The dining room was empty

Today’s short extract is from The Herbalist’s Daughters – read more about that here

The dining room is empty at this hour and Aaron relaxes on a bench, his shoulders resting on the whitewashed, cool surface of the wall. The cold cuts have assuaged his hunger, and he lingers over his mug of local beer. The landlord was right – the beer is flavoursome as well as cooling. While his body yearns for sleep, Aaron’s mind dances with images of the day like thistledown in a breeze, and as hard to capture.

He begins with his parents in their claustrophobic parlour, his heart sore at their coldness, well-deserved as it is. He will take Hester and the girls in the autumn, and after he has written a humble, apologetic letter explaining what he can. His mother won’t refuse the idea of grandchildren, and Ellen’s sweetness will woo her, and his father too. Hester, with her caring manner, her dark-haired beauty and her easy way with people, will smooth the way for acceptance.

Aaron sets down the mug, taps the table top with his long fingers, moving on to the most difficult willow-the-wisp, Mother Lovell. Her puzzling farewell unsettles him. Is the warning for him, or to do with herself? She has always been ancient despite her occasional sparkling eyes and youthful voice. It may be she is ready at last to depart this earth for wherever her kind go, and was wishing him farewell on her own behalf.

Her caution about the outcome of him seeking out Marianne’s parents, of how it will bring tragedy …

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Find Cheryl’s flash fiction and short stories, including audio versions of some, here.