Laurel's Quest Read online

  “The crisps might be a bit mashed.” Coll regarded the flattened bag ruefully.

  “What did you call them? Aren’t they chips?”

  Coll laughed. “Only to Yanks, and I guess Canadians,” he added at the look on her face. “Chips are what we get with fried fish at the chip shop.”

  Laurel grimaced in frustration. It was going to be harder to fit in than she thought. How was she supposed to know chips were called crisps and French fries were chips?

  “We call those French fries, although we do call fish and chips, fish and chips. Oh, it’s all too confusing,” she exclaimed in disgust. “Let’s just eat the damn things!”

  Her dad would be furious with her, her face flushed hot with guilt at the cuss word. She turned her gaze resolutely to the dark window. Well, he doesn’t know, does he? If he didn’t send me all this way on my own, he would know. So, she reasoned, it’s actually his fault.

  Feelings of rebellious freedom swept through her. As long as no one ratted her out to her parents, she pretty much had a free rein to do as she pleased. Within reason, she amended silently. Laurel was pretty sure this Sarie would be lenient with her; she could always say she didn’t want to worry her parents if she did get in real trouble and beg Sarie not to tell.

  Sneaking a look at Coll’s reflection in the dark glass, she saw he was too involved in making short work of the sandwich in his hand to take any notice of her silence. She took a bite of her own sandwich.

  The quiet of the car was broken as a group of older kids trouped by. Coll glanced up at the sound of their approach; dislike flooded his good-natured features as he recognized them. Some of the group stopped by their seats and seeing Coll, made rude gestures at him. Coll pointedly ignored them, until one boy dropped his knapsack on the table and glared at him.

  “You have to go to school on Monday,” he said nastily. “You can’t hide forever.”

  “Sod off!” Coll snarled at him.

  What the heck is going on? That guy is threatening him! Without thinking, Laurel pulled her booted foot back and kicked the tall, rangy stranger hard in the knee. He spun around on one leg, swearing.

  “Who the hell’s your little friend?” he growled at Coll.

  He looked at her with his face twisted in anger. “You should be more careful about who you pick as friends and who you kick. You never learned you dawn’t shuv your granny when she’s shevin?”

  Temper ran away with her, and she slid out of her seat. She could not stand bullies. Laurel ignored Coll gesturing to her to sit down. She took a step toward the tall stranger and stuck her face up at him.

  “You want to have no leg to stand on?” she asked him with a grim smile. “Need to go get your friends to help you?” Advancing another step, she drew her foot back to kick his other knee. “Are you sure you want to go there?”

  “You’re all talk,” he snarled. “You won’t be so cocky when you’re outnumbered!”

  A grim smile stretched her lips, and she aimed a kick at his good knee. She only managed a glancing blow, as he lurched backward.

  “You’re bleeding kitey! You’re barking mad to hang around with this one!” he addressed the last to Coll who was looking at Laurel with his mouth hanging open.

  “We’ll finish this later,” the tall boy growled and hobbled down the aisle after his friends.

  “Anytime, darlin’,” Laurel called, sliding back into her seat.

  Once the incident was over, she wanted to be sick to her stomach; her hands were shaking badly. She buried her face in her hands.

  “Holy crap, he was big and mean.”

  When was she going to learn to think before she did something? Her dad’s voice whispered at her, Violence is no way to solve your problems, Laurel. You can’t just hit people. Dad didn’t seem to understand bullies weren’t much on negotiation. Until she stood up to the bullies at school, her life had been horrible. After a while, the group of them left her alone, but started to pick on other kids smaller than themselves. Laurel went to the school counselor, but as one of the biggest bullies was the counselor’s daughter, it hadn’t helped much. It seemed no matter where she went there was no escape from idiots. The seat cushion sagged as Coll sat down beside her and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

  “That was great! Barking mad, but great!” he congratulated her. “That group makes life miserable at school for me and my mates.”

  “I’m not sure I helped.” Laurel looked up at Coll through her bangs. “It might just make things worse.”

