erőt durvaság nélkül. Csak ne
volna olyan fülledt és elhasznált az a levegő, amelyben e fölfogás
evangelistái élnek. Sokszor gondolom, hogy a mi időnknek gyakran
legbecsületesebb és legderekabb emberei még mindig a halott
ideálok régi divatú ruhájában járnak, e stílus szerint igazítják
mozdulataikat, lépésüket, magatartásukat és új reményeik fényét
erőszakos állhatatossággal ez elposványosodott fölfogás
gyertyapislákolása szerint nevezik el. Már nem tudnak úgy
gondolkodni, ahogyan elavult meggyőződésük szerint vélik, hogy
gondolkodniok kell, az új tapasztalatokat a régi névvel jelölik meg,
igaznak akarják elfogadtatni, amit már régóta nem hisznek és
magukban és másokban dícsérik azt, amit már elkezdtek megvetni.
– Ez az én rongyaimnak véletlen igazolása, – feleltem. – De nem
tartom fontosnak ezt az itéletet. Azt hiszem, mindig így volt és
mindig így lesz. Nem hiszek az úgynevezett idők változása
fontosságában és egyetlen korszakot sem tartok réginek egy
másikkal, mint újjal szemben. Sohasem volt még ifjúság, amely a
maga idejét ne tartotta volna újnak az apái régi korával szemben. Aki
a maga lénye háztartásának rossz helyzetéért a viszonyokat okolja,
nem érti meg sem magát, sem a kort. Minden idő minden embernek
ugyanazt kinálja. Csak attól függ, hogy kiről van szó. Azt hiszem,
hogy Ádám óta egészen a mi együttlétünk ez órájáig sohasem az
volt a döntő a világon, régi-e valami avagy új, hanem csak az, hogy
igaz volt-e vagy hamis. Azt hiszi, hogy szívemben csupa
elkeseredett ellenmondással, azért járok rongyokba burkolva a
világban, mert az emberek sokkal rosszabbak, sokkal
nyomorultabbak vagy sokkal érdemetlenebbek arra, semhogy
kitarthassak a körükben? Egyedül akarok lenni és azt akarom, hogy
ne akadályozzon senki, legkevésbbé mulandó mű iránt való saját
kötelességeim, amelyeket a közösség az emberekkel könyörtelenül
és joggal megkövetel. Ami azonban engem a magányosságba űz, az
a várakozásom, hogy a világon nincs fönségesebb, nincs
hatalmasabb és nagyszerűbb az embernél. Félek, hogy eljöhet a
nap, amely arra csábít, hogy az események kuszáltságában ne
tudjam áttekinteni az egészet vagy hogy saját érdekeim sarokba
szorítanak. Aki azt állítja, hogy az élet tarka és piszkos utcáinak
nyugtalansága nyitotta ki a szemét az emberek aljassága iránt, az
előbb mondja meg, hogy mit keresett köztük. A csalódások okául
akárhányszor arra jöttem rá, hogy az ok a saját, mulandó haszon
volt, amelyet nem találtak meg. Azt akarom, hogy ne zavarjanak az
ember fönségességében való hitemben, ez minden. Milyen sorsot
készítenek nekem az emberek, azzal éppen oly keveset törődöm,
mint a ruhámmal. Minél többet ismerek föl az értékükből, annál
gazdagabb lesz az életem.
– Maga boldog ember, – mondta Teja nyugodtan és egyszerűen,
– de én nem tudok úgy érezni és gondolkodni mint ön, mert nagyon
sokat szenvedtem.
