‘Merry. It’s lovely to meet you. Do you live nearby?’
‘Oh yes, just over the hill, in more ways than one.’ The piercing blue eyes twinkled. ‘But, I have Rupert, and he keeps me sane. Well, that’s what I tell people anyway.’
‘Sanity’s greatly overrated in my opinion. He’s a beautiful dog, though. What are they called again?’
‘He’s a Weimaraner.’
Merry couldn’t help but warm to the slender figure. Her self-deprecating manner was endearing, and she suddenly realised that her colouring was almost identical to the beautiful grey dog with the blue eyes.
As though reading her mind, Cora said, ‘The only difference of course is that Rupert has rather fewer wrinkles and, to my knowledge, doesn’t suffer from arthritis.’
‘Well, it’s lovely to meet you too, Rupert, although perhaps I could have my hand back now so I can make some tea.’ Amazingly, the dog did as it was told.
Once Merry had placed the tea down on the table, the conversation resumed where it had left off.
‘So, that’s me and Rupert, how about you, and this little one?’ asked Cora. ‘Is she your first?’
Merry laughed. ‘Is it that obvious? Over-protective-mother-syndrome I expect. But yes, she is. Born on Christmas Eve, the little darling. Her name’s Robyn.’
‘Oh very fitting. I like that.’
‘Well, she was such a tiny little thing when she was born, it seemed appropriate. She seems to be making up for lost time now, though, and usually guzzles her food except for this afternoon for some reason. That’s why she’s a bit cross.’
Cora watched them both for a moment. ‘And your husband?’
‘Tom is the filthy one who’ll be coming through the door any minute now. He wanted to make a start on getting the old shop cleared out as soon as possible, but it’s pretty gruesome work.’
‘I can’t remember a time when the shop was last open, but I expect you have lots of plans. You must tell me all about them one day when you’re not quite so busy.’
‘I’d like that, thanks. Right now, it feels as if we’re mad as hatters, taking on all this.’
Cora smiled. ‘Well, I expect you are, but I guess you have very good reasons for it. A friend once told me that sanity is a very overrated thing anyway.’
Merry gazed at her in astonishment, feeling the warmth in the words. She smiled back.
‘My husband mentioned something that one of the villagers told him, about a curse on the house…’
‘And you want to know whether I think it’s true?’ asked Cora. ‘Well now…I’ve lived in the village a very long time, but I’d much rather know what you think.’
‘It’s not really something I want to think about if I’m honest, seeing as we’ve just moved in…but, no, this feels like a happy house to me. I don’t think it would feel that way if it were cursed.’ The dog shifted against her leg.
‘Quite. And I agree. I’ve been here on many an occasion, and always felt very peaceable. It’s had an unhappy history over recent years certainly, but I think the villagers allow superstition to cloud their judgement. Either that, or a good dose of cider in the Apple Cart on a Friday night. Isn’t that where all the best stories come from?’
Cora paused, and for a moment Merry thought she was going to elaborate on her story. Instead, with a glance at the clock on the wall, she stood, holding out her hand. ‘Now, I’ve already taken up too much of your time, Merry, but it’s been lovely meeting you and your beautiful daughter. You must come and visit Rupert and me anytime. As I said we’re just over the hill, the little cottage with the bright blue door. I shall be walking Rupert for a bit now, but I’ll pop back later with a cabbage for you if that’s all right?’
Merry took the proffered hand, feeling a little guilty that she would have no gift to give in return, but she clasped it warmly. What a lovely neighbour to have found.
True to her word, at a little after six, there was a knock on the back door, and Merry opened it to find Cora and Rupert on the doorstep. She pulled the door wide to let them in, but Cora remained where she was.
‘I won’t keep you, while you’re so busy,’ she said. ‘But I did promise I’d bring this for you. Keep it in the fridge, it works better that way.’
Merry looked down at the green vegetable, not quite sure what to say. ‘Did you grow this yourself, Cora? It looks beautiful. I’m sorry I haven’t anything to give you in return – we’re not quite up to speed yet, but I’ll be sure to bring you some cakes next time I’m baking.’
Cora stared at Merry for a moment and then let out a peal of laughter.
‘It isn’t for you!’ she exclaimed. ‘Well, it is, but not in the way you think. No, it’s for them,’ she said, pointing at Merry’s chest. ‘If I’m not mistaken, you’ve a nasty bout of mastitis on the way. Best cure of all is a cabbage. Two leaves down the front of your bra. Leave them there until you can’t bear the smell any longer, and then put fresh ones in. You’ll be right as rain in a day or so.’
17