Part Three
Cement takes time,
To dry,
To dry and become a house,
Where families gather,
And people laugh,
And love.
A house is built by workmen,
Builders working hard,
And laying bricks,
Building strong foundations.
And families are built,
In much the same way.
Chapter Fourteen
Jack ran his fingers over the wood. It felt smooth and he picked up his carving knife. He had chosen a white pine and, as he whittled away, a shape slowly began to emerge. He deftly formed the wood into a mouse with large droopy ears. It wasn't to his personal taste but tourists loved them.
He had never stopped with his woodwork. Kitto had kept him pretty busy over the last twenty years, but he always made time for his carvings. He found it both relaxing and rewarding. It was the perfect way to unwind after a busy day being put through his paces. He also felt better about it now that he didn't just throw them away. It was true that he still hadn't given one as a present, not even to Kitto. He had considered it, but he and Kitto just didn't do the whole 'present' thing. He wasn't even sure when Kitto's birthday was. If you die and then come back from the dead should you still get birthdays? And if you do, would it be the same day you celebrated it when you were alive? Or should your birthday become the day you came back from the dead? Perhaps Kitto found this a bit of a conundrum as well because he never mentioned birthdays, and on March 27th Jack didn't mention his own birthday. He'd never bothered with them much before anyway. They didn't celebrate Christmas either, they just treated it like any other day which suited Jack just fine.
So he didn't use his wooden creations as presents but he had started to give them to a local market trader in Truro. It was just a guy he'd bumped into one day, a short man with a booming voice that seemed too big for his body. After chatting for a while, they came to an informal arrangement. Jack dropped his ornaments off to him, he sold them and they split the profits. It didn't amount to much but it was a little extra income.
He wasn't entirely sure how the finances worked. He hadn't been allowed to find work after moving to Cornwall because Kitto didn't want anything to detract from his training, and Kitto didn't work either, so for a while Jack had been worried about how they would live. He came to realise they were funded by the council (not the normal council, he was pretty sure Truro City Council didn't have a fund for people training in the art of protecting witches). The magic council, as Jack came to call them, were a faceless group of people that he had never been allowed to meet.
Kitto had been to meetings with them over the years. At first the meetings had been few and far between; Kitto said he just kept them updated with Jack's progress. But recently, when all the talk of the arrival of the witch had begun meetings had become more frequent.
Jack was a little put-out that he was never invited but, at the same time, he knew that diplomacy wasn't one of his strengths; he was far better at the grunt work, so perhaps it was for the best.
Jack had felt a change in himself over the last twenty years, nothing dramatic but he knew that something inside him had shifted. His life before moving to Cornwall had mostly been spent on his own. He'd thought he preferred it that way, and he'd been nervous about living with Kitto.
However, he and Kitto had immediately slipped into daily routines together easily. They each liked their privacy and Jack still cherished his moments of 'alone' time, but they were also comfortable in each other's company. Most of the time there was no need for words, and they could complete tasks in silence, content in each other's presence.
The story they told people, if they were asked, was that Jack was Kitto's nephew. In some ways it didn't feel that far from the truth anymore. Kitto had become family. Jack had felt a peace wash over him when he had acknowledged that to himself. 'Family' was a word he had never used before because he had never had one, and he had told himself he didn't need one. But Kitto made him realise that he did. Perhaps everyone did eventually. Kitto was an eccentric old coot but he was his eccentric old coot and he was protective over the man who had become his only family.
The lie about their family connection had been easy to pass off to people. However, their lack of ageing had been more difficult. A few years had gone by when Jack realised that he wasn't ageing and neither was Kitto. Technically, he was now 31 years old; only he looked exactly the same as he had when he was 21. And Kitto was twenty years older than whatever age he had been when they first met (he had no idea what that was. Was his age classed as the age he had died at, or should it be from when he rose from the dead? Another conundrum).
Kitto insisted that they didn't mingle too much with the locals. It was fine to make acquaintances but any close friends would start to get suspicious eventually.
“Just tell them our secret is Botox,” Jack had said with a grin, but Kitto didn't know what Botox was so it had been lost on him.
The rule about 'mingling with locals' meant that Jack had shied away from making many new friends. There were people that he knew and was courteous to, but mostly he kept himself to himself, which wasn't that different to his life before.
He ventured into town occasionally, usually when he was dropping off his ornaments, but he preferred the beach or walking along the clifftops. He had taken up surfing, which seemed like the polite thing to do when moving to Cornwall. He loved it and alternated his early mornings between running and chasing waves on various beaches. He didn't go to the same place for risk of making friends with other surfers, so he travelled to the different beaches. He knew some of the other surfers and exchanged pleasantries, but generally they left him alone and they all concentrated on the waves.
He had entered Cornwall twenty years earlier and he hadn't left it since. The sea was a part of him now; it crashed through his veins the same way it crashed upon the rocks. He couldn't imagine living in a place where you couldn't taste the salt on the air, where the gulls didn't call out from above and where you couldn't stand and listen to the waves and lose yourself in the enormity of the ocean. It felt good for him to know that Cornwall was his home, he knew it was where he would spend the rest of his years and where he would one day die, although at the rate he was ageing that day seemed a long way off.