Minden erőmre szükség volt, hogy ura lehessek a
meghatottságnak, amely e szavakra elfogott. Azokban a
pillanatokban vagyunk a leggyöngébbek, amelyekben valami emberi
szenvedés ténye meggyőződésünk körébe nyomul és becsült
emberekkel érintkezve mindig elkövetjük azt a hibát, hogy
meghatottságból gyors engedményt teszünk. Pedig ezek a
gyöngeségszülte engedmények a végzetes kezdete minden
elkövetkező félreértésnek, sőt csalódásnak és a keservesen
közeledő szakításnak. Elveszik tőlünk minden okos közösségnek
legfontosabb előföltételét, belső szabadságunkat. Kis idő mulva
tehát így feleltem:
– Nos, most ön fog engem szívtelennek nevezni, mert nem
hiszem el, amit mond. Az ön arcáról nem olvasható le az a
szenvedés, amely a valóságban elrabolhatja tőlünk emberektől az
emberek szeretetét. Elhiszem, hogy sokat kellett szenvednie, de kit
vádol joggal? Sajnálatraméltó szüleit, azt a rokonát, aki
nyomorúságában csak a maga javát kereste, a férfit, akit elhagyott,
vagy valamelyik későbbit, akitől talán szintén megvált, anélkül, hogy
mint mondja, világosan meg tudta volna különböztetni azokat az
érzelmeket, amelyek a válást okozták? Vagy éppen az életet, a
lelkileg kiskorúaknak és mindazoknak meg nem fogható
adóskönyvét, akik nem mernek saját keblüknek kamráiba nézni?
Nem, az ilyen baj és szenvedés erős és gazdag élet alkotórésze és
előbb-utóbb csaknem jóleső fájdalommá válik. Még a halál sem tud
olyan sebet ütni, amely be nem gyógyulna. A kiengesztelhetetlen
szenvedés vallomásairól ellenben nem tud meg a világ semmit, mert
le van pecsételve azoknak az ajkuk, akik ezt a vallomást
megtehetnék, a büszkeség zárja le ajkukat, míg gyalázatukat és
fájdalmukat a föld betemeti. Nincs joga, hogy azt mondja, sokkal
többet szenvedett, semhogy még nagyot és jót tudna elvárni az
embertől.
Teja rám tekintett és szemében kiváncsiságot és kétkedést
láttam, de annak a kellemetlen érzésnek árnyékát is, amely elfog
bennünket, ha érzelmeink készséges bevallása után
visszautasításban részesülünk. De föllángolt mellette a
várakozásnak az a fénye, amely csak női szemben csillan föl,
igéreteket árul el és fogékonyságot és megfelel ama férfi szeme
csillogásának, aki igéretet ad és egyszersmind bebizonyítja akaratát
a cselekvésre. Szótlanul kérdezett, de könyörtelen kihivással és
éreztem, hogy beszélnem kell, mert meg kell mondanom, milyen
szenvedésről szóltam és mi az, ami nekem elhamarkodottnak
tűntette föl a bajából levont következtetést.
Ekkor mintha forró szél csapott volna le reám a magasból, ahová
hogy meg ne haljak, szegény életem elhagyottságában fölemeltem a
szememet. Bizonytalanul éreztem, hogy már csak Isten tudta volna
eldönteni, magamért beszéltem-e vagy azok kedvéért, akik
szenvednek. Csak aki a meghatottság szenvedélyes tüzét ismeri,
tudja, hogy vannak pillanatok, amelyekben a maga ügyének védője
összeolvad az üggyel, amikor csakis ezt szolgálja. Ezek életünk
legtisztább és legfönségesebb pillanatai; a nő lelke nem részesülhet
bennük és a lényükben levő ez a különbség eredete a nemek
minden ellenségeskedésének.
– Teja, – mondám, – a szenvedés, amelyért nincs
kiengesztelődés, azoknak van föntartva, akiknek szerelmi ereje és
korlátlan odaadásuknak hevessége makulátlan volt és akik
mindkettőt folyamként ontották, de egész értékük izzó
föláldozásában mégis visszataszították és megvetették őket. Nem
akárki tette ezt meg velük, hiszen nagy szív nem adja magát oda
tévedésből, hanem ugyanaz, aki igazában érdemes volt erre a
szeretetre és odaadásra. Csak itt kezdődik meg valamely végzet
sötétsége, amelyben az elvérző szerelem nem tud meggyógyulni,
hanem forrása, ha pillanatokra kialszik a szerelem tudata, mint
emésztő gyűlölet tovább buzog. Ilyen szíveknek nem adatott meg az
a menekülő út, amelyet tragikus szánalmában odakínál az élet
azoknak, akik gyógyulást képesek találni annak a szeretett
embernek megvetésében, lealacsonyitásában és végre
elfeledésében, aki elfogadni, viszonozni és mégis megvetni tudott.
