by Maggie Mundy
Thomas put his spoon down and looked up from the plate. “The food was fantastic. I didn’t know Ireland had such tasty offerings. I mean to say you tend to think their food is boring. It’s the potato thing, I suppose.”
The poor man looked so bored she thought he couldn’t wait to leave. “Potatoes are wonderful,” Cara replied. “Since I started this business, I realize that more and more. I’ve been thinking about looking for backing for a cookbook called ‘1000 Things You can do With a Spud.’ What do you think?”
Thomas turned up the corner of his mouth in a fake smile. He wasn’t going to be parted with his money for her wonderful venture. Somehow she wasn’t surprised.
Her mother shuffled behind her. Thomas went back to his plate. If Matcher didn’t come and snatch it off him soon, she would never give him another night’s work.
Vincent was back. Mother was smiling. This guy must have a big bank balance. I’m not doing this again. Cara thought. She glanced to her father for support. It was nonexistent in coming as always. He was in deep conversation with his friends. There was only one person who existed in his world, and it was him. He was the fancy lawyer with the sociable wife who let him do what he wanted.
Mother might be annoying in her interference. He was more hurtful in his lack of acknowledgment. There was a pain, or rather an ache in Cara’s chest at their lack of friendship. It would do her no good. They would never be any closer. Vincent sat down and smiled at her.
“Thank you for letting me join in this celebration of the senses. Your food was divine. I don’t think I will eat again for a week. Please won’t you sit down a moment?’
Vincent ignored everyone except her. He wasn’t classically good looking. She would call him too smooth. Still, there was definitely something about him that required her attention. She perched on the chair next to him wishing to be back in the kitchen. Small talk had never been one of her talents.
“Thank you. Our aim is to please.” Heat was rising up her neck. She would be coming out in blotches. He would think she had measles.
“I’ll be having a get-together myself in a few weeks’ time for some of my clients. If I could have your card, I could call and give you more details.”
“Of course. If you don’t mind me asking, what business are you in?”
“Antiques. I’ve collected many pieces over my lifetime. I’ve been fortunate enough to be somewhat successful.”
Her mother interrupted. “Now, you’re just being modest, Vincent. I hear you’re one of the best experts around. No one knows quality and can age pieces like you.”
Vincent shot a stern look at her mother. She smiled weakly and turned back to her other guests.
That will teach her to interrupt after she had made him sit through a boring dinner party except for the food of course, Cara thought.
Vincent looked about thirty-five but wasn’t going to bow to his elders. He oozed self-confidence.
“Did my parents mention my cousin Shona works with an antique dealer in Bath, Boscombe. Perhaps, you know him.” If she could pass any business Shona’s way she would.
“Yes, I know of him.” Vincent answered abruptly.
“I’ll go and get our card.” Cara stood up, as did Vincent. As she turned away he took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips and gently kissing it. The blotches were coming back to her neck. What kind of guy kisses your hand these days? She wasn’t sure if it was cute or creepy.
She opened the kitchen door. She chose to ignore the fact Matcher and Daniel jumped back and were cleaning glasses. These two were being more than a little disconcerting. She had expected they would have knives at each other’s throats by now.
Instead they seemed to have just joined forces in the collection of people who knew what was best for her. She hadn’t known Matcher long, but she was aware he watched all the people who surrounded her. Part of her wanted to know what their auras revealed. Another part didn’t want to know a thing.
Daniel put down the glass, folded his arms and looked straight at her. “Is your mother up to her old tricks again? I can’t say either of those two are your type.”
“I don’t have a type, Daniel.”
“I saw him kiss your hand. I’ll have to see if I can get Jeff to do that.” Daniel said, and blew a kiss.
“I don’t think you’ve a chance in hell. They weren’t that bad. Mother’s invited worse in the past. She pays well, and this Vincent guy wants to book us.” Cara started to go through her briefcase to find her card and a sample menu. Matcher hadn’t reacted to their conversation. He was giving too much attention to cleaning glasses. She would wheedle what was wrong out of him later.
All the way back in the van Matcher was silent. He wouldn’t look at her and even Daniel noticed.
“What’s with you, Matcher? Cat got your tongue? Or is that big stud you have in there causing problems?” Daniel asked.
Matcher didn’t take the bait. They pulled up in front of her flat and started unloading. Daniel said he would drop Matcher off on his way home. Maybe it had been a mistake employing him and he was still sick. After all she didn’t know why he was seeing Jessica, maybe something else was troubling him. He looked strong enough though, as he brought the boxes of crockery upstairs and stored them in the office.
“There’s just one box of glasses left. I’ll get it if you’ll sort out Matcher’s pay for the night.” Daniel headed back out the door.
Matcher stood by the office door, head down. That was it. She needed to know what was wrong.
“I’m sorry about my family. They can be a bit much. You seemed…”
“It wasn’t them,” he snapped.
Cara held her arms up, “Then what?”
