by Midge Cline
“Fete?” Binne asked shyly.
“Yeah, seems like we have one a month.” He laughed. “The people here really like to get together and show off their baked goods and crafted crap.”
“Hi, I’m Colt.” He smiled.
“Binne.” She smiled at the tall, red-blonde boy. “My dad is very happy you decided to come help him.” They were standing on the stoop.
“Would you like to come in?” She stepped back to allow him entrance.
“No.” He said firmly. “I mean, I need to go help my dad. Maybe another time?”
“Yeah, sure.” Binne was disappointed, Colt was the first person her age she had met in the village, she was hoping to make a friend.
“Let me put these in the kitchen and I will come with you.” She said with a smile. He agreed happily.
“We want the dog house here,” Nigel pointed, “and the kennel running all the way out to the big oak tree out there.” He nodded a welcome to the teenagers as they rounded the corner to enter the back side of the house.
“Dad, my wardrobe door is stuck again, if you have time today, can you look at it?” Binne asked as they neared the men.
“Colt can go fix it now.” Tate informed her. “While your dad and I get this started.” Tate turned to his son, “We have a lot to get done today, so don’t dawdle and mind your manners.”
“Yes, Da.” Colt responded respectfully, but Binne saw the nervousness in his eyes.
“Come on, I’ll show you.” She said as they walked back to Tate’s truck to get tools.
“I promise, we don’t bite people once we get them inside.” Binne said with a small laugh, causing a smile to cross Colt’s lips.
“Darn.” He laughed. “Seriously, I have just never been inside the Hall. It has a bit of a history. Haunted and all that.”
“Do you believe it is haunted?” She asked seriously.
“I don’t know, I don’t know if I believe in ghosts or not. I’ve never seen anything. But then I don’t tend to hang out in places they say are haunted.” He explained.
They entered through the main front door and made their way up the stairs to her room.
“Sorry about the chaos, I have quite a bit of sorting still to do.” She apologized for the boxes and mess.
“It’s still neater than my room.” He admitted.
“Okay so this is the door that sticks, it seems to only do it on occasion, but maybe it just needs to be planed or something.” She indicated the small wardrobe where she wanted to hang her clothes. “it opened fine last night, and I put some boxes in there, but today I couldn’t-” she stopped abruptly when he reached over and opened the door without trouble.
“Huh.” Her lips twisted in confusion.
Colt opened and shut the door several times without hindrance, examined the hinges and the door and proclaiming the door was fine he shrugged.
“But.” She began.
“I believe you.” He said. “I think maybe it just stuck. Let me know if it gives you any more trouble and I will look at it again. Does this door stick too?” he asked and stepped across to the walk-in office.
“Wow! That is super cool! What a great idea.”
“Thanks, I am not a big clothes horse, more of a book fiend.” She laughed. “And, I like a quiet place to do homework and stuff.” She explained.
“Me too. I have a set up in an old shed on our property. It is pretty okay, Da put in a pellet stove and I have a sofa and a desk, even my computer and an old T.V.” He confessed. “I like my alone time too.”
“Are there a lot of kids our age in the village?” She asked.
“No, it’s pretty much just you and I and Malcolm Winters. He is 12, his folks own the market. He is a right pain in the arse, but until you, he was the only other kid in the area.” Colt explained. “We go to the school a couple of villages over. It’s okay. There is a bus that will come pick you up and bring you home again. You picked a good time to move here, end of term and all. You have weeks before you have to worry about it.”
“I like school, usually.” She admitted. “But I get nervous around new people.”
“I think that is pretty normal.” Colt said. “I get nervous around new people too.”
She grabbed a coat off her bed and reached for the wardrobe door so she could hang it up. The door was stuck fast. Colt reached for it and it opened easily. Binne hung her head and laughed.
“I guess it just doesn’t like me.”
“No, I think the handle sticks, I think we have another in the truck, I’ll run down and get it. Be right back.” Colt said as he walked out the door.
Binne took the opportunity to straighten up the boxes and other things that were on the floor. By the time that Colt had returned the floor was cleared and there was ample space for him to work on the closet door.
