Shaman of Stonewylde (7 page)

‘Really? How lovely!’

Merewen drained her cup and threw the dregs to the ground.

‘Come on, girl, there’s work to be done. I’m firing tomorrow and the kiln needs to be prepared.’

‘That was never part of the deal!’ laughed Rainbow, following the older woman into the ancient building. ‘I need to be out and about drawing. I want to see the children playing on the Green and I need to take some photos too.’

‘Photos? I thought you were an artist. Why d’you need photos? I never liked the things much, what I seen o’ them. Cold and flat, no life to ’em.’

Rainbow shrugged and picked up a bag containing her things.

‘Just something I promised. Give me a couple of hours, Merewen, and I’ll be back for some lunch and then I’ll help with the kiln. And I want you to show me how you mix your paints. You never did get round to that all those years ago.’

‘No, but I never realised you wouldn’t be stopping here,’ said Merewen. Her rather piercing eyes searched Rainbow’s face. ‘And I want to paint you, girl, afore you disappear from Stonewylde again.’

‘Disappear?’ laughed Rainbow. ‘Not if I have my way! I’m planning on staying if I can wangle it, or at least keep the gates open for regular visits. This is my idea of paradise.’

‘You’re not a force that Stonewylde needs,’ said Merewen slowly. The lines around her mouth deepened as she pursed her whiskery upper lip. She shook her grizzled head and sighed deeply. ‘I may be wrong, but I don’t think you’ll be here very long. So all the more reason to get on with it now, afore it’s too late.’

Rowan stood behind her daughter, seated at the dressing table, and rhythmically brushed the girl’s blonde hair with a pure bristle hairbrush. Faun studied herself carefully in the mirror, slightly turning her face this way and that whilst her mother brushed and brushed. Soon the thick pale tresses were crackling with life, swarming down the girl’s back and curling up on themselves at the end. Rowan’s eyes softened with pride.

‘There, one hundred strokes,’ she said, laying down the brush.

‘Are you going to do something with it or leave it loose?’ asked Faun.

‘Loose I think – we want her to see you and see pure Stonewylde, and of course recognise Magus’ darling daughter too,’ said Rowan.

She picked up the fine white blouse and started to dress her daughter as if she were a helpless child and not a tall and nubile teenager. Fastening the buttons for her whilst Faun stood impassively, Rowan then helped her into the filmy white skirt.

‘Are you sure this is the best outfit, Mother? It’s not very glamorous, is it?’

‘That’s the whole point, Faun. She’s probably used to glamour. What we’re going to impress her with is your pure, natural beauty and your Stonewylde roots.’

‘And she’ll really be interested in that?’ Faun was doubtful.

‘That’s what Dawn was saying the other evening. I went round to the Village School for the weekly meeting and she told me all about Rainbow and why she’s here. I knew some of it from the Council of Elders’ Meeting of course, but Dawn told me a lot more.’

They clumped down the stairs to the parlour where Rowan’s parents sat comfortably by the fire. Faun went across to the cupboard by the door to survey her choice of footwear, unsure what would come across as pure Stonewylde. All of it, she supposed, as she’d never had any clothes or shoes from the Outside World. Not yet, at least.

‘Definitely the boots,’ said Rowan. ‘ ’Tis what Stonewylde women wear in the winter and nothing else would look right. Pity though as you have lovely smooth legs and your feet are so pretty.’

Rowan’s mother looked up from her needlework.

‘You’re going across to the Barn then?’ she asked, not entirely approving of the mission. ‘Make sure you stay warm, Faun. That wind has a chilly edge to it.’

Faun rolled her eyes at this and she and Rowan exchanged a conspiratorial smile.

‘Mother, you know we’re going to find Rainbow and why we’re doing it,’ Rowan said.

‘Aye, but seems daft to me. O’ course I’d love to have a painting done of our Faun, right enough. Nobody at Stonewylde is as beautiful as our precious girl. But ’tis the other plan I don’t understand. Why would this Rainbow be so taken with our Faun as she’d want to—’

‘Oh Granny, do stop fussing!’ Faun was petulant, her deep brown eyes cold with irritation. ‘She’ll see me and want to paint me and then one day I’ll be famous. That’s all there is to it.’

