by Mark Hayden
‘Let’s sit for a moment.’
We perched on the lip of the well, and Mina put her rucksack on the floor. The first thing she drew out was a small box, gift-wrapped and with a bow. She handed it to me and said, ‘It’s not an Easter present. More of a Thank You.’
I unwrapped the gift and opened the plain brown box inside. Nestling in the box was a stainless steel hip flask. Being a man of simple tastes, I’ve been given over a dozen of these since my eighteenth birthday. I still have some of them. I didn’t tell Mina that, but I did make a mental note to clear out one of the cupboards.
Something had been engraved on the side, and I lifted it out to look with the torch. When I did so, I realised that it wasn’t empty. I read the engraving: To Conrad. A Taste of Freedom. Love Mina. X. I leaned down and we kissed.
‘I think I should find out what’s in it,’ I said, unscrewing the top. I sniffed, and the smoky peat of Islay rose up to tickle my nose. ‘Good choice, love.’ I lifted the flask and said, ‘To us.’ It tasted as good as it smelt.
‘I thought it might help you give up smoking,’ said Mina.
‘How come?’
‘I gave you an engraved lighter. You can leave the lighter behind and still have something from me.’
That was a clever idea. I offered her the flask, and she took a small drink. ‘I don’t know how you can drink that,’ she said. ‘I’ll stick to gin.’
I took another swig and stowed the flask in my coat. My tatty old field coat. I had now run out of decent ones.
‘Join me,’ said Mina, getting up and moving round the well to a sheltered spot.
I followed her and gingerly squatted next to her. This position was not good for my leg. I watched, intrigued, as she took more things from her pack. First was a small framed image of Ganesh, which she propped against the rim of the well. Next was a packet of tea lights, a banana and a packet of Tunnocks Snowballs. She took two out and unwrapped them. I could see where this was going.
She smiled up at me, her shy smile that I’ve never seen her give to anyone else. When Mina was twenty-two, when she had all her life ahead of her, she watched as her brother was murdered and her father beaten half to death. When that was done, the killer used the butt of a pistol to smash her face in. Ganesh has a broken tusk, and that was what drew Mina to him, long before she discovered the world of magick.
‘You don’t need to say anything,’ she said. ‘Just being here is enough.’
Finally, she drew a sheer red silk scarf from her bag and put it over her head. ‘Oh,’ she added. ‘Lighter.’
That first gift to me was a fake Zippo lighter with Ganesh on the side. I handed it over and she began her puja. At the end, she anointed both the picture and herself with red powder. She didn’t place it on her forehead, but on her forearms. ‘Don’t want to upset Desirée unnecessarily,’ said Mina. ‘Thank you, Conrad. Do you need a hand up.’
‘Thank you, love, and yes, I do.’
She left the picture, the tea light and the offerings next to the well and packed everything else away before standing up and holding out her hand. ‘Try not to pull me over.’
8 — Entr’acte
We got back to the kitchen to find Myfanwy and Desi leaning over Vicky’s shoulder as they all stared at a tablet computer. The tablet – Vicky’s magickally enhanced device, which I call her sPad – stood in front of a stack of Tesco Finest Pizzas, still in their boxes.
‘What’s up?’ I said.
Desi and Vicky looked slightly guilty. I’m not sure Myfanwy does guilt or regrets very much, and she piped up, ‘Oh, we were Googling how to use an Aga. None of us have ever had one.’
Mina had hung up our coats and leaned against the kitchen door with an amused expression. ‘Go on, Conrad, I’m dying to know the mysteries of country living.’
I folded my arms. ‘There will be no dissing of the Elvenham Aga. It is older than all of us and will be respected. If any of you diss the Aga, it won’t cook for you. Clear?’
Vicky snorted, Mina rolled her eyes and walked out, and Desi looked down, lips pursed. Myfanwy, however, gave me a big grin and shuffled over to the iron monster. I say shuffled because she’d swapped her smart boots for the fluffy slippers. She stroked the badge on the cooker and said, ‘Hello, you. I’m Myfanwy. I’m sure we’ll be great friends.’
