Playing Safe

You can read the story so far from the beginning here

“You forgot your lunch.”

Tom turned around, nearly falling over the trailing wires covering the front of new stores. “Hello, Hilary. I didn’t realise.” He grinned as he took the lunchbox and flask from her. “I’ve a lot on my mind.”

Hilary looked around the dust-strewn chaos of paint buckets and drop sheets mixed in with drills and piles of unbuilt shelving. “I can see that,” she said.

“I would have come back to get it,” Tom said, taking the lunch through to the kitchen. “Come through here. It’s almost finished.”

“And this is where I’ll be working until I can persuade Bracken to take over?” Hilary said. “I hope that she’s not going to have a fit about being paid.” She looked around the kitchen with interest. The stainless steel counters gleamed, as did the huge fridge freezers and expanse of sink. “The cooker looks complicated.” She set her bag down on the counter and ran a finger over the controls. “It looks like it’s better at maths than I am.”

Tom chuckled. “It’s a straightforward piece of kit,” he said. “It’s just bigger.”

“I don’t have a ‘proving oven’ at home,” Hilary said. “When I make bread, I shove it on the shelf over the hot water tank.” She frowned at him. “And I’m not baking bread here. That would be too much. I’d have to be up before the crack of dawn, I’d have to spend my life cooking.” She stared helplessly at Tom. “I’m not that good at cooking.”

Tom chuckled. “I’ve put on a few pounds since I moved in,” he said. “Between the good stuff you make when Lord Peregrine turns up and Bracken’s practice sessions, I’ve never eaten so good.”

Hilary ran her eyes over him. “You don’t look like you’ve put on an ounce,” she said. “In fact, I’d say those jeans are looser on you.”

“Are you checking me out?” Tom grinned. He turned around. “I’ve gone from sitting at a desk to working fourteen hour days of physical labour getting this up and running.” He flexed a bicep through his well-washed t-shirt. “I’ve put on a load of muscle. And my point stands – I’m getting good food which is keeping me going.” He grabbed hold of the lunchbox. “What have I got today?”

“Lots of Bracken’s experiments,” Hilary said. “You’ve got two sausage rolls, a ham sandwich…”

“With the pickle?” Tom interrupted.

“Yes, with the home-made pickle,” Hilary said. “A cheese and bacon muffin, a slice of chocolate cake, an apple and a pear.” She smiled back at him. “And a nice, old-fashioned chicken soup in the flask.” She eyed his flat stomach. “I don’t know where you put it all.”

“That’s werewolves for you,” Tom said. “I’m about to take a break anyway and I’ve got some coffee on the go. Would you like some?”

“Yes, please!” Hilary said. She pulled another box out from her bag. “And I’ve got just the thing to go with it.”

Tom’s eyes lit up. “You made brown butter cookies?” he said.

Hilary nodded. “Bracken was looking stressed at breakfast so I sent her off to vacuum the mattresses and I took the chance to get ahead with baking.” She shook her head. “To get ahead with baking for the cottage, I mean. I’m ahead with stuff for the new stores.”

“Does that mean that when I get home, I can raid the snacks without worrying?” Tom asked.

“Don’t tell me, werewolf metabolism,” Hilary said. “Yes, you can eat as much as you like.”

Tom poured them both coffee as Hilary pulled out a couple of small plates and added the biscuits. Then they wandered into the tiny room that the Lesken sisters had used for storage but was now optimistically called the ‘Staff Break Room.’ Tom had set up a rickety camping table and found half a dozen elderly dining chairs from somewhere, but it was almost dust free and there was a view through the window to the overgrown garden at the back. “I’m going to get that garden sorted after I’ve dealt with yours,” Tom said, pointing at the tumbling mass of brambles and nettles. “I know that it’s not really worth the effort, with the Farm Shop being so good, but being able to have food available made with veggies and herbs from the garden at the back would be a great draw with the tourists in the summer.”

“Salads picked fresh from the garden at the back,” Hilary said. “It sounds great.”