‘That’s right! We know Rainbow’s looking for people to paint. She’s out and about looking for lovely things to sketch and interesting folk to draw. And our Faun is the loveliest thing here.’

Rowan pulled on her own boots and then tweaked at Faun’s
waistband
, tucking the blouse in more so it pulled tighter across her daughter’s breasts.

‘So ’tis natural her eyes will fall upon our girl and she’ll be smitten! And she’ll paint our Faun and put her in all the exhibitions she has up in London and somebody important will see our girl and realise that here, at last, they’ve found perfection. And she’ll go on to—’

‘Pah!’ said Rowan’s father, roused from his usual docility where the womenfolk were concerned. ‘ ’Tis a load o’ nonsense, Rowan, and you know it! And besides – do you really want our Faun to be taken away from us? Seems to me all that there film and TV stuff is a pile o’ horse-dung anyway, and I don’t want my granddaughter mixed up in any o’ that rubbish!’

Rowan wrapped Faun’s soft mallow-pink shawl around her shoulders, tight-lipped with exasperation, then pulled the girl’s hair free so it rippled in shining waves over her shoulders.

‘Neither of you old ‘uns has a clue!’ she said hotly. ‘I knew from the minute that Magus searched me out in the laundry fourteen years ago that one day, I’d achieve something great and special. I just knew it! And I done that – our Faun! And this now, ’tis our chance to push her forward at last and let her take the honour and praise that she deserves. She’s our Magus’ only daughter and she’s a goddess. Look at her! She
should
be in films and TV – ’tis her rightful due! You wouldn’t know as you don’t ever watch anything, but
I
know. And nobody will ever say our Faun didn’t achieve her potential ‘cos her mother never bothered to push her to the front!’

4

L
everet entered the Village as dusk was falling. She carried a lantern to guide her home again later and was looking forward to the walk back. She enjoyed being out at night time with the owls calling and the foxes barking, though the bats were still in hibernation so no dark shapes flitted around as she walked briskly. She loved this freedom and thought how happy she was living with Clip, despite missing her mother. Every day was a kind of adventure for her, with books piled up by Clip for her to study, or a walk planned to look for certain plants, or a set of instructions to be carried out. She felt that Clip was enjoying teaching her as much as she enjoyed learning.

Luckily he’d overcome the head-teacher’s objections about her missing school, promising she wouldn’t neglect her coursework and would study everything she should under his supervision. Leveret knew from Clip’s expression that Miranda had been unhappy about the proposal, but there was little she could do in the face of Clip’s determination. Leveret was also delighted about visiting the old folk so she could take notes. She was really excited and they’d discussed the Book of Shadows she needed. Clip had ordered it from a little shop he knew in the backstreets of London where they made books by hand, along with a special fountain pen and ink. He’d also promised her a great batch of equipment; bottles, flasks, corks, pans and everything she was likely to need to make herbal remedies for the community.

During their discussion Leveret had decided to tell him about
Mother
Heggy’s cottage. Much as she loved living with Clip in the tower, she knew that it was in the tumbledown cottage that the magic was strong. She’d always been drawn to the place ever since Yul had taken her there as a child and it was where she felt Mother Heggy’s presence the strongest. She knew that Clip would never permit her to live there alone but that wasn’t what she wanted, especially with the issue of her brothers and Jay still looming large. She wouldn’t be safe alone up there. But she wanted to use the cottage for preparing and making medicine. In the tower she’d train to be a shaman, and in the cottage she’d learn how to be the Wise Woman. However they’d been side-tracked by choosing her book and Leveret resolved to speak to Clip soon about tidying up and possibly renovating the cottage. The winter had been mild but even so, the roof was leaking and the door was loose, and the range would never light unless the chimney was swept properly first.

Leveret walked into the Village and glanced down the lane leading to her cottage. She imagined Sylvie and her little nieces sitting with Maizie around the fire and her heart wrenched slightly. But she pushed those feelings aside and marched past the Jack in the Green and the merriment that spilled from its open door. She glanced into the Barn and saw it was as busy as ever, with groups of people her own age and younger engaged in activities or just sitting around chatting. She’d never been one to join in the craft and hobby groups in the evenings, preferring her own company or a good book. She wondered if her mother was in there but resisted the temptation to look inside properly; if Maizie were in there, what could they say to each other?

