Sorrowsmile Meadows

Monday – The First Day

“Well,” Jeremy’s wife Maggie was saying, “a chance to relax, finally, even if the wi-fi is seemingly non-existent. No-one will be able to find you or get in touch. As far as I’m concerned, it’s paradise. Just think: all those indecisive idiots’ at work, will have to wait, or – God forbid – do something without you! Here we are, the librarian and the guy who wanted to be an architect. Well, your megabucks career certainly succeeded, while I’m…”

“…still a librarian.” The man cut her short and his exasperation could be heard despite the calm tone of voice.

“And I’m still loving every minute of it,” Maggie said, smiling, “while you’re like an out-of-control spinning top in your constant-energy-drink, coffee-fuelled, phone-glued-to-your-ear world.”

“I’m never out of control.” Jeremy suddenly clenched his serviette.

They were sitting in an inn in an idyllic village, watching the sunset across the road fading through the trees. The lower rim was just touching an old stone wall. This was meant to be a sudden ‘get-away-from-it-all’ vacation, but it already didn’t feel quite like that.

“Please don’t argue. You do it all the time at home. You promised you wouldn’t. This trip was to stop all that.”

“And it will honey.” The mother hugged her eleven-year-old daughter. The man smiled and stopped scrunching the serviette. Esther, their daughter, looked relieved. Her name was the nearest they had got to ethereal without making it sound like designer naming. There was no discernible or diagnosed medical condition, but her hair varied from cream to white in the light. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were like miniature ice-blue icebergs. All who met her thought the same thing: Esther was undeniably beautiful. People would stop and stare or make a hurried comment. She was viewed as an angel in some cultures; many would try to touch her or ask for a photograph. One woman had even tried to snip her hair with a pair of nail scissors. It hadn’t, however, stopped the jealous bullying, the prerequisite for such being that she, the victim, was different from the masses.

The father had worked to send Esther to an exclusive school, the mother trying endlessly - and ultimately failing - to keep her daughter at home. It had been the point of contention where tensions had begun and had never stopped. Meanwhile, Esther could never, ever remember being asked by her father - even once - as to what she wanted.

“There’s not much around here to get my blood pumping,” Jeremy remarked. “One small inn, an even smaller store and what else? Forty to sixty houses, if that?”

“There’s a church, a school and even a library,” the mother ventured.

“And I think there is also a well,” Esther added, “on the other side of the village.”

“Well, great. That’s a good fifteen minutes planned. Just imagine the benefits of all that exercise!”

“Can you just stop being negative, Jeremy dear? We both agreed it would be good to go somewhere quiet.”

“Well, we certainly succeeded then, or at least you did – Maggie dear.” The sarcasm in Jeremy’s voice was thinly veiled.

“We could spend a day just looking at all the stuff on the walls in here.” Esther was trying determinedly to change the subject. “You’re the architect, Dad. Some of the houses around here look really pretty.”

Jeremy only nodded. Even the name of this village, literally in the middle of nowhere was annoying. Brits were way too into their own quirkiness in his opinion. Who would come up with a name for a village like Begin Again? He was sure that Maggie had found this supposed idyll on purpose. It was her attempt to rekindle their marriage. In a way it had been his own fault. He had told her to ‘just pick something' and that he didn’t care where it would be. Just remembering how the vacation had started on their arrival was still enough to make him shudder.

He hadn’t anticipated a ten-hour flight into a land of weird accents. The weather could turn from bright sunshine to deluge and back again within minutes! Worse was yet to come. Apparently, and to his surprise, there was a rental car included with the vacation package.

“Contract is contract,” the woman behind the desk had insisted. It had been difficult to understand her but, it had turned out that it would cost a lot more to cancel than to keep it, and transportation links to where they wanted to go weren’t that good.

How could that be? This country was a fraction of the size of his own. There should at least be trains connecting every town and village! Maggie had shrugged her shoulders. How many times, had he told her that she should always read the fine print? It wasn’t the money; it was the principle. Jeremy had agreed to take the car, not realising that that would lead to a swathe of paperwork and a dozen signatures. The middle-aged, bustling, don’t-dare-call-me-a-dragon woman had made him cringe. She had taken them to the car. Bad became worse. He’d gotten in the wrong side.

“Your wife is driving, is she?” the woman had said approvingly. “Good woman!” Jeremy had looked dumbly at the steering wheel in front of the other seat as Maggie was dubiously getting in.

“From across the pond, are we?” The woman had managed to sound sympathetic and condescending at the same time. “It sometimes takes a while before the penny drops. Just remember to drive on the left.”

Maggie had driven, more or less, on the other side of the road from what she was used to. Jeremy, by and large, had either kept his eyes shut or fixated his gaze on the scenery. Shy, easily frightened Esther had suddenly seemed emboldened.

“Nice job Mom. Whoa, that was a little close. Maybe I’m not missing out on Space Mountain after all; this is way better!”

Eventually, and completely lost, they’d driven through a town called Woolmarket, which had presented its own challenges - especially as the week-long fair which had given the town its name was in full swing.

