Bourn’s Edge

by Barbara Davies

  It didn’t pay to make them come looking for him. His shoulders tensed. Once, they had turned him into a pig for seven days. And there was that fortnight spent without a mouth.

  “Here, pigs,” he called, a little desperately. “Here.”

  Sleepy eyes turned towards him then away once more. He raised his willow switch and said more forcefully, “I said, here, pigs.”

  With a grunt of annoyance, the herd matriarch heaved herself to her feet and trotted to his side. The others would follow her. “Good girl, Blacktail.” He patted her on the rump. “Time to go home.”

  Chapter 3

  Cassie engaged the handbrake and switched off the ignition. “Here we are.” She undid her seat belt and stretched.

  Beside her, Tarian peered through the windscreen at the house—a large semi-detached with a spacious front garden. “Nice. How long has your friend lived here?”

  “Just over a year. They bought it after they got married. Before that Louise had a flat.”

  “And her husband’s name is—?”

  “Sam.” Cassie reached for the door handle. “But he’s away on business, thank God. Having a husband around changes the dynamic. You know?”

  Tarian nodded and undid her seat belt. “Louise is your friend, not Sam.”

  “Exactly.” Cassie went round to the boot and opened it. An indignant miaow greeted her, accompanied by the sound of claws shredding cardboard. “There, there, Murphy. It’s nearly over.” She reached for the cat carrier, pausing at the sound of the house’s front door opening.

  “I thought it was you,” came Louise’s shout. “Need any help?”

  “Yes,” called back Cassie. “Come and collect your cat.”

  A grinning Louise trotted down the drive towards her. She was wearing a pinafore apron and pink rubber gloves. “I was just making the place presentable,” she said as she drew nearer.

  “Are those new specs?” asked Cassie. Her old friend had never got the hang of contact lenses but at least she no longer wore the heavy frames that had marred her looks at school. “They suit you.”

  “Thanks.” Louise nodded a shy hello to Tarian and accepted a peck on the cheek and a warm hug from Cassie, who pointed to the cat carrier.

  “He’s in there. And he’s not happy.”

  Murphy let out a series of mournful cries.

  “Sounds like the understatement of the year.” Louise picked up the carrier by its handle, turned, and stopped dead. Tarian had let the wolfhounds out and they were eyeing Louise with interest. “Er.”

  Tarian clicked her fingers, and Anwar and Drysi went to her side at once.

  “They’re very obedient.” Louise sounded both relieved and impressed.

  “And not as scary as they look,” said Cassie. “Tarian’s got them well trained, Lou. They’ll be okay in your back garden for a bit, won’t they?” Louise gave her a doubtful look, and Cassie turned to Tarian. “Tell them not to dig up the roses or leap over the fence.”

  Her order made Tarian roll her eyes. Louise grinned at the exchange.

  “Where—?” said Tarian.

  “It’s that way.” Louise pointed to the side gate. Moments later Tarian lifted the gate’s latch and disappeared with the dogs along the side passage.

  Louise took the opportunity to raise her eyebrows at Cassie and murmur, “She’s gorgeous. And those eyes.”

  Cassie gave her friend a goofy grin. “I know. I still have to pinch myself some days.”

  “Where did you say you met her?”

  “It’s a long story.” A loud hiss interrupted Cassie, and the sound of scrabbling claws intensified. “We’d better get him indoors.”

  She reached for the laundry basket she had filled with tins of cat food, a half-used sack of dry food, his bowls, cat-scratching post, litter tray, and favourite toys. A catnip-stuffed mouse made a bid for escape, and Cassie grabbed it and put it back.

  Louise gaped at her. “Sure you can manage all that?”

  “If we’re quick about it.” Cassie steadied the basket on one knee while she slammed the boot closed. She followed Louise through the front door, into the hall, then into the kitchen.

  Cassie gave her surroundings an approving look. On a granite countertop lay two tea trays. One contained a coffee cake, a knife, and three plates, the other a jug of milk, a cafetière, and three cups and saucers. In the cafetière was ground coffee, awaiting the addition of boiling water. Must be for us. “You’ve had this room redecorated. Nice.”

