Chapter 5

Farstone village, in the middle of Farstone Moor, had been improved and updated in the late 17th century. Before that, it was a cluster of buildings that had sprung up in a wood that surrounded the farm in Saxon times. It was then improved by Ralph the farmer into wattle and daub constructions, more weatherproof than the rough huts they had before. They were independent from Ralph's farm but they relied on it for their wages. They helped each other out, the farm owners being unusual in that they were good to their workers. They weren't particularly well off to start with and relied on the houses nearby for their help.

When a descendant, also Ralph and now named Peverel, came into money in the 1600s, he not only built himself a grand house in place of the small farmhouse, but he improved or rebuilt all the workers' houses too. He called his grand house Peverel Hall. The village was known as Farstone after the moor that surrounded it. Farstone was derived from Fairystone or Faestone, from the folklore legend that the moor was still inhabited by the Fae, as it had been long before humans made their home in these parts.

It was to Peverel Hall that Peggy Harker now made her way, missing Flora's visit to her cottage by at least ten minutes. This was the home of the present Ralph Peverel, now a Sir after his ancestors were ennobled by Charles II, as were most of those in charge who fought on his or his father's side in the Civil War. The current Sir Ralph was away from home as usual. At the moment he was supervising the building of houses for families in need in Africa. The desire to help people had never left the family and consequently he wasn't in the village he loved as much as he wanted to be. It was also said that he was running away from something in his past.

His older sister, Binky - Bianca was her given name after a Spanish godmother - ran the place most of the time, although the farm itself had been sold off, just leaving the Hall and extensive grounds. Binky was mostly a lady of leisure since she retired from the acting profession last year, fed up with being relegated to second-rate pantos in out-of-the-way places. Being middle-aged in the acting profession wasn't much fun, although even Binky's closest friends couldn't say she was ever a good actress, even when she was young.

Peggy rang the ornate doorbell at the front of the Hall. Chilvers the old retainer who used to be Binky's nanny and was therefore ancient, took a while to answer. The door creaked open.

‘She's up at t'Folly with t'other'un' she announced before shutting the door again.

Peggy grinned to herself and set off for the Folly, a few minutes' walk away. It was in a sunny corner of the grounds but still well hidden from the house by the grove of horse chestnut trees surrounding three sides. A tree-lined path led directly to it.

Standing in the late afternoon sun, the Folly looked magnificent. It was erected when the original Hall was built by the newly ennobled Gentleman farmer. Peggy surveyed it again with pleasure, even though she had known it all her life. It had been made to represent an old castle ruin or perhaps a temple. A wall at the left-hand side seemed as though it had belonged to another structure but had crumbled away with age. A tree seemed to be growing through the wall as if propping the remaining wall up. On the right side was a much smaller wall with ivy growing over the top, which looked like the remains of a much taller boundary wall. These were all illusions, as it had been built that way to represent a fairy tale ruin in the first place. Inside the ancient-looking stone, mellowed with age and covered with climbing plants as though being reclaimed by nature, was a perfectly serviceable large room. The walls were plastered, the ceiling was high and it had always been used as a meeting place - or a dining place for generations of Peverels to have their teas and indoor picnics. It was almost al fresco on hot summer days when the large doors, with their floor-to-ceiling windows, were thrown open to the elements.

At the dining table now were seated two women. One was fairly young and attractive with her dark hair pushed behind her ears. She was wearing a mutinous expression. The other, much older but still younger than Peggy by over twenty years, wore her permanent surprised look and her habitual smiley face. Her hair was silver and piled onto her head in a messy style which was kept in place by what looked like a large Neolithic bone hairpin.

The sun was disappearing to be replaced by a fine drizzle, so Peggy hurried in.

‘Merry meet' said Peggy as she climbed the steps.

‘Merry meet' replied Binky Peverel, whilst the younger woman settled for a glowering silence.

‘What's with the face?' asked Peggy in her customary direct manner.

‘What do you think? ‘replied Jen Cayley in like manner and before Peggy could answer, she told her anyway.

‘She turned up in our shop earlier and you didn't give me any warning. Steve called me through to speak to her and - my God - I couldn't speak. I had to run out. She is the spitting image of my sister Matty. How do you think I felt ?'