He held up the mouse he had made and examined it. He was pleased and placed it on the shelf with some others. He would drop them to the market next week. He knew that he should be training. That was what Kitto had instructed him to do. He had handed Jack his staff and said, “The witch is on her way. Take this outside and practice.”
However, Jack felt he needed to do something relaxing. Besides, he had become pretty adept with the staff now. He'd had to. He hadn't been keen on getting his butt kicked every night by Kitto. It had taken time and dedication, and a few broken bones, but he had mastered it. He could beat Kitto now, not that he ever did. He had worked so hard to get to the stage where he could finally win, and then when he reached it he had surprised himself and suddenly backed off. He found that it didn't feel right for him to surpass Kitto yet, so he let it continue as it always had; they fought, Kitto won and Jack vowed to beat him next time.
He still trained tirelessly every day with the staff, as well as other weapons that he had learnt how to use. But today it was some whittling that he needed. The witch was arriving soon. Kitto was excited and had cleaned the house a million times over. He was acting as though they were expecting a visit from the queen. Jack had sent him out for a walk just to get him out of the way.
Jack wasn't sure how he felt. He knew he should be excited; after all, this was what he had spent years training for. However, he thought of her arrival with a feeling of nervous trepidation. He liked things as they were now. He liked living with Kitto and couldn't imagine how it would work throwing a woman into the mix. But he supposed that, if he was honest, there was something else niggling at him. After all t
he preparation and training, he didn't want to let anyone down.
Chapter Fifteen
Kiera dropped her rucksack next to the front door, took one last look around and breathed deeply. She didn't hear Mags's footsteps behind her.
“It's the start of a new chapter for you,” Mags placed a hand on her shoulder, “and I'm always here if you need me.”
Kiera nodded silently. Then she forced a smile, “It's the start of December so you'll want to put your tree up soon. Do you want me to come back and give you a hand?”
“Let's play it by ear shall we?” Mags asked, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “You might find you're much too busy.”
“I'll never be too busy to help you,” Kiera protested.
She picked up her bag and they headed out to the car. They drove to Kitto's house without much conversation. Kiera tried to appear upbeat; after all, she didn't want Mags sitting at home worrying about her. But it was hard to fake cheerfulness when she was feeling so low. It wasn't just the fact she had to move away from Mags, where she was happy. She was also nervous; she was nervous about moving into a house with two strange men; she was nervous about the whole concept of spending her life side by side with one of the aforementioned strange men, and she was nervous about embarking on a career in witchcraft on her own.
Her dad had died and she had been alone, then she met Mags and had settled in with her and found a home. Now it rather felt that she was back to square one and she was on her own again. Truth be told, she was feeling a little abandoned. Mags was sending her off into some sort of weird arranged-marriage-like situation.
Times had changed. Did she really need a man to protect her? It all sounded a bit sexist. She was perfectly capable of looking after herself.
It took them almost an hour to reach Kitto's house. Kiera was disappointed to be so far away, and decided that learning to drive would have to be a priority. They reached the house via a narrow dirt track. The car bumped and jolted before reaching a point where it was physically impossible to drive any further.
They pulled up next to a shiny, black sports car and climbed out.
“That's Jack's car,” Mags informed her, “provided by us, the council.”
Kiera whistled. Poser.
Next to it was a smart, well maintained Land Rover 90 with mud splattered down the side. It looked oddly out of place next to the sports car. Kiera wondered if it was Jack's too, or perhaps it belonged to Kitto.
It didn't feel like a warm welcome as they pushed their way through undergrowth before finally emerging into the open.
“Why don't they cut that down?” Kiera complained, rubbing her arm where some brambles had scratched her.
“It's better for the house to remain concealed,” Mags paused for a moment panting and Kiera took hold of her arm, “it's better for all of you to have some privacy.”
Despite everything, Kiera was impressed by the house. It stood majestic and imposing against a vast backdrop of farmer's fields and rolling hills. The house was well maintained with windows that glistened, smooth granite brickwork and surrounded by bushes and flowers that added life and colour, even in the middle of autumn.
Mags smiled as she watched Kiera admire the house, “You should've seen it when he first moved in.”
Mags raised her hand to knock on the wooden front door but the door was flung open before she had the chance. A man stood before them whom Kiera thought looked to be in his seventies, or maybe younger, then again maybe older. It was hard to tell with his thick mane of hair which curled its way down past his ears. His beard looked like it had just been brushed and curled down past his chin.
It seemed that he had dressed up for the occasion; he greeted them wearing black trousers, a white shirt, and a pair of shoes that she could see her face in. Then again, for all she knew he always dressed like that.
She didn't like the way he stared at her; it was a mixture of awe, nerves and excitement and it made her feel self-conscious. She forced a half-smile as Mags introduced them then she looked away from his intense gaze as she entered the house.