It only took him 15 minutes to replace the handle, he put the old handle in the box the new one had come in and gave it to her.
“This is an antique, it could be very valuable, you may want to give it to your dad.” He told her.
“Thanks.” She smiled.
“Binneeeeeeeeee!” Her mother’s voice called from the floor below.
“Coming!” She called back as she ran down the stairs.
“Hi Colt, happy to meet you. I made some cold lemonade and some sandwiches for the guys; can you and Colt take them out to them for me please?” Gwynn asked, indicating the tray on the kitchen table.
“Sure, mum.” Binne smiled as Colt grabbed the tray and she opened the door to the back garden for him.
“You did not have to provide us with lunch, very kind.” Tate told Nigel. When the tray appeared with the teenagers.
“My wife believes that she can end world hunger, one stomach at a time. She gets great joy from feeding people.” Nigel told him with a friendly laugh. “She will be utterly offended if you turn it down. She can’t bake worth a darn, but she can cook just about anything.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Tate laughed. “I think my wife has that same philosophy.”
Binne set out a blanket over the grass and everyone took a seat to eat their lunch.
“Okay, so tell me a bit about the local tales of our house, please.” Binne asked. “Chip seemed friendly until he learned where we live, then he got weird. I know Colt said it had a reputation of being haunted or whatever.”
“Chip is an old fool, but sadly, not any more of a fool than anyone else around here. About 600 years ago a young Duke’s sister went missing in the middle of the night from here. Her brother claimed the Lord who lived here had done something to her. They ended up having a duel with swords and both died as a result. And before that, there was a series of vanishings, mostly village kids. At least, according to legend.” Tate told them around mouthfuls of food. “Folks say they see ghosts wandering the halls of the house, and the grounds. The Duke looking for his sister they say.”
“The real estate agent said that no one has lived here in about a decade, what happened to them? I’m not complaining, we got the place for one hell of a price. Just curious.” Nigel had finished his food and was lighting a cigarette.
“The Coleman’s bought the place, looking to turn it into a health nut spa or hotel or something. They lasted about 3 months, before the wife and son showed up in town crying and making a scene. Said the husband had been attacked by the ghosts and was trapped. Sure enough, when we came up, he was trapped in the tower. He had spooked himself somehow while he was working and took a tumble down the steps. He was out cold against the door, which is why she could not open the tower door, nor get him to answer. When we got him out and awake he said he was working on some damn thing up there and heard what sounded like whispering behind him. He turned and found nothing, but felt like someone pushed him hard, and he went down the steps. The wife claimed they had a bunch of crap happen before that. They have been trying to sell the place ever since.” Tate told them. “I have to say the village wasn’t sorry to see the back sides of them, the
y complained about everything. The roads, the lack of shopping, even the weather.”
“Well, let’s hope the village doesn’t dislike us.” Binne laughed.
“So far, I think you are okay, but you might want to remember that you are outsiders, anyone not born here is an outsider for life. Hell, Binne’s grandchildren will still be outsiders. They are a traditional bunch of fools, and a superstitious bunch at that.” Having finished eating, he rose, “Let’s get this job done, I’ve got to figure out how to get the Finnegans well pump to work this afternoon.”
“Let me know if you need help with that…” Nigel offered. “I’m pretty good with wells and hydraulics and I do not mind getting dirty.”
“Careful what you offer, Morgan. I might just take you up on it.” Tate laughed.
****
“So, they seem normal then?” Tate’s wife asked as they sat for dinner.
“Actually, yeah. You and Gwynn will get along fine. She likes to cook and sew. And she writes those historical love stories you like so much for a living. Nigel worked construction through university and is an anthropologist for the government. Knows his business too. The girl is smart, and her and Colt seemed to get along just fine.” Tate told her as he dipped thick slabs of brown bread into his bowl of stew.
“Yeah, she seems okay.” Colt told his mother. “Likes to read and digs history stuff.”
“We are meeting them at the fete, going to introduce them around and show them around the village.” Tate said. “I thought maybe you could invite them to church if you like them.”