Nem, a kegyetlenül kiválasztott elől elzárja ezt az utat soha nem
nyugvó igazságossága a látó szerelemnek, amely nem tud kevésre
becsülni azért, mert őt nem becsülték. Megérti-e ön, mit jelent az, ha
széttapossák az ember legnemesebb büszkeségét és ha telibe
találják egész életét? Hogy a szerelem égi tüze az ajakon halálos
gyülöletté változik, hogy még a világon a legszentebbnek, a maga
gyermekének megpillantására is kölcsönhatásuk irtóztató
közösségével fojtogatja a gyűlölet és a szerelem az élet forrását és
hogy majd boldog reménység, majd emésztő elkeseredettség mérge
röpíti gyújtogató szikráját abba a tiszta világba, amelyben
gyermekszemek a jövőt tárják föl a boldogoknak. Hogy a kiáltás a
mélyből: szeretlek! azt jelenti: gyűlöllek! Hogy az ezer kínban
megszületett kiáltás: megöllek! úgy hangzik, mintha ezt mondaná:
áldom erős életedet! És mi akadályozza meg az ilyen szívet, hogy
békéje legyen? Nagy igénye, csak értéke! Teja, az Isten, aki
megnyitotta lelkünk forrását, amelyből ez a sötét erő új fölismerés
fényében áramlik, ilyen szívet nem tud már megváltani. Ez a szív
egy új Istennek fájdalomtól izzó világbölcsője…
Fölugrottam és szavaimmal kirúgtam magam alól a támaszt,
amelyet azok a hasznos és okos korlátozások adnak meg nekünk,
amelyek közt az emberek gondolataikat barátságosan kicserélve,
közönségesen érintkezni szoktak egymással. A most bekövetkezett
csöndben, mert Teja hallgatott, magamba szívtam a napfényt, mint
valami boldog beteg és bár nem magamról beszéltem, leleplezettnek
éreztem magamat. Elhagyott utakra gondoltam, amelyek
napfényben úszó hegycsúcsokon visznek át és a magányosságra,
mint valami égi forrásból merített italra. De amikor a leány lesütött
szemét, a száját és a kezét láttam, ezt gondoltam: bolond vagyok!
Bizonyára ennek az okos leánynak csaknem kijózanítóan ható
eszessége okozta, hogy érzelmeim ellenmondás és csodálat
keverékében olyan zabolátlanul lobbantak lángra, mintha valami
ősrégi akadály megostromlásáról lett volna szó. Világosan éreztem
most, hogy hirtelen sokkal fontosabbnak tartottam, vajha Teja inkább
indító okaimat értené meg, mintsem azt, amit mondottam. Kezével
átölelte magasra fölhúzott térdét és még mindig maga elé nézett,
mintha messzibb keresne valamit, aminek magától kell pihenő
tekintetének körébe jutnia. Végtelenül közönbössé vált számomra,
meggyőztem-e őt, sőt már azt sem tudtam, miről is akartam őt
meggyőzni. Valami egészen új, kimondhatatlan fontos dolog állott az
óra homlokterében. Nem csupán azért beszéltem, mert a napfény
csöndes aranyos nevetése ott világított ebben a szőke hajban és
mert ennek a nyaknak hajlása kedves árnyas út gyanánt a viruló élet
ismeretlen tájaira csábított vagy mert térdén nyugvó meleg és
halvány keze, homlokomat és szememet magafeledté és
nyugtalanná tette…
Amikor Teja egy idő mulva föltekintett és szemünk találkozott,
ránk szakadt az élet, mintha égi fénnyel és könnyekkel teli izzó
mélységbe zuhantunk volna, megfogva és kergetve egy világakarat
forró lehelletétől, amely letepert minden észt, meggondolást és
ellenállást.
Mellettem egy hang, az esti nap és madárfütty ébresztett föl, a
magas fű az ég hűvös kékjében hajladozott és lassan, miként ha
bátorság és szomorúság kedves fátyolán át, visszatértek hozzám a
világi dolgok. Közepettük vidám földi biztosságban legyőzhetetlen
mindenhatóság diadalmaskodott, amelynek nincs neve, tehát Teja
nevet adtam neki.
Állát mindkét kezére támasztva, könyökével a fűben, mély alt így
szólt hozzám:
– Még a nevedet sem tudom.
