Page 18 of A Touch of Magic at the Comfort Food Café
I blink at this one. Edie seemed completely with it when I met her– all her marbles very much present and correct, despite her age. I turn it over in my mind and just shrug. ‘Well, I don’tsuppose it’s doing any harm, is it? And she seems happy enough with her life.’
‘Exactly. That’s what I decided when I found out. And who knows? Maybe heisstill around…’
She says it in a spooky voice, and takes her hands off the wheel for a second to make wavy movements with her fingers. I assume the gestures mean ‘supernatural’ to her.
We move on to other topics, but I know that one will settle in my mind. The old lady who is nearing a hundred, and her dead-but-not-dead-to-her fiancé. The human psyche is an incredible thing, and we’re all capable of convincing ourselves of the impossible, I suspect.
Max persuades me to come inside for a coffee, and we agree that I will call around with my car tomorrow to collect my treasures. Except the doll toilet roll holder– she’s coming home with me in my bike’s basket. She’s too special to leave behind even for just one day.
Max and Gabriel’s home is beautiful, and her obvious talent is on full display– the way she has perfectly combined the age of the old farm building with modern style, the two somehow complementing each other. She proudly places the pottery badger next to a jug that has been decorated with the face of a donkey. The rest of the room is pristine, and somehow these two deeply personal and deeply eccentric items make it even better.
By the time we’ve had a cuppa and I’ve used the facilities, it really is time for me to go. I plan to cycle home the long way so I can see this famous hill, and if I’m in the mood, I might even stay there to watch the sunset. It’ll mean riding home in semi-darkness, but I have lights on the bike and I’m unlikely to be caught up in traffic.
‘Be careful,’ she warns me as I leave. ‘Who knows what they used to get up to in an Iron Age hillfort.’
‘Pretty much the same as people get up to now, I suspect, but without electricity or plumbing. See you tomorrow?’
With one final screech from Belle the belligerent donkey, I’m on my way. Max’s instructions are fresh in my mind, and as predicted there are no other vehicles on the road. I get the feeling that me being here constitutes rush hour. The only other creatures I encounter are ones with wings, or farm animals in fields. I can’t remember the last time I was in a place so secluded, and when I start to feel slightly spooked by it, I remind myself that the safest place to be is away from other humans. Crime rates are probably very low among herds of cows.
I find the path that leads to the hill and push my bike along it past late-season blooms. Blackberries droop from trailing vines, along with small purple-black fruits that look like damsons. There are sloes and rosehips and hazel, a tangle of wild foliage that looks like a forager’s feast. The air is alive with birdsong, and the fading day is still warm enough for me to be wearing a light sweater instead of the heavier fleece that is folded in my basket.
I prop the bike up and clamber over a small wooden stile. The hill is steep, but the grass-covered sides are covered in ridges, giving it the appearance of having terraces cut into the slope. A small collection of sheep is grazing, staring up at me with curiosity as I pass. A quick look, and back to chewing grass.
It’s hard to describe without sounding like a flake, but as I walk along, it’s like I can actually feel the age of the place. The ancient history is practically singing out loud as I start to climb, connecting me to those who lived here thousands of years ago. How many feet have trodden these same paths, I wonder, over the last few millennia?
It’s sneakily difficult going, and when I finally reach the top, I stand, hands on hips, and enjoy a moment of pure triumph. Wow, I think, gazing around me, this was very much worth it.Every step I took brought me here, to the top of the world. Where, again, countless people must have stood and gazed in amazement at what they saw before them.
The view is slightly different from each angle, a patchwork quilt of luscious green fields, tumbling hills, and in the very distance the sparkling shimmer of the sea. I can hear no sign of the outside world, of traffic or people or alleged civilisation. It’s just me and the sheep, and the sheer mind-blowing beauty of this magical place.
I take a sip of water and settle myself on the ground, my knees bent in front of me. It’s getting cooler, and I let my hair down to keep my neck warm, wrapping my arms around my legs and hugging them in. The sun is huge in the sky, a circle of orange flame jostling through clouds streaked with pinks and purples. The colours are astonishing, rippling before my eyes, ever-changing. I am lost to its beauty, completely captivated. If I never see another sunset again, this one would be enough. I consider trying to take a picture of it, but I know I could never quite capture its magnificence. Better to simply sit, and watch, and remember.
It takes its time sliding down towards the horizon, huge fingers of gold spreading over the landscape as the sun makes its last stand. The fields and hills come alive, the sea sparkles, and the whole world feels transformed. It’s so dazzling that I realise I’ve been holding my breath, enraptured by the sight of this perfect moment when day sinks into night.
I sigh out loud and shake my head. I don’t care how tough the climb was. I don’t care that I’m going home in twilight. I don’t care that I’m now shivering. That was so worth it.
I’m about to climb back up to my feet when a voice comes from behind me.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’
I go suddenly dead still, my body and mind flicking straight from peace and serenity to sheer panic in a split second. My hands clench into fists, and my fingernails cut into the flesh of my palm. I suck in a desperate breath, and the familiar highlights reel runs through my mind: death, disaster, doom. They’ve finally found me, here of all places. Nobody will hear me scream apart from the sheep.
I know I should be choosing between fight and flight, but something about my fear response is broken. I always, always react like this. I don’t fight, I don’t flee. I just freeze. I bite the inside of my cheek to shock myself out of it, and manage to turn my head to one side.
‘Hey, are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s Aidan. We met a few days ago.’
His tone is calm and gentle, his words spoken in a deliberately reassuring cadence. He walks up beside me, his hands held out in front of him, like I’m a scared animal. I suppose I kind of am. The light is fading, casting his face in a strange otherworldly glow. He does indeed look, as Cherie might say, a bit Halloween-y.
I slowly start to relax, feeling the coiled springs of tension unravel themselves inside me. My fists unclench and my heart rate tumbles back down to that of a normal human being. I still feel slightly sick in my stomach, and I’m blinking a lot to try and clear my mind. I start to stand, as he reaches out a cautious hand to help me to my feet. I’m shaky and I appreciate it.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, feeling embarrassed now rather than terrified. ‘I… Uh, well, I didn’t recognise you with your clothes on.’
He laughs, deep and loud, his hand lingering on mine for a few seconds more than was needed. ‘Well, I guess I can’t argue with that. I’d offer to rectify the situation, but it really is getting cold out here. You look freezing. Are you sure you’re okay?I should have made more noise, or shouted from a distance instead of sneaking up on you like that… but you just looked so peaceful, watching that spectacular sunset, and I didn’t want to disturb your moment.’
As he speaks, he takes his fleece jacket off, and wraps it around my shoulders without asking. I should object, but it’s so nice and warm that I don’t. It smells good, masculine and clean, and my nostrils flare a little at the scent. It’s only when I’m not shivering that I realise quite how cold I was.
‘Thank you,’ I say gratefully. ‘You’re a gentleman. I feel like an idiot now for leaving my jacket with my bike. And please don’t apologise for scaring me. I… Well, frankly I’m easily scared. It’s not your fault. Long story.’
His eyes meet mine, and even in the dusk they are bright and piercing. I could stare at those eyes almost as long as I could stare at that sunset.
