When I look back I think it was rather strange how Grace Gilmore had become almost a member of the family. I liked to be with her. She intrigued me. I felt there was a part of her which I did not know. Subconsciously I wanted to find out about her; I think that was why she was rather exciting to me.
I talked to Morwenna Pencarron about her. “What do you think of Grace?” I asked.
“Oh, she’s very nice.” Most people were “very nice” in Morwenna’s opinion. She reminded me a little of Aunt Amaryllis.
“But do you think there is something different about her?” I persisted. “She doesn’t talk much about her past. Do you know where she comes from?”
“She comes from somewhere near Devon.”
“I know. But she never really talks.”
It was no use trying to explain to Morwenna.
My mother encouraged our friendship because she liked someone to be in charge of me when I went out; she knew my spirit and did not want to restrict it, but since what she thought of as my fall, she did like me to be in the company of an adult. In London I should never have been allowed to go out alone; but here, where everyone knew each other, it seemed safe. I had discovered that this was not always so.
So if Miss Prentiss or Miss Derry did not accompany us, it was usually Grace.
One day we went to the fair with her, Morwenna, Jack and I. I had always loved the fair. There were several of them—they were annual occasions, and the best of all was St Matthew’s Fair which was held on the first of October.
It was so full of life. People from the surrounding villages merged onto the place. There was noise and bustle everywhere. The horse and cattle dealers were there; one heard the continual lowing of cows and the grunting of pigs. There they would be in their pens while the fanners leaned over the rails and poked the pigs with sticks to see how fat they were and cast shrewd eyes over the lambs, the cows, the bullocks. But what I liked best were the stalls with their goods for sale: comfits, fairings, china jugs, cups and saucers, teapots, farm implements, clothing, saddles, ribbons, dresses, boots and shoes, pots and pans and even cloam ovens; and all the traders shouting their wares. Then there was the food; the constant smell of roasting meat, bread, potatoes in their jackets, sugar animals, hearts in pink sugary sweets with “I Love You” on them. There were the peep shows and the puppets, the marionettes, the dwarves, the fat woman, the bearded lady and the strong man; and of course the gypsies who would tell your fortune.
On this occasion Miss Prentiss had a headache and my mother asked Grace Gilmore if she would take us so that we should not be disappointed. She accepted with alacrity, and we set off.
We had a wonderful time roaming among the stalls. We visited two of the shows and marveled at the rippling muscles of the strong man and tried our hand at the hoopla; we bought slabs of hot gingerbread, eating it as we went along, which Grace was not sure we should have been allowed to do.
Jack assured her that people could do things at a fair which they could not do elsewhere. He was more excited than Morwenna and I were. I suppose we were a little blasé.
Fiddlers were playing and several people were dancing.
“The most exciting part is when it gets dark,” I said, “and then they light the flares.”
“Your mother will want you home long before that,” Grace told us.
“I should like to have my fortune told,” said Morwenna. “Ginny, our parlormaid, had hers told at Summercourt Fair. She is going to marry a rich man and travel overseas. It was a wonderful fortune.”
“How can they tell?” asked Jack.
“They can see into the future … and into the past,” Morwenna replied. “They can see all you’ve done. It’s all clear to them. It’s all in your hand, particularly if you’ve done something wicked. That’s easiest to see.”
Jack looked uneasy, but Morwenna clasped her hands and said: “Oh, I wish we could.”
I thought: It’s all very well for you. You have never done anything except cheat at lessons a bit … copying out something from a book which you’re supposed to know … taking a jam tart from the kitchen when the cook’s back is turned and saying you didn’t. Little sins … nothing like killing a man and hiding his body.
The pleasure of the fair had gone. That was how it was. Memory came up suddenly … as that man had come to the pool … and the pleasure in the day was spoilt.
I was glad when Grace said there was no time to have our fortunes told. She said: “We must start for home now.”
And we left the fair. As we walked away the sound of the fiddlers grew fainter but we could hear them singing:
Come lasses and lads
Get leave of your dads
And away to the maypole hie
For every he has got him a she
And a fiddler standing by …
Jack was disappointed at leaving the fair. He had expressed his displeasure and demanded to know why we could not stay. Grace explained that we must get back before dark. Jack never sulked for long and in a few minutes he was himself again. He had a very lovable nature.
The gypsy was sitting by the side of the road. She had a basket full of clothes pegs beside her and I was not sure whether she was coming from or going to the fair.
“Good day to ’ee, ladies and little gent,” she said.
“Good day,” we replied.
“How would you like the gypsy to give you a nice fortune?”
I heard Morwenna murmur: “Oh yes. Oh, Miss Gilmore, may I?”
Grace hesitated, but Morwenna turned such a happy face to her that she was unable to resist.
“All right then, dear. But we mustn’t stay long.”
“Cross the gypsy’s hand in silver,” said the woman.
Morwenna drew back. “Oh … I don’t think I have enough.” She produced some coins.
“Well, seeing as you be such a nice little lady, I’ll take what you’ve got. Wouldn’t want to disappoint a little love like you.”
Morwenna dimpled prettily and held out her hand.
“Oh, I see a long and happy life. You’re going to have great good fortune, you are. You’re going up to London to see the Queen … when you’re a little older, that is … and there you are going to find a rich husband and live happy ever after.”
It seemed very little for all the money Morwenna had left; and I knew she had wanted to buy a pink sugar mouse and had hesitated because she had thought it too costly. It was very likely that Morwenna might go up to London for a season when she grew older and the object would be to find a suitable husband for her.
She turned to me. “And you, me ’andsome. There’s a nice fortune for ’ee, I can see.”
She had taken my hand. I was terribly afraid. Was it written there? Was she seeing the pool and that inert body … those eyes staring at us as the head disappeared?
“Naught to be frightened at, lovey. ’Tis all fair and smiling for a little lass like you. You’re going to London, too. Perhaps you’ll go with your little …” She was trying to decide on our relationship and added: “… little companion.” Then I felt that if she didn’t know who Morwenna was she would not know about the pool.
Now she turned her attention to Grace.
“Life writes as it goes along,” she said. “There’ll be more to be seen, little lady, when you be a few years older. And now, my lady, it be your turn.” She had taken Grace’s hand.
“No,” said Grace, “I don’t think …”
The gypsy was looking at her intently. “Oh, there be trouble ’ere … deep sorrow …” Grace had turned pale. The woman went on: “I can see water … water between you and what you desire …”