  “Nobody stands up to them,” Coll said. “Some of us have tried, but they always manage to get us alone, and then there’s hell to pay. But you really hurt Stuart; that’ll impress the rest of them.”

  “So we need to be careful when we get off the train in Penzance?”

  This is just great, I’m in trouble, and I haven’t even gotten off the train yet!

  “Sarie will be waiting on the platform,” Coll assured her. “She’s giving my Gram a lift to the station to pick me up. I didn’t know she was meeting you. Nobody messes with Sarie,” he finished enigmatically.

  She gave him an odd look. It sounded like Sarie was somehow threatening to people. She shrugged. At least she didn’t have to worry about getting off the train in one piece and finding Sarie. Coll knew Sarie and could introduce her.

  “I just can’t stand bullies. I’m in their face before I can stop myself,” she confessed ruefully, “and sometimes, it’s not such a good thing. What was that kid talking about, shoving my granny or something?”

  “It just means you should know when to butt in and when to keep your gob shut,” Coll said through his laughter. “Don’t push your opinion when someone else bigger or stronger is pushing theirs. Stuart must have picked that up from his Granda.”

  The train lurched to a stop. There was the general confusion of people gathering their belongings and scrunching their way down the narrow aisle to the exit. They waited until the biggest crush was over before they ventured out into the still busy car to collect Laurel’s bag from the rack by the exit. Coll wrestled it down the steps onto the lighted platform for her.

  Laurel took a big breath of fresh air and was delighted at the strange new smells. She identified the smell of the sea and damp earth faintly carried on the sharp breeze. She put her backpack down at her feet and tried to tame her flyaway hair.

  Coll stood beside her, searching the crowd. She noticed he kept glancing at Stuart until a woman appeared from the station and gave the bully a hug. With a baleful backward look at them, Stuart and his friends followed the woman off the platform into the darkness.

  Coll caught her arm and pointed down the platform to the waving figures of Sarie and Coll’s Gramma.

  “There they are, Laurel. Sarie’s the taller one on the left.”

  Here goes nothing. They moved down the platform toward the terminal. She caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection from the windows. Her hair looked worse than ever for all her attempts to tame it. Mom’s words echoed in her ears, “Try to look tidy when you get there. I don’t want Sarie to think I’ve raised a ragamuffin.” Her mom teased her when they said good-bye. Her dad was a little more forthright. “Seriously, Laurel, remember you’re representing our family and mind your manners. Behave like a civilized human instead of a dust devil.”

  Ragamuffin, dust devil, either way this is as good as it’s getting, she thought, and followed Coll across the pavement toward Sarie and Coll’s Gramma.

  “Look who I met on the train!” Coll greeted his Gramma with a hug and gave Sarie a huge grin. “This is Laurel.”

  Laurel stuck her hand out to Sarie, but Sarie engulfed her in big hug.

  “It’s wonderful to have you here, child,” she said.

  Sarie was taller than Mom by about three inches, which put her around five-foot-nine. Her greying hair still retained some streaks of its original blond and blew about her face in the wind. Sarie was what people called a handsome woman. She was not pretty in the classical sense of the word, but she was a striking figure all the same. Her wide generous mouth was spread in a grin, and her laughing eyes were bluer than anyone’s eyes had a right to be.

  Sarie’s upturned nose wrinkled as she hugged Coll. “Have you been eating those disgusting dill pickle crisps again?” she asked him in mock exasperation.

  “You know it!” Coll grinned back at her, unrepentant.

  “Let’s get your bags, then.” Sarie walked toward where Coll had left Laurel’s bag.

  “Laurel, this is my Gramma, Emily.” Coll introduced his gramma.

  “It’s pleased I am to meet you, girl,” Emily said kindly.

  “Nice to meet you, too.” Remembering her manners, she extended her hand to Emily.

  The three trailed after Sarie down the station platform. The wind was picking up, and it whistled shrilly through the spaces between the train carriages. Sarie was waiting for them by the pile of bags.

  “Which bags are yours?” Sarie gestured to the pile.

  “I only have one; it’s got horses on it.” Laurel scanned the confusing pile of assorted bags from a tour group. They must have unloaded their stuff after Coll left hers here.

