On the stairs, Neil declared that he’d take Spot to school. His mother had to reassure him that the dog would be fine on his own for a few hours, and she finally got him up the stairs by promising that Spot could come along at the end of the week if he truly couldn’t stay alone yet.
It was his father’s turn to tuck him in that night, and he was already late so there would be no stories. When the man’s hand hovered over the light switch, Neil said, “When we’re old, Spot and I are going to the moon.”
His father turned around. “Oh?”
Neil snuggled deeper into the blankets as his father walked back to the bed and sat down beside him, so Neil explained. “We’ll have space adventures and fight aliens and we’ll live to be a thousand. And then well retire on the moon and live there.”
Chuckling, his father ruffled his hair. “Well, sweet dreams for now, astronaut. It’ll be a while before you’re old enough to retire.”
I adore Neil and Spot. I love Neil’s quiet optimism and kind-heartedness. I love the relationship he has with his father and the way the story focuses so much on Spot.
Pets like Spot, older ones and/or ones that have health problems, often struggle to get adopted. It’s a shame because they can be some of the most rewarding and wonderful pets you can ask for.
The breeze is louder
Than the barking song I hear.
Mine, a town garden.
Drifting through the sky
A little Chinese dragon.
Far from home, like me.
These were written after Reflections on my reading habits. I was in no way ready to go back inside or to stop writing. These, more so than the earlier haiku, are how I doodle. Just small observations on the passing of the day.
There weren’t any green-with-pink-knotwork bobble hats available anywhere in town. There weren’t any bobble hats available in town. In the middle of winter! Ellie knew this because she’d checked. Every shop you’d expect a bobble hat to be sold in and then every shop you wouldn’t. It wasn’t a big town and Ellie knew it very well, so she knew that she hadn’t missed anywhere. She could not return home without a bobble hat. She simply could not. Great-Aunt Cassidy was coming over for Christmas that evening and it was simply imperative that Ellie had a bobble hat to show her. Otherwise Great-Aunt Cassidy’s heart would be broken and she was already so frail. She wouldn’t heal from a broken heart, Ellie thought, not like her mum had when her da’d left. Not all of Great-Aunt Cassidy’s fantastical adventures and stories would help her heal at her age.
But the bobble hat Great-Aunt Cassidy had made especially for Ellie was ruined. Her brother Jonathan had taken it into his head that he’d wanted to wear it. Only, being small, he’d gotten it dirty and when Ellie’d tried to clean it it’d stained worse and then it’d shrunk in the drying. A part of Ellie was glad at that turn of events. The bobble hat was a hideous, nasty thing that had got her laughed at at school, and so Ellie’d taken to only wearing it in photos for Great-Aunt Cassidy and around the holidays so as not to break the old woman’s heart and make her die. A horrible taste in bobble hats aside, Ellie quite liked her Great-Aunt Cassidy.
Right now, she did not like Jonathan. He was starting to look ever so slightly blue and cold. Her mum was going to be livid if Jonathan came home with an illness. Ellie’d only taken him along with her because Mum would also be livid if she’d left him on his own; he was only a baby. Ellie was almost eight and, if she weren’t so old already, she’d burst into tears right there in front of the church. She was cold too and the house was a mess and she didn’t have a new bobble hat to make Great-Aunt Cassidy happy and Jonathan was catching his death beside her because if it was too cold for an almost-eight-year-old girl then it was certainly too cold for her baby brother and no he could not go running around the square and make snowmen, even if he was bored.
It wasn’t a promising start to the Christmas season at all. And then Jonathan kicked her hard against her shin, pulled free and pelted off only to tumble headfirst down the snow-covered steps and start bawling. Oh, yes, if Ellie didn’t feel that she was a big girl already she would’ve started crying right then and there alongside Jonathan. As it was, she went over to make sure he wasn’t badly hurt and to get him to hush.
Jonathan didn’t seem particularly injured. The snow around him wasn’t pink and he just looked covered in fine, white dust except for the gaping hole of red that was his mouth. He was hollering, and he kicked and punched at her whenever she attempted to get near him. She wanted to pin him down and hug him quiet the way their mum always seemed to manage. It was really quite exasperating trying to soothe her brother, only there was everything else too. After the so-manieth kick and punch, Ellie sank down on the steps (out of his reach) and joined him. There wasn’t anything left to do but cry.
