Marigold’s Legend

RUBY felt her toes curl inside her canvas shoes, as if trying to cling on to the earth beneath the rubber soles. Now she was at the edge of the gravel path, her heart began to beat faster.

The water was calm, and fluffy clouds appeared to drift across the glassy surface.

It was easy to see how enticing it must have looked to a small child, but how deep was it?

Modern health and safety regulations meant that she was protected by signage and a wooden railing, but things hadn’t always been that way.

Not that children pay attention to that sort of thing anyway.

Six years as an infants’ teacher had taught her that there’s no more attractive place to be found anywhere in a classroom than the sink. There’s something about water that draws children.

With her chest beginning to tighten, Ruby stepped away and looked around.

Unsure of what she’d expected when she finally visited the place that had only previously existed in family folklore, she was shocked by the strength of her reactions.

Blurred vision caused her to stumble as she made her way over to a bench and sat down, resting the bunch of roses on her lap.

On one side of the path, in an area beyond a fence, jaunty bushes of tufted orange and yellow flowers danced in the breeze and smiled up at the sky.

Her roses suddenly seemed overly formal, cultivated and out of place.

Laying them aside, she began searching in her bag.

“Are you all right?”

Ruby paused, squinting up at a man who’d come to stand close to the bench and was offering her a pocket pack of tissues.

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” Ruby sniffed, took a paper hanky and scrubbed at her cheeks, feeling flustered.

“I saw you through the window and you looked a little . . .” He paused, seeming to search for the right words.

The sun was behind him and she had to use her hand as a shield in order to get a proper look at him.

He was dressed in jeans and an open-necked shirt, with a blue sweater on top.

Gesturing to the end of the bench as though to ask her permission, he perched on it, leaving a substantial

Ruby had heard so much about this place that she’d known she had to see it for herself . . .

gap between them.

“Sorry, I didn’t like to presume to sit next to you. It’s just that I was clearing table nine by the window.”

Without turning his head, he waved his hand towards the building behind the fence and away to the right.

“You caught my eye and you seemed sad. A bit lost, somehow.” His voice sounded wistful. “Not that it’s any of my business.

“I don’t make a habit of spying on women, I promise. I just wanted to make sure you were OK.

I’m Archie.”

The last few words came out at breakneck speed and he seemed completely out of breath by the end.

In spite of her earlier tearfulness, Ruby’s face brightened.

“I’m grateful for the tissue – a runny nose is never a good look and I can’t think why I don’t have any in here. I seem to have everything else!”

She rolled her eyes as she held up her oversized handbag.

“And I was a bit upset. It took me by surprise, really. It’s hard to explain.”

He held his hands up.

“It’s none of my business. Don’t feel like you have to tell me what’s on your mind.

“A lot of people come down to the river to work through their troubles. I suppose there’s something cleansing about it.”

“It’s nothing like that in this case.” Ruby sat gazing at the water. “I’ve heard about this place since I was a little girl, but I’ve never actually seen it until today.

“It’s as though I didn’t believe it existed. A magical place where good won out over evil, a hero stepped forward and sacrificed herself and an innocent life was saved.

“But now I’m here . . .” She hesitated. “It’s not a fairy tale but a true story, and it’s so sad.”

Her voice had reduced to a whisper, her fingers shredding the tissue in her lap into tiny pieces.

The two of them were wrapped in their own thoughts for a minute, then Archie stood up.

“In the Old Mill Café there’s someone you need to meet. You could say they’ve been waiting to meet you for a long time.”

Ruby frowned at him and he smiled reassuringly back at her, beckoning with his head.

“I’ll get you a coffee and one of the best cheese scones in the county.”

The entrance of the building seemed gloomy after the sunshine of the day and it took Ruby’s eyes a while to adjust.

There was an immediate drop in temperature, presumably because of the traditional stone construction of the building, and she was glad of the cardigan around her shoulders.

Archie had disappeared for a moment, so she waited by the front counter next to an enticing array of cakes and scones.

It was clearly a popular spot for coffees and lunches.

Despite plenty of tables, there didn’t appear to be many empty seats, and two waitresses bustled in and out carrying trays of food and drinks.

Ruby’s stomach seemed to wake up and remember that breakfast had been quite a while ago.

Archie returned, followed by a woman in a floral dress and a cream apron.

“Mum, I think this is

Chloe Wilton’s daughter. I found her on the bench by the mill pond.”

Archie nodded from one woman to the other, looking pleased with himself.

Ruby’s mouth dropped open.

“How do you know that?” “Your family isn’t the only one with a bit of folklore,” Archie replied.

His mother held out her hands to Ruby.

“Don’t tell me he dragged you here without explaining to you.” She gave her son a withering look and shook her head.

“For goodness’ sake, Archie, have you no sense or manners?”

She turned back to Ruby. “If you’ll come through to the back it’ll be quieter, and Archie can make himself useful and fetch coffee and a plate of scones.”

Intrigued, Ruby followed her through the café to a table which looked out on to a pretty courtyard.

“Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? My name’s Lily Powell, but I was born Lily Bell.

“Fifty-six years ago, my mother jumped into the mill pool to save a little girl from drowning.”

Ruby’s brain was whirling. “That was my mum! You are the daughter of Marigold Bell.”

Lily nodded and smiled.

