by Mark Hayden
‘Yes, dear,’ said Dad.
‘Yes what? Yes that we have to have it on display or yes that we have enough chairs.’
‘Yes to both.’
Mother sniffed and turned her back on the trophy. ‘Conrad, be of some use, will you? You can’t let your guests think that the women are doing all the work.’
It’s amazing. In Spain, Mother behaves like a normal person, but twenty minutes at her old home and she’s treating me like I’m thirteen again. ‘Just going for more punch,’ I said.
She trailed after me towards the kitchen. The real reason she was acting strangely is that she’s very awkward unless she has something to do, and Myfanwy, Mina and Erin were doing fine on their own. Behind us, Dad drifted over to the swing, where Vicky was propped up on cushions, surrounded by a guard of honour. Desi saw him and shuffled along the new rustic bench to make room. In seconds, the whole group was laughing at one of his stories, probably about me.
Myfanwy was running round the kitchen table doing three things at once. I dodged past her and started to fill my flagons from the vat of punch. Mother leaned against the worktop and watched her. Myfanwy put the last of the tartlets on a server and stood back to admire her handiwork. She wiped her forehead and breathed out.
‘I don’t know you do it, dear,’ said Mother. ‘The gardens have never looked so good in all of history, and this is a magnificent spread.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Clarke. Sorry. Thank you, Mary. I was so worried you wouldn’t like what I’ve done outside.’
Mother shook her head. ‘Superb. You have real vision. Please let me do something to help.’
‘All done. Can you whistle? It’s time to get them in. I don’t want to leave this out in the sun, so if you could chivvy everyone to come and load up their plates, that would be great.’
Mother perked up and strode out of the kitchen with purpose.
‘Thank the gods for that, Conrad, I was so worried.’
‘About what?’
‘About your mother. Everyone in the village has been saying how odd she is. I think she’s lovely.’
‘And so do I, but I’m biased. Where’s Mina and Erin?’
‘Nipped out to the shop for a couple of bits. Sounds like them back now.’
It took a long while for everyone to get served, even with Mother taking charge of the queue and forcing people back outside once they’d loaded their plates. Mina and I went last, and took our food to couple of chairs in the shade of an old oak tree that had been spared Myfanwy’s cull. It gave us a good view of the proceedings. Scout joined us and sat in front, staring hopefully at our plates. We ignored him.
Two of the party had stayed outside and had their food brought to them. One was Vicky, on the swing, the other was Miss Parkes, ensconced under a giant parasol. As people went to sit down, it was noticeable that my father and Ben both avoided Miss Parkes, while Mother and Myfanwy were more than happy to sit next to her. Then again, they’d never been in her class.
‘Would it be tempting fate to say that this is Paradise regained?’ said Mina.
‘Yes, but do it anyway.’
‘Perhaps not. Seeing Mary and Erica together does remind me that I’m the only one under forty without a mother.’
I put my arm round her shoulder and kissed her head.
She took a bite of Myfanwy’s quiche. ‘This is good. Perhaps I could find a new mother. One I could safely invite to events like this.’
‘Surely she wasn’t that bad.’
‘You have no idea, Conrad.’ She sighed. ‘Myfanwy has already taken Miss Parkes. I know. I could ask Francesca Somerton to adopt me.’
‘You could do a lot worse.’
People started drifting back to the kitchen for cake, and Vicky had to take a comfort break. She’d been in the middle of a conversation with Saffron, and the two of them were nearly at the house when they looked up at the sound of crunching gravel, followed shortly by a car horn from round the front. Who the hell was that?
‘We’ll go,’ shouted Vicky. ‘I need the exercise.’
Scout barked his Mage bark and trotted off after them. Mina and I looked at each other.
‘Rick?’ she said. ‘A surprise visit from Hannah?’
I put my plate down. ‘Unlikely. My money’s on Bertie, Saffron’s cousin. I’d better go and see for myself.’
I wasn’t worried. There are Wards and defences on the house now, and no one starts an attack by blowing a car horn. There was a slight delay when I stood up and had to hop around on my good leg, and by the time I’d crossed the lawn, Vicky and Saffron were coming back with a young woman I didn’t recognise at first.
She was lifting a cabin case over the grass, and I heard Vicky saying that she could take her big case through the front door later. There was a puzzled and slightly annoyed look on Vicky’s face, and on the other side of the newcomer, Saffron looked as if she were about to burst with gossip and devilment. Various members of the party had stopped what they were doing and drifted over to see what all the excitement was about.
Our visitor was walking along with her head turned behind her, staring at the house, and when she turned to look at the gathering, she put her hand to her mouth and went bright red. It was Sofía, daughter of the Spanish tarot reader. What on earth was she doing here?
Vicky was giving me a strange look, a hurt look, as if I’d said or done something to upset her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about your other sister, Conrad?’
Oh. Oh shit.