No one came out of the shops to ask her what was wrong. No one came out of the cafes to offer comfort. No one was walking past to check whether they needed help. If you asked Ellie, then and there, whether she was happy the world left her alone or whether she wasn’t, she wouldn’t have been able to tell you. She might not even have noticed Jonathan bolting off because some tears come from too deep to pay attention despite your best efforts. So it was a good thing that, when Jonathan had got fed up with his bawling and wanted to run off into the graveyard, an old lady caught him by the scruff of his neck and brought him back.
The old woman plonked herself down beside Ellie and settled Jonathan on her lap. “What’re you crying about?” she asked, but Ellie didn’t hear her. The woman placed a hand on Ellie’s knee. “Girl, what are you upset about?”
“Hat!” Jonathan cried and pulled at the one the old lady was wearing until it could go down no further and covered her eyes.
She laughed, pulled the hat back up a bit and cupped Ellie’s chin. “It’s such a lovely winter’s day, child.”
“No, it isn’t,” Ellie blubbered and wouldn’t say anything more. She just huddled and shivered on the steps.
“Do you know,” the old lady continued, “that Ginny’s makes a great cup of hot cocoa?”
Jonathan cut in, “Cocoa!”
The old woman ignored him. “It’d be just the sort of thing to warm you both right back up.” And with that she took Jonathan and Ellie by the hand and led them across the street to a cafe. It was warm inside and the old lady scuttled them both along to a corner window, away from the door and yet with a great view of the street and church. Outside, it looked decidedly white and cold. Ellie rubbed her hands together then thought better of it and tucked them under her armpits. The elderly lady nodded approvingly at her and turned to fuss over Jonathan, who didn’t particularly want to be fussed over. “I’m Mary,” she said, as calmly as though Jonathan wasn’t squirming every which way to go cause trouble. “Mary McDowell.”
For a fraction, Ellie’s breath froze at that. Then Jonathan’s hand grabbed for Mary McDowell’s hat again and Ellie jumped up — “No!” — and made to pull her brother over the table towards her. Only he was too heavy. Mary McDowell caught the menu they’d knocked over and put it on the window sill. Jonathan hollered. “I know who you are,” whispered Ellie, her brother momentarily forgotten. Mary McDowell smiled at that, but, Ellie thought, it looked infinitely sad and lonely.
“I’m the crazy cat lady who lives all alone at the end of the hill and puts a curse on any little children that venture near her house,” the woman said, then asked the waitress who’d shown up to take their order for two cups of hot cocoa and one cup of tea-and-honey.
“Did you ever notice how cruel children can be?” Mary McDowell leaned back into her chair. Ellie settled Jonathan beside herself now that she’d got him on her side of the table and took firm hold of his hand. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t just drag him out and leave. “They were always after my cats and not a thing they can do wrong say their parents. Not their little darling angels. Oh, no, it was the cats that were mean-spirited and cruel to hurt their babies without cause. Never you min
d that those darling angels would tie tin cans to their tails or throw rocks at them.”
Leaning over onto the table again, Mary McDowell looked as self-satisfied as any cat ever could and continued, “So I invented a nasty old witch to scare the children away from my pets.” She grinned and then… deflated. “But it gets awfully lonely. Cats don’t talk back, you know, and they don’t appreciate a bowl of sweets as much as my grandchildren did.”
“Sweets!” Jonathan interjected and banged his fist on the table edge.
Ellie and Mary McDowell both said ‘No’ simultaneously. “He doesn’t like using more words than he needs,” Ellie explained. (Normally she might say ‘jinx’, but it wasn’t a normal day so she didn’t.) She didn’t want Mary McDowell, the cat lady witch, to think her family was stupid. Or impolite, so having remembered her manners she added, “Thank you for the cocoa.” And she took a sip and meant every word of it. It was that good. Jonathan had a special cup so he couldn’t spill anything onto the pristine tablecloth. That was rumpled now, though. Ellie smoothed it out as she watched Mary McDowell make the weakest tea she’d ever seen. “Why do you make it so weak?”
“Well, now, because I’m not overfond of strong tea. I like to taste the water just a little.” Mary McDowell swirled her teaspoon. “Why don’t you tell me what you were upset about?”
