by Kim Thompson
“Fine,” said Miss Trang. “Let’s begin. You already know Mirabel.” Belle rolled forward in her chair and pulled the blanket off her shiny, shimmery mermaid tail. Willa glanced at it for only a moment then locked onto Belle’s cool eyes. She curtsied. Belle raised an eyebrow and nodded quickly.
“Baz.” Baz stepped forward, smiling, but looking her old self. No surprises there. “Tengu.” She hadn’t even seen the little man from the willow tree where he stood beside the piano. Now he stepped up, bowing to her, then adopting a fighting posture.
“Perhaps a display of my terrifying skills of combat—” He drew an elbow back sharply, knocking the birdcage behind him. Fadi hissed and gave him the evil eye. Miss Trang just shook her head wearily.
“No, no. Nothing of that sort is required, thank you.” Tengu gave a little karate chop in the air and stepped back, grinning at Willa.
Miss Trang gestured toward Horace. “Professor Horace St. Smithenwick.”
The old gentleman stepped forward and bowed very slowly. At least it looked like he was bowing, but he just kept leaning down and down until his fingers touched the floor, and as soon as they touched, his whole body began to change. Willa stared as his tweed jacket rippled smoothly into golden fur. His fingers curled on the carpet into paws and a long tail suddenly flicked in the air. He had transformed into a lion! Not all of him, though — his head was the same as before, the wavy silver hair, the kind eyes and the wire-rimmed glasses. Trembling, Willa stood her ground as the Horace-lion padded right up to her. She looked straight into his eyes, trying to forget the terrible long claws at the ends of his paws. Horace circled her, his tail tickling her shoulders and making her shiver. She took a deep breath to calm herself as he made his way into the dining room.
“You haven’t yet met Robert.” Miss Trang nodded to the corner where the man in the armchair sat. In the gloom Willa could just make out glittering black eyes, a rather large red nose, and wisps of white hair combed across a very bald head. He wore a cardigan sweater over a rumpled shirt and tie. A very ordinary-looking old man, until the armchair beneath him rose unsteadily to stand on its four long legs. It wasn’t an armchair at all, it was his body, a horse’s body — four legs with hooves. He was a centaur. Willa had seen pictures of them in books, but they were always young. She’d never seen a picture of an old man centaur. His head was slightly bowed as it brushed the ceiling. His hooves thudded on the thick carpet as he moved slowly and carefully past her into the dining room, but he still managed to knock over a couple of chairs as he went.
Willa’s heart was thumping. It was all too terribly exciting, but she was working to remain calm and composed. Or at least to look like she was.
“And last but not least, Mab.”
Willa looked around but no one was left. Everyone had gone into the dining room. Miss Trang pulled a small key from her pocket and went over to the dollhouse. She unlocked the padlock and opened up the front of the house, revealing tiny, perfect furnished rooms inside. In one room a small doll, no bigger than her little finger, sat on the sofa in a beautiful shimmery dress.
“Come on now,” Miss Trang murmured. “It’s all right.”
Willa gasped in surprise as the “doll” stood up.
“Pleased to meet you,” sounded a faint, insect-buzzy voice.
Willa was so gobsmacked she couldn’t speak for a moment. “Pleased to meet you,” she finally stammered.
Mab walked to the edge of her little room and jumped into the air. Sparkly transparent wings carried her flitting out of the room and into the dining room.
A fairy! A real live fairy! Willa felt her heart would burst. When she was very little she had spent countless hours in the backyard searching under toadstools and behind leaves for fairies. The pursuit eventually felt too silly and childish and she had turned to other pastimes, like stamp collecting. And now here she was, and fairies were real after all! She was so delighted and excited she wanted to laugh out loud. She had a million questions, but of course it was all a test, and if she failed she would never, ever see darling little Mab again, or Belle, or any of them, so she kept her mouth shut.
Miss Trang ushered Willa into the dining room. Everyone took their places around the table and Willa realized suddenly that she was quite hungry. She’d been so nervous about coming that she’d barely eaten a bite all day.