*
Amikor az erdő felől az országúton át bekanyarodtunk a kastély
bejáratához, az esti szürkület első árnyékai már ott pihentek a
magas kapu falának szögleteiben, amely bükkök árnyékában öregen
és szürkén az udvarra szolgált. Ennek közepén kútnak kereksége
emelkedett és a kastély kőlépcsőjén ott nyugodott a vörös esti felhők
viszfénye. A gondnok, széles ember nagy, barna körszakállal, amely
sűrű volt és színes, mint valami mézeskalács, Teja elé jött és amikor
utasítást kapott tőle, hogyan kell engem elszállásolnia, meglepődés
nélkül szolgálatkészen és barátságosan biccentett. Mivel
visszautasítottam Teja kivánságát, hogy más ruhát vegyek
magamra, csak mint ujonnan szerződtetett embert vezethetett be,
akinek az ő futólagos kegyessége munkát igért. Ezt mondta:
– Amíg valami más nem akad, a kertben kell munkát adni ennek
az embernek. Később még beszélünk a dologról. A déli épületben
engedjen át neki egy szobát, ahol egyedül lehet és adjon neki
mindent, amire szüksége van, ruhát is.
Barátságos pártfogásának természetessége olyan kedves és
elfogulatlan volt, annyira minden megalázás nélkül reám vagy reá
nézve, hogy amikor Teja e szavak után köszönés és minden további
beszéd nélkül magunkra hagyott és bement a házba, könnyű szívvel
és vidámabban követtem a férfit, mint ahogyan a mi utunkat tettem
meg. Így akartam és nem másként, mert amikor Teja útközben azt
indítványozta és ajánlotta nekem, hogy mint az ő vendége és
társadalmi állásom külső jelével időzzem a kastélyban, mély kínzó
aggodalom fogott el és egy pillanatra úgy láttam, mintha kísértő
lépkedne mellettem, aki föladatául tűzte ki, hogy életem
szabadságából olyan világ élvezettel teli jótéteményei közé
csábítson, amelytől féltem. Teja gúnyolódása ártatlan volt, de mégis
sértett és makacsságom nőtt. Tehetetlennek láttam magamat arra,
hogy kivánságával szemben kimagyarázzam magamat.
– Azt gondolod talán, hogy mint te hiszed, szegénységből vagy
kedvtelésből élem az életemet? Fáj, hogy valamit meg kell tőled
tagadnom, hiszen a szerelemnek semmi sem nehezebb, mint a
visszautasítás, de hidd el, maradok ami vagyok. Nekem többet jelent
a szabadságom, mint másoknak az élelem, a fény vagy a jólét, én
nem e világba való vagyok és megront még ha vendégként lépek is
beléje. Én a te lényednek vagyok a vendége, a mosolyodnak, a
szépségednek, a szívednek, de nem a annak az embernek
szobájában…
Ekkor jobban megértett.
– Belenyugszom, – mondá, – hiszen a birtokon dolgozhatsz,
akkor magad teremted magadnak a vendégjogot, de egészen nem
áll, amit mondasz.
Mindketten hallgattunk és mindenikünk bizonyára a maga módján
követte a gondolatokat, amelyek büszkeséggel, reménységgel és
szenvedéssel vitték annak a szerelemnek a jövendőjébe, amelyet
nem megfontolás, vizsgálódás és szándékosság keltett életre.
Persze nem kerülhettem el egészen, hogy ruhámat kicseréltem
és kiegészítettem, hogy elhanyagoltságom bizonyos jólétté változott,
renddé, amely alkalmazkodott a helyzethez, amelyet mint a bírtok
munkaközösségének egyik tagja elfoglaltam. Alkalmazkodtam
annyira, amennyire jövendő társaim méltósága megkivánta, de nem
másként, csak ahogyan megtettem volna és mindig megtettem, ha
valami foglalkozást vállaltam, hogy pénzt szerezzek vagy nyugalmat
találjak, amelyet annyiszor kerestem, de soha el nem tűrtem.
Amikor bevezettek a szobába, amelyet lakóhelyemül jelöltek ki,
alighogy az ajtó bezáródott a kalauzom mögött, leheveredtem az
ágyra és láttam az alkonyat terjeszkedését a térben és hallottam
szívem életlépéseit. A nyitott ablakon át csak néha hatolt be valami
hang hozzám. A kis kastély, mint a szikla a tenger zöld hullámai
közepett, magányosan és a világ lázas életétől megkimélve állott az
erdőben. Egyszer éneklő hang vonult el fölöttem, mintha az erdőből
kelt volna életre, a szabad ég alatt szárnyát csattogtatta és ismét az
erdőben merült el. Az esti égen egy csillagot láttam megvillanni,
világos volt mint a sárgaréz és felhőláncolatok vöröses fönsíkja
fölött, amely mint valami hegység mozdulatlanul állott a nyugati
égen, egymagában halvány ezüstkék színben ragyogott.