Ellie hesitated, then took the ruined bobble hat from her pocket and laid it on the table. She told Mary McDowell everything about how Great-Aunt Cassidy had made it for her especial and how it was horrible and all the kids at school had teased her. She told Mary McDowell how the babysitter’d left them alone. She told Mary McDowell how Jonathan had wanted the hat and then vomited all over it because he’d eaten stupid things. She told Mary McDowell how it’d shrunk after she’d washed it herself and how she’d spent all day looking through all of the shops to find herself a new bobble hat. She told Mary McDowell all about how frail Great-Aunt Cassidy was and how she’d be heartbroken and die now. She told Mary McDowell all about how Ellie would’ve been the one who had killed her and how it’d ruin everyone’s Christmas for ever and how she was going to go to jail and her mum would be absolutely livid.
Mary McDowell wiped at Ellie’s cheeks with a frilly, pink handkerchief and, though Ellie considered herself a big girl and she had always been warned about the witch’s curses, she let the old woman dry her tears and Ellie blew her nose in the handkerchief. She listened obediently when the old woman bid her to drink and even Jonathan had stopped squirming in his seat. Once Ellie was out of tears, Mary McDowell soothed away Jonathan’s and kissed his bright red wrist for he’d banged it against the table again.
“That’s certainly a great amount of trouble,” Mary McDowell said and swirled in her cup again. She’d barely touched her tea, but she continued playing with the little spoon and twirled it this way and that in her hands. Then she put it down and took up the ruined bobble hat carefully. “And that’s a lot of love gone into one hideous hat.”
Ellie couldn’t help it; she laughed. Mary McDowell’s words weren’t very funny and she’d said it so very seriously that there wasn’t anything to laugh about in any case, but Ellie had cried out all of her tears and so laughter was all she could manage. Until she realised that she was laughing and she found more tears after all.
“Try some tea, dear,” Mary McDowell said and pushed her cup towards Ellie. Jonathan slipped away beside her, but Ellie was confident that he wouldn’t leave the cafe. “No?” Mary McDowell shrugged and laid the bobble hat back on the table. “I think it’s quite admirable of you to wear that at all. My grandchildren, they wouldn’t, not even to please their poor old grandmother.”
“I don’t want to kill Great-Aunt Cassidy,” Ellie muttered and stared at her mug. She tipped it back to get some of the last dregs of cocoa out.
“Everyone knows that.” Mary McDowell patted Ellie’s hand. “And I’ll tell you a secret that not everyone knows,” she continued in a whisper. “I’m a real witch. Not a mean or nasty one, of course, but a real witch all the same. That’s how I know about the love that you and your Great-Aunt Cassidy and even your little brother there –”
“Jonathan!” Ellie shouted. Her brother had been trying to climb onto a stool and teetering dangerously. She jumped up to rush to him and keep him from falling, but he’d already tipped the stool over and was now floating a few inches from the floor. He was looking around bewilderedly, silent as quickly as his cries had started.
A heartbeat later, Ellie found her muscles again and moved towards her brother. First she righted the diagonal stool and then she pulled her brother down onto the floor. The waitress flew into the room shortly afterwards and asked what all the commotion was about. Ellie told her, though of course she had enough prudence to keep how the barstool and her brother had both frozen in mid-air to herself. Jonathan sniffled a little and the waitress went to fetch them both something nice to help them get over the fright.
“You’re a good girl,” Mary McDowell said from behind Ellie and planted the green-and-pink bobble hat firmly onto Jonathan’s head. It fit. And it was clean. Ellie stared at it. “Though I think you’ll want to tell your Great-Aunt Cassidy you’ve outgrown your hat and your mother where you’ve gone today.”
As the waitress knelt beside them with a couple of warm rolls, Ellie watched Mary McDowell leave the cafe. Jonathan stole her roll too, but she didn’t particularly mind. She thanked the waitress for the cocoa, found that Mary McDowell had already paid and took Jonathan back home. It was every bit as clean as though Jonathan had never eaten any slush and been sick on Ellie’s hat and the kitchen floor.
Ellie’d only just thought to hang their coats on the rack when her mum arrived with Great-Aunt Cassidy and Ellie had to help them carry everything into the house. Jonathan was tearing through the living room with her — his — bobble hat on his head and Great-Aunt Cassidy smiled.
After everything was unpacked and Ellie’d told her mum about what had happened (and she wasn’t going to get dessert, which is mightily unfair when it’s not your fault the adults aren’t around like they promised) and they were settled down for supper, Ellie asked, “Mum?”