“Dinner smells delicious,” she ventured, which was true. Now the smells from the kitchen — pot roast with gravy, it smelled like — were making her mouth water. Baz hurried in and out, filling the table with covered dishes. When she was done, Miss Trang stood and, with a flourish, whipped the cover from a large silver soup tureen.
“Oooh!” and “Aah!” and “Lovely!” were heard around the table but all Willa could do was stare. The tureen was totally empty. She looked around to see if it was a joke, but everyone was dead serious. They held up their bowls and Miss Trang made a great show of ladling out nothing but air.
“Willa, would you like some soup?” All faces turned toward her. She froze. She had no idea what she was supposed to do. Was it special magic invisible food that everyone could see but her? Or was it a big joke? Were they laughing at her?
Willa smiled weakly and held up her bowl. “Yes, please. I’d love some soup.”
Everyone seemed to relax at that and began chatting over their imaginary meals. To Willa’s right Robert jostled her elbow as he leaned forward to slurp up his nonexistent soup. Horace too lowered his face right into his bowl, lapping noisily. The others wielded their silver spoons, clattering them in the bowls and delicately lifting them to their mouths.
Over the main course Robert began arguing loudly with Baz about the amount of garlic in the non-existent mashed potatoes. He occasionally pounded a hoof on the floor for emphasis, shaking the whole table. Horace listened to them, chewing thoughtfully. His massive paws rested on the table, the claws idly tapping holes in the tablecloth.
Willa sat primly, quietly, trying not to stare. Right beside her sparkling little Mab was skipping about her plate as if it was a fairy ring, the china sounding ting-ting-ting with every step. And Baz kept creeping up silently behind Willa, making her jump every time she placed a new empty plate in front of her.
The only thing that kept Willa from getting jittery was Fadi in her cage, just visible over Belle’s shoulder. The bird watched her steadily but kindly and even winked at her once. All she could do was pretend to eat. After all, that’s what everyone else was doing.
Willa dabbed her mouth with her napkin and placed it on her plate. The so-called meal was finally over. Now she had to pretend she was full, even though her stomach was groaning. Suddenly something brushed against her ankle. She stiffened. What new weird creature could this be? Was it dangerous? It was circling her feet, she could feel it moving. It must be the cat, the mysterious cat she had never seen. She picked up her handkerchief and let it slip from her hand onto the floor. Nobody even looked up as she leaned down to retrieve it and peered into the darkness under the table. Two green eyes peered back, and a scaly lizard face flicked out a scarlet tongue at her.
She managed not to scream but jerked up suddenly, banging her head on the table. Sitting up as nonchalantly as possible, she quietly drew up her legs until she was sitting cross-legged on her chair. She realized she was holding her breath and let it out slowly and silently. This was too much all at once; she felt an urge to shout, or run or scream or SOMETHING, but she kept rigidly still.
Everything had become strangely quiet. Everyone at the table was watching her, smiling.
“How did you like your dinner?” Miss Trang was regarding her with transparent eyes.
“It was delicious, thank you very much.” All she could think about was getting out of there and going home to make herself a peanut butter sandwich.
“This was all Horace’s idea.” said Miss Trang, gesturing toward the empty plates.
Horace nodded, grinning. “It’s known as a Barmecide Feast — a test of poise and hum
our. You did very well indeed, my dear.”
Willa blinked, unsure of what to say. Her stomach spoke for her, gurgling loudly, and she blushed with embarrassment. Miss Trang turned to Baz.
“Go and make Willa a sandwich. Peanut butter, yes?”
Willa started in surprise and nodded. Baz scurried into the kitchen and in a flash returned with the sandwich. As Willa munched happily, Miss Trang spoke once more.
“Since you have done so well tonight, we’d like to keep you on as our housekeeper. You’ll have additional duties, so we’ll need you here full time. And there are two rules. The first rule you know already: do not tell anyone about anything that goes on here. The second concerns the asking of questions. I’m sure you have a few queries about our humble household, yes?”
Willa could only nod, as her mouth was full.
