A Family For Christmas (12 page)

‘Duncan thinks I'm lovely?' she
asked, looking up. Fay frowned, about to say something but then, as if she'd conjured him
up, the door opened and there he was.

‘I heard there's a birthday princess
here today,' he said, giving his disarming grin. ‘My goodness, she's
beautiful,' he said, pointing to the picture Eliza was still holding. ‘Looks just
like you, too. Well done, Fay, that's a true likeness if ever I saw one.' He sounded
so sincere Eliza stared up at him in surprise.

‘I don't really look like that, do
I?' she whispered.

‘Course not, little un,' he snorted.
‘Let's see now, if Fay's a prickly hedgehog and I'm a dark rat, then
with that keen sense of smell and reddish brown hair you must surely be a dormouse.'

Fay looked up sharply. ‘Don't tease,
Duncan. It's Eliza's birthday and don't you have something for her
yourself?'

‘Ah, yes, I do,' he said, producing a bunch of
brightly coloured crocus from behind his back. ‘Not a drooping pendant in sight,' he
whispered. Eliza stared at the vibrant purple and golden cup-shaped flowers, touched he'd
remembered their previous conversation about snowdrops. ‘Rose and Ben send you birthday
greetings and this,' he said handing over a square carton. Peering inside, she saw a
beautiful sponge cake with ‘Eliza' piped in wobbly icing on the top. ‘Needless
to say young Rose didn't make it. Mother Evangaline has her uses, though,' he said
with a wink.

‘Pah, she never made that,' Fay
scoffed.

He laughed. ‘Never said she did, just that
she had her uses. One being her contacts at the market in Dulvester. Rose spent ages piping your
name on top, little un – sorry, I mean Eliza,' he corrected, staring at her with
those chestnut eyes. Suddenly the room seemed brighter and Eliza didn't care a
tinker's cuss what he called her.

‘Evangaline's still at the farmhouse
then?' Fay asked. He nodded.

‘She's that besotted with young
Joshua, Ben despairs of her ever returning home. Oh, I was forgetting, I have something else
for, princess. Close your eyes.' She heard him scrabble about, then felt something hard
placed in her hands. ‘Right you can open them now.'

She stared down, blinked and stared again. Then
she shook her head in disbelief and felt the tears welling.

‘It's Grampy's box,' she
gasped.

‘I found it when that beech bough came
down. The snow hadn't done the wood any favours, but I cleaned it up, then polished it
with beeswax and replaced the rusted
catch. Your
grampy was obviously a skilled man, Eliza, for the box is beautifully crafted. Didn't
think I'd made that bad a job of restoring it, though,' he said, reaching out and
gently wiping her wet cheeks.

‘I don't know what to say,' she
whispered.

‘Well, “thank you, Duncan, for all
your hard work” would do,' he teased.

Smiling through her tears, Eliza opened the lid,
then ran her fingers over the emerald silk material that now lined the inside.

‘It's beautiful. Thank you so
much,' she said, leaning over and kissing his cheek, then blushing with embarrassment. He
cleared his throat and stared awkwardly back at her.

‘There now, you know she's happy with
your present,' Fay said, her voice sounding loud in the ensuing silence.

‘I'll make some tea to go with that
cake,' Fay added.

Duncan nodded, then jumped to his feet.
‘Water pail's almost empty. I'll go and fill it.'

Spring must be in the air for she hadn't
felt this warm in ages, Eliza thought, taking her precious laurel leaves from the pages of a
flower book that Fay had given her. She smiled at the pressed circlet before carefully placing
it in her box.

‘There, treasures in my treasure
box,' she said, holding it out for Fay to see.

‘Duncan's made a good job of
restoring that, hasn't he?' Fay asked.

‘Yes, he has, and I'm thrilled. Did
you know he'd found it?'

‘Yes. That's what we were discussing
the afternoon you got all huffy. To do the restoration justice, he wanted to line it and
wondered if I had any suitable material.'

Remembering her bad mood when she'd felt
excluded, Eliza sighed. Hadn't her grampy warned her about jumping to conclusions?

‘Why don't you cut your cake and
we'll sit at the table and make it a real birthday party?' Fay said.

By the time Duncan reappeared Fay had made the
tea and as they raised their mugs to toast her, Eliza felt a warm glow of happiness. These two,
dear people had come to
mean the world to her and
for the first time in her life she felt a real sense of belonging. But for how long, she
couldn't help wondering.

‘Hmm, tasty cake,' Duncan said,
brushing crumbs from his lips. ‘Not as good as your apple cakes, though. Do you know Eliza
can smell the subtle difference between mace and nutmeg?'

Fay stared at Eliza in amazement then turned to
Duncan. ‘Thus the sensitive nose you mentioned.'

He nodded and helped himself to another slice of
cake.