I pointed to the four ovens. ‘Roasting, baking, simmering and warming. Put the pizzas in either of the right hand two and take them out when they’re ready.’
‘On it,’ said Myfanwy, turning back to the table.
Desirée straightened up and wiped her hand over her face. Like all of us, she looked tired, but seemed reluctant to sit down. Even so, she still has a natural grace and poise that rarely deserts her. Her mother, Tennille, was born in Trinidad, and I know nothing of her father other than that he is not around and must have been white or mixed race. Of the four women in the house, Desirée is the only one to have short hair. Normally, it’s dyed and often in cornrows, but today it was black and messy. I tried to smile at her and get her to echo me by sitting down. She did sit down, but moved to the other side of Vicky so that she wouldn’t have to face me. In doing so, she’d also moved further away from the Aga and closer to the door.
Mina returned with two bottles of red wine and started asking Myfanwy about glasses. Vicky was still staring at something on her sPad, so I said to Desirée, ‘You’re staying tonight, of course. Do you want to stay here for the Easter weekend?’
Oooh, had I said the wrong thing. Badly.
She lifted her head and looked at me down her nose. ‘No, because it’s not just a holiday for me. I will be at home, celebrating the resurrection of our Saviour. Don’t drink too much, because you’re driving me to Oxford Services in the morning and our Pastor will pick me up from there. We’re leaving at six, unless you want Mina to drive me.’
Vicky looked up. ‘Howay, Desi man. Give him a break. He’s been nearly fried. Again.’
I held up my hands. ‘Sorry. I’ll be ready at six.’
‘Good,’ said Desirée. ‘And no wine for me,’ she added when Mina put a glass in front of her. ‘It’s Lent. Excuse me.’
She got up and headed for the back cloakroom. Mina poured wine into the other glasses while Myfanwy rummaged in a cupboard and found a can of Diet Pepsi.
Myfanwy put the can down and said, ‘Can we have some house rules, to save arguments later?’
I could guess what was coming next, but Myfanwy had to be happy here, so I nodded a reluctant agreement.
She sat down in the chair nearest the Aga, entirely without thinking. It had always been Mother’s chair. For the record, Vicky was sitting in Rachael’s chair, opposite me. Mina came round and sat next to me.
‘Rule one,’ said Myfanwy. ‘No smoking in the kitchen.’
‘Or the lounge,’ said Mina. Traitor.
‘Or the library,’ added Vicky.
‘Rule two,’ said Mina. ‘No beef served while I’m here.’
‘Really?’ said Myfanwy. ‘Like really really?’
‘Really,’ said Mina solemnly.
‘I’ve been here before,’ said Vicky. ‘That hot water tank isn’t very big, so rule three: baths only by appointment.’
Desi reappeared and sat down. She held up the can of Diet Pepsi. ‘Thanks for this.’
I leaned across the table and grabbed Vicky’s sPad. ‘Rule four. No screens at the table. I’d check that pizza if I were you.’
‘Hey!’ said Vicky.
‘I think he’s right.’ That was Desi.
Good heavens, did she just agree with me? It seems she did.
Myfanwy took out the first pizza and started slicing it. When it was on the table, I decided that more diplomacy was in order.
‘I think we’ve got five different faiths at this table,’ I said. ‘Shall we stand for a moment and give our own private thanks for the food?’
Desirée shot out of her seat immediately, followed by the others.
When
Mina stood up, she said, ‘And mourn those who died in Newton’s House today, and give thanks for the safe …’
‘…delivery,’ said Desirée.
‘Thank you. For the safe delivery of all those who survived.’
We took a moment of silence. I gave my thanks to Odin, gave a few more moments for everyone else to finish, then said out loud, ‘Amen.’
Myfanwy and Desi joined in. Over the scraping of chairs, Desi said, ‘Rule five. No magick talk at the table.’
A very good idea.
No one was keen to stay up late, and we were soon unpacking and finalising bedrooms. Myfanwy was muttering constantly about having to order new this and that. ‘Thank God for online shopping,’ was her conclusion. Her room was a long way from mine. Ours, I should say. It was next to the small bathroom, which is where she disappeared when I finally closed the door behind me. Mina was taking her makeup off and muttering about lack of a proper dressing table. I went over to kiss the top of her head, and I heard a scream from down the landing.
