Image of the Castle Mound in Bishop’s Stortford by PAUL FARMER, CC BY-SA 2.0, Link

Aunt Margie lived in Cherry Tree Gardens,  and I went to stay with her one weekend.  I remember shiny skin on her face, a nice smile, and dark hair that was rolled into a sausage shape at the back of her neck. Granny took me there, and she and Aunt Margie had a cup of tea.  I stood by her chair and looked at things in the kitchen.  I think there was a parade of china ducks on an open shelf.

I met my cousin Merle, a few years older than me, who had dark hair like Aunt Margie’s, that bounced and swung as she moved.  My hair was darker but it was flat and far too short to bounce.  Merle took my hand and we went to her bedroom to play.  She suggested we play Sleeping Beauty, and take turns being the Princess.  I was to be the Wicked fairy godmother and the handsome Prince. I cackled as she pricked her finger and swooned with graceful hand gestures, and I fought my way through the thicket, bowed and kissed her hand, and vowed for-ever love.  The Princess woke up, and I prepared to change from the strong and handsome Prince to the beautiful and delicate Princess.

Merle said “Can I be the Princess again? Please?”  I agreed and we went through the story again.  Then she still wanted to be the Princess, but I said I didn’t want to play that game again.  I saw some books on the windowsill and went to look at them.  Soon I heard my name being called and went to the kitchen.  Merle was there, sobbing.

Aunt Margie said “why are you being cruel to your cousin? You just met, and you made her cry. It will be lunch time soon, now both of you go play together and be good.”  I think that Merle and I decided right then, we would not be friends.

She insisted that we continue her game, so we played again and again, but I put no effort into my part of the game, and eventually she grew tired. She took some beautiful dolls from a white shelf and arranged them on a big chair.  I watched, but was not allowed to touch, so I ignored her and thought about my dolls at home, the rag doll cowboy, the little girl doll all scratched and old, with a gap in the middle of her molded hair so that a ribbon could go through, the big-girl sleeping-eye doll with one eye broken, and all the others sitting on the laundry copper.

The rest of the day was spent playing cards and working a jigsaw puzzle.  We talked a bit about Merle’s big double-tiered bed.  I recognized it because Great Aunt Grace had one in her front room, and I stayed there quite often.  It was made of very heavy metal and was a shelter against bombing raids. Air raids were happening less often now, but when the siren sounded, that bed felt very safe.  I slept that night on the bottom, which really was a mattress on the floor. I liked the pillow, soft and smelling of fresh air from being dried on the clothes line.

Next morning Aunt Margie took a basket from the pantry, we put on our coats, and went through the back gate.   We crossed the road, walked along a weedy alley, and came to a field that ran beside the railway that went from London to Cambridge.  The field was steep down to the tracks, and it was a bit difficult to keep our footing.

“Walk slowly, so that you don’t slip.” she said.  “Let me show you what I want you to do.” She bent down and picked some small dandelion leaves. “We’ll have spring salad for tea.”

I couldn’t imagine eating dandelion leaves. Granddad grew Cos lettuce for salad at home, but there were lots of dandelions in the field, so we picked our way down to the rails, mostly with Aunt Margie unhappily telling us over and over to pick smaller leaves.

Merle and I walked far apart most of the time, although we each had a turn at missing a step and tumbling part way down the bank, which made us giggle when we realized that we were not hurt.  We reached the tracks and Aunt Margie said we had enough dandelion greens, but we needed to gather some cress, so we walked along to the bulky black bridge that reached across.  The bridge smelled of creosote.  I recognized it because Granddad used it on the wooden edges of our garden steps.  Merle held her nose as we climbed the steep steps, and I made sure that she could see me not holding my nose.

Walking over the bridge was fun.  Our shoes were loud on the bulky black beams, and the steep steps going down were open and wide, so that it felt as if your feet could slip through if you weren’t very careful.  There was another steep bank for us to clamber down, and then I could see the stream, clogged with cress, looking so green and fresh with glimpses of clear water in the gaps between.

Looking through the trees on the other side of the stream I could see the castle mound, and now I felt familiar with where we were.  If we could cross the stream and find the path, we could walk all around the mound, which still had some daffodils blooming. A little while ago it would have been covered with them. In school we had learned some of Wordsworth, and in my mind, the dancing daffodils were forever linked.

On the other side of the mound was the amusement park, with swinging boats and the children’s roundabout.  In the summertime, despite the possibility of an air raid at any time, the Punch and Judy puppet show went on every day at lunch time.  Mother made a picnic sometimes, cheese and bread with tomatoes and cucumber, hard-boiled eggs and lemonade in old bottles.  I never liked Punch and Judy, but I like the picnics very much.

I heard my name being called.  and Aunt Margie was waving me to her with an impatient tone in her voice, which told me I had day-dreamed too long.  Her basket was brimming with greens.  Merle was already climbing up the bank toward the thick black bridge, so I hurried to catch up.  Just after crossing the railway tracks, I heard another familiar sound.  A train was chuffing its way toward us, on its way I supposed, to Cambridge.  We stopped to watch it go by,  and we were soon clouded in a dark thick stream of smoke that encompassed us and spread itself over the field where we walked, where the dandelions grew that we had gathered for tea time salad.

Granny joined us for tea, and Aunt Merle said she hoped I would come to stay again.  I caught Merle’s eye, and her expression said what I felt – that I wasn’t that excited about seeing her again. It was a long walk home, I thought about her and the weekend and decided that there had been some fun.  But we never played together again.