Page 11 of A Skirl of Sorcery
‘Agnes Johnson,’ Dave told her without missing a beat.
‘That’s my nan.’
‘Old Nessie is your grandmother?’
She nodded. ‘Great-gran. Yep.’
‘It’s a small world. How is she doing?’
The smile that had finally lit up Keres’ face vanished. ‘She passed away last year.’
Dave’s shoulders dropped. ‘Oh. I’m sorry.’
‘She had a good innings,’ Keres said. ‘She was a hundred and two.’
‘Good for her,’ he murmured. He doffed an imaginary cap in her direction. ‘You ever want to reminisce about old times, you knock on my door, you hear? Don’t hesitate. I’ve always got a cup of tea for Nessie Johnson’s great-granddaughter.’
Keres blinked rapidly. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
‘Any time.’ He turned away and went inside his house, leaving me staring after him.
‘Your neighbour is friendly,’ Keres said to me.
My jaw was working soundlessly.
‘He’s very chatty and he has kind eyes.’
I found my voice. ‘Yes,’ I managed. ‘Dave’s a real sweetheart.’ I pointed to the set of stone steps leading upstairs. ‘Come on. The flat is this way.’
It didn’t take longto show Keres around. The flat was a small one-bedroom affair with basic furniture but it was comfortable enough. The front door had been repaired since the last tenant, Nick, had departed and I’d paid extra to ensure it was reinforced against further intrusions by nasty people. It wasn’t the Ritz, but Keres would be safe there.
‘If you need anything,’ I told her, ‘let me know.’
‘Thank you,’ she whispered. She seemed to mean it. She was more relaxed after her chat with Dave and was gratifyingly pleased with her surroundings.
Whatever had brought her to Mallory and then to me, she was clearly in need of a long rest so I left her to it, promising to check on her later. I suspected that Keres was the sort of person who wouldn’t ask for water if she were on fire; it would be afine balance to ensure she had everything she needed without appearing intrusive.
As soon as I returned to my garden I went straight to Dave, who was still in his garden scowling at a particularly gnarly patch of silphium. I folded my arms and waited. After several beats had passed, he spoke. ‘You’ll have to tell me what you want,’ he grunted. ‘I can’t read your mind so I don’t know what’s wrong.’
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ I replied. ‘But you know what I want from you.’
‘I thought that ginger wolf of yours was ready to satisfy your physical needs but I can oblige, if you insist.’ He wiggled his eyebrows in vigorous amusement.
Under any other circumstances, I’d have smirked and offered a snarky comment but I wasn’t feeling particularly inclined to humour. Thankfully, he sensed that. He sighed and met my gaze. ‘You want to know about the ban siths.’
I nodded. ‘I do. I didn’t realise you knew any of them.’
Dave drew his brows together in his familiar grimace. ‘I didn’t always live in this glorious manor.’ He waved a hand at the ramshackle house behind him. ‘When I was a lot younger, I lived on Barton Road.’
I watched him carefully. ‘Where the ban sith community is located.’
‘Yep.’ He shrugged. ‘It was all I could afford at the time – if I’d had a choice, I would have gone elsewhere.’ He scowled deeply. ‘In the end it was the best thing I ever did.’
I tried – and failed – to picture what a younger version of Dave would have looked like. ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Why was it the best thing?’
‘They welcomed me and looked out for me, Old Nessie most of all.’
Keres’ great-grandmother. I tilted my head and waited for him to continue.
