Lizzie

Lizzie slept like a baby and woke up to the smell of coffee. She had a quick shower before dressing and going downstairs, and she had a great breakfast, talking to the lady of the house. Her husband was out; he worked as a volunteer in the next village, and this was one of his days.

After brushing her teeth and stowing the few loose things in her rucksack, Lizzie took leave of her hostess and went out into the morning. Life was really great, and a place to stay like this one made it even more so! She made a mental note to write a jubilant review on their site once she was home again.

Her walk led her through some fields and copses first, and then it led her on to an asphalt road for a mile and a half. She didn't like that too much, but the scenery was nice and there was very little traffic, so it wasn't too bad. And then, suddenly, it rounded a corner in a copse, and when she came out of it she saw the most breathtakingly beautiful packhorse bridge she'd ever seen. The road crossed the river there, and behind the bridge there was the small hamlet she'd noticed on the map that morning. It was really small, just a few houses and a church, but it must be very old and it was very well kept. It looked to her as if she was walking straight into an edition of Midsomer Murders or some such programme, and she stopped dead in her tracks to take in the view. There was a pub just past the bridge that looked as if King Charles might have stayed there, in some beautifully weathered red brick with a low thatched roof, and a small perpendicular church behind it. The sunlight drew sparkles on the river and she almost gasped.

She took out her drawing material and started to work. Wow, but this was beautiful, truly and awesomely beautiful. She sketched the place from a lot of angles on both sides of the river, and she made two detailed drawings of the pub. It took her the better part of an hour before she was satisfied, and then she shouldered her backpack again and tried the door of the pub. Closed, just as she'd thought. Oh well, never mind. Perhaps she could come back here some time or other...

The rest of that day's walk was quite uneventful. It was a longish stretch and she arrived at the next village rather late. When she neared it there was a big sign by the side of the road saying, "Welcome to the esoterica festival!" She looked at the dates - it would start that night.

She quickened her step. It probably meant that there were a lot of people rolling in, so it might be more difficult to find a place to stay than she had counted on.

VII

Daniel Goulden pulled up at the kerb in front of Jeannie's B&B. Jeannie Tomlinson and her husband Tom loved singing, and Jeannie played the autoharp, and Dan hoped they would feel like coming to the Horse and Hounds to play at the folk night. They loved playing but he knew they often missed that kind of thing. When he went into the front room, where Jeannie and Tom received their guests, he didn't find anyone there but a smallish, rather dusty woman, who was half sitting on a stool with a rucksack at her feet.

"Hello," she said. "Are you also looking for a place to stay?"

Dan shook his head. "No," he said, "I've come on a social visit. I was hoping to get Jeannie and Tom to come and play in the pub tonight. Er, are you here to join the esoterica do?"

The woman shook her head. "Oh no. Not my cup of tea," she said. "I'd rather go and listen in the pub." She smiled at Dan. She had a great smile, he thought.

"So you will be here tonight? The evening starts at 8:00. All amateurs, but nice enough."

"I don't know. The place is full up, and Mrs Tomlinson is trying to find another place for me." She pulled a face. "I'm doing the riverwalk, and I had planned to stay here for two nights to make a detour to visit the Cathedral. I'm afraid I may have to go to the end of the walk tonight. I hadn't expected that all these vague, esoteric people would be swarming the village."

"You've nearly finished your walk, haven't you?"

"Yes. It's sad I may not be able to complete it... I'd promised myself I would, one day."

Dan nodded. "It's usually rather quiet here," he said. "You seem to be really out of luck. I don't know..." He tried to think of a solution when Jeannie came into the room.

"I'm sorry, love," she said. "I've called all addresses in the neighbourhood, but they are all full up. I've never known it so busy."

The woman's face fell. "Oh dear," she said. "That is a disappointment. I had hoped so much to complete the walk this time." She smiled a little sadly. "Maybe a third time if I can still walk then. Do you think I could find a place in town?"

Jeannie looked at her dubiously. "I'm not so sure, I'm afraid. But I guess it's the best you can try."

"So how can I get there? Will there be a bus still?"

Jeannie shook her head. "Not really. At eleven thirty, but that is far too late to find accommodation. You'd have to try and take a taxi, if we can get you one."

The woman seemed to lose all her vitality. Dan saw her shoulders sag, and she looked suddenly very tired. It must be a horrible idea to end your holiday like that, he thought - and somehow he felt it was more than a holiday.

