This is a Heading Example
A few dwellings still nestle below Pickering castle and in one of these cottages lived a young girl with her widowed mother. To make ends meet she was expected to do a most dreadful thing. This is her story.
Lizzie Bickerdyke pressed her nose against the glass mullioned window of Sally’s sweet shop, which stood by the bridge at the bottom of the market place.
Humbugs and liquorice; lemon sugared pearl drops and bright pink bonbons were displayed in large trays. She imagined that she could smell the candy sticks and sherbets in every colour of the rainbow. The honey-sweet aroma, tempting and tantalising her taste buds.
Turning over the few farthings in her pocket, Lizzie jumped at the sound of clattering hooves on the cobbles. Abraham, the old dray horse was pulling a low cart, that rattled and creaked as the axles held on to the large wooden wheels. The horse strained on the reins as Archie Bickerdyke brought him to a stop.
‘Whoa. Steady old fella. C’mon girl we haven’t got all day.
Lizzie turned from the sweet shop and ran towards Abraham, a white steam gushing from his nostrils. She climbed up to sit beside her grandfather and caught only a glimpse of the men in the back of the cart. Two she recognised, they worked as overseers in the market. But the young one, she had never set eyes on before.
They drove along Park Street and just beyond the castle to where the edge of the forest began. Lizzie shivered as Abraham backed the cart up to the old tree.
She was never allowed to turn around, but she knew only too well what was about to happen. Where the lowest branch almost reached the trunk, was a large burl, which Lizzie had always thought, resembled a pair of ram’s horns.
This would stop the rope from moving.
Her grandfather left her side and Lizzie moved across to his seat. Within seconds Lizzie heard the scuffle and felt the cart shudder beneath her. She grabbed the reins in readiness.
‘Right girl,’ her grandfather shouted. Then with a flick of her arm old Abraham walked forward six paces. Lizzie Bickerdyke had carried out a deed that a girl of ten years old should not have been asked to do. Throughout her childhood she was known as Hanging Tree Lizzie
Many years passed. Lizzie married and became a mother. She managed well to hide the memories that plagued her by day, and the terrible dreams that would torment her by night. She lived in a small cottage on Castle Road and would never allow her children to play in the forest, or swing on the rope that hung from the hanging tree. Lizzie would never go to that place again.
Her children grew, and eventually left home. Lizzie became a recluse, preferring to stay within her garden walls. Her garden was her only comfort, for it was here, she could find peace. In her later years, Lizzie saw her world through a veil of mist. Her eyes had become opaque discs.
Just before her eightieth birthday, her grandson visited with news that his company was to clear part of the forest, to make way for a quarry. Lizzie closed her eyes with relief. At last it would be gone.
On the morning of her birthday, her grandson proudly presented her with a beautiful rustic garden seat, he had carved and nailed himself. But the ghosts from Lizzie’s past would never let her be. In the autumn of her years, as she sat on the garden seat in the sunshine, weary from the day’s toil, her hand rested lightly on the side post. As her fingers moved over the smooth polished wood she gasped. She turned icy cold as her hand became frozen over a large, gnarled, wooden knot in the shape of a pair of ram’s horns.
Take the route along Park Street and on to Undercliffe stopping just past the castle at the edge of the forest. It is said that if you stand here and listen, you can still hear the rattle and creak of a cart through the rustle of the trees.
(c) 2024 Lillian Bradbury.
The Story
“The Garden Seat” is a haunting tale set in historic Pickering, where a young girl named Lizzie Bickerdyke carries a dark burden. As the daughter of a widow, she is tasked with an unthinkable duty – helping her grandfather execute condemned prisoners at the hanging tree. The story follows Lizzie’s life as she grows up marked by these experiences, eventually finding solace in her garden. In her twilight years, her grandson presents her with a rustic garden seat he crafted himself, unaware it holds a chilling connection to her past – made from wood of the very hanging tree that haunted her childhood.
About the Book
“Welcome to My World” is a captivating collection of short stories and poems that paint a vivid portrait of life in the picturesque Yorkshire town of Pickering. Author Lillian Bradbury weaves together provocative poetry and whimsical musings, bringing readers into her world of deep fantasies and imaginative possibilities. Her writing style masterfully blends local history with elements of gothic storytelling, creating atmospheric tales that will stay with you long after reading. If you enjoy stories that explore the hidden depths of human nature while celebrating Yorkshire’s rich heritage, this book deserves a place on your shelf.
