Bourn’s Edge (18 page)

“Yes I can. If you aren’t going to give him a home anymore, then I will.”

“Those dogs will tear him to pieces,” warned her father.

“Not if I tell them not to,” said Tarian.

Cassie threw her a grateful glance. “He deserves some TLC, after all I put him through. Yes, I’ll take him, Mum.”

Her mother laughed and shook her head. “Have it your own way.”

THE PIGBOY LEANED on his pitchfork and wiped his forehead on the back of his hand. He’d been mucking out the stables for hours. Straw dust clogged his lungs and stuck to sweat-slicked skin and hair, and his bare feet were coated in dung. He must stink even worse than usual, but he had grown accustomed to the stench.

“Boar’s entrails! Not finished yet?” The farrier looked irritable. The rhythmic clangs of his hammer had provided an accompaniment to the pigboy’s work as he shaped metal into horseshoes and fitted those same shoes to his lord’s mounts. His tunic was as soaked with sweat, but unlike the pigboy’s it had at least been clean on that morning.

“No, sir.”

“Lazy, good for nothing runt.” The farrier scowled and raised one meaty fist.

The pigboy flinched but held his ground—at least this Fae’s beatings never involved magic. “I’m going as fast as I can, sir. Two more barrow loads to shift, then I’ll be done.”

“Speak back to me, would you? Insolence!”

In the event, it was the other hand that struck the pigboy, the one holding the horseshoe. The blow knocked all sense out of him for a while, and when he returned to himself, he was staring up at the rafters, soaking wet—a bucket of water had been thrown over him.

“Finish your mucking out. And be quick about it.” The farrier’s gaze was unapologetic. “The horses need stabling.”

With a headache that would fell an ox, and ears still ringing, the pigboy heaved himself to his feet. In the gloom he searched for the pitchfork and grabbed it from where it had fallen. “At once, sir.”

Chapter 6

Tarian sipped her beer and took in her surroundings. Only a few tables in the pub’s back garden were occupied—by office workers, if their clothes were any indication. Monday lunchtimes weren’t the busiest of times, or perhaps most people preferred to eat and chat indoors.

More fool them
.

She was glad to be out in the open. She and Cassie had spent the morning in the flat, dividing Cassie’s possessions into piles labelled “Chuck” and “Keep”—as Cassie was reluctant to throw anything away, the “Chuck” pile was almost nonexistent. They were wrapping china and glassware, getting newsprint everywhere, even on the dogs’ noses, and stowing them carefully in the packing cases when, to Tarian’s relief, Cassie announced it was time to keep the rendezvous she had made by phone last night.

Tarian set down her glass and closed her eyes, enjoying the sunshine on her eyelids and letting her senses roam. That steady breathing and rustle of clothing was Cassie on the shady bench opposite—her fair skin had a tendency to freckle. A blackbird trilled in a jasmine bush close by, fighting a losing battle against the High Street’s traffic roar. And those splashing sounds must be Anwar and Drysi exploring the ornamental fishpond.

“Don’t tease the goldfish,” she called, and heard Cassie chuckle.

A canine sneeze was followed by the sounds of paws padding across the concrete flagstones towards her. Two warm, furry shapes slumped against her ankles and something heavy, presumably a head, settled on her left boot.

“Comfortable?” she asked. An image of Anwar’s satisfied face appeared in her mind. She grinned.

“Where are they?” fretted Cassie. “They should have been here ten minutes ago.”

“I’m sure your friends will be here any minute,” said Tarian, eyes still closed.

“Ha! That shows how much
you
know. Justin is always late. It drives poor Danny up the wall.”

Tarian opened her eyes. “They’d have rung you if they weren’t coming.”

Cassie gave her a plaintive look. “I know. But I’m hungry.” Her growling stomach confirmed as much. “And you know how I get when I’m hungry.”

Tarian sat up. “We don’t have to wait.” A menu was propped between the salt and pepper pots. She handed it to Cassie, whose face brightened.

“Lasagne, I think.” She glanced at Tarian. “What about you?”

“The same.”

“Okay. I’ll go and order.”

Cassie grabbed her purse and set off towards the pub’s back door. Tarian watched her go, her gaze dwelling on the shapely rear. At the door two men, one tall and dark, one short and fair, blocked Cassie’s path. They were wearing faded blue jeans and black T-shirts sporting the white lettering “J & D Collectables” and from their delighted grins, they were Cassie’s friends. After a brief discussion, Cassie turned and pointed at Tarian’s table.

