Bourn’s Edge (17 page)

“Mm. Perhaps if Louise had offended a Fae enough for him to bear her a grudge. But even then.” She grimaced. “An ill luck attractor? Unlikely.”

“But suppose, for argument’s sake, such a thing happened,” said Cassie.

Tarian sighed. “All right.”

“Have you sensed any Fae in the vicinity?”

“Apart from me?” She shook her head.

“Bang goes that theory.” Cassie wrinkled her nose. “More to the point,” she said, as though speaking to herself, “where is Louise likely to have come across, let alone offended, any of the Fae?”

“Where indeed?”

The car came into view, and they shortened the dogs’ leads in case the park ranger was lurking. Cassie felt in her jacket pocket for her car keys and pointed the fob. Door locks clunked open.

“So what other explanation is there?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet.” Tarian opened the back door and urged the dogs up onto the seat. “But I will.”

Chapter 5

The wonderful aroma of roasting lamb assailed Cassie’s nostrils. “Mum. Dad. We’re here,” she shouted. She looked back to where Tarian was standing in the porch. “Come in, and bring the dogs.”

“Cassie!” Her mother appeared from the kitchen and hurried towards her. Cassie found herself enveloped in a hug and felt warm lips pressed to her cheek. Her mother had been to the hairdresser’s recently.
In Tarian’s honour?
She held Cassie at arm’s length and examined her with a smile. “You’re looking much better than the last time we saw you.”

“Indeed she is,” said her father, looming, if a man of five-foot-seven could be said to loom. “Thank goodness you’re back safe and sound. Don’t I get a kiss?” He had dressed for the occasion in a new pair of chinos and the navy Argyle sweater she had bought him for Christmas.

After she’d kissed him fondly on the cheek, Cassie stood back and indicated Tarian. “This is Tarian Brangwen.”

“Pleased to meet you, Tarian.” Cassie’s mother held out a hand, realised it was greasy, apologised, wiped it on her apron, and held it out again.

“How do you do, Mrs. Lewis,” said Tarian, shaking it. “And you, Mr. Lewis.” He didn’t offer her his hand, just nodded. Cassie recognised that reserved expression. He hadn’t made up his mind about Tarian yet.

Anwar let out a whine, and all eyes turned towards him. He licked his chops and nudged the foil-wrapped parcel of meat Tarian was carrying.

“I’d better feed them,” said Tarian. “Is it all right to take them outside?”

Cassie’s mother smiled. “Of course, dear. You can get to the back garden through the kitchen.” She pointed.

Tarian disappeared, followed by the dogs, tails wagging, and Cassie found herself alone with her parents.

“We were so worried when you disappeared into the back of beyond,” said her father. “We didn’t know
what
to think.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, Dad. I couldn’t think what else to do.” They’d already had this conversation several times over the phone, but the threat to her life had left him unsettled, and she suspected it would be a while before he stopped rehashing events. “Everything’s all right now,” she soothed. “Armitage is in a coma. He’s no longer a threat.”

“You shouldn’t have got mixed up with him in the first place.”

“You can’t choose your landlord, Dad.”

“Even so.”

“Oh leave her alone, Rick,” said her mother. “It’s all over, and she’s here and in one piece. Aren’t you, love?” She beamed. “We’re honoured you brought Tarian to meet us.”

Her father sniffed. “She knows she can always bring her friends home for a visit.”

It hadn’t been her home for years, but Cassie kept that thought to herself. As for the “friend” remark . . . “Tarian’s much more than a friend,” she protested. “I’m moving in with her.”

“We know that, silly.” Her mother gave him a sharp glance. “How’s the packing going?” A distant timer pinged. “Never mind. Tell us about it over dinner. I’ve got mint to chop and vegetables to check on.” She disappeared back into the kitchen.

Silence fell, then Cassie’s father said, “It’s a long way from Birmingham to that Bourn’s Edge of yours.”

“Not
that
far.”

“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?” He held her gaze. “You’ve only known her a few weeks.”

“I’m sure,” said Cassie.

“How old is she?”

“Early thirties, I think.” She hadn’t plucked up the courage to ask yet. Tarian looked in her thirties, but the Fae aged more slowly than humans, and learning that Tarian was older than her parents might be . . . disconcerting.

“She looks like she should be on the catwalk.” He frowned. “What on earth does she want with someone like you?”

