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To liberate Elphin from banishment The man.
Elphinian knight of mead,late be thy time of rest.
“The Song of Mead by Taliesin isn’t it?” she asks when he’s finished. “Did they brew mead here on the island?” She seems to have had the same advice from Adam Mortimer and just follows Grandad’s thoughts.
He doesn’t need much encouragement. With Pierre as active audience, he launches into a long monologue about the mythology on the island.
I lay a hand on Hal’s wrist, and he smiles at me. We understand each other. This might take a while before we can get him back to the land discussion.
“Old religious rites?” Gabriel asks, picking up on something Grandad said.
“Of course,” he answers and goes on to talk about Anglo Saxon traditions. I’m not sure where this is going, but after a while he gets to wine festivals and the long traditions of medieval monks making mead which they flavoured with herbs and berries.
Aha, now I see how that relates to religious traditions. The doctor was right, behind the memory loss, there are incredible reservoirs of knowledge. Gabriel and Pierre listen with fascination and I realise again what a remarkable man my grandfather is, what an authority on folk traditions. I’m deeply sorry that I have taken over everything to do with shop and left him to slowly sink into boredom and forgetfulness. It’s why he hasn’t been able to absorb Hal’s proposal about the land.
“Mead was a big deal back in them days,” he says, waving a hand in the air, looking very animated and revived by having an interested audience. “It’s natural from the land.”
I reach for Hal’s hand under the table, and he wraps his warm palm around my fingers. “It’s okay.” He mouths silently. “Later.”
So, he has guessed we won’t be getting back to the contract.
“Leave it with me,” I whisper. “I’ll talk to him another time”
“What are you mumblin’ now? I can’t hear you if you don’t speak prop’ly ?”
“I was just wondering if that guy was right, you know the customer from this morning?” I remind him “Maybe mead is making a comeback.”
“Oh, yes please make mead.” Pierre squeezes her hands together. “Gabriel and I are working with Lord M to revive a festival of oenology. Mead fits right in there.”
Yes, it would, and it’s a very nice idea. But it’s not going to happen because I don’t have brewing equipment or staff or even knowhow and I’m never again going to go into any task without knowledge. My mind starts running with ideas. I don’t have to manufacture mead, just do workshops, with Grandad as expert. Visitors and festival goers might come for the mead demonstration, but they will buy other things from the shop. And it will give my grandfather more role in the shop so he doesn’t feel like he’s been put out to grass.
“Elodie,” Pierre must be able to read my expression. “Don’t let a great idea fly past if you can reach out and catch it."
I don’t know what Hal is thinking, but the smile he gives me is so warm, so full support and encouragement. So full of – of – something, I don’t know what. But it makes my heart turn and butterflies swoop inside me.
“Grandad is never at his best when he’s tired.” I explain when the evening is over, and Hal and I are the last in the kitchen.
He takes the wine glasses I just washed up and dries them with a tea-towel. “It’s alright. It’s a lot to take in.” He hesitates then says in a more confessional tone, “I’m just glad the conversation didn’t meander back to the war, or....” He twists his lips as if the words are not welcome. “Other things.”
“You don’t have to go through this again.” I take the tea towel from him. “Leave me the paperwork, I’ll talk to him over the next few days and get his signature.”
If I was in any doubt about how he felt, the relief in the tight hug he gives me says it all.
Chapter Forty-Two
Hal
“Good morning.” Elodie is outside, leaning on the new windowsill.
Instantly my mood lifts and I can feel a smile breaking on my face.
“This is the kitchen?” she says, peeking through at the new butcher’s block counter over tongue-in-groove cabinets.
“How did you guess?” I help her climb through the frame, but then keep her in my arms to kiss her good morning. “More coffee?”
She has become addicted to my coffee so I make her a cup every morning and leave it on her kitchen window so she finds it when she first comes downstairs.
“I have a surprise for you.” She frees herself from my arms and perches on the windowsill. It’s then I notice the buff, A4 envelope folded lengthways and sticking out of her apron pocket.
