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Authors: Deryn Lake
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desperate to follow the singers. So, with one final look in Tim’s direction, John complied and went marching off up the street towards the school.
Breakfast was a hasty affair because Elizabeth was anxious to join the festivities. And she was not to be disappointed. As soon as they got into the street the notes of a solitary fiddle were heard clearly on the morning air, and who should come into their line of vision but the blind fiddler himself, leading a long line of dancers making their way through the narrow alleyways, hand-in-hand. The dance itself was graceful and dignified, the dancers walking forward, then the men changing places and turning the female partner of the other man before they changed places once again and turned their original partner. But it was to the curious habit of dancing in and out of houses, which stood open and welcoming, that John’s eyes were drawn. The dancers entered by one door and left by another, never wavering in their steps. And all the while the fiddler, assisted by Gideon, the thin young tambourine player, and the monkey, drew them on through the town.
“Who leads the dancers?” John asked a local fellow who was watching the line of swirling people.
“Helstone folk, born and bred. The lady is always the most recent bride. There’s a deal of jealousy about the man though. It’s supposed to be the most important person, but everyone thinks that role applies to him. I’ve known men fight over the honour.”
The Apothecary grinned. “I can imagine.”
“I’ll wager that some get married the day before the festivities in order to fit the bill,” Elizabeth put in.
“Aye, that and all,” the man answered.
John ran his eye over the spectators, who had been growing steadily in number. He could see Mrs Legassick and Mrs Bligh together with the Colquites and their other friends, including the large lady with the white hair and soulful eyes, all standing together and cheering everyone on. There was no sign of Mrs Pill or Tim, or little Isobel come to that, but the beautiful Diana Warwick, dressed finely and causing quite a stir, had sallied forth alone and stood quietly viewing the passing parade.
And it was at that moment that John had the strangest feeling that all was not well. That something, somewhere was amiss.
He had had these premonitions before, several times, and knew how dangerous it was to ignore them. He turned to Elizabeth.
“My dear, will you look after Rose for me? I just want to go and have a look round.”
She shot him a questioning glance but said nothing. “All right. Of course I will. Will you be long?”
“About thirty minutes; an hour at the most. I just feel I should. Do you understand?”
“No, but Rose and I will be all right. Won’t we?” She bent down to the child who, for answer, planted a kiss on her cheek and went on watching the dance.
“Allow me to do the same,” John said, and briefly embraced the Marchesa. Then, turning, he hurried down Coinage Hall Street towards the fields that lay at the end.
As he went he tried to rationalise his thoughts. Why should he have had that unwelcome but familiar feeling that all was not well? And what was it that made his footsteps lead him out of town towards the fields that lay at the bottom? He had no answers but only a determination to discover all that he could. He walked on for another ten to fifteen minutes, then stopped, amazed. He was looking at one of the largest lakes he had ever seen in the West Country.
The Loe Pool - a misnomer if ever there was one - glinted serenely in the sun, but John had been told that at times the mountainous seas broke over Loe Bar and into the Pool, flooding the Cober Valley as far as Helstone. It was easy to see at those times that the town had once had its own port, but this had silted up long ago and now the nearest point to the sea was Porthleven.
The place, as far as he could see, was utterly deserted, not a soul about. Wondering how the search for
Breakfast was a hasty affair because Elizabeth was anxious to join the festivities. And she was not to be disappointed. As soon as they got into the street the notes of a solitary fiddle were heard clearly on the morning air, and who should come into their line of vision but the blind fiddler himself, leading a long line of dancers making their way through the narrow alleyways, hand-in-hand. The dance itself was graceful and dignified, the dancers walking forward, then the men changing places and turning the female partner of the other man before they changed places once again and turned their original partner. But it was to the curious habit of dancing in and out of houses, which stood open and welcoming, that John’s eyes were drawn. The dancers entered by one door and left by another, never wavering in their steps. And all the while the fiddler, assisted by Gideon, the thin young tambourine player, and the monkey, drew them on through the town.
“Who leads the dancers?” John asked a local fellow who was watching the line of swirling people.
“Helstone folk, born and bred. The lady is always the most recent bride. There’s a deal of jealousy about the man though. It’s supposed to be the most important person, but everyone thinks that role applies to him. I’ve known men fight over the honour.”
The Apothecary grinned. “I can imagine.”
“I’ll wager that some get married the day before the festivities in order to fit the bill,” Elizabeth put in.
“Aye, that and all,” the man answered.
John ran his eye over the spectators, who had been growing steadily in number. He could see Mrs Legassick and Mrs Bligh together with the Colquites and their other friends, including the large lady with the white hair and soulful eyes, all standing together and cheering everyone on. There was no sign of Mrs Pill or Tim, or little Isobel come to that, but the beautiful Diana Warwick, dressed finely and causing quite a stir, had sallied forth alone and stood quietly viewing the passing parade.
And it was at that moment that John had the strangest feeling that all was not well. That something, somewhere was amiss.
He had had these premonitions before, several times, and knew how dangerous it was to ignore them. He turned to Elizabeth.
“My dear, will you look after Rose for me? I just want to go and have a look round.”
She shot him a questioning glance but said nothing. “All right. Of course I will. Will you be long?”
“About thirty minutes; an hour at the most. I just feel I should. Do you understand?”
“No, but Rose and I will be all right. Won’t we?” She bent down to the child who, for answer, planted a kiss on her cheek and went on watching the dance.
“Allow me to do the same,” John said, and briefly embraced the Marchesa. Then, turning, he hurried down Coinage Hall Street towards the fields that lay at the end.
As he went he tried to rationalise his thoughts. Why should he have had that unwelcome but familiar feeling that all was not well? And what was it that made his footsteps lead him out of town towards the fields that lay at the bottom? He had no answers but only a determination to discover all that he could. He walked on for another ten to fifteen minutes, then stopped, amazed. He was looking at one of the largest lakes he had ever seen in the West Country.
The Loe Pool - a misnomer if ever there was one - glinted serenely in the sun, but John had been told that at times the mountainous seas broke over Loe Bar and into the Pool, flooding the Cober Valley as far as Helstone. It was easy to see at those times that the town had once had its own port, but this had silted up long ago and now the nearest point to the sea was Porthleven.
The place, as far as he could see, was utterly deserted, not a soul about. Wondering how the search for
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