Mystery at Meadowbank Cottage An Original Story Written and Performed by Stephanie Poppins Music by my brother,
John Miles Carter Chapter Nine Above Meadowbank Cottage,
The farmed hills rolled across the landscape in long unhurried lines.
Soft-shouldered and smooth,
Their flanks stitched with dry stone walls holding crooked gates that swung free at the slightest touch.
Here there was nothing but space and time,
And Tuesday St.
Clair was making the most of it.
This was space to become the white witch the cottage intended her to be,
And time to rekindle the dreams she'd lost when she moved to the city.
Sitting in the little kitchen rocking chair,
She gazed out to where the lodges lay,
Their fields saturated in a deep green,
The circle of trees surrounding them swaying gently in the breeze.
This quaint kitchen was very bright,
With wide windows on both aspects,
The east facing the lane and far fields,
The west facing the lodges,
And in between the fireplace and agar.
Tuesday looked down at her slippered feet,
Resting comfortably on the shiny stone flags.
In the centre of the room was her newly acquired farmhouse table,
Upon which sat the vast array of herbs she'd collected the day before.
It was time for a new experiment,
A spell from Mother Green's book.
Hadn't the last one worked remarkably well?
A spell to protect against gossip and bad words,
It was.
She'd definitely seen nothing of Colleen Green since,
And wasn't Colleen the first to come nosing round to spread gossip as soon as she got here?
This spell would be different though.
It would be to cast clean the water that Jed Norman had inadvertently poisoned.
Of course,
His pretended mistake was all a ruse to put more pressure on Jonathan Green,
As if having an affair with his wife wasn't enough.
But Jonathan still didn't know anything about that,
Thank goodness.
And Tuesday St Clair wouldn't be the one to spill the beans.
They'd grown very friendly over the past weeks,
Working together on the lodges,
Sitting together at lunch in the circle of the green,
Eating the sandwiches she'd prepared.
Tuesday had learned to leave all secrets in her journal where they belonged.
There were of course still questions left unanswered about the past,
But thankfully that topic of conversation had not come up.
And what did she care anyway,
She told herself.
All that was now water under the bridge.
Jonathan Green was married,
And she had moved on.
So what did it matter anyway?
The fact was he was a hard-working man,
And that's exactly what she needed right now.
Jonathan could help her and her brother realise their dream,
Even if she did have to divert her eyes every now and then when he was up the ladder.
Now,
Back to the latest potion.
Time to collect the last ingredients.
Then when brewed,
Tuesday would tip it into the stream and it would neutralise all wrongdoing and bad intention.
She was sure it would work.
The last one had,
Hadn't it?
Getting up from her cushioned seat,
She grabbed the fresh bottle of milk dropped round by Tom Bucket and made her way across the kitchen to the front door.
Easing it open,
She put on her boots and faced the early morning sun.
And there,
In the centre of the little lawn,
Was the old bird table Tom had brought back with him from his sister's.
Tuesday had almost forgotten about that.
It was a little weathered and leaning already,
Obviously settling into the quirky life of Meadowbank Cottage,
But it was so busy.
How wonderful!
There were sparrows and a pair of blue tits working the hanging coconut shell she'd filled with seeded fat.
And as she watched,
A robin landed in the middle to say hello.
Good morning,
She cried.
What a lovely start to the day!
Pouring some milk into Spike's bowl,
Tuesday watched as he materialised from round the corner.
Hello little one,
She said softly.
Then smoothing her brow with her long fingers,
She ran them through her hair and as if summoned,
There came the rumble of wheels from up the lane.
It was time for Jonathan Green to make his way to the far fields.
That man ran like clockwork.
Morning,
Tuesday waved,
Her best beam on full display,
And Jonathan waved back cheerfully with a red checkered arm.
Thanks to him,
Things were going very well for Tuesday St Clair.
The renovation of the lodges was in full swing.
Her little stray kitten was growing stronger each day,
And she was becoming a dab hand with old Mother Green's cauldron.
There was still something in the closet she kept putting off though.
That mysterious old metal tin dug up from the bottom of the garden.
It had been playing on her mind for a while now.
She knew it was Jonathan's,
It had to be his,
And she really should give it back.
But something inside Tuesday St Clair told her to hold out.
She liked having something of his,
As though there was a secret connection somehow.
So she would just keep the mystery alive a little bit longer.
Watching the huge wheels roll away,
Tuesday put Jonathan to the back of her mind.
Life was fantastic,
And she didn't want any spanners in the works.
She had willing help,
Her business was taking bookings online,
And everything was on track for a late October half-term influx of merrymakers.
Back to business.
It was time to check in with Justin online.
Throughout the process he'd been in constant contact,
Insisting on paying Jonathan well for his expertise and help,
So his sister didn't feel she owed the man anything.
How Tuesday missed her brother.
But his relationship with his wife was always going to come in between them,
She knew that.
Betsy was the jealous type,
And Justin clung on to her like Tuesday used to cling on to Robert.
Losing both parents at the same time had had that effect on both of them.
Still,
It would play out in its own way,
Tuesday guessed,
And in the meantime it was full steam ahead for her.
Rearranging the old mosaic chairs,
She considered the week ahead.
There was some painting to be done,
And there was some plumbing,
She had Jonathan to deal with that,
Then the curtains,
She'd be making those,
And the soft furnishings.
A delivery of cutlery and crockery was on its way,
She'd read,
And the kitchen appliances too.
Great.
Now just a few moments in the garden she had before she would check in,
For that daily marketing she had to do for Justin's business.