  “Thanks.”

  While Cassie dumped Murphy’s possessions in front of the washing machine, Louise set the cat carrier in the middle of the vinyl-tiled floor, knelt beside it, and opened the top.

  “Miaow.” Murphy glared up at her, tail lashing.

  “Don’t you want to get out of that nasty old box?”

  “Careful, Lou,” said Cassie, as an unsheathed paw lashed out at her friend.

  “It’s all right. I came prepared.” Louise took off her gloves, dipped a hand in her apron pocket, and came out with something held between finger and thumb. It was dark reddish brown, and looked meaty. “Here, Murphy. Look what I’ve got for you.”

  The tail stopped mid wave and a ginger nose thrust itself forward. Next moment, Louise’s fingers were empty and Murphy’s jaws were moving. He swallowed, considered, and let out the high-pitched miaow used only when he was being affectionate.

  “What was that?” asked Cassie, amazed.

  “Chicken liver.”

  Murphy batted Louise’s empty hand with his paw, claws sheathed this time. “Want some more?” A rough pink tongue appeared and rasped her fingers. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She pulled out a second piece of liver, which went the way of the first.

  After that, the tomcat allowed Louise to lift him out of the container with no trouble at all. With a free hand she took off her apron, then she carried him into the sitting room and sat in one of the two armchairs with him in her lap. He even let her stroke him.

  “Bribery and corruption,” said Cassie, torn between admiration and feeling peeved. Fickle cat! She flopped down in the middle of the three-seater sofa. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  Louise buffed her fingernails on her apron. “Some of us have it, kiddo, and some of us . . .”

  A shadow darkened the doorway, and they looked round. Tarian was standing there, forehead creased as though in discomfort or puzzlement.

  “Dogs settled okay?” asked Cassie.

  Tarian nodded and came into the sitting room. “May I?” At Louise’s nod, she sank onto the sofa beside Cassie and stretched out long, jean-clad legs. “Your garden’s much larger than I expected.”

  Louise beamed. “That’s one of the reasons we bought this place. When these houses were built, developers were much more generous with land.”

  She held out a hand, careful not to disturb the cat purring in her lap. “I’m Louise by the way.”

  “Tarian. Pleased to meet you.” Tarian shook Louise’s hand. “Were you at school with Cassie?”

  “That’s right.” A wicked grin lit up Louise’s face. “The tales I could tell you.”

  “But won’t,” interrupted Cassie.

  “Spoilsport.” Louise gave Murphy a glance. “I don’t think I should move for a bit. Could you do the honours with the cake and coffee, Cass?”

  “Glad to.” She stood up and went through to the kitchen.

  While the water in the electric kettle boiled, she gazed out of the window into the back garden, where Anwar and Drysi were tussling. Louise and her husband had spent a small fortune on renovating the lawn and flower borders, and the result looked a picture. She hoped the dogs’ exuberant play wouldn’t damage it.

  The kettle clicked off. Cassie poured boiling water on the coffee, set the timer, and carried the tray with the cake on it into the sitting room. Tarian had squatted next to Louise’s armchair, and was looking at some photographs. Cassie put the tray on the coffee table and regarded her with trepidation.
r />   “They’re not incriminating photos of me, are they?”

  “Tsk!” said Louise. “Self-centred or what? No, Cass. I reserve the right to bring out those photos later. These are of my bluebottles.”

  “Sorry. I’d forgotten all about those.” Cassie frowned. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any flies.”

  Louise grimaced. “Count yourself lucky. I found a couple in the bedroom this morning. It won’t be long before they’re back.”

  “Let me see.” Cassie held out a hand, and Tarian placed a couple of photos in it. She turned them this way, then that, not quite sure what she was looking at. Suddenly they sprang into focus. A dense, glistening, blue-black mat of flies covered the countertops in the kitchen. It made her skin crawl just to look at them. She looked at the second photo. Flies coated the taps and sink in the bathroom and came halfway up the walls.

  “My God, Lou! When you said you had a fly problem I didn’t imagine anything like this.”

  “Aren’t I lucky?” Louise gave her a wry smile.

