The Dark Stranger by Sara Seale

a gardener was driving a motor mower across the smooth lawns, leaving a track of incredible precision behind him.
    Tina ran into the house, calling: “ Belle! Belle! Where are you? ” And Brownie came across the hall to meet her.
    “ Belle ’ s out, she said. Come here, child, and let me look at you. My! You ’ ve grown, I do believe. ”
    “ When will she be back? ” Tina asked when the greeting was over. It was Belle she had wanted, someone of her own to welcome her.
    “ Not till late. She ’ s over to Gwerrenporth playing bridge and such like. ”
    “ Oh! And Cousin Craig? ”
    “ He ’ s not back yet. Had to stay late this evening to see the foreman about something. Get out of that nasty uniform before dinner, Tina. I never could abide it. ”
    Brownie went upstairs with her, watching her critically while she changed. It seemed odd to Tina to be back in this room with its sprigged wallpaper and faded hangings as if she had never been away. She put on the new wool frock which Belle had sent her for Christmas, and knew an irrational sense of disappointment that her stepmother had not been there to greet her. She fastened the wide leather belt tightly round her narrow waist and Brownie remarked:
    “ You ’ re still too thin. Why didn ’ t you come for Christmas? Craig was disappointed. ”
    Tina looked up quickly.
    “ Cousin Craig? But Belle said —” she began, then stopped at Brownie ’ s expression.
    “ H ’ m, I thought as much, ” Brownie said. “ You can unpack now if you like. ”
    Outside in the garden a cuckoo was calling, the first Tina had heard that year, and she shut her eyes quickly to wish.
    “ Did you ever hear the tale about the cuckoo of Zennor? ” asked Brownie, watching her.
    “ No. ”
    “ The village people there once built a hedge round a cuckoo to keep hold of the spring. ”
    “ Oh, ” said Tina softly, her liking for superstition charmed by such an idea. “ Brownie, would there be time before dinner for me to go to the temple? Zachary has planted some things in my garden. ”
    “ Yes, if you ’ re quick, but you won ’ t see much, it ’ s getting dusk. Don ’ t keep Craig waiting for dinner and mind you finish your unpacking first thing tomorrow morning. ”
    “ I will, ” promised Tina, and snatching up a coat ran out of the room and down the stairs, hoping she would not meet Craig in the hall.
    The sun had dipped behind the distant moor and the walks and shrubberies were dark and a little dank as she ran through the grounds, but in the clearing beyond, the evening light still lay gathered, and the temple stood waiting, just as she remembered it, with its broken plinths and columns and its moss-grown steps, but in the rough surrounding grass wild daffodils grew in careless abandonment, planted, Tina was sure, long ago by Jessie Pentreath and left to run riot. Someone had cleared away the rotting leaves of winter and in the garden Tina had made u nder the magnolia tree, Zachary ’ s seeds were thrusting through the freshly-turned earth.
    She read the little labels in the failing; light. Mignonette ... veronica ... larkspur ... all the old-fashioned flowers of childhood, she thought, thinking lovingly of Zachary who had known instinctively what she would choose herself.
    “ Tina! ”
    It was Craig ’ s voice calling from the azalea walk, and she jumped guiltily. Was it so late, she wondered, remembering her own disastrous sense of time.
    “ I ’ m coming, ” she shouted and the next moment he stood at the edge of the clearing, tall and dark and aquiline, just as she remembered him.
    “ How do you do, Cousin Craig, ” she said gravely, staring at him with those widely-spaced eyes.
    “ How do you do, Tina, ” he returned equally gravely, then she moved brushing the hair from her face with a nervous gesture.
    “ Am I late? ” she asked. “ I ’ m sorry if I ’ ve kept you waiting. ”
    “ There ’ s no hurry. I only came to welcome you home, ” he