I ran back out and heard a curse in Welsh from the small bathroom.
‘Are you OK, Myvvy?’ I said. ‘Have we got mice again?’
From behind the firmly closed bathroom door, she replied, ‘I’m not bothered by mice. Duw God, it’s these scales, Conrad. They’re saying I’ve put on two stone. Two stone! They can’t be right.’
‘Actually, they usually read under. I’d add a few pounds if I were you. Night night.’
Before I left early the next morning with Desi, I fished out the parish magazine from the junk mail and propped it open on the kitchen table. I put a helpful ring round the time and place of the Slimming World club meeting and left Myfanwy a note suggesting that it might be a way to meet new people.
And before you accuse me of fat-shaming, she sent me a text at seven o’clock saying Thank you.
When Myfanwy had screamed from the bathroom last night, I’d been the only one to go and see what was going on. Given that there’d been a bomb and ambush that day, you’d have thought that Vicky and Desi would have appeared, too, but they didn’t. I found out why on the trip to Oxford Services. Indirectly.
It seems that after I’d gone to bed, Desi had gone to Vicky’s room, and neither of them wanted the rest of us to know what was going on unless there had been a real emergency. Before you jump to conclusions, they’d got together so that they could have an argument. About me.
I didn’t get an apology from Desi in the morning, but she did say that she was going to pray for me. ‘Vicky talked to me last night,’ she said.
‘Oh?’
‘Yeah. She said that I had to open my heart to the idea that you and she had been called to do God’s work, and that so long as you didn’t lead her into evil, I had to give you the benefit of the doubt.’
‘You should come back on Tuesday,’ I said.
She looked uncomfortable. ‘Not my decision.’
‘But it’s my house, my ancestor. You can act as chaperon.’
‘You what? Who for? I don’t have a problem with you and Mina, you know.’
I was so on my best behaviour that I didn’t tell her that it was none of her business. Instead, I gestured towards London. ‘It’s Li Cheng. You can protect him from the Keeper.’
It took her a moment to work that one out. Instead of high dudgeon, she laughed. ‘You’re right. Dr Somerton would eat him alive. I’ll ask Mum if there’s anything on at Church.’
The rest of the journey passed in silence, because Desi took out her Bible and started reading. When I dropped her off, she thanked me for not smoking during the journey and said, ‘Might see you Tuesday.’ I’ll settle for that.
Even in war, you get the occasional time-out, and this weekend was one of them. On Friday, I walked the parish boundary of Clerkswell with Myfanwy, so that she knew the limits of her prison. Half way round, she stopped and said, ‘I’ve got an idea.’
‘Good. What?’
‘I’m going to tell people that I’m doing a detailed, three year survey of every plant in the parish for a PhD in biodiversity, and that I’m working for you to cover my board and lodging.’
That was actually a very good idea, given her specialism.
She continued, ‘And I’ll do it, too. On and off. Mind you, Conrad, I still don’t know how I can explain to people why I can’t leave the village.’
‘You’ll think of something.’
On Saturday, Mina and I went to Cheltenham, to get some quality time. There was a lot of holding hands and wandering around, and mostly people smiled at us. Over lunch, I brought up the question of her trying to get the maternity cover job at Merlyn’s Tower.
There are only a handful of civilians in the King’s Watch, one of whom is Maxine Lambert, the Clerk. She has a deputy, and said deputy is going on maternity leave in the summer. I had broached the idea of Mina doing the job, and Hannah was not exactly receptive.
‘You saw the way she looked at me on the video call,’ said Mina. ‘She hates me.’
‘She’s done and said far worse things to me, yet she still made me Watch Captain at Large.’
‘I don’t want to go where I’m not wanted.’
‘It’s not Hannah’s decision, not really. Maxine needs an assistant, and the assistant has to come from the world of magick. There’s not many people willing to do the job. If there was a crowded field, you’d be at a disadvantage, but there won’t be. If there’s more than one application – yours – I’ll be surprised.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I’ve got a plan.’
