Shasta Summer

by Teresa Geering

  Hearing that, Merlin twitched his tail, stuck his head in the air and walked over to the wicker chair. Jumping up, he circled the cushions a couple of times and then lay down. As May put his breakfast dish on to the floor, he jumped down again and ran over to it. Pouring herself another cup of coffee, May came and sat at the table with Summer.

  “When you’ve finished your breakfast, Summer, I’ll wash and dry the dishes, if you will make your bed for me, please. Then we can take that walk down to the village.”

  “Yes, please, Aunt. That would be lovely.”

  “I’m really going to enjoy having you here to stay, Summer. You’ll be company for Snoops and me. I hope you won’t be too bored”.

  “I’m sure I won’t be, Aunt,” and she realised she meant it.

  Leaving her aunt to wash the dishes, she went into her bedroom to make her bed.

  As she passed her aunt's bedroom, the door was open and she couldn’t resist looking inside. It was almost identical to her room, except the colours were different, brighter somehow. Taking a chance, Summer peered round behind the door. There was an altar with a white cloth covering it, a bit like in the churches. In a vase were fresh flowers of all kinds, but mostly deep red in colour. In the middle of the altar was a dark green scarf with several brown leaves, twigs and stones, also a rather large brown book on which was written in gold ‘The Eye of Erasmus’. She was tempted to touch it, but something held her back. No, not now, she thought. To one side were several candles in different colours. At either end of the altar were two brass candlesticks with a brown candle in each that had been used. Also there was a lovely smell about the room which reminded her of the garden.

  Suddenly realising that she was trespassing, she backed out of the room and trod on the cat which let out a horrible screech. Bending down, she stroked him and he began to purr. Telling him she was sorry, she made her way to her bedroom.

  The cat jumped up and sat in the middle of the bed.

  “Snoops, I can’t make the bed if you are sitting in the middle. Will you get off please?”

  The cat, obviously deciding to play, stretched himself to his full length and just lay there. Summer laughed and tickled his tummy which made him purr even more.

  “SNOOPS get off the bed, please, and let Summer make it.”

  He complained, but duly jumped off and went out towards the kitchen in disgust.

  Summer hadn’t heard her aunt come up behind her and it made her jump.

  “I’m sorry to have made you jump, but that cat thinks he owns the cottage sometimes. Here, let me go on the other side and we’ll make the bed between us.”

  Once the bed was made and the windows were opened to air the room, Aunt May collected an oblong wicker basket from the kitchen and they made their way into the village. As they walked up the path, Summer's aunt bent down to cup several flowers under the petals, praising them for their beauty.

  “Do you talk to all your plants, Aunt May?”

  “Yes, of course. They like to be told how pretty they are. They will reward you by growing even more beautiful.”

  “I never thought of that,” Summer said.

  Although Summer had her own little garden at home, she only weeded round the flowers when she felt like it, giving it a bit of a dig with a trowel. Giles, the gardener, always did any heavy work.

  “There’s so much I need to learn about growing flowers, Aunt. My father was right. Can I help you with your garden and perhaps you will help me to learn about the different flowers?”

  “It will be my pleasure, Summer. If it isn’t too hot after lunch we will make a start then.”

  As they started off down the road, Summer started to get that excited feeling back again. Things were going really well. There was no reason for her to feel bored at all.

  Walking through the village, many people stopped to say hello, and each time Aunt May introduced Summer. Sometimes people would just call from the other side of the road, saying things like, “Hello, May. My back is much better now, thanks to your potion”, or “My sore throat has gone, May. The herbs really worked”.

  “What are they talking about, Aunt May, and what is a potion?”

  “Hush, child, I’ll explain when we get home. Now let’s go into this shop and get some shopping.”

  “Aren’t we going to the supermarket, Aunt?”

  Aunt May started to laugh, which sounded just like bells tinkling.

