Lost Love
by Jan Carew
These
things happened to me nearly ten years ago. I lived in a city, but the city was
hot in summer. I wanted to see the country. I wanted to walk in the woods and
see green trees.
I had a little
red car and I had a map, too. I drove all night out into the country. I was
happy in my car. We had a very good summer that year. The country was very
pretty in the early morning. The sun was hot, and the sky was blue. I heard the
birds in the trees.
And then my car
stopped suddenly.
‘What’s wrong?’
I thought. ‘Oh dear, I haven’t got any petrol. Now I’ll have to walk. I’ll have
to find a town and buy some petrol. But where am I?’
I looked at the
map. I wasn’t near a town. I was lost in the country.
And then I saw
the girl. She walked down the road, with flowers in her hand. She wore a long
dress, and her hair was long, too. It was long and black, and it shone in the
sun. She was very pretty. I wanted to speak to her, so I got out of the car.
‘Hello,’ I said.
‘I’m lost. Where am I?’
She looked
afraid, so I spoke quietly.
‘I haven’t got
any petrol,’ I said. ‘Where can I find some?’
Her blue eyes
looked at me, and she smiled.
‘She’s a very
pretty girl!’ I thought.
‘I do not know,’
she said. ‘Come with me to the village. Perhaps we can help you.’
I went with her
happily, and we walked a long way.
‘There isn’t a
village on the map,’ I thought. ‘Perhaps it’s a very small village.’
There was a village, and it was old and
pretty. The houses were black and white and very small. There were a lot of
animals. The girl stopped at a house and smiled at me. ‘Come in, please,’ she
said.
I went in. The
house was very clean, but it was strange, too. There was a fire and some food
above it. I felt hungry then.
‘That’s
strange,’ I thought. ‘They cook their food over a wood fire! Perhaps they have
no money.’
I met her father
and mother, and I liked them. They were nice people, but their clothes were
strange.
‘Sit down,’ said
the old man. ‘Are you thirsty after your walk?’
He gave me a
drink, and I said, ‘Thank you.’ But the drink was strange, too. It was dark
brown and very strong. I didn’t understand. But I was happy there.
I asked about
petrol, but the old man didn’t understand.
‘Petrol?’ he
asked. ‘What is that?’
‘This is
strange,’ I thought. Then I asked, ‘Do you walk everywhere?’
The old man
smiled. ‘Oh, no, we use horses,’ he said.
‘Horses!’ I
thought. ‘Horses are very slow. Why don’t they have cars?’
But I didn’t say
that to the old man.
I felt happy
there. I stayed all day, and I ate dinner with them that evening. Then the girl
and I went out into the garden. The girl’s name was Mary.
‘This is nice,’
she said. ‘We like having visitors. We do not see many people here.’
We spoke
happily. She was very beautiful. But after a time, she began to talk quietly,
and her face was sad.
‘I cannot tell
you,’ she said. ‘You are only a visitor here. We have to say goodbye tonight.
You have to go now.’
I didn’t
understand. I loved her. I knew that. And I wanted to help her. Why did 1 have
to go? But Mary said again in a sad voice, ‘You have to go. It is dangerous
here.’
So I said, ‘I’ll
go to the next town and find some petrol. Then I’ll come back.’
She didn’t
speak.
‘I love you,
Mary,’ I said. ‘And I’ll come back to you. You won’t stop me.’
She said goodbye
to me at the door. Her face was very sad, and I was sad, too. I didn’t want to
go.
It was midnight.
The night was very dark, but I walked and walked. I was very tired when I saw
the lights of a town. I found some petrol, and then I asked the name of the
village. But the man at the garage gave me a strange look.
‘What village?’
he asked.
I told him about
the village. I told him about the old houses and the people with strange
clothes.
Again he gave me
a strange look. He thought, and then he said, ‘There was a village there, but
it isn’t there now. There are stories about it — strange stories.’
‘What do people
say about it?’ I asked.
He didn’t want
to tell me, but then he said, ‘There was a big fire in the village. Everybody
died. There aren’t any people or houses there now.’
‘How did it
happen?’ I asked. ‘And why?’
‘Oliver Cromwell
killed them; he said. ‘He was angry with the villagers because they helped the
king in the war.’
‘This isn’t
right,’ I thought. ‘That war happened 350 years ago!’
Then I
remembered the strange clothes, the long hair, the food over the fire, and the
old houses. And I remembered, too, about the horses.
‘But I don’t
understand,’ I cried. ‘I saw the people and the village. I spoke to some people
there!’
The man looked
quickly at me, and then he spoke.
‘There’s an
interesting story about the village. For one day every ten years, it lives
again – but only for one day. Then it goes away again for another ten years. On
that one day, you can find the village. But you have to leave before morning,
or you will never leave.
‘Can this be
right?’ I thought. Perhaps it was. Mary said, ‘You have to go.’ She loved me,
but she said, «We have to say goodbye.’ She was afraid for me. ‘Now I
understand,’ I thought.
I went back to
the village, but it wasn’t there. I looked again and again, but I couldn’t find
it. I saw only flowers and trees. I heard only the sound of the birds and the
wind. I was very sad. I sat down on the ground and cried.
I will never
forget that day. I remember Mary, and I will always love her.
Now, I only have
to wait two months. The village will come back again. On the right day, I will
go back. I will find her again, my love with the long, black hair. And this
time, I will not leave before morning. I will stay with her.