Csaknem fájdalmasan bensőséges és mesésen édes alt hang
szólt bele alaktalan gondolkodásomba; az a hang volt, amely e nap
reggelén ébredt föl és amely, mint ahogyan gátszakadás után
elárasztja a tenger a mezőt és a szántóföldet, élettel teli világot
terített ki az enyémmel szemben. Minden új volt és én nem voltam
fölvértezve és ezt gondoltam: Olyan vagyok, mint aki hirtelen
fölébred és ellenséget lát maga előtt teljes fegyverzetben és amikor
harcra készülődik érzi, hogy a szíve ki fogja őt szolgáltatni ennek az
ellenségnek. Így tehát tanácstalan engedelmességgel egyszerre
befelé és kifelé harcol. A kastélyhoz szolgáló úton Teja
megnyugodva és bátran, tele kedves határozottsággal még sokat
beszélt magáról és sorsáról. Ahol nálunk a csodák borongós világa
kezdődik, ott kezdődik nálatok asszonyoknál a dolgok megértése,
gondoltam, az álmodozó húzódozással ti az elérhetőnek tiszta
valóságát állítjátok szembe, a megtörténtet kötelességteknek
gondoljátok, én azonban a megtörténtet csak akkor értem meg,
amikor újra megfoglak és amikor ismét megtartlak magamnak, a
csoda újra izzani kezd.
Azután Teja beszédét hallottam és másodszor is füleltem
szavaira, amelyeknek csengését fölújítottam emlékezetemben. De
különös, hogy sem mozdulatait, sem hanghordozását nem tudtam
fölidézni, mihelyt másról volt szó, mint szerelemről. Megtudtam, hogy
az emelkedés és a sülyedés sok éve után jó órában találkozott azzal
a férfival, akinek födele alatt időztem most és hogy ez csaknem atyai
szeretettel, mert sokkal idősebb volt mint ő, szenvedélyes
akaratának hűvös komolyságával, okosságával, gazdagságával
magához tudta láncolni az életét. Teja nagy megbecsüléssel,
melegséggel de tűz nélkül, megfontolva beszélt róla és óvatosan,
mint ahogyan olyan jószágról beszél az ember, amelynek birtokát
nem a maga szívének köteléke biztosítja a számára. E férfi
szerelmét nem említette, de kicsendült mindenből, amit a maga
vonzalmáról mondott ő iránta. Képe olyan ember alakjaként tűnt föl,
mint aki megértvén e különös leányt, az okosan öregedő ember
lemondó élnitudását összekapcsolta szerelmével minden
élvezetben, amelyet gazdagsága kinált. Megreszketett a szerelmem,
ha itt Teja lényéről gondolkodtam és szememet lezártam ebben az
alaktalan reménységben, amelyet mámorából merít a fiatalság.
*
 Boldogsággal és nyugtalansággal teli nyárvégi napok után
közeledett az ősz. Szobámban egy asztal volt, egy nádfonású
karosszék, egy faágy fehér vánkoshuzatokkal és egy ősrégi faragott
parasztszekrény, amely csodálatosan be volt festve és amelyet
kikezdett a szú. Ablakomból mezőn át a közeli erdőt láttam, mögötte
izzott az esti nap, amelynek fénye a fák megritkult koronáin át
sárgásan hullott a szobámba. Ilyenkor a kis helyiséget meleg, szeles
őszi napok túlélénk világossága árasztotta el, világos kietlensége
barátságos volt és mégis nyugtalanított.
