Join in my daily writing prompt! I don’t promise to respond to them all myself, but will try my best! Here is my response to the latest prompt.
There was a legend about the well in the garden …
There was a legend about the well in the garden, Mrs Leary next door told Kate and Max the first day they moved in. The removalists were unloading beds and mattresses, ‘So at least we’ll have something to sleep on tonight,’ Mum said, fussing about in her usual way. Kate and Max were helping with the bin bags filled with sheets (which Mum had stashed into the bags last night, removed, inspected for unlikely dirt or tears and then re-stashed) when Mrs Leary appeared from her front door and trotted down her footpath. She pushed open her white picket gate, closed it with a firm click, turned right towards Kate and Max and marched up to them, holding out a plate of steaming muffins.
‘Welcome,’ she said, and smiled a smile which didn’t show her teeth. ‘I’m your new neighbour.’ Her eyes narrowed briefly, as if in thought, then widened like she’d suddenly remembered something. ‘Mrs Leary.’ She gave a sharp nod.
Kate wriggled. Mum was always insistent that her children should not talk to strangers, or accept food from them. It could be poisoned at worst, or made with hands which hadn’t been washed and make you ill. Mum had all kinds of rules like that, telling them to Kate and Max with anxious eyes and clasping their arms as if she didn’t want them to ever leave her protective embrace.
At the sound of Mrs Leary’s voice, Mum turned from directing the bed flow.
‘Hello,’ she called. ‘Lovely to meet you, I’m Sarah and this is Kate and Max.’ She walked to Mrs Leary, inspected the plate and, to Kate’s amazement, lifted one of the muffins and took a huge bite. ‘How very kind. I’m starving.’
‘Go on, have one,’ Mrs Leary said. ‘Made with my own recipe, with water instead of milk, makes them lighter.’
Kate’s mouth watered at the smell of the muffins.
‘Mmm. Chocolate and raspberries.’ Mum licked her lips. ‘Go on, have one,’ she told Kate and Max. ‘Mrs Leary has been to a lot of trouble for us, we should say thank you, thank you, and gobble…’ Mum stopped, frowned.
Kate frowned too. Mum didn’t use words like gobble, not in front of strangers.
‘… and hoover up these delicious muffins,’ Mum went on, ‘before the goblins …’
‘Goblins?’ Max said and gave Kate a puzzled look.
Kate shrugged.
‘Cackle, cackle, the hens cried as the fox leapt over the henhouse fence.’ Mum put her hand to her mouth, covering a smear of chocolate muffin crumbs.
Mrs Leary stood with the plate in her hand, watching, face calm as if nothing odd was going on.
She turned to Kate and Max, offering them the plate. ‘Have you found the well in the garden?’
Max nodded, taking a muffin. Kate didn’t take one. Her eyes were on Mum who was wandering back to the front door walking in a silly, lopsided way, her bent arms lifting and falling as she walked. ‘Cackle, cackle,’ she muttered as she went.
Kate wanted to run to her, but Mrs Leary caught her on the shoulder and held her still.
‘There’s a legend,’ Mrs Leary said in an odd, deep voice, ‘about the well in the garden. It says’–she raised her thin eyebrows–‘that whenever a new family moves into this house, the first person to eat something made with water from the well, shows their true character at last.’
All three of them stared at Mum, clucking away at the removal men, telling them to be careful, they mustn’t hurt themselves. Like a mother hen.
Kate looked at Mrs Leary, who smiled widely.
‘Been waiting thirty years to see if it was true.’ She held the plate out again to Kate. ‘Go on, you’ll be fine now.’
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