Merryknowe could be a wonderful little village again if people came to see it and then stayed. They could have a lovely life away from the city, perhaps the school might open again one day? They just needed something to bring them to the village or it would die slowly and painfully and Tassie knew there was nothing worse than driving through a once thriving place to see the shops closed and the churchyard overgrown.
Tassie pushed away the grim thoughts and remembered Pansy’s smile and copper curls, entirely enchanting, who was also capable of so much if she could harness her spirit and sit still for a minute.
Tassie was filled with a sense of purpose she had forgotten existed.
It felt strange to have this after so many years of waiting for death. Now she didn’t want to die, she wanted to help Clara find her path to her own truth and Rachel to believe in her own magic abilities but more than anything else, she wanted to teach Pansy to read.
Clara had said she was starting school but she was already a year behind and the little one probably didn’t know her A’s from her T’s.
When Pansy had slept in the car on the way home, Tassie had asked Clara about the child.
‘She’s bright but I don’t think Dad has really let her out of his sight since Mum died. This is the first time he’s had a day without her, he said.’
‘Goodness, that’s not right for either of them.’
Clara had shrugged. ‘I guess but I don’t know what I would be like in the same situation and he’s a good man; he just needs to see he and Pansy can be happy again.’
Tassie had sat, trying to think of the best way for Pansy to learn to read.
‘If you bring her to me in the mornings, I can get her started for school,’ she’d said. ‘I still have some books and things that might help.’
‘Oh wow, I will ask Henry, but it sounds wonderful.’
When they dropped Tassie off, Pansy had woken up and come inside to use the bathroom and then had come out and sat on Tassie’s lounge.
‘I like your house – it feels like Christmas.’
Tassie had looked around for any signs of last year’s decorations but couldn’t find any.
‘Why does it feel like Christmas?’ asked Clara.
‘It feels like magic,’ was all Pansy said and played with a small bowl of shells on a side table.
Later, ignoring the ache in her old bones, Tassie went to the room where she kept her old books and, searching through boxes on the shelves of the cupboard, she found the box she had wanted.
Lifting the lid, she hoped nothing had eaten the old pages or notes but time had been kind to her and the box, and inside were the old school books she had kept for the past sixty years. The books were out of date but the card with the pictures and words never went out of date. She shuffled through the well-worn cards. Flashcards, teachers called them now, but to Tassie they were her magical deck of cards that helped children to open the gates to a world of words and stories.
Moving back to the kitchen, she sat at the table and wrote the lesson plan out carefully.
Sounds. Letters. She would get some butterfly cakes from Rachel’s bakery and she would make some homemade lemonade. Coloured pencils and a scrapbook of paper would be needed for writing the letters also.
Oh, there was so much to do, and for the first time since George McIver died, Tassie went to bed excited to wake up in the morning.
34
Clara was excited to see Henry as she pulled into the laneway and drove down to the cottage. She turned to park her car to find an unfamiliar car in the place her red Mini should be.
She turned off the car, opened the door and walked around to let Pansy out, who ran inside the cottage with her fairy doll and dinosaur egg toy that she had insisted to Clara she had needed above anything else in the world.
The green car’s door opened and Giles stepped out.
‘Hi, Clara,’ he said, and she felt such blind rage it was all she could do to not walk over and slap his face.
‘Why are you here?’ She crossed her arms. ‘I hope you didn’t bring Judy with you.’
She stood very straight wondering where Henry was. This was terrible, she thought. Why would Giles come here? How did he know where she was?
‘No, Judy is at home,’ he said, looking down at his feet. He was wearing those stupid orange suede loafers that he bought in Spain with no socks. God, she hated that look – his attempt at Euro fabulous, she had teased at the time when he bought them. He hadn’t laughed. She should have known then he wasn’t a keeper.
Giles put his hands in his pockets of his trousers. ‘I tried to call you but you blocked me.’
‘Yes, I tend to do that to people who cheat on me.’
They stood in silence staring at each other.
‘I’m sorry, Clara, it was really badly done on my behalf and Judy’s.’
‘Do not speak for her. You don’t get to speak for her.’
Giles went to speak but she interrupted him.
‘I don’t want you back, Giles, so I have no idea why you’re here. We are done. Over. You made your choice and if you’re back to try and tell me now you miss me and you’re sorry, well, I am sorry you feel that way, but I have moved on and if things didn’t work out with you and Judas, that’s on you, nothing to do with me.’ Clara felt very proud of herself as she spoke.
‘Judas?’ asked Giles, looking confused.
Clara shrugged. ‘Freudian slip.’
Giles cleared his throat. ‘Actually, I am not here to ask you to take me back; I’m