“Thanks, Dad.”

He waved a dismissal. “You know what I mean. She’s not been taking advantage of you, has she? Forcing you to do anything you don’t want to?”

“Dad!” Cassie blushed. What she and Tarian did in the bedroom was none of his business. She was certainly not going to tell him that, when it came to lovemaking, Tarian was knowledgeable and generous, and Cassie for one was eager to repeat the experience as often as possible. “I’m twenty-seven not seven. I can look after myself.”

He looked sceptical. “Didn’t seem that way when you were on the run.”

“That was different. Anyway, things turned out all right, didn’t they?”
Thanks to Tarian
. “In a way, I’m grateful to Armitage. If it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t have met her.”

He changed tack. “Giving up your perfectly good job at the library too. What will you live on? Is she rich?”

“I have no idea how much she earns from her paintings. Enough to get by, I imagine. It doesn’t matter. I’ve got myself a new job, Dad. I start next week.”

“Doing what?”

“Driving the mobile library.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Driving the—”

“Don’t be such a snob. It’s not that different from what I was doing in Birmingham.”

“Hm.” But he didn’t sound convinced.

The kitchen door opened, and Tarian stepped into the hall, bringing with her the appetising aroma of dinner.

“The dogs are fed.” Tarian glanced from Cassie to her father and back, and arched an eyebrow.

“What breed are they?” he asked.

“Wolfhound.”

“Need exercising a lot, I suppose?” He picked an imaginary piece of lint off his sweater.

“Quite a lot. Fortunately, it’s safe to let them off their leads where I live, so they largely exercise themselves.” Tarian came to stand beside Cassie.

“And how long have you lived in Bourn’s Edge?”

“Two years.”

“And before that?”

“Dad!” Cassie slipped her hand into Tarian’s and gave it an apologetic squeeze. “Sorry about the third degree.”

“No need. He’s your father. Protectiveness goes with the job.” Tarian’s statement earned her a look of approval, his first, and Cassie felt some of her tension ease.

“Dinner’s nearly ready,” called Cassie’s mother, putting her head round the kitchen door. “Cassie, love, can you come and help me serve up. Rick, show Tarian where she can wash her hands.”

“Right. It’s, um, through here.”

While he led Tarian to the downstairs toilet off the hall, Cassie joined her mother in the kitchen. In companionable silence, they sliced the lamb joint, which was slightly pink in the middle, the way she liked it, and drained peas, carrots, and potatoes.

Cassie turned to her mother. “How much shall I put?”

“You know Tarian’s appetite better than I do. Put as much as you think she can eat. And give your father plenty of potatoes. You know he likes them.”

When the food had been doled out, Cassie helped her mother carry the heavy plates into the dining room. The scent from a vase of freesias wafted to her as she took her seat next to Tarian, and she was touched to see her mother had used her best table linen and wine glasses.

Her father was in the middle of trying to sell Tarian a car—he was the manager of the local car showroom and liked to wax knowledgeable about the latest makes and models.

“Dad,” hissed Cassie, while her mother asked Tarian if she’d like some mint sauce. “She doesn’t drive.”

He regarded her as though she were insane. “Everybody drives, Cassie.”

“She’s right, Mr. Lewis.” Tarian passed the sauce jug to Cassie, followed by the gravy boat. “I don’t drive. I ride horses though.”

His cheeks reddened, and he busied himself pouring out the wine. Then he cleared his throat and cast around for a new topic. Cassie braced herself. “How’s the packing going?”

She relaxed. “We’ve made a start, Dad, but there wasn’t much point getting stuck in until the packing cases arrive. They’re being delivered tomorrow.”

“Have you got much to take with you, love?” asked her mother.

“More than I thought.” It was surprising how much junk she accumulated over the years. Not to mention the TV, DVD player, hifi system, and computer—how Tarian managed without such necessities Cassie had no idea. “It’s just as well most of the flat’s furniture isn’t mine. Tarian wouldn’t have had room for it.”

Tarian shrugged. “I’d have made room.”

Cassie’s father leaned forward. “How big exactly is this house of yours?”

“There’s plenty of space for both of us,” said Cassie, before Tarian could reply. “I’ve brought some photos of it with me. And some photos of the village and the local views too. You can see them after dinner. All right?”

He sat back. “All right.”