“Woah, Mom, it’s like being in a sea of sheep,” Esther had enthused two miles out of Woolmarket, where they had found themselves stuck in a seemingly never-ending flock on the road. At that point, the Sat-Nav had abandoned any thought of being helpful. After a dead end, three ‘please turn arounds’ and, at one point, nearly ending up in a lake, they’d found themselves in a farmer’s yard. The farmer had come out the barn, walking slowly twice around the car, ignoring their ‘good mornings’ and ‘please can you help us’.

“Fancy this,” was all he’d said, before adding after a pause, “I’m not expecting visitors.”

“We’re lost,” Maggie had explained, with a helpless shrug and her most charming smile.

The farmer had let the information sink in slowly before nodding.

“Do you know where you are meant to be heading then?”

“Begin Again.”

“Alright. Do you know where you are meant to be heading then?”

Maggie had patted Jeremy quickly on the knee. He’d been about to go into full irate mode, and that wouldn’t have been helpful.

“To Begin Again.”

“Which bit do you want me to begin again from?”

“We’re supposed to be going to a place called Begin Again,” Jeremy almost shouted impatiently.

“Right. Why didn’t you say so? If you had said Moor’s Edge, then it would have been easy.”

“Where?” Maggie was still managing to stay calm.

“Moor’s Edge. The old name. Only foreign folk call it Begin Again.”

Jeremy was no longer keeping calm.

“I resent that,” he’d retorted hotly. “We are not foreigners, we are Americans!”

The farmer had smiled as if looking at idiots.

“Anyone who lives more than twenty miles from these parts is considered a foreigner. It’s the way we are, and you are on my private land.” It had been delivered like a scythe cutting harvest corn.

“I’m sorry,” Maggie had said, apologetically. Jeremy had been speechless.

“We don’t use the new-fangled names for places around here.”

“I’m an architect. When did it change?” Jeremy asked, trying to sound interested and pleasant.

“Quite recently,” the farmer replied. “Only, it’s hard to be exact. October 31st, 1357, I believe.”

Maggie had smiled. Jeremy had coughed.

“Well,” the farmer had continued, “I suppose to find it, you’ll have to begin again.”

Esther had giggled. It had seemed to be the first time that the farmer had actually noticed her. He’d whistled loudly.

“Been catching a druid’s priestess, have we? Someone bathed you in moonlight when you were born!”

“She’s my daughter.”

“Our daughter,” Jeremy had snapped.

“I should hope so,” the farmer had said indignantly. “There’s still a dim view in these parts begetting a child out of wedlock.”

“Begetting a child? Out of wedlock?” Jeremy was seething. “In case you don’t know it’s 2023.”

The farmer had looked at the sky and furrowed his bushy eyebrows.

“It can’t be. It’s not dark yet. Ah, you mean the modern way of telling the o’clocks, don’t you?”

Maggie had seen Jeremy reaching for the door handle. He’d been about to get out and have a stand-up argument. She’d squeezed his knee so hard, he’d yelped.

“So, how do we get to Moor’s Edge, then, please? I would really like to know if I could.” Maggie’s tone had been the most deferential she had ever managed.

“You are a sensible lady.” The farmer was beaming. “Back the ways is no good. Some of these roads can take you places you wouldn’t want to go to. If you end up in the village of Around and Around, you’ll be in real trouble!”

“We know about these roads.” Jeremy had been waving his arms in frustration.

“Lived here a long time and checked out every road, have you? Of course you haven’t, or you wouldn’t be lost.” The farmer’s tone had been the epitome of calmness. “I thought not. Take the track down the side of the farm for a mile. When you meet the main road, turn left and keep going for about an hour. Then, you won’t have to begin again because you’ll be in it.”

“Thank you so much,” Maggie had replied, glaring at her husband. “He’s been under a lot of stress lately.”

The farmer had nodded as if he’d understood.

“Some men are born with long candles, and some, perhaps, such as yours, are born with short candles.”

Maggie didn’t know what to say until she understood.

“I believe you might be right.” She’d beamed.

Jeremy had realised what the farmer meant a few seconds later and visibly squirmed. Maggie had driven off with a wave through the open window. The farmer had waved back.

“I think I would like to be a druid priestess.” Esther had giggled. “What did that farmer mean? Why does he think Dad has a short candle?”

Maggie had snorted with barely restrained glee. Jeremy had told Esther to shut up. Esther had excitedly told her parents that this was much more interesting than boring back-at-home.

None of them had seen the farmer fall to his knees and raise his arms outstretched to the sky. Later, he’d gone into the farmhouse, dialled a number on the 1910 candlestick phone and put the earpiece to his ear.

The track had really been nothing more than a boggy path. At one point, they had nearly got stuck in a large-puddle-cum-small-pond. Maggie overrevved the engine nearly to extinction, but they just got through.

“For f*** sake!”

“Jeremy! Esther’s in the back seat.”

‘Why do they care just because I’m sat behind them?’ Esther thought. ‘They never say that when they’re swearing in the next room at home for hours on end when they are arguing and they know that I can hear them.’

Twenty minutes of windscreen wiping, mud-splattering mayhem later, they had found the road and, eventually, the village of Begin Again. Maggie, Jeremy and Esther had been signed in, with a flourish of a fountain pen, as Mr, Mrs and Miss Amorval. As the waitress had walked by, Maggie had heard her whisper to the receptionist.