  “Goodness no, my lovely, we don’t have a supermarket here in Shasta. Anything we want we can buy in this shop.”

  As Summer pushed open the door, her aunt followed her in. It seemed very dark at first but, after a while, Summer's eyes adjusted. On one long counter were many jars of all sorts of different jams and marmalades. Standing in two of the corners were bran tubs. On closer inspection, Summer noted that they contained mostly tins of fruit. They were cushioned on layers of sawdust, presumably to stop them getting dented. They reminded Summer of a lucky dip where it was pot luck as to what you pulled out. Not a problem, she supposed, if you had plenty of time to spare. Along the wall were tall freezers with frozen goods. So, no, she supposed the village didn’t really need a supermarket.

  Having decided what they wanted, Aunt May packed the goods in her basket, paid the shopkeeper and they were out in the bright sunshine again. Summer suddenly realised she had forgotten to put any sun cream on her skin and her arms were starting to go a bit red. Summer was sure her nose would be burnt too.

  “Shall we get a cool drink, Summer, before we start back?”

  “Oh, yes please, Aunt. That would be nice.”

  “Come on, then,” she said. “Let’s go over there in the shade.”

  It was a bit like the teashops Summer had visited with her parents whilst on holiday in Devon. While her aunt went inside to get their drinks, Summer sat down at a table set under a tree. As she looked around towards the village green opposite, she suddenly had a mental picture of people dancing to music. They weren’t dressed in the current fashion, more like you saw in the history books in the library at school. How very odd, thought Summer, as the image vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. She wondered what people did here in the summer and why there weren’t many children either.

  Aunt May came out carrying two glasses of orange juice which had ice cubes floating in the top.

  “Thank you, Aunt. I haven’t noticed many children here. Where are they all?”

  “Quite a few of the village children go away to school and they don’t finish for another week yet.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Summer.

  “Next week the village celebrates Shasta Day. All the people of the village get together on the green. We have music with Morris dancers, food and drink, and just enjoy ourselves. Very soon the villagers will start putting up the maypole again, but this time they will choose a Shasta Queen instead of a May Queen.

  “Why is it called Shasta Day, Aunt?”

  “Well, my lovely, Shasta was a travelling woman who lived many years ago. She would turn up in a village, spend some time there, and then move on. When she arrived here it wasn’t a very welcoming place. The people were a bit frightened of her because she had very long blonde hair which was worn in a plait like mine. Blonde hair was unusual then, as nearly everyone had brown or black hair. Mostly they just kept their distance from her. As she travelled through the village, everywhere she went there seemed to be weeds growing. The flowers had all died. One day she went into the back of her caravan, which was painted in beautiful rich colours, and brought out a large black cooking pot with three legs. Curiosity got the better of the villagers and they started to gather round to see what she was doing. Inside the pot she placed a selection of herbs and seed pods that looked very dried up. Then, gathering up a few twigs, she lit a small fire underneath the pot. After a while, a very strange but pleasant smell came from the pot and it seemed to have a hypnotic effect on the villagers. Nodding their head in approval, they were happy just to sit in silence watching. Su
ddenly, Shasta began to hum quietly to herself whilst stirring the contents of the pot with a stick which had been lying nearby. One by one the villagers joined in the humming and took it in turns to stir the pot. Eventually, as the night sky began to lighten into a new dawn, Shasta held up her hand for silence.

  ‘“My friends,” she said, “each of you will take one seed pod from the pot. When you open it, you will see inside two seeds. You must plant one seed in the hedgerow and one seed in your garden. Each seed will be different. This should be done at sunset tonight.”

  “So each villager did as she asked. The following morning, in each garden and every hedgerow, a new flower had grown where each weed had been. The villagers were so happy to see so many pretty flowers, they asked Shasta to stay in the village and named it after her. In celebration, they all gathered on the green that night. All the women and maidens wore garlands of flowers with leaves in their hair and danced with the men and boys. Ale flowed freely and they talked and danced from sunset until the following morning.”