Mivel úgy osztottam be a munkámat, ahogyan akartam és bőven
volt időm, asztalom megtelt könyvekkel, amelyeket Teja adott, akit
naponta láttam. A kastély urának könyvtárszobájából vittem el a
könyveket és éjjeli lámpám gyakran csak virradatkor aludt ki. De
nem tudtam magamat összeszedni és rossz lelkiismerettel élveztem
e napok boldogságát. Megértettem ennek az életnek a jótéteményét,
de úgy éreztem, mintha jogtalanul élvezném, nem bíztam az
állandóságában és a jólét minden kiélvezése után tanácstalan
szomorúság fogott el. Úgy tetszett, mintha e javakkal való gyors
közösségem hűtlenné tett volna sorsom iránt, mintha most keltem
volna útra, tűrt vendégként gyakran barangoltam a csöndben és
voltak órák, amikor nem szívesen látott betolakodónak hittem
magamat, aki büszke is és hálátlan is. De Teja kedvéért nem tudtam
eltávozni, bár minden óra, amelyet vele töltöttem, éppen úgy kínzott,
mint ahogyan boldogított. Olykor ő is tanácstalan volt, de én nem
láttam, mert az ő tanácstalanságának nem az volt az oka, ami az
enyémnek. Így tehát csakhamar visszanyerte azt a fölsőbbségét,
amelyet találkozásunk első órájától gyűlöltem benne, mert lényének
nem mélyéből, hanem annak hidegségéből fakadt. Ami azonban
mindig újra kibékített, az a becsületessége volt. Sohasem akart
másnak föltűnni, mint aminő volt és apró hiúságait és hazugságait
maga vetette meg a legjobban és kigúnyolta, még mielőtt hatásuk
hasznát észrevette. A legveszedelmesebbé azonban az a csoda
tette, hogy csaknem szemérmetlenséggel határos ragaszkodása az
őszinteséghez sohasem törte át női bájának varázsát,
leplezetlensége mindjárt megtalálta a fátyolt is, amely betakarta. Jól
ismerte az élvezetben való elmerülés megrontó édességét, de a test
és a vér táplálékát úgy vette és adta, mint a lélekzetet és nem mint
valami ételt. Lelke azonban minden nyiltsága mellett is átláthatatlan
volt, gyakran dideregtem és szenvedést okoztak reménykedéseim,
amelyekkel magafeledt odaadásról és esztelen gyöngédségről
álmodoztam. Olykor úgy éreztem, mintha kitaszítottak volna valami
meleg világból, amelynek embereit le kellett néznem, mert szükség
volt az erőmre. De titokban olyan szemek tekintettek reám,
amelyeknek pillantása melegített, a gyámoltalanokra gondoltam, a
védtelenül érzőkre, az átlátszókra ama tehetetlenségükben, hogy
nem tudnak a gazdag lélek túlereje ellen védekezni. Bár gyöngének
találtam, mégis áldottam őket. Úgy éreztem, mintha ezzel az
átlátszósággal a világot az égi fény árasztaná el, amely meggyógyít
bennünket.
A megbecsülés, amelyet Teja személyem iránt mutatott, gyakran
lenézéssel teli gúnyolódó ellenmondással váltakozott, de tisztelete
szerelmem iránt makulátlan volt. Rajta láttam először azt a csodát,
hogy a nő valósággal át tud élni olyan érzelmeket és állapotokat,
amelyek alapjában nincsenek meg neki; ez a képesség
megtagadtatott a férfitől, bárhogyan hiszi is, hogy rendelkezik vele.
De minél inkább megtanultam az elzárkózást, szerelmem tüze annál
fájdalmasabban égett és dohogott keblem elsötétített kamráiban.
Egyszer, komoly beszélgetés után, amelyben mindketten
eltitkoltuk egymás előtt, hogy a közeli jövőre való gondolat kínoz
bennünket, úgy vettem észre, mintha Tejanak visszaemlékezése
első napunkra titkos szégyen tövisét hagyta volna hátra benne.
Habozva így szólt hozzám:
– Különös, mily gyorsan leomlik előtted minden korlát.
– Sohasem törődtem sokat az erkölcsösséggel, Teja, – feleltem,
követve egy gondolatot, amelyet megpendített bennem. Nem értette,
miért válaszoltam így és kétkedve mondta:
– Ez nagyon gőgösen hangzik.
– Lehet, hogy önhitség, de lehet az is, hogy áhitat mondatja el
velem, amit szavaid hatása alatt magamban megélek. Én csak az
igazságot mondom, itéletet mondj te, vagy aki akar. Minél többet
gondolkozom azon, mily belső állapot az előföltétele annak, hogy
erkölcsösségre törekedjék az ember, annál hevesebben utasítom
vissza a közösséget az ilyen lelkekkel.
