Free Charlotte Stone and the Children of the Nymet by Tasha O'Neill

knows how his mother likes her incenses. It’s always nice to get gifts, isn’t it.’
    â€˜He
did
, my dear,’ Clarissa said gently, touching Jude’s hand.
    â€˜Oh well yes, in this dimension perhaps.’ Jude waved away Clarissa’s hand. ‘But I know my sweet boy still looks out for his mother.’
    â€˜Of course,’ Clarissa replied.
    For hours Jude grilled Charlotte on her life and they swapped travel stories. Jude had been up and down the Nile twice, chanting in the king’s chamber of the Great Pyramid, and had even attended a few digs as a volunteer at Karnak. She compared the light shows of Giza and Philae, showed Charlotte a piece of rock she had picked up from outside the temple of Hatshepsut and discussed the merits of various hotels and day trips she had been on.
    You couldn’t help but like Jude; her enthusiasm was infectious and Charlotte was thrilled to have someone who didn’t look at her blankly when she talked them through her 18th dynasty pottery collection. Best of all, Jude ‘ooohed’ and ‘aaahed’ at all the right places. Clarissa, however, had long since bored of talk of deserts and archaeology and retreated to the garden to feed the chickens, Maude and Maurice. It wasn’t till she came back in with fresh eggs, a pail of goat’s milk from Obadiah and a basket-load of fresh vegetables that Charlotte and Jude even looked up.
    â€˜Oh my, is it that time already?’ Jude gasped. ‘Doesn’t time fly. Shall I start on dinner, Clarissa sweetie?’ she asked, already rolling up the silk sleeves of her orange blouse.
    â€˜That sounds like a wonderful plan, dear. I still have a few things to finish off in the garden. I’m planning to make a batch of mint shaving cream this afternoon.’
    â€˜Orders picking up then?’
    â€˜Thankfully,’ Clarissa nodded. ‘Between you and me I’m rather sick of making nothing but jam and biscuits.’ She laughed before heading back outside to make the most of the rare spring sunshine.
    *
    Charlotte had left Jude to the cooking and was now watching Clarissa who, having just planted various crystals and sprinkled essential oils amongst the fruit trees, was now relocating a patch of nettles into the herb garden.
    â€˜I know I don’t know anything about gardening,’ she said sarcastically, ‘but isn’t the goal to remove weeds not replant them?’
    Aunt Clarissa smiled. ‘You are quite right, dear, you know nothing about gardening.’
    Charlotte began to regret she had said anything as Clarissa went on to enthusiastically tell her all about friendly plants, or something like that, as well as detailing the numerous uses for nettles – which, of course, included eating them.
    â€˜Nettles, flowers, tree sap; have you never heard of Sainsbury’s?’ Charlotte said exasperatedly. Clarissa chuckled to herself as Charlotte stomped playfully towards the chapel ruins at the bottom of the garden.
    From the chapel, Charlotte could see the river flowing past the end of Clarissa’s garden, weaving under the wooden bridge flanked by two willow trees, and out into the fields of the shallow valley below. Charlotte lost sight of it as it entered the woodland of Brackenheath Park, but at that point something else caught her eye. The tree, her tree, stood alone atop a small hill to the far end of the park and it must have been a trick of the light but… it appeared to be glowing, just like the painting in Charlotte’s room.
    â€˜Does that happen often?’ Charlotte called to her aunt. ‘The oak tree in the valley looks golden in the sun.’
    â€˜That’ll be the famous Evergreen Oak,’ Aunt Clarissa said. ‘Seems there is going to be a fairy ball in Fargale tonight.’
    This was not the answer Charlotte had hoped for but she suspected it was the best she was going to get. She decided she would Google