  “What a lovely story, Aunt.”

  “And that is why so many Shasta daisies grow in the village. Those are Shasta daisies there, my child, and there and there. Now let’s get back with the shopping and see what Snoops has been up to.”

  With the shopping put away, Aunt May offered to show Summer how to make lemonade, which turned out to be very easy. It was just the juice of fresh lemons, some sugar, mint from the garden, then with one secret ingredient added. Usually Summer would have insisted on knowing what the secret ingredient was but, here in the village, it didn’t seem to matter very much. Summer was learning to accept whatever her aunt told her without asking too many questions. Summer was then given a choice of spending the afternoon lazing in the garden or of walking around with her Aunt and learning some of the plants’ names. She decided to laze in the garden.

  “Very well, Summer, on condition that you wear your sun hat and lots of sun cream.”

  “Ok, Aunt,” she said.

  Although her aunt’s garden was much disorganised, it had lots of trees and bushes that provided shade. Summer chose to sit under one of the trees. As she lay on her back, she started to doze. Suddenly she heard voices coming from behind the honeysuckle bush. She recognised her aunt’s voice, but there was also a male voice that she didn’t recognise. Had she got a visitor, she wondered?

  The voice was speaking again now.

  “Unless we do something about her red hair, May, Summer will keep burning in the sun.”

  “I agree,” said her aunt.

  Curiosity finally got the better of her, and Summer edged closer to the honeysuckle bush. Making a small opening between the leaves, she peered through. She could only see her aunt and Snoops, so to whom was she talking?

  “I think the best thing is for us to suggest we change it to blonde for Shasta Day, Merlin. After all, she will be the Shasta Queen.”

  “Right,” said Merlin.

  Summer sat back on her heels and thought about what she had just seen and heard. She was eight and three quarters, which meant nearly nine. That was nearly grown up, and the following year she would be in double figures. Her mother always told everyone. “Summer is a very sensible child with a screwed on head.”

  But she had just witnessed a cat talking. Summer knew she hadn’t imagined it.

  Summer was bubbling with excitement. Imagine being able to talk with a cat, and why had Aunt called him Merlin? Why was she going to be the Shasta Queen, and how did they know that? So many questions...

  As Summer crept forward, her aunt and the cat rose to go in. She followed them at a distance. Her aunt was standing by the back door and Snoops was curled up in the swing seat.

  “Hello, Summer,” she said. “Did you have a nice sleep in the garden?”

  “Yes, thank you. Well no, not really. I thought I heard Snoops talking to you.”.

  “Well, yes, of course he does. In fact all cats talk to their keepers.”

  “But I mean talking in a human voice,” Summer replied.

  “Oh, I see,” said Aunt May.

  Scooping Snoops up in her arms, she sat on the swing seat and patted the space beside her for Summer to sit with her. As Summer sat down, she began stroking the cat in a gentle rhythm.

  “Well, child, I see you have discovered our secret, so I had better tell you the story. Many years ago, Merlin - yes that is his real name – was a young boy about your age. He was trying out different spells with his master and, by accident, he was turned into a cat. Try as he might, his master couldn’t find a spell to reverse it. So, ever since then, he has had to live life as a cat. He has used up his nine lives many times and lived with many families through the ages, so when I came home one day and he was sitting on my doorstep, I invited him to live with me. When he felt he could trust me, he told me his story. I feel very privileged to have him living with me now. As you are also very special, Summer, we are now entrusting you with our secret.”

  “Thank goodness,” said Merlin, “now I won’t have to do any more of that silly meowing any more.”

  With that both, Summer and her aunt started laughing out loud.

  Merlin noticed that Summer had the same tinkling laughter that May had. How very interesting, he thought.

  Chapter 4

  George and Iris Backer had a smooth trip across the channel, and the drive through to Holland had been reasonably straight forward. George would never get used to driving on the 'wrong' side of the road, though.

