behind the hedge. We heard the clash of her gate and then she reappeared at Miss Mildred’s. She was carrying a tortoise.
‘Henry?’ I said.
‘Yes, the naughty boy! I found him just squeezing back through the bottom of the hedge. I was so afraid he was lost this time. If they stay out till winter, you know, they die.’ The light intense gaze fixed itself on me. ‘So you did come. They were right. I knew it. It’s not always easy to tell, but this time I was sure. You must actually have been on your way at the time. It’s like a miracle.’
Somehow, this was a rather different sort of miracle from Miss Mildred’s. I groped for some kind of sense. ‘What do you mean, Miss Linsey? Who were right?’
I might as well not have spoken. Waving the tortoisevaguely in the direction of the village, she went on, ‘And when Annie Pascoe said you’d got off the train yesterday I felt like saying, “Well, of course,” and if she hadn’t told me I would still have known it had to be you, even though you haven’t been back here for all these years, and you’ve changed so much, a young lady now and so well spoken—’
‘Bella—’ Miss Mildred started a protest, but Miss Linsey was not to be put off. She waved the tortoise at her, but kept her eyes fixed on me. ‘You’re not really at all like your mother, are you?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Oh, I don’t mean to be rude. You’re very good-looking, you must know that, but you’re dark, and she was so fair, really golden, when she was a girl, wasn’t she, Mildred?’
‘Yes, but, Bella, really—’
‘Of course those looks don’t last, but she carries her age very well. I saw her only a few days ago.’
Miss Mildred made a little movement of protest, and I said under my breath, ‘It’s all right,’ adding, aloud, ‘when was this, Miss Linsey?’
‘The other night. I forget. Nights are all the same. People come and go. Some of them are dreams, but some come back in daylight. It’s hard to tell. The man who was with her – I don’t know who that was. He looked like a gipsy. She went away with a gipsy, didn’t she?’ She paused, but not for an answer. There was no shred of malice in look or voice. She gave me a smile, making another large gesture with the long-suffering tortoise. ‘But you mustn’t let it trouble you, my dear.There’s never any need to be afraid of them. The spirits, I mean. Believe me, I know. They only come back if they are lonely, or if they have something to tell you. They never harm anyone.’
‘On the other hand,’ said Miss Mildred, firmly bringing the conversation back to earth, ‘your Henry has been doing quite a lot of harm to my border. I hadn’t noticed till now, but just look down there.’ She pointed to a patch of very pretty dwarf campanula, which certainly showed signs of damage. ‘Look at that! My little blue bells, I call them, and all squashed and nibbled. It must have been Henry, but perhaps the poor little soul was hungry. Why don’t you take him home, Bella, and give him some of that lettuce I gave you, and then come back and have a cup of coffee here? I baked this morning.’
‘Just a minute,’ I said, stooping. Something white showed among the little blue bells, an elongated oval shape, something over an inch long, tucked in among the campanula leaves. I stood up with it in my hand. It was recognisably an egg, though strangely shaped, and with a tough-looking, matt, slightly uneven shell. I held it out on my palm. The two ladies regarded it with curiosity and slight repulsion, the tortoise with indifference.
‘That’s what Henry’s been up to,’ I said. ‘Henrietta. She was laying an egg.’
‘An egg?’ Miss Mildred sounded lost. ‘An egg? But – he’s not a bird. How can he lay an egg?’
‘A reptile. They lay eggs. I saw one like this once before somewhere. It’s a tortoise’s egg.’
Miss Linsey looked from the tortoise to the egg with something like pride. ‘Well, would you
‘Henry?’ I said.
‘Yes, the naughty boy! I found him just squeezing back through the bottom of the hedge. I was so afraid he was lost this time. If they stay out till winter, you know, they die.’ The light intense gaze fixed itself on me. ‘So you did come. They were right. I knew it. It’s not always easy to tell, but this time I was sure. You must actually have been on your way at the time. It’s like a miracle.’
Somehow, this was a rather different sort of miracle from Miss Mildred’s. I groped for some kind of sense. ‘What do you mean, Miss Linsey? Who were right?’
I might as well not have spoken. Waving the tortoisevaguely in the direction of the village, she went on, ‘And when Annie Pascoe said you’d got off the train yesterday I felt like saying, “Well, of course,” and if she hadn’t told me I would still have known it had to be you, even though you haven’t been back here for all these years, and you’ve changed so much, a young lady now and so well spoken—’
‘Bella—’ Miss Mildred started a protest, but Miss Linsey was not to be put off. She waved the tortoise at her, but kept her eyes fixed on me. ‘You’re not really at all like your mother, are you?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Oh, I don’t mean to be rude. You’re very good-looking, you must know that, but you’re dark, and she was so fair, really golden, when she was a girl, wasn’t she, Mildred?’
‘Yes, but, Bella, really—’
‘Of course those looks don’t last, but she carries her age very well. I saw her only a few days ago.’
Miss Mildred made a little movement of protest, and I said under my breath, ‘It’s all right,’ adding, aloud, ‘when was this, Miss Linsey?’
‘The other night. I forget. Nights are all the same. People come and go. Some of them are dreams, but some come back in daylight. It’s hard to tell. The man who was with her – I don’t know who that was. He looked like a gipsy. She went away with a gipsy, didn’t she?’ She paused, but not for an answer. There was no shred of malice in look or voice. She gave me a smile, making another large gesture with the long-suffering tortoise. ‘But you mustn’t let it trouble you, my dear.There’s never any need to be afraid of them. The spirits, I mean. Believe me, I know. They only come back if they are lonely, or if they have something to tell you. They never harm anyone.’
‘On the other hand,’ said Miss Mildred, firmly bringing the conversation back to earth, ‘your Henry has been doing quite a lot of harm to my border. I hadn’t noticed till now, but just look down there.’ She pointed to a patch of very pretty dwarf campanula, which certainly showed signs of damage. ‘Look at that! My little blue bells, I call them, and all squashed and nibbled. It must have been Henry, but perhaps the poor little soul was hungry. Why don’t you take him home, Bella, and give him some of that lettuce I gave you, and then come back and have a cup of coffee here? I baked this morning.’
‘Just a minute,’ I said, stooping. Something white showed among the little blue bells, an elongated oval shape, something over an inch long, tucked in among the campanula leaves. I stood up with it in my hand. It was recognisably an egg, though strangely shaped, and with a tough-looking, matt, slightly uneven shell. I held it out on my palm. The two ladies regarded it with curiosity and slight repulsion, the tortoise with indifference.
‘That’s what Henry’s been up to,’ I said. ‘Henrietta. She was laying an egg.’
‘An egg?’ Miss Mildred sounded lost. ‘An egg? But – he’s not a bird. How can he lay an egg?’
‘A reptile. They lay eggs. I saw one like this once before somewhere. It’s a tortoise’s egg.’
Miss Linsey looked from the tortoise to the egg with something like pride. ‘Well, would you
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