  “And they don’t know where they’re coming from?”

  “Haven’t a clue. It’s not even the right time of year. Fly infestations normally occur in July or August, apparently, when farmers spread chicken manure on their fields.” Louise gestured vaguely. “Do you see any farms round here? Or smell any chicken manure?”

  Cassie shook her head and handed the photos to Tarian who returned them to Louise. That faint beeping must be the timer in the kitchen. “Coffee’s ready,” she said. “I’ll fetch it.”

  She brought the second tray into the sitting room and poured the coffee. Tarian settled back on the sofa.

  “Help yourself to cake,” said Louise.

  Cassie cut them all thick slices. “You’re very quiet,” she murmured, as she handed Tarian her slice. Come to think of it, Tarian was looking quite peaky. Her naturally pale skin looked even paler, and there was a tightness around her eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “Headache,” said Tarian.

  “You should have said. I have some paracetamol.” She reached for her jacket pocket but Tarian put out a hand to stop her.

  “Thanks, but that won’t help.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “What is it?” asked Louise, who had been watching the exchange.

  “Tarian has a headache but I’ve only got paracetamol and she says that won’t work.”

  “I have aspirin. Want me to get it for you?”

  “No thanks. I’ll be fine,” said Tarian, around a mouthful of coffee cake. “This is delicious. Did you make it yourself?”

  Cassie frowned at the patent topic change but said nothing.

  “Marks and Spencer,” said Louise. She grinned. “Why bake a cake yourself when you can buy one of theirs?”

  Cassie sipped her coffee. It occurred to her that Tarian’s headache could be a reaction to being away from Bourn Forest. She hadn’t expected the effects to manifest themselves so strongly or so quickly. If she’d known they were going to be this intense, she’d have insisted Tarian stay behind. Not that she’d have taken any notice. Tarian had a stubborn streak. It was just as well they were going to Sutton Park next. Tarian could recharge her batteries before they went to Cassie’s parents for dinner.

  Ever the good hostess, Louise moved the conversation on to the subject of painting—Cassie had told her that Tarian was an artist—and Bourn’s Edge. It was Cassie’s turn to pull out photos she’d taken of Tarian’s house, the little village on the side of the hill, and the picturesque view across the valley.

  “Wow,” said Louise, going through them. “You’re really in the sticks. Don’t you miss the city, Cass? I thought you were a suburban girl.”

  “Me too.” She became aware of Tarian’s gaze. “But you know what? I must have changed. Because it feels like home.” Tarian smiled.

  “Don’t you miss the cinema? Danny and Justin were grumpy because you’re not around to go with them anymore.”

  Cassie chuckled. “Well, it had its disadvantages. My tastes weren’t always the same as theirs.” She glanced at Tarian. “If there’s anything we want to see, we go to the cinema in Ludlow, don’t we?”

  “May I use your bathroom?” asked Tarian suddenly.

  Louise blinked. “Of course. Top of the stairs, on the right. You can’t miss it.”

  “I don’t know what’s up with her this morning,” said Cassie, after Tarian had left the sitting room.

  “Time of the month?”

  “Maybe.” Cassie had yet to get to grips with the reproductive cycle of the Fae. She suspected Tarian rarely if ever got periods, because from what she had let slip, Fae children were rare, produced only when both parents consciously set about creating them. She couldn’t very well tell her friend Tarian wasn’t human though.

  While Louise chattered on about the holiday in New Zealand she and Sam were saving up for, Cassie kept one ear cocked. She heard the sound of water flushing, followed by footsteps descending the stairs.

  Tarian reappeared in the doorway, clutching a large china doll. “Is this yours, Louise? I saw her on the landing.”

  “Mitzi.” Louise grinned at her. “She was my mother’s and before her my grandmother’s.” She turned to Cassie. “Remember what a dreadful state she was in, Cass, her dress in tatters, paint chipped, one leg hanging off? Danny and Justin told me about a Doll Hospital that’s opened near them. I took her in last month, and now she’s as good as new.”

  Cassie had never liked Mitzi, who was one of those ultra feminine dolls popular in Victorian times. Her dress was a monstrosity of lace and pink ribbons, frills and furbelows.

