Tales of a Minced Forest: 72. Mystery

“I see you are back,” said the melodious voice that had offered us an apple before. “Feel free to serve yourselves.”

The moment I had been awaiting had arrived. I thanked the voice but replied that I had not come to eat. I gave the salt shaker I carried to Alpin who moved to the table cloth and gave us some privacy.

I told the voice it was lovely. That I was enchanted by it and had had to return to hear it again. After all, that was all I really knew about whoever was speaking to us.

“I don’t know if I am doing this right,” I said, trying to make my voice sound as tuneful as I could too, “but I will tell you right out that I think I’m in love with you, and I would like to know you better.”

“Why, I’m flattered,” said the voice. The branches of the surrounding pine trees rustled. The scent of roses wafted through the air. The red cloaked, hooded figure appeared before me. The hood covered the upper part of her face. All I could see was a shapely mouth with rose lips.

“What would you like to know about me?”

“Everything,” I answered. “What your name is, to begin with. So I can sing your praises properly.”

“Women in red cloaks are often named after roses,” she said. “You can call me Rosina. But if you really liked me, you wouldn’t need to know much else. As a hooded genius, I am mysterious, and a true lover of mystery never attempts to unveil it.”

I was so interested in her I did not feel disappointed to hear I might not get to see what she looked like.

“I have never thought of mystery that way,” I said, so she would understand I had understood her, “but what you say sounds true. I should adore you for what you are, and that is mysterious.”

We were silent for a moment and then I said I had hoped I could come visiting and asked if it would be possible.

“If you want to come into my home, you may. But you must put on a cloak with a hood first. And once inside, you must not speak to anyone, or interfere with what they are doing, or try to find out what they are about. Nobody speaks to anybody in there or meddles in the affairs of others. We value our privacy over most else.”

Of course, I couldn’t help being a little surprised by this.

“I can’t speak even to you? Can I at least contemplate you?”

“Everybody in there is all covered up and the only one that doesn’t wear black or grey is me. So I guess you could know who you would be contemplating. It’s not the usual thing, but if I don’t complain, no one will stop you. However, I suspect you have better things to do than stare at me all day, so I don’t recommend that. I don’t think I could stare all day at someone without saying a word myself. Look, I have to go,” she said suddenly. “I’ve already spoken with you longer than I have with anyone in my life.”

“Don’t you ever need to speak to anyone?” I asked.

“As far as I know, I might be the only one in there that does. I do need to speak to someone for about a minute or two every month or so. But once I have, I’m delighted to go back home and be by myself for another thirty days. Listen, perhaps you should give yourself time to think about this. We’ll part as friends, and if you ever need me, you know where to find me. Here, have an apple.”

She drew a small wicker basket from beneath her cloak, picked out a very small yellow apple and gave it to me. She said she grew bio-magical crops.

“My latest apples have turned out rather shrimpy and pale but they are as marvellously healthy as any I have ever grown. Eat it and you’ll be in excellent health for at least a year.”

We said goodbye, I promising to be back in a month so she could speak to me for, hopefully, two minutes instead of just one. And she vanished.

When she was gone, I fetched Alpin and we made our way out of the forest, this time with the help of the lanterns from the tablecloth.

“She talks too much,” Alpin said. “About time she’s gone. I finished eating up everything here a while ago and yak, yak, you were still yaking. Look, if you decide to dump her, no one will blame you. I didn’t tell you before, because you were like so in love with her, but the truth is there are better cooks. Well, maybe she doesn’t do the cooking herself. We’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. But then that might mean she cooks even worse. Are you going to eat that apple?”

I was going to tell him she was a biochemist, not a cook, but fearing I would lose my love token, I immediately took the apple to my mouth and bit it. I remember wondering if it would cure my allergy for a year before I shouted: