Spellbound Chapter 5.

Chapter Five.

 

Cheese Making.

 

Sophie was shaken awake by her aunt very early the next morning. “No time to lie in bed, we have a lot to do.”

After a quick breakfast of bread and honey and a mug of goat’s milk, Sophie was led to another shed. On the outside, it looked rather tumbled down, but inside it was clean and airy.

Aunt Meg showed Sophie over to a table where there were some wooden bowls. “Pick up as many as you can and follow me.”

Between them, they managed to take all the bowls outside to the river. Aunt Meg gave Sophie a stiff scrubbing brush. “Dip the brush in the river to get it wet, then into the sand. These bowls need to be as clean as they can be. When you have scrubbed them, make sure you rinse away any of the sand. People who buy my cheese would not be very happy if there was grit in it.”

She left Sophie to it and went back into the shed.

The water was freezing cold, but Sophie did not really mind; it was rather nice to be outside in the early morning sun. She could see up the valley to the distant hills. She hummed a tune as she worked.

“Someone sounds happy,” said her uncle as he went past. He was carrying a long pole with lots of fish hanging from it.

“What are those?” asked Sophie without stopping scrubbing.

“These are the trout I caught yesterday, cleaned and split. I am going to hang them in smoke. Then your aunt can take them down into the town to the market to sell them.”

He sighed. “Your father always said that you looked like our mother, your grandmother, and looking at you now I can see why.”

“I never knew my grandmother,” said Sophie.

“No, she died just before you were born,” said Uncle William. “Was she ever talked about?”

“I don’t think so,” said Sophie slowly. “Why?”

“So you were never told that she was a witch — or a Charmer, as she called herself — just like your mother.”

Sophie shook her head. Inside, she wanted to jump up and down with excitement.

“Oh yes,” went on William. “She was, and so was her mother, my grandmother. And as far as I know, all the women before her, as far back as anyone could remember, were witches too.”

He stopped and shook his head. “Don’t tell your aunt that I told you that, and whatever you do, don’t do any witchy stuff around her. She is very frightened by that sort of thing.”

“I promise,” said Sophie. “If I ever do any witch stuff, I will not say a word.”

“Good,” said William. “Now we have work to do, and your aunt gets very angry when people don’t do the things they are supposed to do.”

He walked away into another shed and closed the door behind him. Soon there was a plume of smoke coming out of the chimney.

While no one was around, Sophie concentrated hard on the wooden bowls and watched as the sand swirled around and drained out into the stream, leaving each bowl clean.

She stacked up the clean bowls just in time as her aunt came out of the shed.

“Finished already, hmm” she said. “I hope the bowls are clean.” She picked one up and examined it closely. “Good,” she said. “Now help me take them inside.”

Inside the shed, they put the bowls on a long table. In one corner was an open hearth with a metal grid over the burning logs. On the grid were a collection of hand‑sized stones.

“Can you count?” asked Aunt Meg.

Sophie nodded. “My mother taught me, and I can write the numbers down too,” she said proudly.

“Good,” said her aunt. “There is a pad and a pencil on the table. When the others bring their milk, watch them pour it into the bowls. There is a mark on the bowl to show how much each one should hold. Write down how many bowls each one fills.”

Sophie nodded. “I can do that,” she said.

The door opened and a woman came in. She looked much like Aunt Meg. She was carrying a bucket of goat’s milk.

“This is Letty,” said Aunt Meg.

Sophie wrote the woman’s name and watched as she poured her milk into two of the bowls. Letty kept her eyes down as she poured the milk, her voice barely above a whisper.

She did the same for Pam. Her hands were rough from work, but she poured the milk with surprising care, never spilling a drop. Alice was next, her curls kept escaping from under her headscarf, springing out like they had a mind of their own. Aunt Meg busied herself turning the stones on the fire over.

Sophie was puzzled that no one seemed to speak to each other. She remembered the women who used to come to visit her mother. They always stopped and chatted.

When all the bowls were full, Aunt Meg picked up the red‑hot stones one by one with some tongs and gently placed them in the milk, which sizzled and frothed.

“Fetch over those cloths,” she said.

There were some thin cloths on the side. Sophie was puzzled to see that each of the corners had a small stone tied in it.

Meg took the first cloth and draped it over one of the bowls. The stones pulled the cloth tight.

Sophie clapped her hands. “That is clever,” she said. “The stones stop the cloth from touching the milk.”

“Now we wait until the milk has cooled, then we add some vinegar to it,” explained her aunt. “Then we have to wait for the curds and whey to separate. Time for a bit of fresh air, I think,” said Aunt Meg, and led Sophie outside.

“This is a beautiful valley,” said Sophie. “Is that why you live here?”

Meg shook her head. “We live here because no one owns the land, so we don’t have to pay rent to anyone. And the valley does not go anywhere, so we don’t get people coming along it. There is only a narrow path where the stream leaves the valley, so it would be hard for a large number of people to get in. The other end is where the Wraiths live.”

“Wraiths?” squeaked Sophie. “They are horrible, nasty creatures.”

Aunt Meg shook her head. “They don’t bother us, and we don’t bother them. It is a good place to live. The stream is clean, and there is good grazing for the goats. Someone else must have thought so, as the buildings were here when we arrived.”

“Are the other women married to outlaws?” asked Sophie.

“Yes,” said Aunt Meg, “and not bandits either. Now that is enough chattering. Take off your clothes and have a bath in the stream. I will fetch you clean things and a drying cloth.”

Sophie spent the rest of the day helping around the house. Again, she was too tired that night to practise any magic, but knowing that she came from a long line of witches was very interesting.