She continued on to the Village School and the cottage nestling against it like a shy child to its mother. Light glowed from the windows as she walked up the path, past the bright faces of the daffodils still visible in the fading daylight, and knocked on the front door. Dawn was surprised but gave her a welcoming smile and invited her in. Leveret was relieved that Dawn was alone and accepted a cup of rosehip tea. They sat in the comfy
old
armchairs by the fire and Leveret launched into the purpose of her visit.

‘Yesterday I discovered that Magpie understands about writing,’ she began.

‘Magpie?’ Dawn frowned. She hadn’t had any dealings with him for years as he’d left the Village School long ago. She recalled the filthy little boy sitting mutely in the classrooms, unable to listen or engage with anything. She’d always felt that they’d failed Magpie. She’d done her best but he’d been born during the baby boom and there’d been no extra time or resources for a child such as him. The staff in the Nursery had warned her she’d get nowhere with him, and he was kept off school so often that in the end she’d given up trying. She recalled guiltily how relieved she’d felt when he finally moved up to the Hall School.

‘Yes, Magpie!’ said Leveret sharply. ‘I know it’s unbelievable but really, he understands that the marks on a page represent a word. Which proves that he’s capable of learning to read and write.’

Dawn looked doubtful and Leveret scowled at her, even though she’d always liked Dawn. She remembered being taught by Dawn in the Village School and knew her to be both kind and patient. Leveret sighed.

‘It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not, but—’

‘No, I haven’t said that,’ interrupted Dawn. ‘Of course I remember poor Magpie as a youngster at school, and how he struggled with everything. I’ve also seen his almost miraculous transformation since he was taken out of his home and sent to live with Marigold and Cherry. I gather that was thanks to you?’

Leveret nodded, sipping her tea and studying Dawn carefully. Clip had told her she must learn to watch people, not leap in before she’d got their measure. A Wise Woman, he’d said, must bide her time, hold her tongue and allow others to reveal themselves. Leveret found this lesson a hard one to learn.

‘And David has told me about Magpie’s incredible artistic talent,’ continued Dawn, and Leveret realised that in her haste to get help for Magpie, she’d forgotten about that connection. It
was
now common knowledge that David and Dawn were walking together, even though they were a little old to be canoodling on the Village Green or in the maze up at the Hall.

‘That’s right,’ said Leveret.

‘And you think he’s capable of learning to read?’

‘Yes I do. He copied the word “
Comfrey
” yesterday from a wildflower book, when he was drawing the plant. I thought at first it was
just
copying, but he pointed to the plant and the word and honestly, Dawn, I really think he understood the link. Can you imagine the breakthrough for poor Magpie if he could learn to read and write? It wouldn’t matter that he was mute if—’

‘Hold on, Leveret!’ said Dawn with a smile. ‘We need to take it slowly. If that’s all true, then it’s really exciting. But we mustn’t pin too much on it at this stage. Tell me, why did you come to me rather than Miranda? Surely if he’s up at the Hall . . .’

Leveret’s face closed up at the mention of Miranda.

‘You’re used to teaching children to read and she’s not. You’ve got resources here for that sort of thing.’

‘Well, yes, but I don’t think—’

‘But anyway, I don’t want
you
to teach him, Dawn.
I
want to. But I’d like your advice and maybe some books or something that I could use?’

Dawn was happy to help and they went through to the School House to find some suitable early learning books. Children weren’t formally taught to read until they’d left the Nursery aged seven, though of course many learned long before then out of curiosity. Leveret couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been able to read as Yul had taught her at a very early age, anxious to share his skills.

When they returned to the cottage, Dawn gave Leveret a potted lesson in how to teach reading, explaining about the double-pronged attack of sounding out the letters and recognising the whole word. Leveret became very excited at the prospect of opening up Magpie’s world, but Dawn urged caution.

‘Remember, decoding and encoding – or reading and writing if you prefer – are two completely separate skills. And with
Magpie
it’s further complicated by the fact that he can’t speak, so he can’t sound out words. Nor can you check if he’s read them correctly other than by picture matching. We have no idea of his conceptual abilities, so don’t rush him, Leveret. His brain’s obviously wired up differently from the norm and he may need a huge amount of patience.’