Chapter 26

MARCH 28TH

A nnice woke up the next morning, unsure where she was. Then her eyes snapped open, and she realised that first, she was on Griffin's sofa, and second, it was definitely morning. There was light coming through the curtains, she could hear some sounds from the courtyard. She was nestled on her side, back to the back of the sofa, with a blanket draped over her.

He must have done that. She didn't remember anything about a blanket, anyway. But she also didn't remember even realising she was falling asleep, or him going to whatever it was he was doing. Annice pushed herself upright, contemplating the feel of her mouth - and the taste. And then what to do. Politeness, caution, sense, they all suggested leaving. Only she knew he set wards, and she wasn't sure how to undo them. And while it might be horrible to still be here when he woke up, it was even more horrible to wake him up by setting them off.

In the end, she got up and went to the loo, doing her best to comb her hair with her fingers. She rinsed her mouth out and got herself together, washing up a little. Once that was done, she found herself with nothing to do. She was hungry. He'd need to eat something. Presumably, everything in the cottage was things he was willing to eat or knew were here. She could make something.

Investigation found her bread for toast, eggs, and butter. That would do. And some cream, of course, though not a lot, and probably meant mostly for tea. And there were some sausages there, in butcher paper. She set to work figuring out where the pans were, and then getting started. She knew how to keep a meal warm with a charm, so no reason not to have it ready.

Before she had got started properly, there was a sound from the hall to the bedroom. "That you, Annice?"

"Who else would it be?" It was rather rude, as a response, and she swallowed, then added. "Good morning?"

"I'll be out in a minute. Morning!" He sounded remarkably bright; not someone who hated mornings, then. She was about to do something about the eggs in the rendered fat from the sausages when she heard the loo flushing. Then he was wheeling himself out in the chair. "That smells excellent. Did you sleep all right? You were deeply asleep when I tried to wake you."

"Surprisingly comfortable sofa." That was true. Both the comfort and the surprise. "You don't mind that I started cooking?"

"Goodness, no. First, I'm starving, second, it smells grand. And third, I'm glad you felt like you could." Then he tilted his head. "And fourth, were you worried about the wards?"

She hesitated, then nodded.

"Oh, well. Fair. I'd be glad to tie you into them, if you like. Though I suppose if we're going to be in Trellech in the next day or two, it's a bit silly." Then he looked at her again, like he was reconsidering. "No, I'll show you after breakfast. And besides, that's good practice, making sure you can get out of a place."

Annice did not know what to do with that, and so she went back to focusing on the eggs. A minute or two later, she slid the fried eggs onto the plates waiting with the sausage and toast, a little butter melting on each slice. "Is there jam somewhere?" She had the tea, too, in comfortable mugs, nice and strong to get going with.

"There's a jar in the cupboard. Strawberry, my housekeeper makes it."

Annice found the jar. She loaded up a tray to bring things over to the table, and after a moment Griffin pushed away from where he'd been by the sofa to join her. She set the plates out, then went back for forks and knives. As she handed him his, her fingers brushed his, and she twitched.

Griffin let her sit down - and have a bit of tea and a bit of toast and egg - before he spoke again. "I am glad you felt safe enough to fall asleep here." There was something curious there, as if he were puzzling through things as much as she was.

"I didn't mean to, just. It was warm and comfortable and I didn't mean to be rude." She looked up, then saw his face, which was honestly open and smiling. Not hiding anything. "What do we need to do today?"

"There's still the question of at least one more stone. Can you tell me where else your grandad and da might have put it?" That conversation took a fair bit of breakfast to work through.

She came back, in the end, to the same answer she'd had. "I asked my aunt. She doesn't remember anything of the kind, but I can't think where else it might be. Everything got cleared out from the apothecary when Da stopped working there and focused on the carving, I'm sure of it."

"Would they mind if you had a look round? Coal cellar, or shed, or attic, I don't know what spots might not have been bothered." Griffin leaned forward now, elbows resting on the edge of the table, his forearms flat, making a triangle. It reminded her of what Da had explained about a triangle of manifestation, a magical thing she hadn't really understood until now, how it was about implied movement. For all Griffin was sitting still, he was aimed at something.

She ducked her chin. "Probably not. Do you want to come?" Annice looked up. "It'd need the crutches. Not much space, and there are steps everywhere."

"As well as what your relatives might think of me. It's your choice. Do you want to explain me and what I'm doing there, or would you rather not?" He spoke easily, and she could tell he meant it. He looked earnest, honest, the way she'd learned to read when it came to trade and business. She did not know what to answer.

It fought inside her head. She wanted him to see things, but she didn't want him to see the sort of chaos her extended family lived in. He probably wouldn't make fun of it, but he wasn't someone who seemed like he'd tolerate shouting and babies toddling around, and the casual references to all sorts of things that weren't entirely legal. Finally, she shook her head. "Maybe better not. Will you be here when I get done?"

"Of course. I have plenty to keep me busy. Notes and all." He gestured at the room. "Books, if I run out of things to work on. A nap, possibly." He considered. "Though not if I'm expecting you. That's unkind."

Annice still had no idea what to say to that. "I'll go down there, then. Change, put together something to take with me. I'll be back, I don't know. Mid-afternoon?"