“Yes, Ellie?”
“Can we invite Mary McDowell over for Christmas this year?”
Her mum put her knife and fork down and looked straight at Ellie, frowning. “Whatever would we do that for?” she asked, because she didn’t know the nice old lady in Ellie’s tale had been the cat lady witch.
Ellie had been expecting that question and it wasn’t a difficult one to answer, but Great-Aunt Cassidy saved her from it all the same.
“Mary married Andrew McDowell McDowell?” Great-Aunt Cassidy asked. Ellie didn’t know, though her mum said ‘yes’ because there was only one Mary McDowell on the island. “I haven’t seen her since her husband died. She’ll be lonely with all her family across the Channel. We used to get into all sorts of mischief together, Estella.” Great-Aunt Cassidy’s eyes twinkled and at that moment she didn’t look old and frail at all. “Oh, the things we did… Have I ever told you about the t–”
“Auntie,” Ellie’s mum pleaded. “Don’t put ideas into their heads again. Jonathan could have broken his neck the last time. Thinking he could fly…”
Great-Aunt Cassidy ignored that, but she didn’t continue telling Ellie about any time at all. Instead she said, “I should dearly like to see Mary McDowell again.” And that, Ellie knew, was that. There was no arguing with Great-Aunt Cassidy when she had that tone. Great-Aunt Cassidy leaned down to pick something out of her ever-present bag and handed a small, wrapped and flexible package to Ellie. “I was going to save it for Christmas, but I think you’d better open it tonight.”
“Not at the dinner table!” Ellie’s mum protested, but Great-Aunt Cassidy waved a fork at her (it had a bit of haddock stuck to it) and told Ellie to go ahead anyway. As Ellie’s mum didn’t protest again, the girl carefully unwrapped the glittery paper. Inside was a yellow bobble hat with red and gre
en cats for decoration. Ellie gawped and stammered a thank-you. Then, quietly but firmly, she told Great-Aunt Cassidy that she had quite outgrown decorated bobble hats but would treasure it all the same. And then, just in case, she asked Great-Aunt Cassidy to tell her about some of the things she and Mary McDowell had done.
I’ve thoroughly enjoyed writing Ellie. She tries so hard to be a big girl and look after her little brother and her Great-Aunt Cassidy.
Ellie draws some of her inspiration from Terry Pratchett’s Tiffany Aching. She’d certainly want to be like Tiffany Aching if she knew the character! Ellie’s not nearly as practical, though.
I also have a big soft spot for Mary. I really hope she’ll tell me some of those adventures that she shared with Cassidy at some point. That would be brilliant!
The setting is based loosely on the Orkney Islands. They’re utterly gorgeous and I hope I’ve managed to capture even a tenth of the atmosphere and feel of the islands.
My dearest James,
I must, absolutely must, ask for your strictest confidence. I know you quite well enough to feel foolish asking you this so blatantly, but it is of the utmost importance, I assure you. I am writing you this letter in secret. It will ease my nerves to ask, and I simply must confide in someone I trust. I pray you’ll forgive the distrust my request shows, but I fear I am taking a great risk in committing this to paper. I would seek you out, but I cannot leave the manor without drawing attention to myself. A letter discreetly posted is dangerous, but it is far less conspicuous than I would be. I beg you, destroy my letter after you have read it. Throw it in the fire and watch it until you are certain that nothing but ashes remain, I implore you, James.
I must also beg your forgiveness for such a dramatic paragraph. You must think me mad. I shall attempt to be concise for I do not know how much time I have. I have two pieces of news that I cannot be silent about. I shall start with the good, so that any who catches me writing this will not be able to discern the worst news until I am almost done. I am writing you to impart some astounding news. You will never believe it, James! In truth, you may not wish to believe it for I certainly do not yet. I am with child. Rather, I believe that I am with child. I know that womanly things are not of interest to you, brother, so I will not include the details of how I have come to this belief. I ask only that you be discrete. I have not yet told Henry and I have no desire to yet. You are more aware than most of how badly my dear Henry wants a child, an heir. You know how shaken and upset he gets whenever anyone brings up the matter of our childless marriage. I would prefer not to tell him until he can hold his infant child in his arms, but I shall have to tell him when I start showing. I will not tell him earlier lest I break his heart and shatter his happiness.
Feather by Feather and Other Stories Page 17
