Chapter Two - Part One

The North of England

                              

As the first holiday was such a success, it was decided that Leila should visit every year, during the long school summer holidays.

Leila was ten years old when she first started visiting Uncle Fred’s Aunt Betsy. She and Dotty travelled on the top of a red and cream double-decker bus, Leila clasping a shopping bag on her lap, filled with the correct amounts of flour, lard and potatoes. Betsy was going to show Leila how to bake potato cakes.

Betsy’s small kitchen was dark and cool, even on a sunny day. The only window overlooking the back yard was tiny and rarely opened. It was overshadowed by the rows of terraced houses at the rear, effectively blocking off the sun at most times of the day, with a deep white sink and wooden draining board beneath. From this window could be seen the roof tops with chimney pots rising up into the sky like a row of turrets on a castle wall.

There was a cold stone-floored larder with an air vent facing towards the North. The icy wind blew through during the winter months, and it wasn’t very warm during the summer. It was perfect for keeping food cool, some of which could be stored for weeks with no undue effects.

In the centre of the kitchen, on the grey stone flags stood a solid wooden table with a top that had been scrubbed almost colourless over the years.  It was on this table that Leila rolled out her pastry for her potato cakes. She was very liberal with the flour under her rolling pin and a white film of dust covered the floor and the tops of her red summer sandals. But she was oblivious to this, so engrossed in her enjoyment of the pastry rolling.

Betsy would peel and boil the potatoes while Leila created clouds of white mist, which rose rapidly, and then wafted gently down, covering every surface. Betsy smiled indulgently all the time, never interfering.

Betsy was nearly seventy years old and not much taller than Leila. She was by no means frail, being a hearty eater of what she called ‘unfussy food’. “I never have a problem with my stomach,” she proudly proclaimed, “so I must be doing something right.” Her cheeks were full and her skin was almost unlined, except around her mouth as she was always smiling. Her eyes had lost most of their colour and were of the palest blue, but she wore no spectacles, claiming that she was quite able to see clearly, even in the dark. The sun and the moon were her guiding lights.

Sometimes an errant ray of sunshine would pierce the gloom and the minute white particles could be seen dancing in the light.

 “Fairy Dust,” said Betsy. “Well, I can’t have any fairies at the bottom of my garden as I have no garden, so they visit me in my kitchen instead.” Leila’s eyes opened wide. “It must be magic, don’t you think?  Otherwise how does the Fairy Dust enter my kitchen like that, in the shape of a long golden wand?” Leila stared at the shaft, which did indeed look like a long magic wand.

When the potato cakes were completely cooked, filling the kitchen with a warm, savoury aroma, they barely had time to cool  before they were devoured. When Leila tried later to describe the taste to her Aunt Dotty the only word that came to mind was 'hot'. There were never any left to take home, but this could have been because there was little food in Betsy's larder apart from a loaf  of bread and a pat of butter.