*
On her way back up the steep road to the village, a bag of bottles slung over her shoulder, Eryn came to a stop beside a stone wall hidden by a dead thorn-bush. Jasmine Sooth was sitting on the curb, picking burrs from her stockings, and Eryn slid her sack from her shoulder with a groan.
‘Morning, Jasmine.’ She said, catching her breath. ‘Blow me! It’s hot already.’
Jasmine tilted her head and peered up at Eryn, squinting in the morning light. ‘It certainly is…’ she said in her lyrically detached manner.
‘How’s Benjamin?’ Eryn asked, a little surprised that she hadn’t been asked about the strangers. Then again, she considered, Jasmine was supposed to be clairvoyant.
‘He’s fine… he was a little frightened by all the commotion last night, but I told him there was nothing to fear. He’s sound now.’
‘It’s got everybody a bit worked up,’
‘People around here get very frightened by change… They don’t much like it. Your grandfather was testament to that.’
She made a vague noise of agreement. Eryn knew loosely what had happened during her grandfather’s generation, something to do with one of the Bordley’s, a son who’d been ill in the head. The children all told stories that he’d been locked up in a cellar. Sometimes it changed to him being bricked into a wall, or crushed in the mill to make bread, but the foundations of their stories were true. Something had happened to the Bordley’s boy, and it had cost Eryn’s grandfather dearly.
‘I don’t suppose you want reminding of things like that?’ Jasmine said, patting the curb beside her. Eryn accepted the invitation.
‘You remember when you and the girls would visit me before James died?’
Eryn did, she used to enjoy visiting the Sooths’, but it seemed a long time ago, before Benjamin was born, and before Jasmine’s husband had been killed in an accident. She would read the children’s fortune in tea-leaves and tell of what she saw in their palms. It was entertaining, that’s what Eryn remembered. There was nothing sinister or immoral about it, even if their parents didn’t like them going there. It was just a bit of fun with an eccentric and lonely woman.
Always, when she left the Sooth household, Jasmine would give a small bunch of tiny flowers, tied together with ribbon. Eryn had kept them all on a drawer until her father found and burnt them in a rage. The visits, even the surreptitious ones, came to an end after that.
‘I remember it was a really nice time, to have someone to talk to who wasn’t going to judge me.’
‘We could start again, if you liked? You’re pa can’t stop you now.’
Eryn looked up at Jasmine and smiled. ‘Yeah, I’d like that. You know, the only reason we stopped…’
‘…was because of James’s death, and your parents’ disapproval. I know, and I understand.’
‘You weren’t angry that we abandoned you, because that’s what it felt like.’
‘At first I was hurt… but I soon came to understand that you were just giving me space to grieve… you know, it’s a funny thing, grief, when you believe in what I do.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, I know there’s a life other than this one… and that it’s a finer place than we can ever hope to experience in this world. When James died I should have been happy that he’d gone there. I felt so selfish for missing him, I wanted him to leave that breath-taking world and comfort me. How self-centred is that?’
‘It’s understandable though.’
‘You want to go somewhere don’t you!’ Jasmine said disconcertedly, a frown creeping over her. She looked ahead and tilted slightly as though searching the horizon. ‘You’re thinking of going somewhere!’ She turned on Eryn, who was looking shocked, though thought she’d changed her expression to one of confusion just in time.
‘What?’ Eryn tried to sound as mystified as possible. ‘Go where? Where’s there to go?’
Jasmine watched her thoughtfully, not sure if Eryn was telling the truth. ‘I just had an impression you were planning something…’ Her voice drifted off as though she had been distracted mid-sentence. She then looked directly at Eryn and all her concentration was with her. ‘You’re doing the right thing, Eryn. Whatever it is, you’re doing the right thing.’
‘Do you know anything about it?’
Jasmine smiled and cupped Eryn’s cheek. ‘Know? I know how to sew and grow herbs, dear. It’s not about knowing, it’s about feeling.’
‘Well, I can’t tell you what I’m doing, but it’s for Kelly.’
Jasmine smiled.
‘I better start heading back. I’ve been gone quite a while.’
‘Ok. You’ll drop into see us sometime, won’t you?’
‘Of course. See you.’ Eryn stood and picked up the sack of bottles before trudging up the steep hill. She couldn’t get Jasmine’s words out of her mind; they sent a shiver up her spine. Was she really aware that Eryn was planning on going somewhere? Or was she simply voicing every young woman’s desire for metamorphosis? She couldn’t quite tell. Though of a sudden she found herself doubting her actions; maybe it was foolish to go to Lundy, there were so many things that could go wrong. They could increase the already hostile tension between the Mortehoe community and the Lundians’, they could attract the attention of the Blackeye’s, and they could arouse the awareness of Kelly’s murderer. Her heart sank a little further with each example, and yet, as she passed the stone wall of the churchyard she thought of Kelly laying there in the dark soil, grey and empty. She knew she must risk it all for him.
Chapter Seven
South-easterly wind.
Seventeen knots.