woke.
CHAPTER SIX
S he was exhausted. While she was gathering eggs from the chicken nests in the surrounding bushes, all she wanted was to curl up in the shade under a bush and close her eyes. She’d struggled to sleep. Button Tailor walked through her dreams, smiling at her, riding a grey horse he called Nightwind. Nothing was spoken in the dreams. He just smiled, and extended his arm to help her climb aboard the horse, but as she reached out the dream always ended. She swept the husks from the grain-shed floor in a stupor, her eyelids drooping. ‘What is your problem?’ her mother asked when Meg dropped a plate in the kitchen.
‘I’m fine,’ she replied, as she bent to scoop up the shattered pottery fragments, but she so wanted to sleep.
Lunch eaten, she told her mother that she was going into the village to collect a bag of washing from Flower Carter. ‘She doesn’t normally ask, but her husband’s clothes got out of hand the last few days,’ Meg explained, when her mother questioned why Flower would want anyone else to do the washing. ‘I’ll be back midafternoon.’ And she walked into the village, heading for Emma’s cottage on the outskirts, Sunfire trotting beside her.
‘Glad to see you remembered,’ Emma said in greetingwhen she opened her squeaky door. ‘Take a seat. Lavender or rosemary tea?’
‘Can I just have water?’ Meg asked.
‘Of course,’ Emma replied. ‘And what about Sunfire?’ she added, looking down at the animal that was already ensconced on the mat at her door.
‘I guess he’d like water too,’ Meg answered.
Water distributed, Emma shuffled to her fireplace to start her fire. ‘So tell me about your new horse.’
‘Is there anything you don’t know?’ Meg asked.
Emma laughed. ‘Plenty, girl, plenty. But if it’s village gossip or news, I know all of it. Everyone’s been talking about the soldier. I’ve had enough of them coming to me asking if it’s a bad omen for Summerbrook.’
‘And?’ Meg asked.
Emma chuckled. ‘It could be,’ she said. ‘There are signs that warn us of what’s to follow. A soldier killed so close to Summerbrook is a bad omen. The war could be nearer than we thought.’
‘Then what should we do?’
‘Wait,’ Emma said. ‘We can only wait. A sign is just a warning of what might happen. Sometimes signs are very clear and whoever reads them must act. Other times, the signs are vague. For this one we need patience.’ She turned to prepare her tea. ‘And the horse’s name?’ she asked, straightening up.
‘Nightwind,’ Meg answered.
‘An interesting name. Who thought of that?’
‘It was Button Tailor’s idea.’
‘Needle Tailor’s boy,’ Emma noted, as she sat with her steaming cup of tea. ‘He’s keen on you.’
‘How—’ Meg began to ask, but just smiled, and said, ‘You do listen to the gossip.’
‘It’s not gossip,’ the old woman replied. ‘You and he are of similar ages. It makes sense. And what do you think of Button?’
Meg blushed at the old woman’s brash question. ‘I don’t think anything yet.’
Emma nodded. ‘Wisdom in one so young,’ she muttered, and sipped at her tea. ‘I promised I would answer your questions. So I will.’ She fished inside her grey, grubby dress and pulled out an object that she let dangle from her gnarled, arthritic fingers above the table. A sliver of amber crystal hung on an almostinvisible gold chain.
‘That’s like the crystal the old man uses,’ Meg observed. Her spine tingled, and she flinched as if someone had touched her.
‘Take it, girl. It belongs to you.’
Meg’s eyebrows rose. ‘I don’t own anything like that.’
‘It’s yours,’ Emma assured her, holding it closer. ‘Take it.’
Meg accepted the gift, holding it up to let the meagre light sneaking through the closed shutters sparkle in the crystal. The tingling sensation along her spine peaked and began to subside. ‘Why are you giving this to me?’
‘I’m not. It came
CHAPTER SIX
S he was exhausted. While she was gathering eggs from the chicken nests in the surrounding bushes, all she wanted was to curl up in the shade under a bush and close her eyes. She’d struggled to sleep. Button Tailor walked through her dreams, smiling at her, riding a grey horse he called Nightwind. Nothing was spoken in the dreams. He just smiled, and extended his arm to help her climb aboard the horse, but as she reached out the dream always ended. She swept the husks from the grain-shed floor in a stupor, her eyelids drooping. ‘What is your problem?’ her mother asked when Meg dropped a plate in the kitchen.
‘I’m fine,’ she replied, as she bent to scoop up the shattered pottery fragments, but she so wanted to sleep.
Lunch eaten, she told her mother that she was going into the village to collect a bag of washing from Flower Carter. ‘She doesn’t normally ask, but her husband’s clothes got out of hand the last few days,’ Meg explained, when her mother questioned why Flower would want anyone else to do the washing. ‘I’ll be back midafternoon.’ And she walked into the village, heading for Emma’s cottage on the outskirts, Sunfire trotting beside her.
‘Glad to see you remembered,’ Emma said in greetingwhen she opened her squeaky door. ‘Take a seat. Lavender or rosemary tea?’
‘Can I just have water?’ Meg asked.
‘Of course,’ Emma replied. ‘And what about Sunfire?’ she added, looking down at the animal that was already ensconced on the mat at her door.
‘I guess he’d like water too,’ Meg answered.
Water distributed, Emma shuffled to her fireplace to start her fire. ‘So tell me about your new horse.’
‘Is there anything you don’t know?’ Meg asked.
Emma laughed. ‘Plenty, girl, plenty. But if it’s village gossip or news, I know all of it. Everyone’s been talking about the soldier. I’ve had enough of them coming to me asking if it’s a bad omen for Summerbrook.’
‘And?’ Meg asked.
Emma chuckled. ‘It could be,’ she said. ‘There are signs that warn us of what’s to follow. A soldier killed so close to Summerbrook is a bad omen. The war could be nearer than we thought.’
‘Then what should we do?’
‘Wait,’ Emma said. ‘We can only wait. A sign is just a warning of what might happen. Sometimes signs are very clear and whoever reads them must act. Other times, the signs are vague. For this one we need patience.’ She turned to prepare her tea. ‘And the horse’s name?’ she asked, straightening up.
‘Nightwind,’ Meg answered.
‘An interesting name. Who thought of that?’
‘It was Button Tailor’s idea.’
‘Needle Tailor’s boy,’ Emma noted, as she sat with her steaming cup of tea. ‘He’s keen on you.’
‘How—’ Meg began to ask, but just smiled, and said, ‘You do listen to the gossip.’
‘It’s not gossip,’ the old woman replied. ‘You and he are of similar ages. It makes sense. And what do you think of Button?’
Meg blushed at the old woman’s brash question. ‘I don’t think anything yet.’
Emma nodded. ‘Wisdom in one so young,’ she muttered, and sipped at her tea. ‘I promised I would answer your questions. So I will.’ She fished inside her grey, grubby dress and pulled out an object that she let dangle from her gnarled, arthritic fingers above the table. A sliver of amber crystal hung on an almostinvisible gold chain.
‘That’s like the crystal the old man uses,’ Meg observed. Her spine tingled, and she flinched as if someone had touched her.
‘Take it, girl. It belongs to you.’
Meg’s eyebrows rose. ‘I don’t own anything like that.’
‘It’s yours,’ Emma assured her, holding it closer. ‘Take it.’
Meg accepted the gift, holding it up to let the meagre light sneaking through the closed shutters sparkle in the crystal. The tingling sensation along her spine peaked and began to subside. ‘Why are you giving this to me?’
‘I’m not. It came
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