Page 8 of The Beast's Heart

The woman leaps up, rushes around the table and thrusts her hand at me. “They ca' me Lily-Iris.”

“This is Lily-Iris,” Meredith finishes her sentence.

“That’s pretty. Two flowers.” I take her hand and she shakes it vigorously.

She says something to me in Scottish and laughs heartily. I have no idea what she’s saying so I smile and hope that’s enough.

“Lily-Iris is our housemaid and nanny. Angus, her father, is the groundskeeper,” Meredith says.

“And I’m Ray. A drop of golden sun.” A round-faced Black man emerges from the steam. He’s nearly as large as Adam, his pink t-shirt stretching over bulging biceps covered in tattoos. “I’m the cook.” He takes my hand and shakes warmly. As he does, I notice the tattoo on his right arm in more detail. It’s a pair of purple and yellow dragons tussling in the shape of a yin-yang. Maybe not ‘man’, then. Masc-presenting.

“That’s so funny, I was just referencing The Sound of Music to Adam and he had no idea what I was talking about.”

Ray exchanges a look with Meredith.

“Yeah, it’s fucking weird,” Geoff says.Ah, right, no one calls him Adam.Geoff collapses into one of the wooden chairs at the table. “You got any more of that coffee?”

Ray rolls their eyes (is that the right pronoun?) and gestures over their shoulder with their thumb. “In the pot, hun. I’m not your servant.”

“Seriously? I just sat down.”

“So pick your lazy ass up again.” They shake their head and ask me. “Would you like some coffee? Have you eaten since you left the village? Do you need a snack? Oh! Do you have any dietary preferences?”

“Um, no, thanks. To all of the above.”

“Oh good. I suddenly realized, I’ve made chicken stew. Maybe you were a vegan. I’d feel so embarrassed. Sit, darling. Why are you hovering?”

The last is addressed to Meredith.

“The children should be here.” She frowns. “I told them—never mind. I’ll go and fetch them. Can I leave you to get acquainted?”

“Sure,” Geoff answers. “I’ll call if the teacher tries to run off with the silverware.”

Everyone ignores him, so I do too. As Meredith’s heels click away and the Scots fall into quiet conversation, I follow Ray back into the steam. The cooking part of the kitchen is separated from the rest of the room by a wide stainless steel counter. The coffee pot is sitting there, alongside a basket of bread rolls. The stove is set up against the far wall and the windows above it are white with condensation. Ray checks on some pots on the stove and stirs something in a pan.

“Talking of preferences…” I say, “I hope it’s not forward of me to ask, but I noticed your tattoo and was wondering what your pronoun choice is?”

Ray lights up like the aforementioned drop of sunshine. “My preference is they/them, but I’m used to he/him.” They gesture at the muscles and tattoos. “That’s so sweet of you to ask. I think I’m going to like you.”

I smile too, my unease lifting a little. “Do you need any help here?”

“Oh no, no! You can go sit with the others.”

I’m not overly keen to do that, because it would mean sitting near Geoff, but I don’t want to be rude. I start for the table when a wail of distress sounds from the hallway. A child’s cry.

I hurry out to find Meredith kneeling before the four-year old—Adam said his name was Enrique—who’s screaming and stomping his feet. Another child, a prepubescent boy, is standing beside him looking lost and overwhelmed. The pair share large brown eyes and black silky hair, but the elder one is pale with sharp features, while Enrique has golden brown skin and a sweet button nose.

“I didn’t do anything!” the older child is saying. He has an American accent—New York, I think. I knew that The Beast would be importing kids from his new home country, but the accent is still somehow a surprise.

“I don’t believe you,” Meredith replies. She’s struggling to shush the toddler. “You must have donesomething.”

The boy’s chin juts out like he wants to argue, but he bites his tongue. Then he notices me and his eyes narrow in suspicion. My stomach flips over. Lying to adults is one thing, but now I’m faced with lying to the children…

I clear my throat. “I’m, uh, your teacher. I just arrived.”

Hearing my voice, Meredith looks back at me, “Maybe you can do something about this?”

She steps away and I take her place, eye-level with Enrique. He abruptly stops screaming to stare at me, his little chest rising and falling rapidly.

---