‘Apart from laurel leaves, what else do you
intend to keep in your box now you've got it back, Eliza?' Fay asked.

‘I used to collect wild flowers and keep a
specimen of each one in it. But that was before …' Her voice tailed off.

‘And what's to stop you from doing
that again?' Duncan asked.

‘Do you get many flowers this far up the
moor?' she asked.

To her surprise they both chuckled.

‘My dear child, I'll have you know
that when the sun warms the earth, the moors become a veritable riot of colour from the creamy
yellow of primroses to the brilliant blues of Germander speedwell. The acid soil is perfect for
producing the deep purple erica, pink-mauves of the bog violet, blue-pink heath violets,
sun-bright gorse, golden saxifrage, virginal white flowers of the wood sorrel and many others
too numerous to mention,' Fay enthused, her eyes becoming animated as she spoke.

‘Spoken like a true artist …' Duncan said, his
voice trailing off as Fay shot him a warning look.

‘Then, of course, there are all the flowers
in my garden,' she cut in quickly.

‘You grow flowers as well as
vegetables?' Eliza asked.

‘And herbs. They all have their uses. I
cultivate as much of everything here as I can so we'll see about putting that fine nose of
yours to work,' she said. As Eliza stared in surprise, Faye got to her feet and started
collecting their mugs and plates. ‘I'll see to these as it's your birthday. I
do believe a watery sun is breaking the clouds. Why don't you two take a stroll outside?
Who knows, you might even spot some early flowers.'

‘Why do I get the feeling Fay wanted us out
of the way?' Eliza asked, once they were outside.

Duncan shrugged. ‘She needs to be on her
own sometimes. Memories, you know? She'd kill me for saying it, but she's not as
young as she likes to think.'

‘But she was definitely hiding
something,' Eliza persisted, wrapping her shawl tighter around her. Despite the sunshine,
the easterly wind was distinctly cool.

‘Look, any secrets she has are hers to
tell,' he said enigmatically. ‘Look down there, see the red deer?' He pointed
towards the wood where she could just make out the shapes of animals moving gracefully between
the trees. ‘Come on, let's walk; it's too chilly to stand around.'

‘I've never really had time to look
at the outside of the hobble house,' she said, staring back at the old grey stone building
with the turfed roof almost reaching the ground. Blue smoke plumed from the chimney at the far
end and she could see the damaged beech leaning to one side with
a white scar where the bough had broken away. Adjacent was the
store where Woody had frightened her with his piercing eyes just days before the cold did for
him.

‘Is all this land Fay's?' Eliza
asked as they strolled around the fenced enclosure screened by the hedge bank.

Duncan nodded. ‘She grows herbs in the
higher ground between the hobble and the barn, and her precious flowers in the sun to the front
of the building. Come the spring she'll be spending much of her time here in her beloved
garden.'

‘It's hard to believe these high
white moors will soon be covered in all those flowers she mentioned,' said Eliza in
amazement. ‘I can't wait.'

‘Once the temperature rises and the thaw
sets in properly, you will see everywhere literally blossom overnight. If you want to collect
flowers for your box, you couldn't be in a better place.'

‘How wonderful. I love identifying all
their distinctive smells. I'm so happy to have Grampy's box back. It makes me feel
close to him again. You've made it look beautiful and I really appreciate all your hard
work.'

‘My pleasure. A beautiful box for a
beautiful young woman. Now, we'd better go inside again, little un. It's no good you
getting cold,' he said, noticing Eliza's pink cheeks.

‘Why do you still call me “little
un”, even though I'm fifteen now?' she asked, pouting up at him.

‘Happen 'tis safer that way,'
he muttered. ‘Come on, Fay will be wondering where we've got to.' He turned
and hurried back indoors, leaving her to follow.

In the weeks that followed, as the sun climbed higher and the
temperature rose, Eliza pondered on Duncan's words. Why was it safer him calling her
‘little un'? She hadn't seen him since her birthday and found herself
wandering aimlessly around the hobble, unable to settle yet not sure why. Fay became impatient,
urging her again to find something to occupy her time. She pored over the little book of flowers
in which she'd pressed her laurel leaves but found her concentration wandering. In the end
she gave up and used it to press one of the golden crocus heads Duncan had given her, lovingly
placing it in her box alongside the laurel.

Then, one morning Eliza was woken by the sound of
gushing water.

‘What's that noise?' she asked
Fay.

‘Thaw's begun. Doesn't mean
we're out of the woods yet but it's a sure sign spring is on its way, and to
celebrate I shall take the old sketchbook out for an airing. My ankle could do with some
exercise to strengthen it.'

‘Shouldn't you have your wrist bound,
though?' Eliza asked as the woman picked up her things.

‘It doesn't hurt half as much as it
did and I'm mighty relieved not to have it strapped up any more. Why don't you take
yourself off and search for wild flowers? It's a bit early but there's bound to be
something you can bring back for that box of yours. It'll do you good to get outside and
you can walk off some of that pent-up energy.'