Cassie vanished indoors, and the men made their way over. Tarian’s scalp prickled as she felt the familiar discordant jangle of an ill luck attractor. It was coming from the plastic carrier bag the blond man was carrying. They stopped in front of her table. The dogs rose and went to investigate.

“I’m Justin. You must be Tarian.” The taller of the two men held out his hand. Delicate bone structure made him look pretty rather than handsome, and his shoulder-length curls were in need of a trim.

“Hello.” She shook his hand and gestured towards a free chair. He smiled and took it.

“And I’m Danny.” His partner’s handshake was firmer. He had compensated for thinning hair by growing a beard, and his stocky frame, snub nose, and jug-handle ears made him look like a boxer.

“Nice to meet you, Danny.” While he too sat, Tarian extended her senses, finding only a mix of nervousness and friendly curiosity. They were unaware of what was in the carrier bag.
Good
.

The dogs settled on their haunches next to Tarian and yawned.

“Did we pass canine inspection?” asked Justin.

“For now.” She didn’t tell him she had conducted an inspection of her own.

Danny dumped the carrier bag on the floor between his feet. Tarian tried to ignore its baleful presence, but it wasn’t easy; already she was feeling nauseous and getting a headache. He drummed stubby fingers on the beer-circle stained table and gave her a weak smile. “Nice day.”

Justin shot him an incredulous glance. “So, you’re Cassie’s girlfriend.”

She returned his direct gaze with one of her own. “I am.”

“Great.” He grinned. “We’ve been trying to get her fixed up for ages, haven’t we, Danny?”

“Picky,” muttered his partner, nodding. “Very picky.”

Tarian was about to ask him what he meant, when Cassie reappeared and headed towards them.

She resumed her seat and said slightly breathlessly, “I’ve paid for everyone. My treat. Chicken Kiev for you,” she told Danny, who beamed. “And Shepherd’s Pie for you, Justin. It’ll be ready in quarter of an hour. The beers are on the way.” She paused. “Have you introduced yourselves?”

Tarian nodded and reached for her glass.

“Good.” Cassie took a sip of her orange juice and regarded her friends. “No more lightning strikes since I rang you, I take it?”

Justin grimaced. “No, thank God. Our insurers were beginning to give us very funny looks.”

“They think someone’s made voodoo dolls of us and stuck pins in them,” joked Danny.

You’re not that far off the mark
, thought Tarian.

“Shop going okay?” asked Cassie.

“Great.” Justin smiled at the middle-aged barmaid transferring brimming beer glasses from her tray to their table. “We’re shifting as many DCs and Marvels as we can get. And loads of Twilight figures.” He took a gulp of Guinness, wiped away his foam moustache, and gave a satisfied sigh.

“Those Eleven Doctors sets are popular too,” said Danny, draining half of his lager in one go.

“Anyway enough of that stuff,” said Justin. “What’s all this about wanting to see the action figure we had repaired three weeks ago?”

Cassie sniggered. “It’s a doll, Justin. Why can’t you admit it?”

He ignored her and turned to Danny. “Go on. Show them.”

Danny grabbed the carrier bag from between his feet and dumped it on the table. He pulled out a garish cardboard box, eased open the flap, and pulled out a seven-inch tall, articulated doll.

Tarian winced as the jangling sensation increased, and Cassie threw her a concerned glance. “Don’t worry,” she murmured.

The doll was male, its overdeveloped musculature reminding Tarian of Cadel. A mask obscured its eyes, and it was clad in a skin-tight costume of green and black. On its right hand—over white gloves, oddly—it wore an outsized green ring. Clutched in its left hand was a lantern.

“Green Lantern,” breathed Cassie. “I loved his comics when I was a kid.”

“You mean you aren’t a kid anymore?” Danny grinned. “Looks brand new, doesn’t he?” She nodded. “The paintwork was flaking but the Doll Hospital fixed it. They do good work.”

“That’s worth knowing. You asked what it’s about.” Cassie reached in her shoulder bag and pulled out her teddy bear. “This.” Stuffing was leaking from the cuddly toy’s middle, one of his eyes dangled by a thread, and an ear had been ripped off. “Oops!”

A glass eye bounced across the tabletop. Tarian grabbed it and handed it back.

“Good grief, Cassie!” said Justin. “What’s his name, Thread Bear? Why don’t you just buy yourself a new one?”

