Alfie Bloom and the Talisman Thief (7 page)

Alfie raced Amy to the door.

“Ashford!” Alfie cried, flinging his arms around the butler's waist, hardly pausing to wonder at the loose pinstriped trousers, wellies and ugly Hawaiian shirt he was wearing.

The Fair Folk

Ashford was hustled into the Great Hall and pushed into a seat at the table as Granny piled his plate high with food.

“After this we should take you to hospital to get your shoulder looked at,” said Alfie's dad, as the butler tore a leg from the roast chicken.

“Aches a little, but they did a great job patching me up,” said Ashford as he picked the chicken leg clean.

“You hurt your shoulder?” said Granny, looking around the table. “And no one thought to mention it? Maybe I should take a look…”

“No need,” said Ashford quickly. “It's almost completely healed.”

Alfie
wondered if Ashford was lying so that Granny wouldn't be shocked at the wound, but then he remembered the salve the healers had used at Muninn and Bone's offices. It had cleared up his bruises in no time. Perhaps the elves had something even better. He hoped so; that would mean that Ashford hadn't spent the last couple of days in agony, as he had been imagining.

“So, you're OK?” said Alfie, not wanting to ask too much in front of Granny.

“They looked after me well,” said Ashford as he reached out to tear more meat from the chicken. “Better than I deserved.”

“You can't mean that.” Alfie wondered if Ashford felt guilty over his career as a thief “You didn't deserve that. Not at all!”

“How did you get back here?” asked Amy.

“Let's leave the questions for now,” said Granny as the butler shovelled more food into his mouth. “Can't you see he's ravenous? We're very happy you're home, Ashford.”

Robin was back at the castle the next morning to work on his mysterious project with Alfie's dad. He was disappointed not to see Ashford, but the butler was spending the day in bed to recover from
his
ordeal. Alfie had tried to get him to call Emily, but Ashford had said that he was too tired and would ring her later. Alfie could understand that, but hoped he would call her soon. She had been so worried about him.

“Do you think he's avoiding talking to her?” he asked Amy.

“Didn't you say they might be going out with each other?” she replied. “Maybe he's embarrassed over getting kidnapped, or worried she'll be angry at him for nearly leading the elves straight to your talisman?”

In the end, Alfie phoned Emily himself to let her know that Ashford was safely home.

“He doesn't want to talk to me?” said Emily, unable to hide the hurt in her voice.

“He's been through a lot,” said Alfie, guilt writhing in his stomach. “He said he'll speak to you when he's feeling better.”

“OK,” said Emily. “But Caspian returns from a client meeting in feudal Japan the day after tomorrow and he will want to see Ashford as soon as he returns. Could you let him know?”

“I will.”

Alfie rubbed his neck uneasily as he put down the phone. He hoped Ashford would want to speak
to
her soon. He was obviously more affected by his ordeal than he was letting on and could probably use someone to talk to.

Robin went out with Alfie's dad to buy more materials for whatever they were making in the workshop. Alfie guessed that it involved melting down metal. Heat was pouring out of the room where the forge had been set up and his dad and cousin were wearing thick leather aprons and gloves.

Granny had insisted that Alfie and Amy head down to the farm that morning to help with the shearing. Alfie guessed it was so that they wouldn't bother Ashford with questions. As they walked down to the farm he noticed stalls going up in the marketplace.

“Of course! It's the Beltane festival tomorrow,” he told Amy.

“The what?”

“It's a fire festival the village holds every year to mark the beginning of summer.” Alfie had hardly given it a thought, but now that Ashford was home he couldn't wait to join in the fun. “You're going to love it. It doesn't usually fall in the school holidays, but it's really late this year.”

Down on the farm, Granny was already in her
overalls
shearing sheep with Uncle Herb. Alfie and Amy were immediately put to work. As an experienced farmhand, Madeleine was daubing insect repellent on to the sheeps' backs after they had been shorn. Alfie and Amy ended up with the slightly easier task of binding and bagging fleeces as Granny and Uncle Herb sheared them from the sheep, which were strangely placid under their skilful hands.

“Granny,” said Alfie as the last of the fleece she was shearing fell to the ground. “What do you know about elves?”

Granny's right eyebrow rose as she looked shrewdly at the trio. The sheep in front of her came out of its trance and bounded happily across the barn to be chased down by Madeleine.

“You wouldn't be poking fun at your old granny now, would you?”

“No, Mrs Merryweather,” said Amy earnestly. “Alfie says your stories are great. We thought you might know one about elves.”

Granny nodded approvingly at Alfie. “Well, he wouldn't be wrong,” she smiled. “And call me Granny, dear. Only doctors and dentists call me Mrs Merryweather and I don't need reminding of either of those any time soon.” She took hold of the
bucking
sheep Madeleine had led over to her and whispered a few words in its ear. It calmed down immediately and she flipped it on to its back and began shearing its stomach.

“So, you want to know about the Fair Folk, as my grandpa used to call them. Well I never saw an elf, but I've seen the havoc their sprites can wreak with my own two eyes.”

“What are sprites?” asked Alfie as Amy bound the rolled fleece he was holding tightly.

“Nasty little things. Elves, pixies, sprites – they all live in the same realm. But elves have no time for mischief; they're more likely to steal people away into their realm. Sprites are a different story. Whenever anything went wrong on my grandpa's farm he said that the sprites had a hand in it. One year his neighbour built a road through a lis on the next farm over—”

“A what?” asked Alfie.

“A lis, as I was about to tell you, is a mound with a raised earth bank around it. Grandma said they were the remains of ancient dwellings, but Grandpa told me they were fairy mounds: entrances to the land of the Fair Folk.”

Alfie and Amy had stopped rolling fleeces as they drank in Granny's words.

