West Devon Diary Fiction
across the moors had a calming effect. When she finally drove through the farm gates her mood had lifted. The ewes and lambs were bleating and her dad was hobbling around with his stick followed closely by Gem, his faithful collie. “Had a good day lass?” he shouted from the barn. “Yes, great day, dad, thanks.”
farmhouse.
have sounded, both of the world wars included,’ continued the guide. “Well, he certainly had an extremely patriotic side to his nature,” Emily annoyingly felt herself blush when she said this. The guide looked straight at her and with a guileless smile said, “some people say he visits the Abbey at this time of the year.”
Emily looked at her watch. It was nearly closing time. She quickly glanced at the guide’s name badge, ‘F. Davis’. “What does the F stand for?” enquired Emily. “Freddie,” he replied. “My full name is Sir Freddie Davis. My family originally dealt in scrap metal during the first and second world wars. They eventually became legitimate ship builders. I was knighted recently for my endeavours in the shipping industry. Never use my title though. I help out here from time to time.”
Emily smiled to herself. “This guy certainly has a good chat-up line but it might be fun to go along with it.” “I’ve had a wonderful tour of the abbey and enjoyed your company.” Emily felt she wanted to say more but hesitated, and Freddie said, “Look forward to seeing you around. Love to treat you to a drink and a meal at the Drake Manor Inn. It’s one of my haunts.” “Mine too,” replied Emily. “Ok then, how about next Wednesday?” “I’ll hold you to that,” laughed Emily. “Just leave a note at reception for me with your telephone number and I’ll contact you,” Freddie said as he offered her a jaunty salute before turning and strolling back towards the main building of the Abbey.
11
******************** “The lady in reception must have been having a bad day,” Emily groaned to herself as she huffily left the entrance lobby. “I can’t believe she had no trace of Freddie. Said she hadn’t heard of a Freddie Davis, let alone a Sir Freddie Davis. Oh! Well I expect her records aren’t up-to-date. When she sorts herself out I hope she passes on my details to him.” Emily stomped through the grounds to her car. The spring sun was low in the sky, but when she turned to look at the Abbey she saw what looked like a man waving from the roof. She stopped to let a sheep pass by and put on her sunglasses but when she glanced up again he’d disappeared. “Must have been a shadow,” she murmured to her car whilst putting the key in the lock.
Emily still felt rather miffed by the receptionist’s attitude but the drive
Sounded awfully posh. Said he wouldn’t be able to meet up on Wednesday as promised. Was most apologetic, said something about being called away to sea. I’m sure that’s right. Oh! He also said he’d meet you same time, same place next year, mentioned something about Drake’s Drum. I believe his name was Freddie Davis.” “Mum, did he leave a contact number?” “No dear, sorry forgot to ask. Try 1471.”
Emily almost fell over George the tabby as she rushed to the phone and quickly dialled, but the message said: “caller withheld their number”.
___________________________
Drake’s Drum is said to be the very drum that was used on Sir Francis Drake’s ships to beat the men to action quarters prior to engagements. Somehow it found its way back to Plymouth where it is said to mysteriously beat itself during times of peril. Today the drum can be seen at Drake’s former home of Buckland Abbey. It has been said that the ghost of Sir Francis Drake rides the moors and the area of Wistman’s Wood (Reference, ‘Tim Sandles, Legendary Dartmoor 2007.)
Emily’s mum called to her from the “A young man phoned.
Page 1 |
Page 2 |
Page 3 |
Page 4 |
Page 5 |
Page 6 |
Page 7 |
Page 8 |
Page 9 |
Page 10 |
Page 11 |
Page 12 |
Page 13 |
Page 14 |
Page 15 |
Page 16 |
Page 17 |
Page 18 |
Page 19 |
Page 20 |
Page 21 |
Page 22 |
Page 23 |
Page 24 |
Page 25 |
Page 26 |
Page 27 |
Page 28 |
Page 29 |
Page 30 |
Page 31 |
Page 32