The Sweethearts Collection. Pam Jenoff
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disappeared.
‘Should draw more punters in now,’ Jago said, rubbing his hands together gleefully.
‘Jago has to pick up supplies for the Panam so is leaving for Bodmin now. He wonders if you might like to accompany him?’
‘Really?’ she asked, hardly able to contain her excitement. ‘But won’t you need help packing up?’ she asked.
‘Managed perfectly well afore you arrived so I’m sure I’ll cope,’ Mara replied. ‘Besides, it’ll be nice to enjoy the peace of the countryside without you asking stupid questions every few minutes.’ Although her voice was brusque, Colenso saw her lips twitching and knew she was teasing. Impulsively, she kissed the woman’s cheek, surprised at how papery it felt, but she had little time to dwell on the matter, for Jago was already heading out of the door.
His van was larger than Mara’s but the woodwork was plain and looked dull compared with the brightly painted flowers that adorned hers. However, his horse was also larger and capable of pulling the wagon uphill with them in it as well. Seated beside Jago, she watched as they passed moorland covered with bracken, golden gorse and yet more low, scrubby trees.
‘Mara seems like her old self again this morning,’ Jago commented. ‘But it will probably do her good to have some time to herself.’
‘You mean you engineered this trip?’ Colenso asked, turning to him in surprise.
‘I need to collect more confections, for that is my job of a journeyman after all.’ Well that told her, she thought. Then he turned towards her and smiled. ‘Thought you’d like to meet some of the people who make them.’ They travelled on in silence and Colenso couldn’t help thinking how much nicer it was to be riding rather than walking along the dusty roads, especially as she was wearing her skirt again.
‘They’re the china-clay workings over there.’ She wrinkled her nose at the large mountains of dirty white spoil beyond the boggy moorland.
‘Going to be another hot day by the look of it,’ Jago sighed, gesturing to the sun rising like a great yellow ball in front of them. ‘I’ll have to make sure the sweets don’t melt.’
‘Do you want me to check them for you?’ she asked.
‘Later perhaps. Let’s use the time to get to know each other better. You know I hail from Truro, but where are you from?’ Not wishing to divulge any personal information, Colenso gestured to the tin mines they were passing.
‘I didn’t realize there were so many around here,’ she commented. Giving her a knowing look, he nodded and lapsed into silence again. After a while, the landscape became less rugged, with more fields farmed. Jago tugged on the reins and the horse obediently turned down onto a track.
‘Mrs Manning has the farm here. She ran it with her husband until he got caught under the wheels of his cart. Nasty business. Caitlin’s carried it on since his death, yet still manages to concoct her speciality for the Panam in her spare time. She’s from Scotland and makes their native tablet. I’ve told her I’ll understand if it gets too much, but she insists she finds the process therapeutic,’ he said. He gave another tug on the reins and the horse trotted round to the yard. The moment they pulled up outside a grey, formidable-looking farmhouse, the door opened. A pretty woman in her late twenties with auburn hair coiled around her head smiled and waved, but as soon as she saw Colenso her expression changed.
‘Caitlin, how are you?’ Jago asked, oblivious. ‘I’ve brought Colenso with me. She’s been helping me on the Panam.’
‘Och, how kind,’ she replied in such a patronizing voice Colenso wanted to pull tongues at her. However, she refrained and smiled back politely. ‘Forgive me, Jago dear, but I’m all behind today. It’s hard managing by myself, though as you know, I do my best,’ she simpered.
‘And very well you do too,’ Jago replied gallantly. ‘Do you need a hand packing up the tablet?’
‘I need help making it,’ Caitlin giggled, batting her eyelashes at him. So that was the way of things, Colenso thought.
‘Now don’t you worry, Colenso here wants to learn how to make our sweet confections so she can stay and help you.’
‘But I thought you could,’ Caitlin pouted, laying a hand on his arm.
‘I’m afraid I’ve other collections to make before the fair opens tomorrow. Look, I’ll call back early this afternoon, that should give you enough time. You’ll give Caitlin a hand, won’t you?’ he asked, turning to Colenso.
‘Delighted to,’ she smiled, trying not to laugh out loud as the woman’s lips tightened into a line.
‘Surely you’ll stay for a drink like usual?’ she asked, her Scottish lilt becoming more pronounced.
‘That’s kind of you, Caitlin, but I’d hate to delay you.’ With a quick nod, he turned and walked back to his wagon. There was a strained silence as they both stood there staring after him.
The wagon disappeared in a cloud of dust and Caitlin turned to Colenso, eyeing her critically. Thank heavens she was wearing her own clothes, she thought, for clearly the woman had dressed up for Jago’s visit.
‘Well, come on then,’ Caitlin snapped, leading the way into an outhouse.
‘I thought we’d be making it in the kitchen,’ Colenso murmured as they entered the cool interior of the dairy.
‘I will be,’ she said, emphasising the word ‘I’. ‘You can start by greasing these.’ She pointed to rows of shallow tins set out on the cool surfaces, then to a dish of golden butter. With a baleful glare, she stomped back outside. It didn’t take Colenso long to finish the simple task, and while she waited for Caitlin to return, she took a look around. Everything was spotless, with jugs and pans lined along a shelf, and dishes, moulds and cutters on another, while in the corner stood a cheese mill. It was easy to see what the milk was used for, she thought, gazing through the window where reddish brown cows contentedly munched the grass. Lucky you, having your meals provided, she thought as her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since the previous day. Fed up with waiting for Caitlin to reappear, she made her way outside and following the sounds of pots being banged found her way to the kitchen.
‘All done,’ she said brightly. ‘What would you like me to do now?’ To her surprise, instead of snapping at her, the woman’s lips widened into a grin.
‘If you really want to help, you can scrape down the insides,’ she said, indicating the huge pan she was stirring. Colenso’s eyes widened as she saw the mixture bubbling and frothing up the sides. ‘Well, jump to it, else crystals will start forming,’ she added brusquely, inclining her head towards the pastry brush. As the woman stared challengingly at her, Colenso snatched it up and did as she’d been asked.
The heat rising from the mix was unbearable, burning her skin and making her eyes water, but she continued wiping the mixture back down until the woman grudgingly told her to stop. ‘Test time now. You putting your finger in or am I?’ Colenso stared at the seething inferno and thought she was joking until she remembered Jago telling her about his sister. ‘Och really,’ the woman tutted, sticking her finger into the pan then quickly removing it and licking off the liquid. ‘It can come off the heat now,’ she nodded, lifting the pan onto a big trivet on the kitchen table. Then taking up a big wooden spoon, she began beating it hard.
‘What are you doing?’ Colenso couldn’t resist asking.
‘Beating it until the mixture begins to form crystals.’
‘So now you want crystals?’ Colenso asked, staring at her in surprise.
‘Och aye, of course. ’Tis called graining.’ Colenso watched fascinated as the woman thumped the mixture with all her might before slowing to a stir. ‘You and Jago sweethearts?’