The older woman sat herself down and fixed Jen with her hooded eyes before speaking calmly.

‘You knew she was coming here, Jennet. I even told you the date she was taking possession of Sybil's cottage. What I couldn't tell you was how much Flora looks like her mother. Her real mother. I hadn't seen her at all. Remember Sybil had only seen her once and was banned from seeing her again after that time, for the child's sake, so they said. To give her a ‘normal' upbringing. Sybil knew she had made the decision that led to this so she felt, on her honour, that she had no choice. I was shocked myself at the likeness when I saw her so I can imagine what it must have felt like for you. I'm sorry for what you went through but you can't blame me.'

Jen lowered her eyes and had the grace to look ashamed.

‘And she knows nothing?' she eventually asked.

Peggy shook her head.

‘But surely–'

‘I saw her in the Peverel Arms not half an hour ago' Binky cut in ‘and yes, the likeness to Matilda was very obvious. I introduced myself and welcomed her to the village which is a good job as you two seem to have done nothing but gawp at the poor girl, like the village idiots she probably takes us for. She seemed very nice.'

‘She did' agreed Peggy ‘and she asked to come round to find out more about her Great Aunt Sybil. She said Great Aunt in invisible inverted commas as she doesn't believe her to be her real great aunt. Which of course she was.'

‘Does she have any powers?'

‘Now how am I to know that on such short acquaintance, Jennet?'

‘Well, she needs to be told of her ancestry. About the village. But more to the point, she needs to know who her real mother was.'

‘Then she'll know you're her aunt. Will that sit well with you?'

‘I suppose it will have to.' Jen replied unsurely ‘ but this is something Sybil should have done.'

‘Firstly, don't forget the girl has no idea of any of this.'

‘I'm in two minds whether she just ought to be left in peace. It's a lot to surprise one person with – and there's no guarantee that she'll take it well.'

‘Binky!' said Jen, outraged.

‘I have a feeling she will take it as calmly as is possible' said Peggy, ‘She doesn't seem the sort to throw hissy fits or go into a deep decline. Anyway, no doubt Sybil would have told her if she had contact with her but she promised Bill and Hester on Flora's life when the child was 7 years old. Sybil had made the handing over when she was a baby – had chosen the parents, so it was understood. Why Sybil broke her promise in the first place was that she needed to know at the First Age if there was anything in the child - but she wouldn't break that promise again.'

‘Was that because she found a power?' Jen asked.

‘Apparently so.'

There was an intake of breath from the others.

‘So there's nothing we can do to let her know the circumstances of her birth or what sort of a village she was born into?'

Peggy looked at Jen and sighed.

‘There is … a letter. Sybil left it with me when she knew she was dying. She made me make a promise that it shouldn't be handed over to Flora until Flora herself asks for it. You know our promises are binding.'

‘Well, how can she ask for it if she doesn't know about it?' asked Jen, her chin jutting out in frustration.

‘Sybil was very sure that she would know and we should trust that it would happen in its own good time. The right time.'

Jennet sat back, making an attempt to be satisfied with this as Sybil could not be disobeyed, even now. Yet as she sat back, Binky Peverel sat forward. As no words followed this, Peggy, who always addressed people by their given names as names endowed have a magic of their own, nodded to her.

‘Bianca, what is it that you want to say?'

‘Just that, well, if you were going to wait to tell her, you'd better hope that no one says anything before then. As I was leaving the inn…' she took a deep breath. ‘Culhain came in.'

‘Oh.'

Peggy stood up abruptly and headed for the door, worry etching even more lines on her face. Jen frowned.

‘ I know he's a fruit cake but he's only an old man. What harm can he do?'

‘Have you ever managed to look at his face beneath that hood he always hides under?'

Peggy's intensity made Jen draw back as she shook her head. Peggy continued.

‘Well, I have. Saw through the veil he summons up. He's been coming here every year since you were a child and in all that time he hasn't aged one bit.'

‘You thought he might be a trickster at one time, Peggy. A Bodach' said Binky.

‘He would have more disguises if he were. It's just that hood…' Peggy had her ideas of what he was hiding but she would probably never know.

Throwing a ‘Blessed Be' over her shoulder to the others she made her way to the inn. She wondered how significant Culhain's visit on this day was. It couldn't be a coincidence. There was no such thing.