  “I didn’t know you liked dolls, Tarian,” she said, even as it struck her that the way Tarian was holding the doll indicated the opposite.

  “I don’t.” Tarian resumed her seat next to Cassie. “But there’s something about this one.”

  Fortunately Louise took that as a compliment. “She is striking, isn’t she?” Murphy chose that moment to vacate Louise’s lap and race towards the kitchen. “Looks like the effects of the chicken liver wore off.”

  Louise held out a hand for the doll, and after a pause Tarian obliged—a pause during which Tarian’s lips moved, and, hidden from Louise’s view, she traced a complicated design with her finger.

  Cassie narrowed her eyes. Was she working a spell? Tarian palmed something that looked like a wrinkled brown kidney bean.

  While Louise fussed over her doll, straightening its dress, and gabbling about its history, and how good a job the restorer at the Doll Hospital had done, Cassie caught Tarian’s gaze and held it. “What did you do?” she mouthed.

  Tarian pressed a finger to her lips and gestured. With a faint popping noise, the bean vanished.

  “What was that?” asked Louise, looking up in surprise.

  Until that moment, Cassie hadn’t realised how tense and uncomfortable she had felt since entering her friend’s house. Relief made her feel a little light-headed. It was as though—she searched for a simile—as though the imminent threat of a thunderstorm had vanished. She glanced at Tarian and saw the tightness around her eyes had gone and her colour was returning to normal.

  “What happened?” she mouthed.

  Tarian smiled and mouthed back, “Later.”

  “You didn’t hear anything, feel anything?” asked Louise.

  Cassie shook her head, and Tarian reached for what remained of her coffee cake and began to eat. Louise shrugged and let the matter drop.

  A miaow heralded Murphy’s reappearance from the kitchen. He strolled across the carpet, climbed into Louise’s lap, and made himself comfortable. She laughed as he butted her hand with his nose, and set aside the doll and began to stroke him. “He’s at home here already. I don’t think you’ll need to worry about him, Cass.”

  “That’s a weight off my mind. You’ve seen Tarian’s dogs. Keeping him wasn’t an option. I can’t thank you and Sam enough.”

  “Sam doesn’t know about him yet.”
Louise looked guilty. “But I’m sure he’ll be all right. Oh, he’ll sulk about not being consulted, but I’ll tell him it was a birthday present from my best friend, and he’ll come around.”

  Cassie grinned.

  “I just hope the flies don’t give Murphy a stomach upset,” mused Louise. “Cats sometimes eat flies, don’t they?”

  “There won’t be any more flies,” said Tarian.

  “No?” Louise looked at her in surprise. “Well,” she said doubtfully, “I suppose we can always hope.”

  Chapter 4

  “You’re sure the flies won’t come back?”

  Tarian glanced at Cassie. “Positive.” There had been a thoughtful silence since she’d told Cassie about the artefact. That silence appeared to be over.

  Cassie turned right at the crossroads. The road began to dip. “And all because you destroyed the kidney bean?”

  “Ill luck attractor,” corrected Tarian, eying a group of walkers with rucksacks on their backs. If the walkers hadn’t indicated the park was close by, her senses would have told her. There was a refreshing scent and fizz to the air coming in through the half-open window that had been missing since Bourn’s Edge.

  “It’s easier to say kidney bean,” said Cassie. “And you say you’ve come across them before, in Faerie?”

  Tarian nodded. The creation of ill luck attractors was one of the first spells taught to young Fae (lessons in detecting and destroying them followed soon after), and it was common to use them to play tricks on their peers. The novelty soon wore off, though.

  The road began to rise. To their left, behind low railings, was a grassy bank, in which were set the wide steps of an artificial waterfall—the overflow from a pool. Up ahead she saw an open gate and signs saying, “Sutton Park National Nature Reserve. Boldmere Gate.”

  “How on earth did a Fae artefact get inside Louise’s doll?” asked Cassie, braking to negotiate the gate’s cattle grid. She bumped over a ramp, found a vacant parking spot in the car park just inside the gate, and turned off the ignition.