"You don't just like walking, do you? There is something more to it."

She heaved a big sigh. "I tried once before with my late husband," she said. "But his father had an accident when we were halfway, so we couldn't finish it."

"So it's a sort of pilgrimage."

"Yes. A very nice one."

Dan nodded. "Still, it ought to be completed. Look, if you don't mind coming along to the pub first, you can crash at my place. I have a spare room and you could have a meal in the pub tonight - they serve quite decent food."

He saw her face light up as if the sun broke through the clouds. "Are you sure?"

"Yes I am. The folk night will end at eleven, and it's not too far to my place, but you'll have to take the rough with the smooth."

"Oh, I'd love that. Then I can really finish my plans!"

"That's the best idea by far," Jeannie said.

"Okay." He grinned at her. "Jeannie, will you and Tom come tonight, too?"

"Not a chance, I'm afraid. Much too busy. Next time, I hope."

"I feared as much. Ok then. Shall we go?"

The woman thanked Jeannie, picked up her luggage and they went outside.

"I'm Lizzie," she said as they walked to Dan's car.

"I'm Dan. Pleased to meet you! Let me take that rucksack."

He took it from her and deposited it in the boot of his car. Then he opened the front door for Lizzie and she got in. She saw a guitar case on the rear seat.

When Dan had got in she asked, "Will you be playing, too?"

"A couple of songs, yes. It's always fun."

He turned the ignition key and drove off.

She nodded. "I sometimes sang along with Zeb. He loved to sing and play." She smiled at Dan, a little wistfully. "Seems like a long time ago... I tried to play an instrument now and then, too. But I never had the time to give it enough attention and energy."

She looked at her hands. "They never do what I want them to. Oh well, it'll be nice to listen again. What will you be singing?"

"The Twa Corbies, I think. The Prickly Bush, perhaps - Night Visiting Song, certainly."

"Oh! That's nice! I sometimes sang that one with Zeb. He used to play the Dubliners version first, but we changed it to John McCusker's one - well, Kate Rusby's, really."

"I made that change, too. I love Rusby's voice. Funny, really. I used to have a friend called Zeb. Zebedeus in full, but he wouldn't thank you for using his full name. I played with him in Cambridge. He was a great mandolin player."

Lizzie looked at him wide-eyed. "Really? Can you remember his family name?"

"Of course." Dan grinned. "He had a really unusual name. Zebedeus McPriddy... I lost sight of him; we just went our own ways one day. I wish I knew where he was. Why?"

"I was married to him for nearly fifteen years. Oh my, how strange to meet you now. You must be Daniel Goulden, then."

"Guilty. What happened?"

"He was killed by a car. Seems the brakes gave out. His spleen got ruptured in the accident, and he died of a loss of blood."

Dan shook his head. "Oh, I am sorry! How awful," he said. "Oh dear."

Lizzie nodded. "It was. It could have been worse; he never realised what was wrong. Oh well - would you mind frightfully if I sang along?"

"Of course not! Do you sing the basic melody?"

"I could do that - or sing harmony."

"I have a friend who plays the mandolin. We can accompany you, okay?"

"Oh yes, please! That would be really great!"

"Good." He slowed down and drove into the car park of the pub. Lizzie realized with delight that it was the place she'd been drawing that morning. The doors were rather lower than modern regulations would allow - she expected Dan couldn't enter without bowing his head - and the latticed windows were small. But the lights shining through them were warm and welcoming.

"Here we are," he said. "Let me introduce you to a few people then."

Lizzie got out and walked round to the boot. "Could you open this, please? I'll have to get out my money and stuff."

Dan helped her out and took his guitar case off the rear seat. They walked together to the entrance, and Dan greeted the publican as an old friend. "Hello, Geoff - what's new?"

"Everything's fine, Dan. Brought a friend?"

"This is Lizzie - she's walking the river path, and she's come to sing."

"Okay. Welcome!"

Lizzie smiled. It seemed a warm, cosy place indeed. There was a list of meals on the wall.

"Could I have the breaded haddock, please? And half a cider?"

"Sweet or dry?"

"Dry, please - sweet enough!"

"Right you are. And you, Dan?"

"Pint of bitter, please. Just the one. Have to drive back later."

"I'll take your food to your table. Have fun!"

Dan walked to the back of the room. It was filling up with people, most of them carrying some instrument or other, nicely kept in a case or just under their arms, and they waved at Dan or greeted him.