They finished the first course, and Cassie’ mother collected up the plates—declining her offer of help—and brought in dessert.

Cassie beamed when she saw it was a childhood favourite: blackberry and apple pie. She added a dollop of cream and took a mouthful. “Mm. Did you pick these yourselves, Mum?” They had often gone bramble picking as a family in Sutton Park. The taste of the wild fruit more than made up for any aching backs and scratched fingers and the palaver of soaking grubs out of berries with salted water.

“Yes, love. Last year.” Her mother smiled. “They’ve been sitting in the freezer, waiting for a special occasion.”

“Talking of the park, we popped in before we came here—Powell’s Pool and Holly Hurst. Gave the dogs a good run.”

“That’s nice. You haven’t been in for a while, have you?”

“No.” Cassie scooped up another mouthful of pie, and noticed Tarian was enjoying hers too.

Her father put his spoon down on an almost clean bowl. “So, Tarian,” he said. “How long have you had those dogs?”

“Since they were born.”

“You breed them?” Cassie’s mother sounded surprised. “I thought you were an artist.”

“I am. But wolfhounds are good company, and I spend a lot of time on my own.” She glanced at Cassie and amended, “Or rather I did.”

“When I was little, I wanted a dog,” mused Cassie. “But I wasn’t allowed to have one.”

“Because you’d have got bored with it, and guess who would have ended up looking after the poor thing,” said her mother.

There was some truth in that. But Cassie pouted, remembering what a canine companion would have meant to the often lonely only child she had been.

“You have two now,” said Tarian.

Cassie smiled at her. Anwar and Drysi were Tarian’s dogs, and they both knew it, but the sentiment was appreciated. “Thank you.”

“In my defence, Cassie,” said her mother, “I was never really convinced you were serious about having a dog. Or you would have got yourself one when you moved in to your own place.”

“The flat was too small,” said Cassie. She pulled a face. “I shouldn’t even have had a cat really.”

“Will Murphy be going to Bourn’s Edge with you?” chimed in her father.

“Um, no. He didn’t take to the dogs, nor the dogs to him. Luckily, Louise has agreed to adopt him. We took him round there this morning.”

“How is Louise? It’s been a while since we saw her, but we’ve heard strange things.” He frowned. “Involving flies.” He looked at his wife for confirmation. She nodded.

“That’s right,” said Cassie. “The pest control people practically had to move in. But it’s under control now.” She looked at Tarian, who was finishing off her last spoonful of pie.

“What
is
it about your friends?” wondered her father.

“What do you mean?”

“I bumped into Danny and Justin the other day,” he went on, “and they’re going through the wars too.”

Cassie exchanged a glance with Tarian. “Really?”

Her father looked surprised. “Don’t tell me they haven’t told you about the freak tornado? Or the lightning strike? Or the burst water main?”

Cassie blinked and shook her head. “They probably tried to email me, but we’re not online at Tarian’s yet.”

“Well, they need part of the roof replaced, a new TV and computer, new carpets throughout. Heaven knows what else.”

“When did all this happen?”

“Not all at the same time, or they’d be wondering if someone had painted a large bull’s-eye on their house.” Her father grinned to show he was joking, but it occurred to Cassie that he might not be that far off the mark. “The tornado was three weeks ago, wasn’t it, Sarah?” He looked to her mother for confirmation, and she nodded. “The lightning strike the week after. And the water main only last week.”

“I don’t suppose they’ve had a doll mended or restored recently, have they?” asked Cassie.

Her parents exchanged astonished glances. “What an odd question,” said her mother.

“As if Danny and Justin would have dolls,” scoffed her father.

Cassie stifled a grin. She knew for a fact that Danny had a collection of superhero figures. “Never mind. I’ll ask them myself.”

“Talking of dolls,” said her mother. “I was having a clear out of the spare room last week, and I came across Teddy.” Cassie blinked at her. “You know. That ugly little bear that went everywhere with you when you were a child.”

Memory flooded back. “Oh, Teddy. I used to suck his ears.”

“Unhygienic,” muttered her unsentimental father.

“He’s in a shocking state,” continued her mother. “He doesn’t squeak anymore, either. But I thought I’d better check with you before I threw him out.”

“You can’t throw Teddy out.”

“Oh come on, love. After all these years you can’t still be attached to him, surely?”