Vicky’s eyes widened. ‘Ohmygod sorry. You didn’t know, did you?’
I was looking at Sofía. ‘I don’t think she knew either.’
Vicky pivoted and gasped, and immediately doubled over clutching her wound. Erin moved to catch her, and I heard footsteps behind me as her parents came to the rescue.
Sofía was oblivious. She was staring at me as if I were the Angel of Death come to pay an early visit. Mina arrived, and Sofía broke eye contact to blink and take a step back. Mina stepped forward and put her arm round Sofía. I turned to look behind, to see just how many people had heard.
Everyone, I think. And everyone was trying desperately hard not to look at my parents. They were standing, together, in the middle of a semi-circle. Dad looked upset, and very concerned. He lifted his arm in a gesture of sympathy towards Sofía, then dropped it. Mother was looking down and looking guilty. Everyone says I have Dad’s eyes, and now that I thought about it, so does Sofía, so why does Mother look guilty?
‘Why don’t you go into the house?’ said Myfanwy.
‘Nueve de varitas,’ said Sofía. The Nine of Wands.
It looked like the last word was going to go to a playing card, but Mina had other ideas. She gently pulled the case from Sofía’s fingers and pushed her towards the back door. ‘Come with me. You must be desperate to freshen up after the journey.’
John was leading Vicky back to the swing, and Myfanwy shooed everyone else, leaving Mum and Dad alone. ‘Let’s go in,’ said Mum. ‘This may take some time.’
Conrad, Mina and the whole gang’s story continues in Eight Kings –
the Sixth Book of the King’s Watch, available from Paw Press in Autumn 2019.
You can also find out what happened to Conrad and Woody at Draxholt in:
Wings over Water – A King’s Watch Story
Turn over for more…
Wings over Water
The second King’s Watch novella is now available from Paw Press on Amazon.
In this story, Conrad is whisked from his training course in Shropshire to deal with a haunted former airfield in Yorkshire.
Conrad, RAF Veteran, reckons he can deal with a few old airmen. How hard can it be? Very.
Find out what’s buried under Draxholt in Wings over Water and…
Coming Soon
Eight Kings
The Sixth Book of the King’s Watch
by
Mark Hayden
The King is dead.
Long live the Qu
een…?
There hasn’t been a Mage-King of Wessex in over a thousand years. Everyone thinks the title is as dead as its last owner.
Lord Mowbray has other ideas. He has the charter, he has the votes, and he has a candidate: his son.
The Daughters of the Goddess don’t agree. What’s wrong with a Queen of Wessex?
The Great and the Good from the world of magick gather at Lord Mowbray’s mansion in Cornwall to sort it out.
Conrad is (rightly) worried about security. Saffron is worried about disgracing her family. Scout is worried about dinner, and Mina is most worried of all: what will she wear?
When a murderer strikes, Conrad has to draw on all his resources to stop a tragedy turning into an all-out war.
And why not join Conrad’s elite group of supporters:
The Merlyn’s Tower Irregulars
Visit the Paw Press website and sign up for the Irregulars to receive news of new books, or visit the Facebook page for Mark Hayden Author and Like it.
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading this book; I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please leave a review on Amazon. It doesn't have to be long. Reviews make a huge difference to Indie authors, and an honest review from a genuine customer is worth a great deal. If you've read all the books of the King’s Watch, please review them, too – even if you’re in a hurry to read the next one.
The King’s Watch books are a radical departure from my previous five novels, all of which are crime or thrillers, though very much set in the same universe, including the Operation Jigsaw Trilogy. Conrad himself refers to it as being part of his history.
You might like to go back the Jigsaw trilogy and discover how he came to the Allfather’s attention. As I was writing those books, I knew that one day Conrad would have special adventures of his own, and that’s why the Phantom makes a couple of guest appearances.
Other than that, it only remains to be said that all the characters in this book are fictional, as are some of the places, but Merlyn’s Tower, Earlsbury and the First Mine are, of course, all real places, it’s just that you can only see them if you have the Gift…
I started writing this book in February 2019. Less than two months before that, I was seized with the worst flare-up of my bad back that I’ve ever had. I had to be helped into the house, it was that bad. As I type this, on the day of publication, I am pain free. That trajectory of recovery wouldn’t have been so fast or so complete without the expertise of Suzanne Wells, physiotherapist extraordinaire of the Lakeland & Lunesdale clinic. For once, it is literally true that this book wouldn’t have been written without her help.
Nor could it have been written without love, support, encouragement and sacrifices from my wife, Anne. It just goes to show how much she loves me that she let me write the first Conrad book even though she hates fantasy novels. She says she now likes them.
As ever, Chris Tyler’s friendship is a big part of my continued desire to write, and thanks also due to the fellow members of Kendal Writers’ Café. Their critique of my opening chapters is always both merciless and justified.
Thanks,
Mark Hayden.