“Well, it would take many days and nights to explain everything you are wondering about, believe me. For this reason you are only allowed one question per day.”
Willa swallowed. “May I ask one now?” Miss Trang nodded but Tengu was already pointing at Willa and cackling.
“That was a question! You used up your question!”
Miss Trang gave him a stern look and he sat back, one hand over his mouth as he continued to snicker. “Go ahead.” She nodded to Willa.
Willa’s mind raced. What did she most want to know about? The fairy? The bird Fadiyah? Horace the lion? Robert the centaur?
Hearing the sudden tick-tick-tick of nails on the wood floor, Willa peered back over her shoulder to see the long, skinny lizard dash across the room, jumping, writhing, and wriggling. She thought it was biting at its own tail, but soon saw that it had two heads, one at either end, which snapped at each other with jagged teeth! Finally one clamped onto the neck of the other. The lizard formed a hoop and rolled away out of sight. Willa turned back to Miss Trang.
“Don’t you own a cat?” she asked. The table erupted into guffaws and squeals of laughter. The bird squawked. Even Miss Trang smiled.
“The answer to that is no.”
Which was all very well, but when Willa arrived for work the next morning there was a dead little bird waiting for her on the doorstep, looking for all the world like a cat’s welcome gift.
Chapter Five
In the ordinary everyday, one question at a time
Willa returned to work, doing the same chores plus new ones, since she now had to clean and tidy the entire house. She didn’t mind in the least. The extra pay of a real full-time job made her parents very proud. The mood at home became much more relaxed, which was great. No more talk about “money worries.”
Willa’s days at the boarding house changed from quiet to boisterous. Everyone could now go about as they pleased while Willa was there. They bickered in the parlour, pestered Baz for tea and biscuits, and generally got underfoot as Willa was trying to clean. Robert awkwardly clip-clopped through the too-small rooms, knocking things over with his tail. Being so restricted in space made him extremely cross and argumentative, though he was always civil to Willa. And Horace was very kind to her too. He was usually in his human form, although once in a while she’d chance upon him as a lion, curled up on the carpet for a nap, and taking up the entire room. Mab occasionally flitted by her, glittering and giggly. Tengu grinned when he saw Willa and did his best to talk her into a friendly arm wrestle or some other contest of strength. She always declined, though, fearing that she might win. Baz was friendly enough, even though Willa always felt she was snickering at her.
Belle, however, was another story entirely. She rolled through the house, pushed by Baz or wheeling herself, with nothing but a scowl and a hrrmph for Willa, who had no idea what she’d done to incur the old lady’s wrath. Belle seemed to blame her for some ancient injustice. Maybe she just didn’t like kids. Or maybe she hated everyone from the “outside.” Whatever the reason, the mermaid was always in a foul mood and Willa tried to stay out of her way.
The old folks spent their days sniping at each other, not always good-naturedly, while the bird clucked disapprovingly in the corner. Squabbles quieted immediately whenever Miss Trang emerged from her office, gliding quiet and mysterious through the house, but resumed as soon as she was out of earshot.
Despite all distractions, Willa spent her days diligently focussed on her work. The cleaning of the upstairs bedrooms was no small job, as the old folk were all packrats and had been accumulating possessions for hundreds of years. The dark and dusty rooms were full, floor-to-ceiling full, of weird odds and ends. Horace’s room was crowded with a huge collection of bird feathers, mounted and framed, or simply stuck into jars, vases, books. His books too were overwhelming, tottering stacks of them everywhere. Some had pages so faded they were totally illegible, while others were in languages Horace admitted he had no knowledge of. And yet he refused to let Willa dispose of any of them, even the ones which were entirely missing their pages, eaten out by bugs or some other long-gone pest.
“What if they fell into the wrong hands?” He’d throw his hands up in despair at the thought.
“Whatever hands they fell into would just throw them in the trash!” countered Willa, but Horace just smiled.