“Wasn’t there a horror film with a title like their surname? I seem to remember Lynda said there was an uproar in the village of Around and Around about it.”

“I know it sounded something like that,” the receptionist had replied. “They look like they might be. After all, they are from that part of the world!”

“Is there a carwash?” had not been the brightest question Jeremy had ever asked. The receptionist had looked down at her desk for several seconds and then beamed at Jeremy. “Just about four o’clock this afternoon sir. It’s a mobile service but it’s normally ever so reliable.”

“Where?”

“In the car park.”

Jeremy had gone out at five to four. By five minutes past, he’d been drenched in a thunderstorm which had suddenly come from nowhere and was feeling like he had been made a total fool of. The car, however, had been spotlessly clean.

Jeremy continued staring out of the window of the inn, remembering the events of the day and, especially, his soaking. He had barely taken notice of Esther’s last remark: “You’re the architect, Dad. Some of the houses in the village look really pretty.” The view, at least, was relaxing. The warmth of the sun was waning as it was going down and starting to cast shadows. Across the road was a stone wall, like a silent guardian to the fields and forest beyond. It looked ancient indeed, and he wondered who had built it. The coping stones were sharp and vertical, like jagged teeth, and certainly meant to prevent schoolchildren, animals or anything else from leaping over. A light mist was forming, gently writhing in lazy ways amongst the trees further back. Jeremy turned to speak with Maggie, but she had gone to talk to the receptionist, who was now serving at the bar.

Esther? His daughter on the other side of the table was also looking out of the window, but seemed transfixed. Only her mouth was moving - slowly, with an inaudible murmur, between the softest and shallowest of breaths.

“Angel face,” Jeremy said, pushing her shoulder. She hated him doing both those things and was bound to give a reaction. She blinked and looked surprised.

“Why did you just do that?”

“Because you were whispering gibberish.”

“I certainly wasn’t,” she replied sharply.

The relaxation was gone. Jeremy was about to get really cross again. Maggie, with a well-honed sixth sense, turned around, stretched out her arms and yawned.

“Time for bed. I’m absolutely done for the day.”

Jeremy, fortunately, took the cue.

“Would it surprise you if I told you I think we’re the only guests here?” Maggie said quietly in the hallway.

“Doesn’t surprise me in the slightest,” Jeremy answered gruffly.

Esther couldn’t get over the fact that she had a four-poster bed, although there was no television in the room.

“You can fill your pretty little head with dreams of gallant knights and dragons,” Jeremy joked, “with whatever length of candles you want.”

Esther shook her head, blushed, and quickly shut the door.

“Did you have to?” Maggie sighed. “She’s only just turned eleven. It’s a sensitive time for girls growing up. She doesn’t need her father telling her what romantic dreams she should be having or making rude jokes. Leave her to have her own dreams – even the ones that might surprise you!”

“Shucks,” Jeremy replied, changing the subject. “I’ve just remembered. I left my jacket over the back of the chair.”

He went down to find the waitress shutting all the curtains. The moon was rising as if it were being drawn right out of the ground.

“It looks lovely out there,” Jeremy remarked, pointing towards the windows. “Does it have a name?”

“The Sorrowsmile Meadows,” the waitress told him, “but now I really must go.” She seemed genuinely concerned about something.

“Last question,” Jeremy begged, even as she was opening the entrance door to leave. “Why is this village called Begin Again?”

The waitress half-turned in the moonlight.

“Because we had to make it right,” was her odd reply. She left, locking the door from the outside.

“Guess Health and Safety doesn’t apply in these parts,” Jeremy scoffed as he headed back up the stairs.

He never heard the waitress’s heartfelt whisper.

“Perhaps it has begun again!”

Tuesday – The Second Day

The morning seemed to beckon better things. The sun was shining and the staff seemed cheerful.

“Got through another one, then,” the waitress said with a nice smile as she came across to take the orders. “The night is what I meant,” she added. “It’s what we normally say around here. Just a tradition thing.”

“Did you sleep well?” Maggie asked Esther. At first, she seemed a bit evasive, before giving a bashful smile.

“Can we please have a relaxing, no-driving day today,” Maggie asked. “I feel like doing some sketches. I haven’t done any artwork for ages!”

“Internet would be nice,” Jeremy said, ignoring her as he held up his laptop and phone hopefully to the window.

“It’s just like Alice in Wonderland here.” The receptionist nearly snorted. “‘Always whiffy tomorrow, never whiffy today’. That’s what one guest said.”

“You do remember you promised you wouldn’t use either of them once?” Maggie told him reproachfully. “Let the young ones you always complain about prove their worth. That’s what you said, not me.”

“It might be useful to find out things to do,” Jeremy replied huffily.

“As if,” she chided him, then laughed. “Whiffy! Her way of pronouncing wi-fi. Looks like there isn’t any. If there isn’t money or schedules attached, your attention span is zero! Anyway, at least for today, we’re staying local.” Maggie raised her voice a little as the waitress brought the breakfast over.