  Coll emerged from the other side, dragging a bag behind him. “This it?” he asked as he hauled it into the light.

  “That’s the one.”

  Thank God it was safe! Packed inside were pictures of home: her mom and dad, Sam, her horse, Chance and Carlene. There was one of the butte across the river from her bedroom window. The picture was taken at sunset at the end of a glorious blue and gold September day; the river looked like it was on fire, and the butte was glowing with golden light. There was another of the prairie spread from horizon to horizon in unbroken splendor. It was taken from Sam’s back just before she left home. She knew she wouldn’t feel so far from home with the photos to remind her how the prairie looked and smelled. I have to remember to write to Carlene tomorrow and tell her how weird everything is here.

  Sarie hefted the suitcase, popped up the handle, and set off toward the car park with the suitcase trundling along behind her. Laurel followed with her backpack while Coll and his Gramma brought up the rear. She could hear Coll and Emily conversing behind her but couldn’t make out the words. Suddenly, she was very, very tired. She looked out toward the sea and the weird hump backed island crouching just off shore. She squinted. It looked like some sort of castle all lit up perched on the summit. She tugged Coll’s sleeve and pointed.

  “What’s that?”

  “That’s St. Michael’s Mount. Local landmark, big tourist attraction.” He shrugged and kept walking.

  In just a few minutes, everything was stored in Sarie’s little car, and they were speeding along the narrow streets. Sarie pulled up in front of a row of attached stone houses. She shifted into neutral and engaged the parking brake.

  “Back in two shakes.”

  Sarie got out of the car and helped Emily unearth some packages out of the trunk of the car. With a wave to Coll and Emily, Sarie jumped back in, releasing the brake. The car started to roll down the sharp incline of the street before Sarie even got it into first gear.

  “See you tomorrow!” Coll yelled as the car gathered speed.

  Laurel waved in return before she looked out the front windshield at the stone houses and buildings crouching on either side of the narrow street. She was too tired to think about tomorrow; all Laurel wanted to do was go to sleep. Covering her mouth as a huge yawn overtook her, she leaned her head against the cool glass of the passenger side window.

  “It won’t be long ‘til we’re home,” Sarie said as they left the lights of Penzance behind and headed out into the countryside.

  Home, this isn’t home. I want to go home!

  She planned to call Dad in the morning and beg him to let her come home. Coming here was a really bad idea. I know I can convince Dad to let me come home. Why did I let myself get talked into this in the first place?

  It had all seemed kind of exciting. Chance and Carlene said how lucky she was to get a chance to go to England. The reality of leaving kicked in big time when the time came to say goodbye to her parents and friends. Now she was a million miles from home, bone tired, and homesick.

  Laurel turned her face into the window, so Sarie couldn’t see the tears tracking down her cheeks. She wiped her nose surreptitiously with her sleeve and tried not to sniff too loudly. The dark landscape whipped past as the car careened down narrow lanes with tall hedges on either side, the branches hitting Sarie’s door. It added to the weirdness of driving on what seemed like the wrong side of the road.

  A short time later, Sarie jammed on her brakes and skidded into an even narrower laneway. Ahead the lighted windows of a small house and the faint outline of the roof in the moonlight greeted them. The bulk of another building behind the house was also visible in the faint light. It must be the barn, although it didn’t look like any barn she had seen before. It was short and squat, made out of stone of some kind, instead of wood or metal.

  Sarie parked the car in front of the house, and Laurel stumbled out. The older woman hefted the suitcase out of the trunk and headed for the door, leaving her to trail behind. Laurel paused on the step to read the small sign on the door post. Between Cottage. She followed Sarie through the bright blue door and stood in the doorway for a moment, blinking in the light. A fireplace with some comfy-looking chairs pulled up close to it warmed the small room. The night pressed its black nose against the many windows in the room. Sarie disappeared through a doorway on the far side of the room.