‘Vishnu preserve us from your plans. What now?’
‘You’re going to do some research into why there’s been a huge surge in the amount of Alchemical Gold in circulation.’
That stunned her for a second. Her response wasn’t quite what I expected, though. ‘But Conrad, I was an accountant, not an economist.’
‘The market’s too small for an economist to be of any use. This is a job for detail.’
‘Where would I start?’
‘It’s going to be while before you meet Hledjolf the Dwarf in person. Thankfully, he’s very much a twenty-first century Dwarf. I’m surprised he doesn’t have a website. Maybe he does. All you have to do is talk him into handing over some anonymised data.’
‘Oh yes, that will be so easy I’ll get right on to it.’
‘Good.’
‘I was being sarcastic.’
‘I wasn’t. I’ll send you his contact details.’
‘You want me to call a Dwarf?’
‘Email would be best. You’re guaranteed a quick response. As far as I can tell, they don’t sleep. Maybe they recharge at night.’
‘I’ll think about it. Now let’s focus on lunch. There’s shopping to do afterwards, and not just to buy you yet another new Barbour.’
‘Let me guess: Myfanwy’s given you a list.’
‘Yes. It’s a good job you have broad shoulders, Conrad. There’ll be a lot to carry.’
‘Talking of shopping, how did it go when you went to the village shop this morning?’
She brushed her hair away from her face and gave me a smile. ‘Wait and see.’
Right. Thankfully, the waiter arrived at that moment.
And Vicky? She got very bored. She had to spend long periods flat on her back, with her legs up the wall. It’s the only way to get swelling down. Consequently, she was bored and grumpy, but by Saturday night her foot was back to normal size. She spent a long time on her phone, I know that much.
On Saturday evening, Mina and Myfanwy shared the cooking because Vicky and I were expecting a video call from Hannah at sunset. Our boss is so hard to read, that I don’t know whether she keeps Shabbos out of faith or so that she can turn her phone off and have a normal life for twenty-four hours. Either way, Hannah doesn’t do Friday nights or Saturdays.
‘About this Fae Countess,’ she said. ‘I’ve had word back from some people, and it seems that the Warden was right. It was a S
quire.’
I said nothing.
Hannah squinted at me. ‘What does he know about the Fae?’ she said to Vicky, completely ignoring me.
See? If she can treat me like that and still trust me, there is hope for Mina.
Vicky sighed. ‘I’ve been trying to avoid that topic. I’ll tell him later. Have you any idea who the Squire’s master might be?’
‘No, nor am I likely to. That Squire hasn’t been seen before, and he won’t be seen again. Not for a long, long time. I’ve had the final report from Ruth, by the way.’
Ruth is Hannah’s twin. They joined the Metropolitan Police on the same day, and Ruth is still there. Inspector Kaplan. She’s our gateway to the mundane world of law enforcement.
Hannah picked up a printout. ‘The car was hired with a false name and the CCTV of the transaction shows that a Glamour was used. There is no record of the bomber on any database – no fingerprints, no hits for facial recognition. The only genuine part was the credit card. Ruth is trying to figure that out as best she can.’ Hannah put the paper down. ‘You’re definitely right, Conrad. This can’t go on. Ruth can’t get at the credit card details without logging it against an open case, and because there’s no crime we’re admitting to, there’s no open case. She’ll get there in the end. I’ve asked Ian and Annelise to start drafting a proposal for the Occult Council on data access. Anything else?’
‘No, ma’am.’
‘Good. Enjoy the holiday and call me the minute the summoning is finished.’
We stuck our heads in the kitchen to see what was happening, and there was rather too much excitement going on.
‘Oh, good, you’ve finished,’ said Myfanwy. ‘We’ll eat in five minutes and be ready for the start.’
‘Start of what?’
Mina and Myfanwy looked at us as if we’d been on the moon. ‘It’s the launch show for Britain’s Got Talent.’
I stared at them.
‘What?’ said Myfanwy.
‘You are joking, aren’t you?’ I said.
