finegely-oll

Many years ago in the little village of Rescrowan lived a brave young lad all in his twenty year. Yarvey he was called, Yarvey Darvey and fair handsome enough but a bit slow to catch on sometimes on account he hadn’t been anywhere much nor seen much anything either; you could say he was a bit of a dreamy boy.

Well, Yarvey was getting into his itchy time and thinking he should have a kerys maid of his own, but he couldn’t find one that he really liked in all the parish around.

That was just so well because Drasher Biddick would have been his rival where ever he looked. Drasher thought himself quite a bit higher than the bees knees and had a knack of winding up and then standing back laughing while someone else did the work, or carried the blame. They all knew him for it but still they listened to him.

T’was the time after tealing and too soon for hay, and the weather warming up and the lads looking about and the maids looking the other way, or pretending, and Drasher’s father was sounding on for him to cut fuzzy up on the High Downs. Drasher was seeking some easy life so he fixes on Yarvey.

“Yerr Yarvey,” says he, “how be doing with the maids then?”

Yarvey sees something interesting on his boot and can’t properly answer.

Drasher says “You want ter do what I done an’ get yerself a faerie maid to help ‘ee, tid’n difficult, then she’ll make you completely IRRESISTABLE – that’s if you want”.

Yarvey thinks he’d rather like to be even a little bit IRRESISTABLE, but he says how he’s not sure.

“Listen, all you’ve got to do is go cut a bit of fuzzy up around the Picky Stone and when you hears a squall when you grabs hold with your fuzzy cuff, say in a loud voice:

‘COME UP, COME UP fynegely oll COME UP, COME UP whenever I call’,

Yarvey says how he’s cut loads of fuzzy in his time and never, ever heard a squall.

“Ahh”, says Drasher, “I forgot to tell ‘ee, tis got to be done in the dead of night, but you’m allowed to take a little glim, an’…an’ you might have to cut a fair bit” [fer me to carry home next day] but he didn’t say that bit.

“I’ll do it!” says Yarvey, having more courage in the saying than the doing. Then with his thinking catching up a bit he asks” How come you know all this stuff, Drasher, ‘bout faeries an’ all?”

“I had ‘n off Werky Trebilcock an’ ‘ee had ‘n off Tommy Lobb and they both married ‘ansome maids”, says he, “Now say the words again with me so’s you get it right.”

“COME UP, COME UP fynegely oll, COME UP, COME UP whenever I call”

So there it was, Yarvey set up for a night’s work and off he goes to the linhay for the fuzzy cuff and a glim and to sharpen up Granfer’s patch-hook. Then, when it’s beginning to get dark he puts all in his gathering bag, with a bite and a sup and sets off up the valley for the High Downs.

“I’ve been up and down this way most of my life so light or dark is all the same to me”, he says to himself. Even so he still had a tiny trickle of ICICLES inside when he realised just how dark the dark really was and he still had a way to go to reach the Picky Stone. The Picky Stone is a tall spike of granite that has been standing on the highest part of the Downs for nobody knows how long; perhaps since the time of the giants; some say it is a giant turned to stone and one day the magic will be broken and then…. well, look up!

After a while Yarvey reckons he’s close enough and all about are thick clumps of the fuzzy he’s come to cut so he sets down his bag, lights his glim, puts the fuzzy cuff on his left hand, takes up the patch-hook and starts in on the nearest bushes, listening out intently every time he grabs a branch for the hint of a squall. Swish, swish goes the hook in a steady rhythm as Yarvey cuts and then flings the fuzzy behind him, working deeper and deeper into the clumpy. Nary a squall, Nary a squall.

The moon comes up and Yarvey saves his glim and getting tired, decides to sit on a stone in the still and quiet to have his crib.

Then he does think he can hear something, not a squall, more of a whispering …. look ‘ee…. look ‘ee…. look ‘ee… then fading away again. So faint it could have been the wind - if there had been a wind. Then he heard it again ……. look ‘ee…. look ‘ee…. look ‘ee… and it seemed to be coming from where he last cut the fuzzy. Picking up the cuff and the patch-hook he starts in again but just as he’s bending the branch he sees that beyond it there is a little platt; a little open space in the middle of the clump. It is carpeted with the softest silvery grass and in the middle there is the most BEAUTIFUL… ohh… the moon goes behind a cloud and all is darkness… then it comes out again… the most BEAUTIFUL … MAID that Yarvey has ever clapped eyes on. She is asleep on the silvery grass and he doesn’t know how to move or stand still.