"You know most of these guys?"

"All of them, I think. It's like a gathering of friends, doing what we like to do without running the risk of too many people getting censorious. When things go wrong, the player will feel bad enough. No need to rub it in."

Lizzie nodded. "That's nice. Okay."

"Oh. Look, that man in the blue jersey is our mandolin player, Jim. I'll ask him to play along."

Lizzie found a table and sat down with her cider to have a look at the people there. They were mostly well over fifty, she guessed. She was one of the younger ones, but not too young to feel out of place. It was a long time ago she'd done any singing. Fortunately she had played the CD a couple of times recently, and she'd sung along most of the times, and the lyrics wouldn't be a problem.

Dan greeted his query. "Hello, Jim - would you mind playing along with me and Lizzie over there? She'll be singing the Night Visiting Song tonight.

Jim grinned at him. "No I won't. Good idea!" he said. Then he raised his brows. "Got a new girlfriend?"

Dan shook his head. "Just a visitor," he said. "Walking the riverwalk. I happened to meet her at Jeannie's."

"Okay. Well, always willing to please!" Jim gave him another broad grin, and Dan thought how well he liked this lot.

"Thanks, Jim," he said. "Hello, Ethel. Everything alright?"

Jim's wife smiled and nodded.

"Good," Dan said. "Talk to you later!"

He went back to where Lizzie was sitting and picked up his pint. "Look," he said, "that's Bill Rowley, the master of ceremonies," he gave her a wink, "so we'd better tell him you'll sing. Bill!"

Bill was an elderly gent in a white Irish pullover and fearful moustaches. He walked over to them, and Dan introduced Lizzie to him.

"A new voice! Excellent!" he said.

"Only for tonight. I just happened to hear about your night, and Dan took me along."

"Oh. Oh well, very welcome, if only just for tonight."

Bill had a nice smile, Lizzie thought. The whole ambiance seemed geared to make her feel quite at home, and she reflected how glad she was that Dan had happened to come to the B&B that evening. She said so to him. He smiled at her. "Okay," he said. "Good!"

He sat down and they started talking about Lizzie's walking tour. Dan had walked most of it himself, and he smiled at Lizzie's observations. She had a good eye for things, he thought. When she told him of her sketching, he understood it was not just a good eye but a professional one.

"Can I have seen some of your work?" he said.

"I do some illustrating sometimes," she said. "Children's books, mainly - but yes, you might."

"Okay. I'll keep my eyes skinned for them. I don't come across them too often - no children, and no nephews or nieces. But I like good illustrations."

Their conversation was cut short by Geoff bringing Lizzie's dinner to their table. Dan had been quite right, Lizzie reflected while eating; it was decent food. Very decent. Moreover, it was quite enough. It was a big fish, and it came with a small mountain of chips and a lot of well-cooked vegetables - neither raw nor cooked to a pulp. She sat back on her chair, feeling very much at ease while surveying the back room of the pub, happy in the knowledge that she could actually complete her walk. She felt her feet, and her legs - but she just felt very happy.

"This is a nice really place," she said.

"Thank you. I think it is, yes. I don't go too often - but when I feel like company I generally come here. There's always a friendly face to be found."

Lizzie nodded and had some more fish. Then she pushed her plate to the centre of the table. "That was good," she said. "I'll have another cider. Can I get you something?"

Dan shook his head. "I'm driving, you know. So I don't have more than this - well, maybe some water later on. I'll have a dram when we're home."

When Lizzie stood at the bar, she was accosted by Jim, who introduced himself. "So you are going to sing Night Visiting Song? I used to do that one with Dan. Hope I can remember the notes." He grinned at her. "Time to get started. It's always too short a night, and Geoff is very strict about closing time."

He went to the other end of the room, and as Geoff was seeing to her drink, someone touched her shoulder. She turned around and looked at the man she'd met the day before. He had a violin case under his arm and grinned.

"Hello, young lady," he said. "Fancy seeing you here! Coming to listen?"

"Hello. Yes I am - and I'll do a little singing, too."

"Oh good. Almost finished your walk, haven't you?"

"Almost completely, actually. Fortunately I met Dan over there who will put me up. All B&Bs are full up."

"Full up? At this time of year? Really? Oh, yes - that esoteric conference thing, I suppose. Mmm... Oh well, it takes all sorts. But you can finish your walk then. Dan is a nice young man. I'm Roderick, by the way."