Griffin nodded. From there, he asked her a bit more about the west side of the Esk, and what sorts of things were along there. He didn't seem particularly interested in going and exploring, but she supposed exploring could be exhausting. And they'd been down on the beach yesterday. After a few minutes of that, she asked, carefully, "Are you all right after yesterday?"

"A bit achy, but that's more reason not to go out today. I'll do some of my exercises and stretches here, and likely have a soaking bath. I'm not..." He hesitated, then tilted his head, as if weighing something. "There's a difference between being fragile and having limited resources, if you see the distinction. A bit like jet, I suppose. Hit me on the right cleavage plane, and things shatter. Drop me on the ground, and there's a decent chance I won't take much harm. But once you've carved bits out of me, they don't come back quickly." Then he laughed. "This metaphor got away from me, didn't it."

She nodded, then she couldn't help smiling, because he was so bemused by it. "And yesterday was, um, a carving sort of day and not a shattering sort of one?"

"Exactly. So I'll be a little more careful today, not push myself, do the things that often help, and get on with what I can." He shrugged. "Whenever you want to go off, I'll be fine. You needn't stick around on my account. Though breakfast was lovely, thank you. More than I usually manage in the morning, but the sort of thing I wish I had more often. If you could bring the dishes over to the sink, that'd be grand, but I can do the washing up."

It gave her a cue, anyway. Annice smiled and went to bring the dishes back. When she was done, Griffin had settled onto the sofa, his feet up, a book in his lap. She nodded. "Back sometime." After he explained how to let herself out of the wards, she did that. Her first stop was to her house to make sure all was well - it was - and to change and find a warmer shawl.

Once she was down at Aunt Sarah's, it was just about as much chaos as she'd expected. The most energetic children were in fact in school, but that left the babies and the two cousins who'd left school and who hadn't found work for the day. She chivvied them into helping her search. She got them to do most of the climbing into the eaves of the shed, checking the attic, and then getting down into the coal cellar. There wasn't much coal, which was good for searching, but worrisome for Aunt Sarah. It was getting on for the end of March, but there would still be a few chilly nights.

When they had no luck, Annice accepted a mug of tea and sat down to drink it with Ruth. Ruth was eyeing her, warily. "Had them all over the place today." Her cousin sounded aggrieved.

"Sorry. But it matters." Annice stared at her mug. "Ruth, would you keep an eye on the house? For, I don't know. A few days, maybe longer?"

"That Trellech man?" Ruth asked. "Griffin. Like the pub."

That made Annice smile, because yes it was. "He's paying for a room at an inn, and a fee for consulting and all that. You don't need to sleep there or anything, I haven't set up a room for that, anyway, but would you come by? Every day or two, check all's good? Open up the shop, if you want, the price lists are there."

"Ah, I'm no good at that. But I'll check on the place. Maybe use your kitchen for some baking, instead of fighting for space here?" Ruth asked that tentatively.

"The kitchen's fine," Annice agreed. "I'm near out of flour, but I'll pay you back if you buy some?" It seemed equitable. She felt, more than anything else, a sense of relief, like there was a rough edge on a stone that she'd worked smooth the proper way.

Ruth nodded, got up, and patted her on the shoulder, now thinking hard. But Ruth was taking her thinking somewhere else, on purpose, and Annice wouldn't fuss at her. Annice was still sitting at the table when Aunt Sarah came back from the shops. "No luck, then?"

Annice shook her head, pouring the rest of the pot out in the waiting mug. "You can't think of anywhere?"

"Did think of one thing. Didn't look. Let me have m'tea, and we'll go upstairs." Aunt Sarah looked resolute about it. "What'll you do with it?"

"Figure out what it does. If we want it to keep doing that. We need to see it to be sure, though." That was the truth, though she didn't mention they'd found the second, and she wasn't going to if no one asked. When Aunt Sarah finished the tea, she went off through the house, calling out "Coming?" behind her.

Annice trailed up to the first floor, then the second, into the attic. It was probably a good thing Griffin hadn't come along. "We looked here." They had, she could see the dust marks on where they'd moved boxes and crates, and some of the dust still in the air. She sneezed.

"Not this un." Aunt Sarah went to the far end of the attic, moving several things, like a badger digging out a burrow. At the bottom of the pile - and no, they hadn't touched it - was a long sea chest. The sides sloped in a little in all directions from the base, a flat top, worn rope handles on either end. "My granda's," Aunt Sarah said. She took the lid off, leaning it on one end against the eaves. "Haven't been in here in an age." She pulled out one bit of carefully folded cloth, then another and another, before finally, there was a cardboard box that was all too familiar.

Annice leaned forward, blinking.

"You take it." Aunt Sarah said it roughly. "Leave me be with this."

"Yes, Aunt Sarah." It was the only possible thing to say. She took the box, said, "Should I let Ruth know you'll be down in a bit?"

"Or one of the boys." Her aunt turned away from her and didn't say anything else. Annice climbed down the twisting stairs, then to the ground floor, and found Roger in the kitchen. She told him Aunt Sarah would be a bit and ducked out before anyone could ask her for more information. It was now well into mid-afternoon, and she ought to go find out what was in the box.