Well, for Yarvey at that moment time ceased completely and he could only gaze in awe as she lay so serene in the moonlight. He wanted to speak but he’d swallowed a potful of glue; his knees were weakening but he couldn’t sit down and his eyes were inexplicably watering until he worried he wouldn’t be able to see her.

After a year or maybe five minutes Yarvey felt his tongue loosen and he said the first thing that came into his head:

“COME UP, COME UP fynegely oll, COME UP, COME UP whenever I call”

and the maid slowly opened her shining eyes, smiled at Yarvey, and sat up.

“Orlright are ‘ee”, says she, ”I’m fair glad to see you me ‘ansome; I musta nodded off for a bit an’ I just could-na wake up.” “A brave bit I should think,” says Yarvey putting out his hand and helping her up standing ,”I’m Yarvey.”

She was a little unsteady from all the sleeping and Yarvey had to hold her close to him for a minute or two. Her soft lips brushed Yarvey’s cheek, ”Thank you,” she said, and Yarvey became a tidy bit unsteady himself, and they nearly had to sit down!

“I’m Kensa,” she tells him, ”Kensa Blejewan from Trekelyn.”

“I knows it,” says he, ”but it’s…it’s…umm.. a bit of a …”

“Mother, oh mother!” says Kensa, quick as a flash,” she’ll be some worried, I must go – NOW!” and she’s off across the High Downs at a fair pace. Yarvey gathers up as fast as he can and sets off to follow her. The moon is still bright and it’s easy going. After about half a mile the way dips down to a knot of twisty old trees and the brambly place that once was Trekelyn, now just a heap of mossy stones and half a wall. Yarvey catches up with Kensa. She stands in the remains of the yard, her lovely eyes glittering with tears.

“Oh,” she sighs ,”oh and oh!”

Yarvey takes her gently by the hand,”Tis been like this since Granfer’s time at the very least. You’ve been up by the Picky Stone a brave witchy while methinks.”

“What’ll I do, oh, what’ll I do?”

“Well,” says Yarvey,” we best go home to Rescrowan, the sky’s lightening up and ‘tis a new day. Granfer will know what to do.” Then he remembered Drasher and had a little smile to himself when he thought of his face when he saw the pair of them, and how lovely Kensa was. They set off, at a steadier pace than they’d come, hand in understanding hand, and eyes only for the each of them.

Bye and bye they came to the little village, dropping down into the lane below Arthur’s coppice. There, to Yarvey’s surprise, they came upon a brightly painted sign which read; RESCROWAN WELCOMES CAREFUL DRIVERS. That’s odd he thought, didn’t see that yesterday, and anyway it should say Drovers not Drivers, surely. Then there’s a rattling and roaring and hideous hooting and a monstrous wheeled carriage thunders past and to avoid it they had to crouch in the ditch.

They made Granfer’s cottage at a run and, my dear life, ‘twas all painted pink – bright pink, the plot covered in planks and fanciful seats and umbrellas, the window and doors shiny white, no chimney’s, no smoke, no Granfer! A notice by the door read: ‘Pixie’s Cottage, enquiries Tel: 020 77954739!’ It didn’t mean anything at all. They turned to look at the rest of the village. It was so DIFFERENT, so TIDY, so EMPTY! Billy Willis’s house was bright green with a cartwheel fixed to the wall! The road was black and smooth with yellow lines each side of it. Aunt Emm’s house was white and the garden had been filled with a large house made from huge glass windows and a few red bricks!

“Oh!” sighs Yarvey,” and oh and oh, what’ll we do?”

Now it was Kensa’s turn to take charge,

”Listen,” she says,” when you woke me up you said a little rhyme; you called me and I came TO - I came to you. Lets close our eyes and say it together, maybe it’ll do something.”

“Three times, do you reckon?”

“Right on, an’ think of your Granfer!”

So they shut their eyes and held their hands tight together and said:

“COME UP, COME UP fynegely oll COME UP, COME UP whenever I call”

“Hold tight my bird!”

“COME UP, COME UP fynegely oll COME UP, COME UP whenever I call”

“And again me ‘ansome!”

“COME UP, COME UP fynegely oll COME UP, COME UP whenever I call”

They opened their eyes.

They opened their eyes wide and there stood Granfer’s cottage just as it was, and there was Granfer, whiskers and all sittin’ in the porch, and THERE, coming up the lane was the largest mouth they had ever seen and it was full open, and it couldn’t say any thing and it belonged to Drasher – Drasher Biddick - as was!!