“I’ve no right to say anything. You can believe what you like about the things I said before. It’s the man who kissed your hand. Well, his aura is just dark. There’s nothing good there at all. You’re a nice person, Cara. This job is great. I just don’t know if I can hack it. I thought this was cool, but I see stuff in so many auras, everywhere.” Matcher started to bite his nails, or what was left of them.
“You can’t lock yourself away,” Cara said gently. “Life goes on. Look, if we get the job, I’ll ask Shona to do it. She told me she’d help out when she could. You’re not going to leave this job. I won’t let you.”
Daniel raised one eyebrow as he walked into the office with the last box. She hoped he got her look that said, not now.
Cara watched the two of them walk out the door. Maybe she should have asked Matcher to stay longer so they could finish talking. She wasn’t one to offer advice much at the moment. Whenever she did a dinner at her parents, it always left her feeling unsettled. This was the final one. It was one thing when it got to her. She didn’t want her friends to get upset.
She grabbed Aunty Eileen’s book and settled into bed with Merlin purring at her feet. She had used some of the herb combinations in the food tonight. She wondered if her mother had picked up on it. Then again, Mum’s eyes were the same color so probably not.
Cara switched to the book on immortality. She opened it to the chapter she was reading. It was about the Hellfire Club in the 1700’s. The members had believed that some of the ritual killings they performed would endow immortality on the killer. She flicked through the next chapter on DNA modeling, and how doctors would be able to extend life.
The chapter after that was a bit unsettling. It had a section about witches and people who tried to kill them to attain immortality. It particularly mentioned witches with one blue eye and one green eye being more powerful. That was it. She needed to get rid of this book.
Tomorrow, she would send it on to Seth. His address was still on the order sheet the store employees had left in the book. Its contents hadn’t really helped anyway. That last bit was just plain sick. As she remembered Se
th, she thought of her dreams, the good ones. It was still a scary concept to believe he was real.
She had to accept that he was a stranger she must have seen around sometime. She’d started dreaming about him in her desperation for comfort. She didn’t know anything about him. He knew nothing about her. It was the way it should stay.
Chapter 9
The back road into Bath via Ham Green was beautiful, even if the roads were narrower. There were a few country pubs along the way. She had frequented them with Shona on more than one occasion. She hadn’t seen Shona since their boozy night weeks ago. Matcher was helping out and Cara needed to talk to her cousin about the dinner party at her mother’s.
On the seat beside her was the book on immortality and witchcraft. She was coming as far as Bath so she might as well go on to Trowbridge, she told herself. Seth’s house was just outside of town. She had wrapped the book up and put a note with it intending to leave it on the doorstep. That was a lie. She secretly hoped she might see him again.
As expected, the narrow side streets of Bath with their myriad of small specialty shops were crowded with tourists. Cara loved the smells, the colors. There was always something different, from shops selling Chilean goods, to the best pasties around.
Shona smiled when she walked in, but turned back to a customer. Cara loved to browse in antique shops even if she could never afford anything. The shop dealt in paintings, pottery statues, plus weapons and jewelry. Cara reckoned there was something sneaky about antique shops. They never appeared well lit, as though they were trying to hide something. Shona swore it was true and her eyesight had gotten worse since she had worked at Boscombes.
Cara found herself drawn to an oval broach in the jewelry cabinet. The center was black with gold edging and had a gold daisy on it. Each petal of the daisy was a little pearl. It was so delicate, but Cara felt an overwhelming sense of sadness as she stared at it.
“You look lost in thought. What’s caught your eye?” Shona stood behind the cabinet ready with a key to open it.
Forever the saleswoman, even when she knew she didn’t have a chance. “It’s the broach, Shona. It’s beautiful, but sad.”
“You’re right. It is sad. Using your witchy skills to see things, are you?” Shona handed her the broach. “Turn it over.”
On the back of the broach was the usual clasp but beneath it was a small compartment covered in glass. Inside the glass bubble was hair. Engraved on the gold back was Gloria Flores, wife of Francis Flores died 1867.
“Okay, Shona. That’s amazing, but also kind of uncanny. That’s a hundred and fifty odd year old hair. I like my knickknacks and memories about me, but I’d find being around personal stuff from so long ago would eventually freak me out. Just the fact they would make things like this, makes me think how different from us they were. Mind you now I come to think of it I was offered a lock of Nan’s hair at her funeral service.”
“It was a slower time where people could show how they felt, nowadays you just get a text message to say they can’t make a date or it’s over.” Shona shrugged her shoulders.
“You’re getting cynical. Go on; tell me, how much?”
“About three hundred pounds, but we could do you a good deal. Say two fifty for cash.” Shona was already putting it back in the cabinet.
“I’ll stick to my simple necklace from Nana. I couldn’t walk around wearing that kind of money.” Cara fingered her shamrock pendant.
“Trust me, you could get used to it. All I need to do is to find someone who’ll buy this kind of thing for me or get a better job. By the way those necklaces are old and would be worth something. So how did the dinner go?”
