Mystery at Meadowbank Cottage An original story written and performed by Stephanie Poppins Music by my brother John Miles Carter Chapter 11 Tuesday St Clair rifled through the many papers in front of her,
The hot steam from her morning coffee rising into the air around.
She was sitting in the kitchen of Meadowbank Cottage looking at the deeds to the house.
She had not had time to look at them before,
But now the lodges were fully booked and the paperwork in place,
She decided to take a well-deserved break and go through everything she'd been speaking of with old Tom Bucket.
Checking the documents,
She read the old building had been built in 1683.
It was constructed for the local yeoman and his family,
Just grand enough to be set apart from the smaller dwellings the farmhands lived in on the other side of the village,
But far humbler than Jonathan Green's huge farmhouse.
From what Tuesday had learned from Tom,
Jonathan's mother had been the one to name her cottage,
Meadowbank.
Built with thick walls of sandstone,
Whitewashed inside and out,
It had a steeply pitched roof thatched with wheat straw that overhung the walls generously to keep the worst of the weather off.
The more time that passed,
The harder and faster Tuesday fell in love with it.
This cottage had real soul and it was part of Leighton Lane,
So by default she was too.
To Tuesday's surprise,
The name in the early entries of the deeds wasn't a family name,
It was a title.
It read,
Keeper of Leighton Lane.
This made her smile and it suited her perfectly.
By default,
She was the new Keeper of Leighton Lane.
Everything was finally slotting into place and she wasn't daunted by such a prospect.
She was really excited because now she had a purpose,
One that went beyond her own self-serving needs.
It was her responsibility as the owner of Meadowbank Cottage to make sure any actions taken that might impact those living in the lane would not affect anyone else.
That included the sheep,
The rabbits,
The trees,
The birds,
Not to mention Jonathan Green.
This title was just what she needed,
The perfect excuse to hold Jed Norman to account over his actions regarding the stream that ran down to where they lived.
She would certainly be wielding it over him if ever he saw fit to interfere with the water again.
Since her spell,
The water had been remarkably clear,
But Tuesday St Clair didn't put anything past Jed Norman.
I'll use this ammo in my mission,
She said out loud.
But wasn't this ridiculous?
Protecting the wildlife was one thing,
But setting a mission to protect Jonathan Green was another.
He was a giant of a man,
He didn't need protecting,
Did he?
Even though there had been an altercation late last night in the local pub.
And then this morning,
The cartload of mature that was dumped in the lane was still creating problems.
Things between these two men were beginning to get out of hand.
But now with his new title,
The Keeper of Latent Lane,
Tuesday St Clair had reason to back him up.
She had reaped the benefits of her last spell and received no more unwanted gifts,
And she would now step in as an ally to Jonathan,
Jed's enemy.
What was the saying?
Two heads were better than one,
And this way they could work together again.
She'd missed him since the work on the lodges was finished,
And Tuesday wasn't too proud to admit it had been very nice having a handsome man around the place.
Even if there was still a large elephant between them.
When they were busy with the lodges,
There had been no time to sit back and discuss the past.
But things were different now.
And Tuesday had made up her mind she needed to move on,
To put all that behind her.
She was not too proud to admit Jonathan Green was on her mind day and night.
To Tuesday he was the perfect man,
The kind of frame built through years of honest,
Quiet labour.
Not picture perfect,
But strong.
His hands were large and weathered,
Calloused from fence posts and hay bales,
But they were surprisingly gentle when they needed to be,
Especially when dealing with his animals.
And there was a steadiness about the man that came from knowing exactly what the land asked of him.
How different he was to the couch potato that was her ex-boyfriend Robert Schafe.
Where Robert was clean-shaven,
Jonathan's jaw was often shadowed with stubble.
Where Robert had eyes for nothing but a TV screen,
Jonathan's warm gaze matched his slow,
Unhurried smile whenever he saw her.
And he was wonderful with his animals,
Patient and kind.
He had time for the world for Tuesday,
And in return she had time for him.
Old Tom and his sister Sissy seemed to think he was the second coming.
Since Colleen left,
They'd been dropping off firewood,
Fixing the fences he didn't have time for,
And telling him the same old stories they'd told him time and time again over the years.
Jonathan,
They said,
Was like the son neither of them had ever had.
Far too busy working on the farm,
Said Tom,
And his sister Sissy agreed,
Having spent her life alone.
Tuesday considered her options.
As each day progressed,
She was transforming into the person she had always been destined to become.
Meadowbank Cottage was magic.
That was a fact.
And Tuesday wanted that magic to travel down the lane and bring Jonathan Green back home to her.
It didn't matter he jilted her all those years ago.
He certainly paid the price for that with Colleen.
But it was time for new beginnings now.
Not that there was any hurry.
She would have to be patient.
He was probably still smarting from how badly that woman had treated him.
Getting up from her favourite armchair,
Tuesday placed the deeds back on the old wooden dresser.
This was yet another thing that had come with the cottage.
She had old Mother Green's beautiful crockery that she used daily,
And her metal cauldron every time she learned a new spell.
But this dresser was different.
It didn't have an ornate swirl,
Or a fine paint mark on it.
It was a sturdy,
Solid,
Almost ugly piece of furniture with hard edges,
And it had refused to be moved when she and her brother Justin had tried to clear the place.
Even the two removal men had developed sudden violent headaches,
They said,
When they tried.
So the dresser was here to stay.
Tuesday tugged open the wide stiff drawer,
Heavy and stubborn,
Cedar-lined.
Inside,
Wrapped in oilcloth,
Was a hand-stitched book,
Holding many pressings of wildflowers.
Tuesday hadn't wanted to remove that,
Or in fact touch anything that might upset the status quo.
But she had to put the papers back somewhere.
Pushing her spellbook aside,
And the various receipts she'd collected since moving in,
She placed the deeds between the pictures of her late mother and father.
This was to be one of those essential drawers used for nothing and everything,
She decided.
For notes and accounts,
And anything special enough to be hidden,
Yet brought out at a moment's notice.
The only other thing special enough to belong here was the tin box she'd dug up in the garden,
With Jonathan's initials on it.
She knew this was something really special,
The key to what Jonathan had wanted most in the world all those years ago.
This was a mystery she'd long since wanted to solve,
But Tuesday knew this box was not hers to open.
It must be opened by the man himself,
And maybe,
Just maybe,
If she was the one to reunite him with it,
It might just bring them closer together.
It was certainly as good a reason as any to go a-visiting to the big farmhouse at the end of the lane.
Yes,
She decided,
That was what she would do.
She would go and visit Jonathan,
And tell him all about her new title,
The Keeper of Latent Lane,
With the intention of finding out exactly what was in the box.
And then,
When all was revealed,
She would discover at last the one thing Jonathan Green desired most in the world.