Bonnie Brooks smiled, it had been a long time since she had seen her husband make a connection with another man his own age. Of course, that could be because there were few people in the village who weren’t retired and elderly. Well, there were the Winters, but that man was just an ass.
****
Binne Morgan sat in the small office-closet in her bedroom, working on her essay entry for an internet contest she had entered. A knock on her door drew her attention.
“Binne,” Her mother called through the doorway. “Colt is downstairs.”
“Colt is here?” Binne seemed surprised, she capped her pen, ran a hand through her hair and followed her mother to the main hall.
“Hey, Binne.” Colt greeted her. “Malcolm and I are headed to the fete to help set up I thought maybe you would like to come along, we could use the spare hands, and introduce you to some kids from the next village.”
Binne looked at her mother hopefully, who nodded her approval and planned as to when and where they would meet.
“Sure, let me just grab a sweater and slip some shoes on.” Binne smiled and wiggled her toes inside her Scooby Doo slippers.
****
Colt and Binne walked along the gravel lane to the bottom of the hill where they were met by Malcolm Winters.
Malcolm was as short as Colt was tall and as pudgy as Colt was muscular.
“Hey, I’m Malcolm.” He said with a nod. “And you are Beanie?”
“Bin-Nee.” She corrected his pronunciation. “Nice, to meet you.”
“Millie and Harry will meet us in the rectory, and we will walk over to the field from there.” Malcolm told them.
Millie and Harry turned out to be identical 17-year-old twin girls, identical in appearance, but in neither dress, nor personality. Millicent and Harriet Truman.
Millie Truman wore a simple sundress and sandals, and a matching sunhat. Her long blonde hair, in pony tails on the side of her head, fell to below her waist. She was in stark contrast to Harry, short, sporty haircut, denim capris, sweat shirt and Nikes.
“You really live in THAT house?” Millie exclaimed loudly. “Positively ghastly.”
“It hasn’t been the slightest bit ghastly. ” Binne assured her.
“Never mind her, she is a major drama queen.” Harry said around a mouthful of apple. “She has never even been near the old Hall. Colt has been closest and that has just been in the last week. No one goes up there because of the stories.”
“I’ve not heard the stories.” Binne told her. “Share some?”
“So, like 5 or 6 centuries ago, a young nun vanishes from the house in the middle of the night. Her brother was a Duke or something and accused the Lord of the Hall of killing her. They got into a sword fight over it and both ended up dying. They say the ghosts of all three of them haunt the place.” Millie’s eyes filled with romantic mooning, causing Harry’s eyes to roll back into her head.
“There have been many sightings over the years. People say they can see the ghost of the Duke roaming the grounds, searching for her in the night, while the evil Lord tries to protect his secrets.” Millie popped a couple of almonds in her mouth. “but the scariest is the nun, people say they can hear her crying for help in the darkness, and the sound of her clawing at the walls in desperation. Nell Hjorteson’s brother told me his ex-girlfriend’s uncle and friends were up there one Halloween in the 60’s and heard the sounds of sword fighting, says it is as true as can be.” Millie turned to her, “So, what have you seen? Heard any ghosties in the house late at night?”
“Honestly, nothing, not a damn thing.” Binne admitted. “Not, that I have been looking or listening.”
“I bet we have this same chat next month and you sing a different tune.”
They spent the remainder of the morning setting up canopies, tables and booths for the fete.
“You do this every month?” Binne asked with surprise.
“Only in the spring and summer.” Millie answered. “Once it gets cold out they move into the church basement. They all set up their own tables, and there is a dance floor and stage already set up. And they mostly just sell food and knits.”
“And they don’t have the races and competitions and stuff.” Malcolm told her. “They are nowhere near as much fun as the warm weather events.”
Nigel and Gwynn caught up with Binne and her new friends sitting in the grass eating strawberry scones they had been given for their hard work.
“Sorry we are late.” Nigel smiled, “But the dining room is freshly painted. Should be mostly dry by the time we find our way home again. Did you get everything set up?”
“Yeah, and Mrs. Claymore-”
“Clayborn.” Colt corrected.
