Page 2 of The Wicked Lies of Habren Faire
She’s always watching me in moments like this—when I become little more than Ceridwen’s shadow. Gran gives me a small, sympathetic smile that I force myself to return.
“Dwi’n gwybod sut mae’n teimlo i gael dy anwybyddu,” says Gran. “Paid â’i gymryd at dy galon.”
I know how it is to be overlooked. Don’t take it to heart.
It pierces my chest, but I keep my expression blank. “All neb fy anwybyddu.Mae fy llais yn rhy uchel.” No one can overlook me. I’m far too loud.
Gran tuts at the obvious lie and crosses her arms, looking away from me.
The doctor watches us warily.
“English,” he says curtly. Welsh isn’t taught in schools; it was barred by Westminster long ago. He must be from the city, so he never had a chance to learn.
“Sorry, sir,” I reply flatly. “We were only discussing whether we’ll make our train.”
His bottom lip curls down. “Your sister is very ill and you fret over your train?”
“She’s only being practical,” Ceridwen says quickly. “This is our first time in Cardiff—first time taking a train! We’ve come a long way for our father.” She looks to the clerk with purpose, her brows pulling taut. “Sir, do you know how much longer he will be?”
The doctor straightens, encouraging the clerk to follow. “The young lady ought not to be kept waiting; go see what’s taking them so long.”
The clerk nods, near tripping over his own feet to help Ceridwen. She smiles beatifically before turning the expression on the doctor, set to dazzle him next.
“It’s heartbreaking to see the havoc consumption can wreak on even the sweetest creatures.” He pats Ceridwen’s hand.
I sit up straighter, latching on to the note of mourning in his voice. “Please, sir”—I lay on my accent thick and heavy, trying to sound far stupider than I am—“we haven’t a doctor in our village, and no medicine…” I trail off, forcing myself to sigh. “Certainly none we can afford, anyway. If you could—”
Ceridwen seizes my arm. “Sabrina! We can’t ask the nice man for such an extravagance.”
I believe her until our eyes meet. My sister can lie as well as me when she needs to.
“It’s all right, miss,” the doctor says gently to Ceridwen. “Mypractice isn’t far. If you wait here, I’ll return with some medicine to aid your journey home.”
He too bows and retreats. We hold our poses until he’s gone, then Ceridwen turns to face me, letting out a deeply held breath. We can be quite the team. Ceridwen has always been dazzling; not just in her beauty, but in her capacity for warmth, too. Even the rosy flush of her sickness can’t dampen that. And I know how to use her to her full potential. But the exhaustion shows once her audience is gone.
“Free medicine, another blessing to count,” Gran says, but her bloodshot, clouded eyes are dull. “And we’ll get you back to bed soon.”
“It’s only ten years,” Ceridwen agrees, ever the optimist. “Australia isn’t so bad as it used to be.”
“They have spiders as big as your hand. Bigger, even,” I tell her.
“You made that up.”
“If I wanted to make something up, I would, and it would be far more interesting than large spiders. Everyone knows. It’s in books. Just like everyone knows the sun there is burning and the work never-ending.”
Ceridwen’s nostrils flare. “Must you be so miserable?”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“For once.”
“Enough bickering.” Gran points to the empty seat beside her and stares at me expectantly.
I join them, hitching up my mass of skirts as I sit. I try to emulate Ceridwen’s elegant posture with little success.
Gran takes my hand. She squeezes once, a surprising amount of strength left in her gnarled fingers, then releases me.
“I’m sorry,” Ceridwen says after a moment of silence. “Duw, I’m so tired.”