“Interesting.” Cara bit her bottom lip not knowing where to start without sounding like the world’s worst daughter.
“Interesting, that’s it. I’m due a coffee break and with what I’ve managed to sell today the boss shouldn’t complain. See you outside in five.”
Shona slipped her arm in Cara’s as they walked down the narrow side street and entered a little cafe.
“The coffee’s really good, but the queues are long. It’s worth it though if you can’t live without your caffeine like me.”
“I don’t think I’m quite as bad as you, but I’m working on it.” Cara followed Shona to a table in the corner. It wasn’t quiet, but at least they were sitting down.
“So what happened?”
“The food was wonderful, of course. As usual, Mother had her normal collection of cronies plus a couple of marital candidates for me.”
“So, tell me more.” Shona sipped on her long black.
“One was an accountant, who I’m sure thought the whole concept of the Irish having an official cuisine was a contradiction to the laws of physics. The other one was, well, I’m not sure what he was? His name was Vincent and he’s moved next door to them, and he kissed my hand.” The comment caused Shona to choke on her coffee.
“He kissed your hand. Now come on, that has to be a first.”
“Yes it was, and he complimented us on our cooking. His eyes were strange though, like he was looking right at you. I don’t know. It was like he could see more than you wanted him too, you know?” It sounded ridiculous but these days she usually did anyway so what was new.
“No, I don’t know, but he sounds the most unusual candidate your mother has found so far. If he is rich and you are not interested, send him my way. Not that I’m saying you should take up with any of her choices. Did you do the herb thing?” Shona leaned forward eagerly.
“Yes I did.”
“Did you use the aphrodisiac ones?” Shona giggled.
“Hell no. I used the combination that draws out honesty. It was more appropriate in their case. I don’t think I should’ve done it. I’m messing with what Aunty Eileen and Nanna gave me.”
“From what you have told me Nanna Kathleen had a great sense of humor and would have loved it.”
“I finished the book on immortality and witchcraft.”
“And?”
“It didn’t answer any of my questions. It just rambled on about ancient sects and bloodthirsty young bloods in the seventeenth century. There was a load of medical stuff I didn’t get, plus a section on witches with different colored eyes being sacrificed. I can’t say I enjoyed reading that bit.”
“That kind of stuff was done hundreds of years ago. People don’t do that now. What with forensics and everything, they’d never get away with it. You’ve got it out of your system and you’re to become a boring person like the rest of us again, or are you still going to try the odd spell?”
“I’m going to drop the book off at the address of the guy from the shop. Then I’ll return to my incredibly exciting life of cooking and slowly going insane.”
“Do you think that’s wise just going up to some strangers home?” Shona said as she raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips.
“It’s a nice country drive and I thought I’d just place it on his doorstep.”
Shona glanced at her watch. “Shit, I’d better get back. I’ll call you tonight.”
As they walked out Cara remembered about Vincent’s business card. “I forgot to tell you, this Vincent guy is into antiques and I told him about your shop. I hope you get something out of it, he looks like money.”
Leaving Bath, her heart raced with excitement. She loved these autumn days. They were cold, but the sky was clear and sunny. No grey clouds to dampen her feelings. It hadn’t been a hot summer. Leaves were returning to their luscious varieties of gold, amber and dark green.
Trowbridge hadn’t been too busy. Smithy Lane was just outside of town. Cara’s heart swelled at the beauty of the place. Ivy cascaded down the stone wall at the front and onto the footpath. It was probably all that was holding the stones together.
The gate she would have to
pass was in such contrast to the old walls. The intricacies of the scrolls and angles of the black metalwork took her breath away. The garden would look lovely in spring with daffodils and crocuses blooming.
The latticed windows made her feel like Gretel wanting to take a peek inside the Gingerbread House. The thatched roof had eaves that hung down above the front door. Thatch always made her think of spiders. She’d hated spiders since she was small. One had fallen on her face and she remembered her screams as she tried to get rid of it.
The knocker on the solid wooden door was a collection of bent metal that might have resembled something once. With one hand holding the book to her chest, she reached out and almost touched the metal. An odd feeling stopped her, as if opening this door was going to reveal much more than the interior of the house. Common sense needed to kick in soon, or the cops would be called for a suspected burglar.
Taking a deep breath, she placed the book on the step and turned away. This was silly. She was acting like a love-struck schoolgirl. Her hand went to her bag. She fingered the stag necklace. Turning away, she heard the front door opening.
“Hello. Can I help you? Oh, I think you’ve dropped something.”
A petite gray-haired lady stood smiling in the doorway. Cara bit her bottom lip. She cringed as if she had been caught with her fingers in the cookie jar.
“I’m Cara. I brought it for Mr. Scanlon.” The woman raised her eyebrows. “He wanted it from the bookshop. He had a special order in and I got it. I wanted him to have it so he could cancel his order.”
Get it, got it, good, no, never mind. Message to self, Never get interrogated by the police, they’ll need a translator. Cara thought.