Lizzie grinned. He apparently thought of anyone under sixty as young.

"Lizzie," she said and offered him her hand.

He shook it enthusiastically. "Have a great evening," he said.

"Thank you. I think I will! And I am looking forward to listening to you play!"

He nodded at her and ordered a pint of lager. Lizzie took her cider to her seat.

"I just met Roderick," she said. "I walked a few miles along with him. I just realized that it is only a very short distance by car!"

"It is. He is good - he also plays in a string quartet. Oh good - we're about to get going!"

She smiled at him and took out a pencil and some paper. "I'll just have to put a few thoughts on paper," she said apologetically.

"Okay! Then I can see what you do."

Bill Rowley stepped into the open area at the far end of the room and greeted the audience.

"I hope we'll all have a great time tonight. We'll be hard put for time, as there's a lot of us that have come to play. So let's just get started jigging straight away with Roderick Burse!"

Roderick stepped into the playing area and put his violin to his chin. "The Neck Belly Reel," he said, and he lifted his bow.

Lizzie heard that Dan hadn't been too lavish in praising his technique. He was an excellent violin player indeed. She looked through half closed eyes at the scene and made a few quick drawings of the scene. Then she put the pencil back into her little bag and picked up her glass.

She listened to the reel appreciatively, and when it finished she gave Roderick a warm applause.

"Good, isn't he?"

She nodded at Dan. "He is. Very good!"

"May I see your sketches?"

She handed him her sketchbook. Dan took it and slowly leafed through it.

"Hey," he said. "This is our pub! When did you do that?"

"Just this morning. It's on the riverwalk, you know."

He nodded. "Beautiful. Oh, Geoff would love this! He's so proud of the place, you know - seems it's been in the family since it was built."

"How old is it? Some 350 years or so?"

"I guess so. One moment!"

He walked up and down to the bar.

"It dates back to 1632 - so that makes your guess fairly accurate!"

Lizzie smiled. "Thank you," she said. "I love the colour of the brick."

"Especially in the sunlight," Dan said.

"Uhuh. Old, weathered, mellow brick - beautiful. There must be lots of people wanting to paint it." She grinned. "I'll certainly want to try my hand at it."

"Judging from what I've just seen you'll pass with flying colours. Geoff has a couple of paintings but they are quite wooden, really - well-intended but frightfully dull."

Then Bill announced that Lizzie would be singing the Night Visiting Song and they crossed the room to play. Jim stepped up, too, and the two men quickly tuned their instruments. Then they grinned at each other. "Ready?" Dan asked. Lizzie nodded, and they started to play.

Lizzie had a strong contralto voice that blended well with the two string instruments. They gave a good rendition of the song, and when the room applauded them, they grinned and Lizzie went back to her seat while Dan went on with the Prickly Bush, which he accompanied on guitar, and with the Twa Corbies, which he sang a cappella. Lizzie thought he had a pleasant voice, and she loved the songs he sang. He looked good, too, standing there singing. She tried out a counter melody to the Prickly Bush in her mind. It was quite a nice, straight and simple song - the lyrics were easy to remember. She thought it might be a good idea to try it at home. Joe could do the basic melody and play, and then she could sing harmony. Mmm... Yes.

When Dan had finished, he returned and complimented her on her singing. She blushed. Blast! She always did when someone nice was nice to her. Hopefully it wasn't too apparent in the half darkness of the pub room.

"You know," Dan said, "you should show Geoff the drawings you made this morning."

She shook her head. "I'd rather not, you know. I hate advertising my skills if that's what they are. Just illustrating children's book is okay."

"He would be sure to like them. Can I show them to him?"

"Well - they are only rough sketches. They aren't intended for anyone's eyes but they're meant to remember things. I think I will want to make a painting from them."

"I can tell him that, and I will tell him that you don't want to be gushed over, okay?"

Lizzie made a face. "Alright then," she said. "Do make it painless!"

Dan took the sketchbook to the bar. He stayed away for a little while and then he sat down next to Lizzie again and handed her her sketchbook again.

She took it and put it away as the next singer, an older lady with a dulcimer, embarked on a mournful ballad about love and murder. She had a remarkably forceful voice, and it was without doubt one of the better performances of the evening. She didn't sing of Mount Abora, though. The sudden thought made her grin.

Dan asked her why she had grinned, in a whisper, and she told her. He smiled and shook his head. "I don't think she would," he said.