How he ever thought he'd get the time to help her with the lodges,
She never knew.
It was a ridiculous notion really,
Justin was always so busy.
It was a pipe dream of his,
She supposed,
To live in Leighton,
But she was so grateful to be doing this together,
And secretly she hoped one day he would come back,
With or without Betsy.
Tuesday got the feeling this was his back-up plan if it all went wrong.
She headed back for the front door.
There was something to be said about a man who knew his way around a toolbox.
Robert Shafe never had,
He'd been more of a thinker,
And she had liked that back in the day.
He'd travelled up to her university regularly to see her,
And they had great discussions,
So full of plans he'd been.
Then as soon as she got a job in the city,
Everything changed.
He was quick to move in and take advantage,
Needed a temporary place to stay,
He said.
He could be very charming when he wanted to,
Could Robert Shafe.
Thank goodness he was out of the picture,
And how he hated Jonathan,
Tuesday remembered that much.
The moment she reached the front door,
A vehicle turned up and a strange voice said from over the gate,
Morning!
This must be the delivery come early.
Nice day for it,
She replied,
Spinning round.
Then,
Just as quickly,
Oh,
Morning,
She said curtly,
As she faced the man standing staring at her.
What did this fool want?
Jed,
Is it?
I'm Tuesday St Clair.
Swiping viciously at an irksome fly,
She considered the man she'd first seen in the flyer her brother handed her.
So I've heard,
He replied.
Jed stood in the lane like he owned it,
Which in his mind he still did.
Six foot three at least,
Broad across the shoulders,
With the ease of a man whose rival was well and truly out of the picture,
Up in the fields doing a hard day's work.
Tuesday stared.
He was self-entitlement personified and she took an instant dislike to him.
He had hair the colour of old rust,
Thick and swept back from a high forehead,
And his beard caught the morning light like a lit match.
These looks probably worked on women who didn't know him yet,
But Tuesday knew all about Jed Norman and she felt sick.
He was here for manipulation,
It didn't take witchcraft to see that.
She'd seen the way he'd been around Colleen Green,
And now he knew there was no joy to be had,
He'd probably dropped her just as quickly.
Realising the land her husband owned,
That precious strip of land he'd wanted,
Was now sold to her,
Tuesday Sinclair.
He obviously had no idea who he was messing with.
Tuesday smiled as he shuffled his feet from side to side.
She was giving off a don't mess with me with a cherry on top.
Yet he refused to leave.
He'd obviously used Colleen to try and get his way,
And now he was here sniffing around to see if he could try it on with Tuesday.
Didn't he know she was a white witch?
This was the new and improved Tuesday Sinclair,
Not the one who'd arrived here dazed and confused all those weeks ago.
But she didn't have Justin to back her up right now,
And Jonathan was away in the fields.
Gritting her teeth,
She'd walked down the path towards him.
Maybe he was here to stir the pot still further,
To wind up Jonathan still further.
Hadn't him and Jonathan nearly come to blows once?
Jed Norman had simply pointed the compass needle to her,
The next thing he was interested in.
It's an unusual name,
Tuesday,
Isn't it?
He began.
And there it was,
The first name reference,
Casual and intimate,
Like a hand on the small of your back,
This man wasn't playing around.
No more than any other day of the week,
Tuesday replied with a smile.
She was in the mood for a bit of mischief and this fool had just dropped right into her lap.
You're here about the land,
I suppose.
She watched as he turned to face the far fields.
That comment had floored him.
Good,
Just so he knew,
Tuesday wasn't weak-willed Colleen.
Tuesday Sinclair had a mind of her own.
Amongst other things,
He returned,
You always this direct then?
Are you?
She said,
Pulling off one of her rubber gloves.
Jed Norman straightened up and faced her head on.
Tuesday could see she was amusing him.
It was obviously time to play the joker.
That strip of land you've been arguing over,
It's just ornamental really,
She beamed.
But I kind of like it.
She knew when she smiled,
He'd be unable to resist.
If Tuesday Sinclair had nothing else,
He certainly had that.
And right on cue,
Jed Norman smiled back.
It is lovely in theory,
He agreed,
But what are you actually going to do with it?
You're a woman up here on your own,
Whereas I.
.
.
Have the adjoining acreage,
Yes,
I know.
I think everyone knows,
Said Tuesday calmly.
Jed hesitated.
Now,
Tuesday reckoned,
He understood he'd met his match.
It seemed like this witch-lark was really paying off.
I'm just saying it makes more sense if it's in my hands,
He persisted.
And of course I'd see you right more than you paid for it.
Tuesday considered Jed's offer.
She could do with the extra cash,
But it was the principle of the thing.
Hadn't Jonathan Green already lost two ewes because of this man's bullying tactics?
I'm sure you would,
She said.
I'll have a think about it.
But of course that was the last thing she intended to do.
She watched closely as Jed leaned his full weight on the gate.
But now she wanted him gone as soon as possible.
You've settled in well,
The cottage suits you,
He continued.
Yes,
She agreed as the cool breeze caressed the wisps of hair round her face.
Then all at once her face did that thing it always did when she'd had enough.
That cottage has been empty a long time,
It needs a.
.
.
It has everything it does need,
Thank you,
She interrupted.
Then turning to leave,
Tuesday felt a cold tingle rush up her spine as he laughed low and unhurried.
This was a man who was filing things away for later.
And tipping his head in a sardonic way,
Jed Norman wished her luck as he walked back to his Land Rover without another word,
Each step more determined than the last.
