Midsummer's Eve

"Tis a strange life. A bit topsy-turvy it do seem. But you've got that nice girl Kitty to do for you ... couldn't be a nicer girl. She and Mabel get along like a house on fire. She's got such tales. I reckon that London be a terrible place, and wasn't it wonderful the way she went to that Mrs. Frances? I reckon she's a bit of a saint, that one. Could do with more like her in the world. Kitty just about idolizes her. It's Mrs. Frances this and Mrs. Frances that... and she's got a good word to say for you, too. Then she talks about that nice brother ... a fine, upstanding fellow ... just the sort of brother she'd expect Mrs. Frances to have.”

"I can see she is keeping you well-informed.”

"I like to hear about what's going on up there. And I'd like to see you nice and happy. I always had a soft spot for you ... even more than your brother and I'll say it even though he's gone. I can see you now, sitting on that high stool at the table watching me kneading the dough ... and every now and then when you thought I wasn't looking that little hand would shoot out and take a raisin or a nut. I saw you. 'I've got eyes in the back of me head,' I used to tell you; and you said, bright as a button, 'Your hair's covering them so you can't see out of them.' Sharp little thing you was. You were the favourite in the kitchen, I can tell you now, and there was a few tears shed when you was pushed out and Madam came to take your place. Nothing will make me believe she has a right and that goes for Mr. Isaacs and the rest of us.”

"You've all made me feel so welcome back here," I said.

"Welcome! Why shouldn't 'ee be in your own cottage ... and what should be your home, too. And would be if I had any say in it. We like to see you about and we like your Kitty, but I suppose you've got to think of the future and what we all want at Cador ... from our side of the house, that is ... is your happiness. We was all upset when you turned down Mr. Rolf. But you know what's best, I reckon. We'd like to see you married to someone nice ... and with babies ... even if we do have to read about them in the newspapers.”

"Why should you read about them in the papers?”

"Well... Parliament and all that, you know. If you was to marry one of them ... they put it in the papers when there's a baby.”

I realized that Kitty had talked a great deal. She was devoted to I Frances and that meant Frances's brother; and I expected she had already decided that I was going to marry Joe and was glorifying my relationship with him to such an extent that the Cador staff had decided he was the man for me.

It was no use trying to stop gossip. It had always been and always would be.

I found myself becoming obsessed by that presence in the woods. Very few people went there nowadays and when they did it was usually in twos and threes. They saw nothing.

It was only if you were caught alone, they said.

I was overcome by a desire to discover.

I went there one morning. I sat by the river where Digory and I used to throw stones into the water, straining my ears for the sound of a footstep, the crackle of bracken which would tell me that someone was close.

There was nothing but the sounds of the woods, the faint breeze ruffling the leaves on the trees, the gentle murmur of the water.

After a while I rose and went to the clearing. There was the burned-out cottage and beyond it the broken-down shed and the overgrown garden where Mother Ginny used to grow her magical herbs.

And as I stood there thinking of that terrible night, the half-broken door of the old shed creaked and started to open. I felt a shiver of alarm. They were right.

There was a presence here. What I expected, I was not sure. The ghost of Mother Ginny as I had last seen her, mud-bespattered, her grey hair wet from the river... ?

A man stood there.

I gasped and we stared at each other. Then it struck me that there was something vaguely familiar about him. He seemed to feel the same about me. Then a wild idea came to me. I said: "You ... you are Digory.”

"I know you now you speak," he said. "Miss Cadorson.”

"Digory! So you have come back.”

"I served me term," he said. "I always intended to come back. There's something I have to do.”

"How are you living?”

"Here.”

"In that old shed?”

"I'm used to roughing it.”

"But what do you live on?”

"There's fish ... hares ... rabbits ... I've got these woods to myself.”

"I've thought a lot about you, Digory. I've wondered where you were. We were in Australia ...”

He nodded. "It was in the papers. Everyone was talking. I'm sorry for you, Miss Cadorson.”

"Thank you, Digory. I can't let you stay here like this.”

"I be all right.”

"What is it you've got to do?”

"I've got to make it up to me granny.”

"Make it up to her?”

"Him that killed her," he said.

"It wasn't one. It was the mob.”

"It was one who egged 'em on like. They'd have sport with her per'aps. But her could take that. She wasn't afraid of 'em. It was him. I saw him clear. I'm going to kill him or make it so's he won't be as 'andsome as he was.”