“Sorry, Clayborn, gave us some treats and tea.” Binne held up her half-eaten scone. “And there is so much food being sold here today, we don't even have to cook dinner tonight.”
“We are going to see the booths and stalls and buy stuff we do not need and watch some of the events, care to join us?”
Binne glanced at Colt, “Do we have anything left to do?”
“No, you are good.” Millie answered. “Harry and I are headed over to grandmother’s, we promised her some chowder and a new book. Text me later.”
Colt joined them and introduced them to several people before they came to the booth the Brooks had set up to sell venison stew and homemade bread.
“Mrs. Brooks.” Gwynn exclaimed with joy after biting into a thick slab of bread smothered in black currant jam. “This is just heavenly! You have such skill with food.”
“Please, call me Bonnie.” Bonnie Brooks was a pleasingly plump woman with sandy brown hair and amber eyes. Her broad toothy smile was warm and honest.
“And thank you for the kind words. The bread sells well in the mornings, and I gain quite a few orders for the week. But the stew will sell out fast this afternoon.” Bonnie explained.
A large crowd of women came up to the booth, Gwynn slid to Bonnie’s side of the long table and began handing out bread and jam in exchange for cash. Just as the mini rush ended, Gwynn noticed her new friends jaw set in determination and a hopeful smile. Following her gaze, Gwynn found the cause. Three long tour buses had parked in the lot, between them 90 or so athletes had emerged, hungry looking athletes.
“The Gods have brought us football players to save the farm.” Bonnie whispered.
Gwynn looked around and realized that Bon
nie was alone in the booth. She turned to her husband and smiled. Nigel smiled, kissed the top of her head and told them to have a good day as he and his daughter wandered into the crowd.
Gwynn pulled her sleeves up and grabbed a dishcloth. There were four small plastic tables set up around the booth and Gwynn set about wiping them down. She finished just as the large crowd arrived at the small booth. The next several hours were a blur, she told Nigel later, so many hungry footballers, Colt and Tate had come by and set up a couple of gas cookers so more strew could be warmed. They ran out of bread quickly, and spent the afternoon spooning soup into disposable cups and bowls, with smiles on their faces.
Nigel and Binne spent the afternoon quite differently, laden with purchases they wandered the booths at the fete, Binne bought a new lamp for her closet-office, Nigel found an old sexton he could put on a shelf in his office. Then they saw the quilt table. Binne stood staring at the hanging wonder with wide open eyes and her mouth ajar.
“Dad.’ She whispered, needlessly as he was already beside her, staring.
The enormous quilt was a soft dusky cream color with a solid black and dark gray border made to look like ancient stones and dark green shrubbery. In the center of the hand stitched quilt lived a delicate needlework replica of Wyndham Hall in the darkness of night, the moon risen above the tower like a guardian. The figure of a woman in a white, flowing dress standing in the doorway.
“How much?” Nigel asked, he didn’t even think twice about the price as he wrote the woman a cheque.
“Well, I’ll tell ya, I never thought the damn thing would sell.” The woman told her daughter beside her after Binne and her father had left. “It was dark and creepy when ya Gram made it the year before last. It still is.”
“Ma, those are the people who bought the place, Malcolm pointed them out to me earlier. They live there.” Her daughter informed her.
“Damn fools.” Her mother whispered.
Nigel and Binne carried their prized purchase to the woodworking booth where they could see Tate talking to a short, square shaped man.
After a short conversation with Tate and his friend, Nigel ordered a display rack to allow them to hang the quilt on the wall. It was agreed that it would be completed and delivered to the old Hall later in the week. Nigel decided he would need a box or something to keep it in when it was not to be displayed, not to mention he needed an attractive way to present it to his wife. Tate suggested a wood box, simple and plain. After much discussion, Nigel ordered a small chest for the quilt, the words “Morgan Family, Wyndham Hall” to be carved into the lid. Tate would deliver it when it was finished. Binne and Nigel plotted where they would keep the quilt hidden until Gwynn’s birthday the following month. They hid the quilt in the car and spent their time wandering around the rest of the booths at the fete, watched the relay races and football game before they returned, laden with parcels, to collect Gwynn at the Brook’s booth.