The inside of the house was as beautiful as the outside. The furniture and décor had been kept to suit the age of the house, which she would guess to be Victorian. A chaise longue welcomed them in the hallway and they were greeted in the living room by soft furnishings and original woodwork and features, including a grand looking coal fireplace. She was glad they had an open fire; she had enjoyed curling up in front of one at Mags's house, preferably with a book and a hot chocolate.
Kiera helped to lower Mags on to a deep, golden sofa and then perched next to her awkwardly. Kitto sat on a chair opposite and continued to stare at her before jumping up and exclaiming, “I haven't offered you anything. Tea or coffee? Cold drink? Wine? Beer?…”
“I'm OK,” Kiera interrupted before he continued reeling off drinks like a barman.
“Thanks,” she added after noticing a stern glance from Mags.
Mags also shook her head, “I won't stop for a drink thanks Kitto. I will have to be getting back on the road.”
Kiera turned to her with a sense of panic rising in her chest, “So soon? I thought you'd stay a while.”
“I'll go and give you time to settle in and get to know each other. Besides, it gets dark early now and I don't fancy driving in the dark,” she patted Kiera's hand reassuringly.
Kitto was frowning at the door, “Jack will be down any minute, I've told him you're here.” They fell into a temporary silence before Kitto began jovially, “I hope you like your room. It's the largest in the house so you'll have plenty of space and it's next to mine if you need anything. I tried to…” he stopped and frowned again, “…excuse me.”
He rose and left the room. They heard him call, “Jack, did you hear me? Our guest has arrived.”
I'm not a guest, Kiera thought miserably, guests can leave but I can't.
Finally they heard some light footsteps and then Kitto returned with another man. Kiera was surprised when she saw him. He had been described as some sort of highly trained ninja warrior type, and, for some reason, she had expected someone a little older. The man before her must have been the same age as herself. Unlike Kitto, he was dressed casually, very casually, in a pair of dark jeans with holes in the knees (she couldn't be sure whether they were intentionally or accidentally fashionable) and a navy-blue T-shirt.
He was good looking, with thick black hair and matching deep eyes, and he was well built; his muscles visible beneath his shirt. His features were pronounced with large eyes and strong, smooth cheekbones.
He glanced at her as he entered and seemed to force a smile as they were introduced, but after that he barely looked at her. Kiera thought he seemed a little grumpy, perhaps he was as happy about the situation as she was.
Jack took a seat in a chair next to Kitto and tried not to look uncomfortable. He observed Kiera whilst she wasn't looking. Her hair was pitch black and tumbled loose and untamed down her back. She was a little skinny and her olive-skinned features seemed strained. She looked as though she'd like nothing better than to get up, run from the house and never look back. He couldn't blame her; the situation was weird to say the least. He didn't like the way Kitto leant forward and hung off her every word. He knew they'd been waiting for her for a long time (and Kitto even longer) but she was still just a girl, albeit different to any other girls, but a girl all the same.
Mags rose and said her goodbyes. Kiera seemed to cling to her arm a little too much which made Jack and Kitto feel awkward. They all walked her back to her car, Kiera helped her inside and they waved her off. He thought he saw a stray tear escape from Mags's eye as she drove away and, for the first time, he felt sorry for them both. It seemed unfair that they had to leave each other if they didn't want to; it was like him being told he had to leave Kitto.
As they trooped back to the house he tried to think of something encouraging to say but couldn't think of anything. He let Kitto show her upstairs to her room, then escaped to his
own little workshop and began whittling away at some wood in a desperate attempt to relax.
We've had twenty happy years, he thought sullenly, and now…now there's a woman in the house.
Kiera followed Kitto upstairs. She didn't even realise Jack had gone until she turned around. She felt bad for Kitto, who seemed to be trying so hard to make conversation with her and cheer her up. She knew she should try harder, respond with more than one syllable but she felt sad and alone and didn't have the energy.
Her room was nice enough. It was certainly large, if anything it was too large. She thought wistfully of her cosy bedroom back home…or rather at Mags's house, she shouldn't think of it as home anymore because this was her new home.
She was aware that Kitto was waiting eagerly for her reaction so she took a moment to look around; a double bed all to herself, a spacious wardrobe and drawers that she didn't have enough clothes to fill, a dressing table, some bookshelves and a large window that looked out across a vast and beautiful landscape. She nodded at Kitto and tried to smile but failed.
“Is it OK?” Kitto asked. “It's yours so any changes you want to make please feel free. This is your home now.”
She knew that this was meant to cheer her up but it only made her feel worst. She didn't reply.
“Perhaps you'd prefer a different room?” Kitto asked her, scanning her features for a clue as to what she was thinking.
Part of her wanted to please him, he seemed nice enough, but another part unfairly blamed him for taking her from a home she was happy at. She just wanted him to leave her alone.
“It's fine,” she said flatly.
Kitto nodded. He seemed disappointed. This obviously wasn't going according to plan. He was still smiling at her though. He reached out, took hold of her bag and unzipped it.
“Shall I help you unpack?” A photo of her dad lay on top and it made Kiera angry. She snatched the bag from him.
Nature of the Witch Page 11