  He and Iris were a bit concerned about leaving Summer with May. Although they knew she would be well looked after, they were more worried about the impression May would make on Summer with her herb potions. Yes, in their eyes, she was a bit eccentric - the way she dressed, for example, and her hair. Who wore their hair that length at May's age? Not one woman that George could recall. However, he still considered May to be a good-looking woman.

  Still, he couldn’t worry about that at the moment. His manager, Henney, had sounded quite desperate when he phoned. Very soon he would know first hand how much damage the vandals had done. When he pulled into the garden centre, Henney was there waiting for him.

  “George and Iris, welcome. Did you have a good trip?” Henney asked in fluent English.

  “Yes, yes, thanks,” said George. “How bad is it, Henney?” he asked, getting straight to the point.

  “As bad as it could possibly be,” Henney replied. “The vandals just ran amok among the new experimental plants, hacking with knives at everything in sight. Then, with the rain, everything got soaked and it’s all just lying in the muddy ground. Thank goodness most of our plants were in the greenhouses.”

  “I can’t see our sponsors coming up with any more money at the moment for our experiments,” George said

  They had been trying various methods of grafting different plants and had achieved some success, but that was all ruined now.

  “What do the local police say, Henney” asked Iris who had been standing very quiet during this exchange.

  “They have no idea, I’m afraid. Several patrols have been keeping an eye out for us, but no luck so far,” Henney replied despondently.

  “Well there’s nothing we can do at the moment, so we‘ll go on up to the house, if that’s ok with you, Henney?” George said, starting the car again for the short drive.

  “Yes, of course, make yourself at home. Lisa is there,” Henney replied in his usual hale and hearty manner.

  When the Backers came over to Holland, they always stayed with Henney and his wife. Henney met Lisa on a visit to England. They fell in love and had married within a few months.

  Whilst unpacking the cases, Iris began to think about her sister May. They were different in so many ways, almost chalk and cheese at times. She sincerely hoped that May wasn’t undoing all the good that she had done with Summer.

  Chapter 5

  Summer lay in bed thinking about what her aunt had said about Snoops, or 'Merlin' as she should call him now. He had ve
ntured to the bottom of her bed and was curled up by her feet asleep. Having him on the bed was strangely comforting to her and, with that thought in her head, she drifted into sleep.

  Well I don’t have to do any more silly meowing, thought Merlin, and I‘m finally with my mistress Shasta. With a deep sigh, he also drifted off to sleep.

  In the next room, May lay quietly thinking about all that had happened during the day. It made her life easier knowing that Summer knew about Merlin. For a child of her age, she seemed to accept the strange news very well. Now the only problem was how to explain to Summer about Queen Abelia, and how they should meet. If necessary, she would do one of her spells. She would have to do one soon to turn Summer’s hair blonde. Down in Faery Cove, everything red got burnt and she couldn’t risk Summer going there with red hair. Oh well, that could wait until the morning. Then she too drifted into sleep.

  On waking the following morning, May decided to brew herself some camomile tea. It always calmed her and cleared her mind. Whilst drinking her tea, May absentmindedly fingered her Chakra necklace, and then, calmly placing her right index finger over her third eye in the middle of her forehead, she waited for inspiration. It had never let her down before, but then this situation was so different. May finished her tea and took the cup over to the sink. The answer would come to her eventually.

  “Good morning, Aunt”.

  “Goodness.” She hadn’t heard the child behind her and she was momentarily startled. It must be something to do with the gibbous moon. She disliked the time between the new and full moon, it was most disconcerting. Recovering herself, she said, “Good morning, my lovely. Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes, thank you,” said Summer brightly.

  While Summer was eating her breakfast, May ventured to ask, “Do you like the colour of your hair, Summer?”

  “Well, I don’t really mind it. It’s just that with red hair the sun burns my skin so much.”