  Laurel stepped into the house and pulled the door shut behind her. She wandered toward the door at the back of the living room. The door opened onto a dark hallway; there was light coming from another door at the end of the hall to the left. On her right, the narrow hall led to an equally narrow set of stairs disappearing into the darkness of the upstairs. Dropping her backpack at the foot of the stairs, she headed down the hall towards the light.

  Laurel pushed open the bright yellow door to the kitchen. A rush of warm air greeted her. The kitchen was a room added on to the original house at some point a long time ago. The roof slanted downward toward a row of windows running the length of the back wall. There was a big old cook stove producing the vast amount of warmth filling the small room. Sarie put some bread and jam on the table, along with two big mugs of tea.

  “Are you hungry, my flower?”

  “A little bit, I guess.” She hovered at the doorway, not sure what to do next.

  “Sit, child, sit. Are you after wanting some tea?” Sarie gestured to the chair across from her own.

  “Tea would be nice.”

  There was silence as she sat opposite Sarie and sipped her tea. The brew was very strong and very sweet.

  “Your room is at the top of the stairs on the left. The necessary is down the hall from you.” Sarie broke the silence.

  “The necessary?”

  “The loo, the toilet.” Sarie elaborated with a laugh.

  “Oh.”

  The small warmth and comfort the hot tea generated evaporated in a blink. How in the Sam hill was she ever going to figure out what these people were talking about? Her shoulders slumped with defeat, she clenched her teeth in frustration.

  “It does get easier, child. Don’t be discouraged. We’ll have you talking like a native in no time.”

  She managed a tired smile before pushing away from the table to take her mug over to the wash basin.

  “I’ll show you up to your room if you like,” Sarie said as she led the way back into the cold, dark hall. The older woman dragged Laurel’s suitcase up steps to the upper floor.

  She stopped to retrieve her backpack from the end of the hall and climbed the stairs behind Sarie, careful where she stepped, as the stairs were narrow and steep. Sarie flicked on the electric light after she opened a door at the top of the landing.

  A single bed stood against one wall. There was a worn chest of drawers on the opposite wall and a small table beside the bed. The one window, framed by white curtains, looked out over the starlit moorland. It reminded Laurel of the prairies at home, softly rolling land and big starry skies with the huge moon overhead. The sea gleamed in the distance. She dumped her backpack on the floor beside the dresser and turned to take her suitcase from Sarie.

  “If you need anything you can just yell.” Sarie hugged her before she left the room. “It’s pleased I am that you decided to come.”

  Laurel didn’t know what to say in light of the fact she was going to phone her dad as soon as she could and beg to come home. She mumbled into Sarie’s sweater and followed Sarie to the door, closing it behind her.

  She was so tired it hurt to think. Laurel forced herself to rummage in her backpack for her PJs. She undressed and dressed quickly in the chilly room and thought briefly about finding the bathroom to brush her teeth. Deciding against an exploration excursion, she slid into bed and immediately muffled a scream; the bed was freezing! Not just cold, but freezing. Her teeth chattered, this was as bad as camping out! Tucking the blankets tightly around her, she hoped body heat would warm things up soon. The long trip and the worry about her mom had taken its toll; before she knew it, she was asleep.

  Chapter Two

  The White Lady

  Warm sunlight and fingers of breeze woke her the next morning. She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow, not wanting to open her eyes. As long as her eyes were closed, Laurel could pretend she was sleeping over at Carlene’s, and Carlene’s mom was making bacon and eggs down in the big kitchen overlooking the coulee. If she tried hard enough, she could even hear the horses galloping up to the corral from the river.

  The high whinny of a horse brought her upright in bed and opened her eyes. She threw back the bed clothes and kneeled on the bed to look out the window. There was a big field behind the house; lined up along the fence by the gate were four large black ponies and two draft horses.

  They were solid beasts with long flowing manes and thick tails. The one nearest the gate whinnied again and stamped its hoof on the soft earth. All the ponies pricked their ears up a second before Sarie appeared, wearing a pair of big muck boots and a tattered green jacket. A yellow kerchief kept her grey hair from blowing in the strong breeze billowing the clothes strung on the line across the back garden. Sarie’s voice carried easily through the open window.