She stroked the bear’s stomach. “Sentimental reasons.” Its left leg dropped onto the flagstones. Drysi nudged it back to Cassie with her nose. “Thank you, sweetie.”

“The dogs have taken to you, I see,” said Danny, impressed. “Just as well, given the size of them.”

“Who ordered lasagne?” The barmaid had reappeared bearing two steaming plates.

Tarian indicated herself and Cassie and the woman set the plates in front of them, then departed to fetch their remaining orders.

“May I?” Tarian held out a hand. Danny regarded it in puzzlement, then his brow cleared, and he handed over Green Lantern.

Under the pretence of examining the action figure, it took her only a moment to determine that the attractor was inside its torso. When she returned Green Lantern, the device was nestling in her palm. Seconds later it had ceased to exist.

“All right?” mouthed Cassie.

Tarian smiled. Her nausea had gone and the backwash headache was already easing.

“So you’d recommend this Doll Hospital place, then?” said Cassie, as Danny replaced Green Lantern in his box and wedged the carrier bag between his feet once more.

Justin nodded. “It’s just along the High Street from here, if you want to give it a try.”

“Thanks. I’ll see what they make of Teddy.” Cassie stuffed the disreputable bear back in her shoulder bag and indicated the barmaid making her way towards them with a tray. “Ah. Here’s your lunch.”

CASSIE STOPPED PACING and looked at her watch.
Nearly three o’clock
.

She’d needed groceries, and Tarian wanted to walk the dogs, so after leaving the pub they had arranged to meet outside the Doll Hospital and gone their separate ways. The little supermarket had been deserted, though—perhaps because it was a Monday—so Cassie had finished her shopping sooner than expected.

She hoped the Doll Hospital’s interior was in a better state than its exterior. The plasterwork was crumbling, and old lettering—“Christian Science Reading Room”—was visible through the thin coat of whitewash.

Would Tarian mind if she went in on her own? It might even be for the best. If someone from Faerie ran the hospital they’d sense Tarian’s presence at once, whereas—Who was she kidding? She was just bored and making excuses.
But what the hell
.

Cassie pushed open the creaking front door and found herself in a cramped vestibule. On a three-legged table, next to a mangy looking spider plant, lay a stack of badly printed leaflets—price lists, she saw when she picked one up. Another door led her into a large, high-ceilinged room, smelling of glue.

A doll version of the Somme
, was Cassie’s first thought as she took in the dismembered teddy bears and dolls strewn over four tables. But each doll’s body parts were neatly arranged so she revised her opinion.
A field hospital
.

Artificial light coming from the half-open door at the far end of the room indicated someone was on the premises. The doorbell’s tinkle should have alerted them to Cassie’s presence. Until they came to investigate, she would explore.

On closer inspection the baskets, bowls, and containers stacked on the wooden shelves against one wall proved to contain spare parts. Some were recognisable—tiny eyelashes for dolls, replacement pads for bears’ paws—some not. One basket held plastic arms and legs, another their porcelain equivalent. She decanted some blue and brown glass eyes into her palm, stirred them with her forefinger, and poured them back into their biscuit barrel container.

On another shelf lay pots of glue and small brushes; balls of what looked liked string but was elastic; scissors and pairs of pliers; a candle (useful for wax?); rolls of tape; swatches of leather, suede, and fabric fur; a fluffy mass of kapok stuffing; and a box of pins and needles. The white plastic cylinders puzzled her and she picked one up. A loud “Mama!” made her replace it hastily and turn to survey the tables once more.

It was a production line, of sorts. The jumbles of body parts on the table to the far left were the “Before,” the pristine looking dolls and bears on the table to the far right the “After.” Each doll required different treatment. On some, the plastic was discoloured, paintwork flaking. Others needed stuffing replaced and seams restitched. A few needed more drastic treatment.

She remembered her own teddy bear and pulled out the price list she had stuffed in her pocket. Refitting a leg would cost £8 and providing a new glass eye £7.

“May I help you?” came a man’s voice from behind her.

She turned, a hand pressed to her chest. “You startled me.”

“I beg your pardon. My name is James Farley, and I’m the proprietor of this establishment. Have you a doll you wish me to repair?”

Cassie found it hard not to stare. Danny and Justin had said the doll hospital’s owner was strange, and they hadn’t been kidding. His hair was a bright, carrot red, and though he looked to be in his early twenties, he dressed like an old fogey. That shabby corduroy suit with its embroidered waistcoat and fob watch wouldn’t have looked out of place on an Edwardian.