‘Oh, that wouldn’t be anything like they do hereabouts.’
‘What do you do, then? I’m interested in folklore, and I’ve never heard of funeral bakemeats on the eve of May-Day. In fact, I’ve never heard of Mayering Eve at all.’
‘It isn’t for strangers. Supper you’ll need to be taking in your room tonight. Both bars’ll be full to bursting, and the lounge, that’ll be in use, too and all. Once you’re up in your room, you take my advice and stay put, love. Mayerin’ Eve is no time for pretty young women to be abroad.’
‘Good heavens, I can take care of myself,’ said Fenella, irritated by the last remark. ‘But do tell me about your Mayering. What happens – or is supposed to happen? Do you have a ritual? If so, it would only be a modern hash-up of a pagan ceremony, you know. What is it like?’
‘Well, it isn’t nothing like Christmas. I can tell you that much,’ said the landlord. ‘Wonderful how the days draw out this time of the year, isn’t it?’
Realising that, so far as he was concerned, the subject of the Mayering was closed, Fenella said no more about it and in less than five minutes they had driven into the inn yard. The landlord took her in to the house by way of the side door again. The saloon bar was empty, for it was not yet opening time, but the gipsy woman was in the kitchen which was still redolent of the grand smell of cooking. The nineteen-year-old girl was assisting at the oven, but she put down a tray of what looked like small meat pies when the landlord ordered her to ‘brew up for the lady,’ and put on a kettle. He added that she was to take the tea-tray up to the lounge.
‘If you’d like to wash,’ said the gipsy woman, without looking round from her pastry-making, ‘take the new-painted door next outside of the lounge. There’s a towel put out for you ready. Missus is tidying you out a bedroom, but the sheets has got to be aired. Us put the lady’s baggage down in the hall, master. Her can take her washing things out of it and have ’em up along of her in the bathroom until the bedroom’s ready. She won’t need only them and her night-clothes.’
Fenella, who, until her return to the inn, had concluded that the gipsy was the landlord’s wife, felt a certain interest in meeting the mistress of the house. This happened just as she was drinking her second cup of tea in the lounge. The door opened and a youngish, full-bosomed, red-haired woman came in, closed the door behind her and said pleasantly,
‘Well, now, as soon as you’ve done I’ll take you along to your room. I’m Liz Shurrock, Jem’s wife. How d’you do?’
Fenella rose and they shook hands and covertly (as women will) took stock of one another. Fenella noted that Mrs Shurrock had green eyes and a large, good-humoured mouth, artificially darkened eyebrows, false eye-lashes, a low, broad forehead and a slightly freckled nose. There was no doubt that she was attractive. She smiled at the dark-haired, grey-eyed Fenella and said,
‘If there’s any tea left in that pot, I’ll have some.’ She foraged in a cupboard under the bookcase, produced a cup and saucer, brought them over to the large table and, sitting down, poured herself some tea. ‘Fact is,’ she went on, ‘I’ve been kept so busy with the catering, and then you coming and wanting a bedroom and all, that I don’t think I’ve sat down all day until now. Even had my dinner while I was running around, as you might say.’
‘Oh, dear! I’m very sorry to add to your jobs,’ said Fenella, ‘but really it was by no wish of mine that I’m having to stay the night. I can’t think what happened to my car. It was perfectly all right coming down.’
‘Oh, you haven’t made all that difference to the work, dear. I was prepared for you, in a way. Sukie told me you’d be stopping along of us tonight.’
‘Sukie?’
‘Ah. Her in the kitchen. Helps with the cooking and cleaning. She warned me, soon as you come here, as you’d be needing a bed. She sees things, you know. It’s the gippo in her.’
‘How extraordinary! It was only by the merest chance that I came this way. I really intended to go straight through from Evebury to Cridley. Sukie couldn’t possibly have known something I didn’t know myself.’ Fenella was much less impressed by Sukie’s omniscience than she pretended to be. It was easy enough for Mrs Shurrock to be wise after the event and to claim that her servant had made a prediction which could neither be proved nor disputed.
‘Sukie’s a gippo,’ repeated Mrs Shurrock. ‘Well, if you’ve finished your tea, let’s go. The sooner I get you safely out of the way, the better Jem will be pleased. He’s conscientious, is Jem.’ She set down her empty cup, smoothed her dress and led the way to the door. ‘The lad will bring your baggage over as soon as I’ve seen you settled. Some things of yours in the bathroom, aren’t there, now? Right, I’ll warn Clytie to pick them up, unless you’d care to bring ’em along with you now.’
‘I’ve heard Mayering Eve and Mayering Day mentioned several times,’ said Fenella, following Mrs Shurrock along a narrow, dark corridor rendered hazardous by various short flights of steps, some leading up and others down. ‘What are they all about? I asked your husband, but he did not explain very much.’
‘Oh, seeing is believing, and strangers don’t need to know nothing about the Mayering, my dear. Just you keep yourself to yourself and stay right out of the way tonight, and there won’t be any harm done, I assure you.’
They came to what proved to be the last short flight of stairs and