Egy pillanatra megértett és rám mosolygott és valahányszor rája
gondolok, eláraszt a fény, amely ezzel a mosollyal szeméből
kisugárzott.
A házbeliekkel mintha csak álomban találkoztam volna és csak
úgy emlékszem reájuk, mintha képen láttam volna őket. Akik velem
egy sorban voltak, kitértek előlem, a kertész és a gondnok kiváló
udvariassággal bánt velem. Úgy látszott, hogy Teja szeszélyességét
mindenki éppen úgy megszokta, mint ahogyan számított valami
közeledő erőre, amely elnézően, de mindenhatóan korlátozni tudja.
Csak egy agg háziszolgára emlékszem világosan, aki kísértetként
járta végig az udvart és a szobákat és senkisem tudta,
tulajdonképpen mi is a dolga. Izgatott, hogy mindenkivel a
fönhéjázás kihalt formaságával érintkezett és kiengesztelhetetlen
ellenségemet láttam benne. A hátrahagyott őrt néztem ki belőle, a
rosszindulatú besúgót és Teja ellenségét. De Teja kinevetett, amikor
ezt egyszer szóbahoztam.
– Itt mindenki ellenséges indulattal van irántam, csak maga a
gazda nem, de irántam való hajlandóságában ellentétbe kerül
családjának hagyományával, a szélkakastól egészen apáinak sírjáig.
Ő nem látja, vagy nem akarja látni, én azonban tudom és nem
csalódom. Száz ellenséges szellem sora közt vándorol itt a lelkem,
de állom a harcot és nem ringatom magamat hamis biztosságban.
Aki sorsára bizza magát, mert azt hiszi, hogy szeretik, már félig
elvesztette a játszmát.
– Mennyi békétlenséggel lehet tele az életed, Teja.
– Igen, így kell lennie. Talán lemondtam arról, hogy belső
nyugalmat szerezzek magamnak, nem hozok többé áldozatot.
– Okos vagy, Teja.
 – Akit rossznak tartunk, azt szoktuk úgy, mint te most mondtad,
okosnak nevezni.
– Az én szavamból nem szólt szemrehányás, hanem inkább
némi irigység.
– Ti a szemrehányást mindig azzal az állítással leplezitek, hogy
nincs benne szemrehányás. Nem tudom, vajjon te magad okos
vagy-e abban az értelemben, ahogyan szeretnéd, hogy okosnak
tartsanak, de mert van eszed… várj. Az élet majd okossá tesz és
talán senkit sem fogsz többé irigyelni. Fiatal vagy, ez az egész és
ezért nem tudod még ezt megérteni.
– Azt hiszed, így van? – kérdeztem. – Annak bevallására
kényszerítesz, hogy mégsem csak irigység unszolt a kijelentésemre.
Irigységgé csak az a kivánságom tette, bárcsak én is olyan
zavartalanul boldog lehetnék, mint amilyen te tudsz lenni. Nem is
fiatalságom mond neked ellen. Ha a megöregedés azt jelenti, hogy
olyan értelemben lesz okos az ember, mint amilyen te vagy, akkor én
nem leszek öreg.
– Így beszélsz, mert fiatal vagy. Nem jutunk a végére. Hát mi más
volt, ha nem irigység?
Ekkor hideg szélfuvallatként elfogott a bizonyosság, hogy mily
izgatottan hangzott ez a kérdés és hogy magam is titkolt
elkeseredéssel beszéltem. Éreztem, hogy régen elmondtam
mindent, amit elmondhattam és hogy éppen úgy nem fog rajtam
segíteni, ahogyan eddig sem segített. Szomorúság és bátortalanság
fogott el és megértettem a kijózanodást és kisebbítést, amely a nő
lényéből származik. De hol mindenütt kerestem az engem
szorongató kétség megfejtését! Csak ott nem, ahonnan származott,
mert aki jobban szeret, annak az a végzete, hogy ami a szeretett
embernél hiányzik, ameddig még hisz, a maga hibájául rója föl.
Lefelé mentünk az őszi erdei úton, amely a halastóhoz vitt. Teján
füstszínű selyemből készült hosszú, nehéz ruha volt és a hajában
fénytelen arany pánt. Szép nyaka födetlen volt és cipője vékony
posztónál finomabb vörös bőrből.