“I’m proud to say that I am. I was a baby at the time, though, so I only know what other people have told me. It’s all a bit of a legend.”

Together, the two women shared their versions of the events of one sunny afternoon in 1964, when the lives of two families were changed for ever.

Archie joined them with the coffees and scones, listening with fascination as the two threads of narrative wound around each other and knitted together to create a fuller picture.

That day, two daytripping families had been picnicking on the common, which sloped down to the river.

At six years old, Chloe Wilton had always been an energetic child who liked to run around and play.

After lunch, she had been given permission to play on the grass, as long as she stayed where her parents could see her, while they remained on the rug with her twin baby brothers.

The Bells also had an infant daughter, Lily, who was happily asleep in the shade of a beech tree alongside her father.

Aware that she was cooped up with the baby for much of the time, he encouraged his wife, Marigold, to enjoy a peaceful walk by the river.

As she’d lingered beside the disused mill, watching birds swooping and darting across the surface of the water, she’d heard a squeal and a splash.

Some yards away from her, Chloe had been playing by the side of the mill pond and, leaning too far, had fallen into the water.

Without hesitation, Marigold had thrown off her cardigan and left her shoes on the path, then jumped in after the little girl, who was floundering and thrashing around as she was dragged towards the weir.

The lives of two families were changed for ever

In her panic, poor Chloe made herself difficult to rescue, but Marigold managed to get her to the edge of the pond, by which time the alarm had been raised.

There were soon many hands to receive the dripping, gasping child from her hands.

Naturally, the Wiltons were shocked and tremendously grateful to have their daughter returned to them, safe and sound.

Phillip Bell put a blanket around his wife’s shoulders, proud of her heroic actions, and took her home.

“That should have been the end of the story, but it turns out that, in all the struggle and fuss under the water, my mum had hit her head.

“She ought to have gone to hospital, though it’s easy enough to be wise after the event.” Lily shook her head sagely.

“She went to bed that night with a headache and never woke up.”

Ruby’s eyes filled with tears again.

“That’s so awful. I’m really sorry.”

Lily placed her hand reassuringly on Ruby’s and spoke softly.

“It was a sad loss, but it was my father’s more than mine. I have no memory of her.

“By the time I was three I had a

stepmother who was nothing like the fairy tales: no poisoned apples or magic mirrors – only love and a happy home.

“It was she who gave me my passion for baking.”

“And she’s very good,” Archie said, brushing scone crumbs from his jumper. “Her coffee and walnut cake could inspire poetry.”

Ruby laughed and began buttering her cheese scone, which certainly did look delicious.

She and her own mother were so close, it was hard to imagine life without her, but she knew that their relationship was built on all the things they’d shared together over the years.

The advice Mum had given her, the things she’d taught her and the happy times they’d had were what counted at the end of the day.

“What I don’t understand,” Archie began, turning to Lily with a frown, “is why the two families didn’t keep in touch over the years.”

“That was down to Dad.” Lily stirred her coffee thoughtfully. “My mother was a shy person who hated attention or fuss.

“He wanted the memories of her to be true to who she was, so he made sure that we faded away quietly back to our home.”

“Mum’s still got the letter from him, where he said as much. I can understand that.” Ruby wasn’t fond of the limelight herself.

Nowadays, a dramatic rescue like that would be all over social media within minutes, but back then it was possible to be more anonymous.

“How did you come to open up the café?”

“I was looking for a new project for the latter part of my working life and had always fancied being my own boss.

“Baking was my hobby, and I wanted to see if I could make a business out of it.

“Over the years, I’d felt drawn to this place and I used to pop down here from time to time. When it came on the market, it was like a sign.

“That was three years ago, and we haven’t looked back, have we, son?”

Archie shook his head. “No, although I am beginning to wonder if I ought to leave home at some point.”

He looked across at

Ruby, who had finished her coffee and scone.

“Do you fancy a stroll along the river?” He paused as Ruby looked at her watch. “Unless you have to be somewhere.”

“I’m playing in a concert tonight at the assembly rooms, but I have an hour before I have to go back. A walk sounds nice.”

The sun was still warm and the air almost hummed with energy.

Everywhere she looked, Ruby could see birds and insects, as well as grasses and wildflowers in the meadows.

The bright marigolds made a glorious display and, given the lack of other monuments to her mother’s sacrifice on this spot, Ruby could understand why Lily had planted them.

As they wandered along the river path, Archie and Ruby got to know each other.

As well as helping his mother with the café, he was a blogger and freelance writer, reviewing computer software, video games and other things that Ruby knew very little about.

It seemed like a strange combination to her – cake and computers – but he spoke with such enthusiasm about both, she could see why his lifestyle worked for him.

In turn, she talked about the 24 little characters in her class back home and about her love of music, which had started when she joined the recorder club in Year Two.

“I’m happy to say I’ve moved on from ‘London’s Burning’.” Ruby laughed. “Tonight’s concert is in aid of a local community transport scheme.

“Our conductor got us involved because they help his aunt by taking her shopping and to hospital appointments.”

“It sounds like a cause worth supporting. I could branch out and write a review of the concert.” He gave her a sidelong glance.

“Perhaps there will be a member of the woodwind section who’ll be worthy of a mention.”

Ruby felt a warmth in her cheeks from more than just the sun.

“Well, that isn’t likely to be me. Our conductor is always asking me to do a