Robert didn’t keep so many things, but his room had its own challenges. To accomodate his height, a hole had been broken in the ceiling so that his room opened into the attic, which was teeming with spiders, and sometimes bats as well. (Willa never saw any sign of mice, however. If there wasn’t an actual cat on the premises keeping them out, she felt there must surely be some kind of ghost cat at work.) Robert didn’t seem to mind insects or pests, but they made it doubly hard for Willa to keep the place even remotely tidy.
Tengu’s room, on the other hand, was a snap to clean. It was a small room, simple and clutter-free. He slept on a mat on the floor and had next to no personal possessions. That’s not to say he didn’t want things, though. Willa often heard him begging Miss Trang for ...
“A bardiche? Or a morningstar! No? How about a sweet little shuriken? Just one?”
Willa would go to the immense dictionary in the library to look up his requests — massive medieval weapons mostly, pretty gruesome-looking. And the “sweet little shuriken” was a razor-sharp throwing star. Fortunately Miss Trang held firm. No weapons was a fundamental house rule. Thank goodness for that, thought Willa.
Baz’s room was dominated by a great huge cabinet with dozens of tiny drawers containing all sorts of dried herbs, dead bugs, and reptiles, and unidentifiable bits of fuzz which made Willa queasy. Belle had a wardrobe full of gorgeous clothes she never wore and an ornate vanity table with a beautiful set of ivory and pearl brushes and combs. A golden inlaid with gemstones probably held her jewellery, though Willa didn’t have the nerve to peek inside. Mab’s dollhouse was usually tidy enough, which was good, because Willa didn’t know how she’d ever dust in there without breaking something. Miss Trang’s room was the only one she was still not allowed to enter, though she could now go in to clean the office.
Baz did all the cooking, but Willa helped there too whenever she could. The backyard remained off limits to her. Willa thought it would be wonderful if it was cut back, mowed, and cleaned up. As Miss Trang pointed out, however, the overgrown trees and bushes effectively shielded them from the prying eyes of the outside world — most notably the nosy next-door neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. Hackett. The Hacketts were fond of calling to Willa from their front porch, waving her over as she was arriving or leaving so they could complain about something ... most often the abysmal condition of the front or back yards. They were annoyed enough at the sight of a single weed in a neighbouring lawn, so naturally the jungle in Miss Trang’s backyard was really driving them up the wall. It was part of Willa’s job to listen sympathetically and try to keep on good terms with the Hacketts, which was possibly the hardest part of her work at the house.
There was a lot to do, but Willa arrived every morning eager and excited. She worked hard to finish her chores as quickly as possible so s
he’d have at least some of the afternoon free, all the while pondering what question she would ask that day. It was a difficult decision to make. Willa felt fortunate to be in Miss Trang’s good graces at last, so she certainly didn’t want to push her luck by being too inquisitive. And she was still a little afraid of Miss Trang, so she decided to steer clear of her for the first week at least. Better to start with the others, and the simpler, more straightforward questions.
So on her very first day she sought out Horace, in the library as usual, and in human form. The day outside was rainy and grey, and the library was dark, but there was a fire lit in the fireplace and the chairs were big and cozy. Horace smiled to see her and set his book aside.
“Come. Sit down.” Willa climbed into a tall wingback chair as he poured her some tea. He passed the cup and looked at her kindly. “You’d like to ask me something?”
“Yes, please. If you don’t mind. I was wondering what you ... what exactly ...” She paused awkwardly.
“What exactly am I?” Willa nodded and sipped her tea. Horace sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. Then he stood and walked to the centre of the hearth rug. He began to pace in deliberate circles, the way cats do before they lie down. On the first round he glowed golden in the dancing light of the fire. On the second round he dropped onto all fours and hair streamed around his face. On the third round the golden fur flowed down his neck and back until he had turned once more into a lion and lay down on the rug, yawning contentedly.
Willa stared. The change had been so smooth, so ... normal. Now Horace lay there, his forepaws extended before him. His face was the only thing that remained the same. It was still a human, Horace face, but fringed with a golden lion’s mane. When he spoke his voice was even more velvety, as if he might fall into purring at any moment.