“
Keep working,” said Uncle Herb. “Stories don't come free.”

“There was something unnatural about that lis,” continued Granny. “The air around it always felt charged, as though the whole place was awake and watching. Well, after Bill Duffy bulldozed it there was no good news on any farm around it. Potatoes got blight, milk curdled in the pails, chickens stopped laying and the vet was always treating one sick animal or another. My grandparents sold the farm in the end. Mum said they were getting a bit too old to manage it, but I know that wasn't the reason.” She leant towards Alfie and Amy, eyes wide as she whispered, “It was because old Bill angered the Fair Folk.”

Even the sheep were silent as Granny finished her story. The barn was so quiet that Alfie almost leapt out of his skin when the ewe Madeleine was holding let out a loud
BAAAA
.

“Are you going to tell them you made that up, or are you going to let them have nightmares for weeks?” laughed Uncle Herb.

“Don't give me that cheek, my boy!” said Granny, giving him a smart rap across the knuckles. “It's as true as any tale I've ever told. Everyone my age knows the story of Thomas
Skelderskew
who went nine times widdershins around a ring of toadstools down on Fairy Cross Plain. He hasn't been seen in over a hundred years. And don't let that give you any ideas, Madeleine Merryweather. Stories or not, there are some things you don't mess with.”

Alfie had been thinking about Ashford. “If someone was taken by the elves and then came back, would they be OK? I mean, would they be the same as before they were taken?”

“Only a few have ever returned in all the tales I've heard,” said Granny. “And they were changed. Most of them spent their whole lives trying to return to the land of the Fair Folk. Now, less talking, more tidying.” She grinned as she stood up, collected her shearing tools and headed for the storage cupboard.

“Do you think that was all true?” Alfie asked Madeleine as they stacked the fleeces.

“Maybe a bit of it. That's the thing with Granny's stories – you're never sure where to look for the truth.”

Alfie hoped that Granny was wrong, but Ashford did seem different. What if he tried to find a way back to his kidnappers?

Robin
had already left when Alfie and Amy got back to the castle. Alfie's dad was heading down to the library to find more books on ironworking. As Amy went off to wash the wool fluff from her hair, Alfie descended the little staircase behind a panel in the entrance hall to visit Ashford. He had only seen the butler's room once before when he was borrowing some watercolour paints. It had been very neat and orderly, the walls covered in colourful landscapes Ashford had made of the castle and the surrounding countryside. There was even a small, beautifully painted picture of Emily Fortune. However, today all of the furniture seemed to have been emptied out into the corridor outside his room.

Alfie caught his breath as he tiptoed around furniture and bedding. Had someone broken into the castle again? He peered around the door and saw the butler striding about the room stripping paintings from the wall. He was wearing trousers and a white vest. The only other time Alfie had seen him out of uniform was the night before, when he was dressed as though he'd raided someone's washing line.

“Did you want something?” asked Ashford, stopping work as he spotted Alfie standing in the doorway.

“
I just wanted to make sure you're OK,” said Alfie, feeling slightly awkward. “Emily said Caspian wants to see you when he gets back the day after tomorrow.”

“Ha! I bet he does,” laughed Ashford. “Can't keep his beak out of other folk's business.”

Alfie knew Ashford and Caspian weren't best friends, but had always sensed there was a mutual respect between the two. He was very surprised to hear Ashford talking like this. Did he blame Caspian for not rescuing him?

“I'm sure it can wait, if you're not ready?” he added.

The butler seemed to sense Alfie's surprise and changed his attitude. “In two days, you say? Two days will be fine. I'll be ready by then.” He took down the portrait of Emily. “Just having a spring clean,” he smiled. “I thought it might help clear my mind.”

Alfie took the portrait from Ashford and laid it carefully on the desk in the hall as the butler continued turning his room upside down.

“Do you need any help with…” Alfie waved his hands around at the disorder, “… all this?”

“No need,” said Ashford, opening a chest and throwing his clothes out on to the floor. “You can run along now.”

Alfie
trudged back up the stairs, biting his lip as he remembered what Granny had said about strange things happening to the minds of those who returned from the realm of the elves.

That evening Ashford announced that he was too tired to eat dinner with everyone after his spring cleaning.

“Is he OK?” asked Amy after they'd watched the butler help himself to the rest of the chicken from the night before and take it down to eat alone in his room. “Gran went a bit weird for a couple of weeks after someone stole her purse in the street last year. The doctor said it was post-traumatic stress. I bet that's what Ash has. Maybe he should see a doctor?”

“I don't think he'll agree to that,” said Alfie. “Hopefully Caspian can get help for him.”

Although Ashford wasn't joining them for dinner, there was an extra person at the table. Alfie's dad had bumped into Alfie's head teacher, Miss Reynard, in the village and invited her to the castle for dinner. Alfie was surprised. His dad was usually awkward around new people, but he seemed to be talking and laughing with Miss Reynard quite easily. He was pleased his dad
was
making friends, especially with his favourite teacher. He was even more pleased that his dad had ordered Indian food rather than cooking, which meant that she wouldn't be put off coming for dinner again.

“Is she your dad's girlfriend?” whispered Amy, pinching the rest of Alfie's roti and using it to mop up her curry.

“Don't be daft,” said Alfie, almost dropping his spoon. “They're just friends.”

“Oh, OK.” She grinned and made little quotation marks in the air with her fingers. “Just friends.”

“Grow up,” said Alfie, slapping her hand away as she reached for his last onion bhaji. It had been several years since his mum had died and he had never imagined his dad with anyone else. He squirrelled the idea away to explore later when he had time to think about how it made him feel. Nevertheless, he found himself watching his dad and teacher a little more carefully as they chattered away on the other side of the table.