Whitewash by "Bristolian" (Susan Burnett)

In order to decorate, protect and sanitize your home use;

12 cups of hydrated lime

4 cups of salt

2 gallons of water

Apply liberally.

`Oh hang whitewash!' Mair exclaimed, throwing down her brush. She didn't know why she did it anyway. It was something done by her mother, her grandmother, her grandmother's mother and countless generations of mothers. But she had more pressing jobs to do, so why bother with this stupid, pointless tradition. White wash would wait.

Peeking through her net curtains old Delyth tutted to herself, `What a frivolous young woman was `er opposite. Started jobs and never finished them. Always rushing here and there. Now where was she going? Back to London no doubt. Spent more time in London than she did in her Welsh cottage. And the white wash that was unfinished. She with 'er lazy habits was inviting trouble. She'd come to a bad end, just you wait and see.'

Near Mair's Welsh cottage, in another age, a group of farmers were discussing events over a pint.

"E be back you know.'

`No `e isn't.'

`Sure `e is. You ain't heard about poor Morris then? Morris the Milk. `E lost six cows last night `e did

`Aye such a pity.'

"E aint bin in farmin' that long.

` No, `e new tuit'

'Ave you seen them barns of `is? They're in a bit of a state like.'

`Aye, they d'need a good white wash. Them dark corners d'always attract `un back.

Delyth's observations were partly correct. Mair had indeed been in a hurry to return to London . However it had been a hectic journey for her, with numerous road works and delays on the motorway. She arrived at her flat two hours later than expected, feeling hot and frustrated with a searing headache. Gone was her desire to join her mates in the bright lights of the city. All she desired was the semi darkness of her room and peace between the cool cotton sheets on her bed.

Somewhere in the past a story teller wove a tale…..

She was beautiful. Each bone exquisitely formed, covered by a smooth, flawless skin of gentle hue. Each part moved with perfect grace and ease. The face radiated love and contentment. It was alive with bright, sparkling eyes and blood red lips delicately curved upwards and finely arched eyebrows. The countenance was framed by golden tresses which curled and danced in the stmlight. Never was it imagined that such beauty could exist. But that was his downfall. Not content to view and admire, he was filled with lust. How he wanted that woman, but God knew his thoughts, could see right into his mind and didn't like what He saw. And so with one strike he was out

`Out of where?' piped up a small voice.

`Why out of Heaven!' he exclaimed, wondering why this young child found it so difficult to follow such a simple story. God wouldn't have him any more. He'd been given an important job to do. He was one of the Grigori and he was supposed to help God with the creation of Eden . Instead he fell in love with Eve. When he was thrown out of Heaven he found himself a new job, roaming the earth, inflicting destruction and death wherever he could.

Back in Wales Delyth too was settling for the night. With her feet snuggled into the bed clothes, she reached for her well worn, leather bound Bible and began reading from Mark's Gospel. Minutes later she replaced the Bible on the shelf near her bed, turned off her table lamp and offered a prayer to God before relaxing for the night.

'When an evil Spirit goes out of a person, it travels over dry country looking for a place to rest. If it can't find one it says to itself, `I will go back to my house...' Then it brings along seven other Spirits even worse than itself and they come and live there... .This is what will happen to the evil people of the day.'

Rumor had it that Mair was possessed by an evil Spirit that night. She ached from head to toe and her body was covered with a fine rash. It hurt to move. Her neck seemed particularly stiff and immobile. Her face was full of pain and sickness. The eyes were no longer bright but dull and scared and the previously delicately curved lips now sagged and moaned in pain. Her countenance was framed by a straggly mass of lank, dark hair.

It was several weeks later that Delyth saw a removal van arrive at the house opposite. Unable to contain her curiosity she fetched her handbag and pretended she was embarking on a stroll to the village. Casually she inquired about the former occupant. The removal men knew nothing other than that they had been instructed to clear the place as the former occupant had passed away. Delyth was never told that the cause of death was meningitis septicemia.

During the following weeks the sale of lime increased in that little Welsh village. Visitors passing through the area remarked on how clean it looked. They particularly admired the doorsteps of the cottages they past, all freshly whitewashed.

Delyth slept soundly each night, secure in the knowledge that the evil Spirit, The Prince of Darkness would not enter her house. For as tradition had taught her, he cannot cross a well whitewashed doorstep.

Hafan