Eliza's heart lifted at the thought of
searching for flowers. Who knew what she would find?

‘I'll tidy up in here and then go
out,' she replied, but Fay shook her head.

‘Don't waste this good weather. Sun's fickle
this time of year and could be gone by noon. Time enough for tidying up then.'

The brisk March wind tugged at Eliza's hair
and stung her ears but, happy to be outside, she hardly noticed. Pausing by the vegetable plot,
she saw the green tops of leeks and winter cabbages were now visible through the snow melt.
Spring really was on its way at last.

Wandering out of the enclosure she felt a
delicious sense of freedom. All around, the buds on trees and bushes were showing the first
signs of swelling and the smell of freshly ploughed ground carried towards her on the breeze.
Peering down the valley, she wondered how Rose was getting on.

But her thoughts were distracted by a swathe of
daffodils in the shelter of a hedge bank. With their golden heads bobbing and swaying on slim
green legs it looked as if they were dancing their way across the moorland. Laughing at her
foolish thoughts, she was just about to continue her journey when a strange noise rooted her to
the spot.

Seemingly out of nowhere came a tremendous
thundering, shaking the ground around her. It was louder than any noise she'd ever heard
at the mine and it was getting nearer. Instinctively, she took shelter behind a tree, then
watched wide-eyed as a huddle of horses galloped past. There must have been sixteen or eighteen
of the magnificent beasts and they were so close she could hear them panting, their breath
rising from flaring nostrils like steam in the cold air. The scarlet-jacketed riders, sporting
black hats above flushed faces, urged them faster, sending black mud flying
in all directions. Eliza shrank further into the shadows as the
cavalcade thrummed by, inches from where she was standing. Then, as quickly as they'd
appeared, they were gone, the drumming of their hooves receding until all she could hear was the
beating of her heart.

‘Eliza? What are you doing here?' She
turned to see Duncan appearing out of the trees behind, his hands full of dandelions and other
plants. ‘Why, you're shaking,' he said, quickly setting them down on the
ground beside her. Taking her hands in his, he rubbed them briskly until she felt the warmth
returning. With her heart still beating faster than Rose's little ormolu clock, she stared
up at him.

‘Men on horses. Dashing like the devil was
after them. Thought I'd be trampled,' she gasped. A cry of hounds was followed by
the sound of a horn, and Duncan smiled.

‘'Tis only the hunt, little un.
Nothing to fret about, unless you're the fox, of course.'

She glared at him. ‘That's not
nice.'

‘No, it isn't, but some think of it
as sport. When the riders ask which way the fox was heading I send them the opposite
way.'

She smiled. She should have known her gentle
giant wouldn't agree with such things.

‘You all right now?' he asked, giving
her an assessing look.

‘Yes, thank you. I'd just never seen
anything like that before. Were you on your way to see us?' she asked, looking at him
hopefully.

He shook his head. ‘Sorry, got curatives
and elixirs to make. With so many people out of sorts after the winter, my remedies are in
demand.' He turned and picked up his
plants. ‘I dare say Fay will be busy concocting her own as
well. She'll probably be glad of your help, too. Give her my love and tell her I'll
be over soon to empty the earth closet onto her vegetable plot.'

Before she could answer, he was striding down the
moors, his greatcoat billowing behind like a sail on a ship. With all interest in searching for
flowers gone, Eliza trudged back to the hobble.

To her surprise, Fay was sitting by the fire when
she walked in. She had an old book on her lap and was screwing up her eyes as she looked down at
the pages.

‘You're back early, Fay,' she
commented, taking off her shawl and giving it a vigorous shake in the doorway.

‘Could say the same for you,' the
woman grunted. ‘And since when did we shake out our clothes before coming
indoors?'

‘I got covered in clods of black mud when
the hunt rode by. I've never heard or seen anything like it and was really frightened
until Duncan explained what they were doing.'

Fay shrugged. ‘Moorland people have their
own ways. Is Duncan with you then?' she asked, looking over Eliza's shoulder as if
she expected to see him standing there.

‘No, he said he has to make his remedies
and thought you'd be doing the same. He said you might need my help,' she said,
looking hopefully at Fay.

‘Can you read?'

‘Yes, I went to the charity school for mine
workers' children – when Mum could spare me, that is.'

‘Well, I do need your help, as it happens.
Truth is, I've been seeing things a bit skewed since that fall.'

Eliza stared at Fay in alarm. ‘Have you told
anyone?'

‘Stop fussing, child. In order to
supplement my larder, I must make my usual seasonal curatives and need you to read out the
receipts. They're all written up but it's essential to get the proportions right
otherwise folk will be feeling down when they should be up and hurting when they should be
healing.'