“We don’t need to go too fancy,” Tom said. “I’m playing it safe with the stock, especially at first, and I’m happy to do the same with the garden. I thought if I could grow some bits of lettuce, nothing special, and perhaps a bit of parsley and basil, then it would save some time and trouble.”

“And you’d get the excuse to get out into the sun and nature even though you’re running the shop,” Hilary said. “But don’t worry too much about the garden up at Rowan Cottage. I know that you’ll be busy.”

“It’s the least that I can do,” Tom said. He patted his flat stomach. “I get the benefit from keeping you and Bracken happy. Is she still asking for a large vegetable patch.”

“She’s been going online and seeing the gardening shows on there,” Hilary said. “You’ll have your work cut out to keep up with her expectations.”

“That’s brownies all over,” Tom said.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Rain dashed against the window and the wind whipped through the dead weeds outside, but inside was warm and cosy, with good coffee and good food. Finally, Tom stood. “I need to get back to work.” He stretched. “I’m getting the first delivery of stock this afternoon and I need to get the shelves in place.”

“Would you like a hand?” Hilary asked. “Since I left work, I’m finding myself at something of a loose end.” She grimaced. “Okay, I have a stack of work that I need to do back at the cottage. I’ve got some freelance stuff that may not be urgent but it still needs doing, and I’ve got a lot of research to do. Plus Lord Peregrine is talking about extra lodgers so I need to try making listings.” She swallowed the last mouthful of coffee. “But I’m uncomfortable at home.” She looked helplessly at Tom. “I’ve placed wards everywhere, I’ve locked the library so you can’t get down to the cellar and, besides, there was nothing to get out.” She shuddered. “At least I saw to that. But it felt evil down there, really evil, and completely beyond my ability to survive.”

Tom put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I think you underestimate yourself,” he said. “You got yourself and Lord Peregrine out of there quickly enough. And, as you say, you’ve taken precautions. Did the Committee of Witchcraft get back to you?”

Hilary shook her head. “They said that they weren’t a police force and that they expected witches who were lucky enough to be allowed to buy a property under their trust to have the competence to deal with what comes with that cottage.” She picked up her cup and plate. “But I would never have risked coming here if I’d known about that cellar,” she said. “I don’t have the skills.”

“You’ll find a way,” Tom said, following her into the kitchen. “And next time it will be me going down there with you.”

“You don’t know what it was like,” Hilary whispered. “It wasn’t nature spirits or forces. It was all wrong.”

“You talked about there being a stack of books down there,” Tom said. “We need to get those out. That will be the best place to start looking. You’ll find answers in there, I’m sure.”

Hilary started running hot water into the sink. “You can’t come down there with me,” she said. “Whatever’s down there almost destroyed Lord Peregrine, and he’s not exactly a weakling.” She added washing up liquid. “I’m not sure, but I suspect that the stuff down there is lethal to supernaturals like you and Lord Peregrine. And it’s why Bracken can’t be allowed anywhere near there. Not that I could stop her, but at least she’s listened.”

Tom handed over his cup and plate. “You’ve locked the door and warded everything,” he said. “Bracken can’t even get near it.”

Hilary rinsed her plain blue plate. “Brownies can get anywhere,” she said. “Seriously, they can get into sealed tombs and hidden vaults. Most of the time they won’t bother, the rest of the time, they’re more interested in dusting than looting, but they’re a menace if they think that they haven’t cleaned somewhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if I went into the locked, warded library and found the cellar untouched but every bookcase dusted, front and back, and all the books arranged in some sort of order that made sense to brownies.” She set the plate onto the draining board and ran the dishcloth over her cup. “Thank goodness brownies have a strong sense of what is right and what isn’t. Otherwise nowhere would be safe. Pooka are the nearest thing to brownies that don’t have that moral compass. Sometimes they’re fine, but sometimes…” She rinsed the mug and set it next to the plate on the draining rack. “They can be dangerous.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Lord Peregrine told me that he was absolutely definitely coming to dinner tonight, so there’s a good chance that he’ll be there. Afterwards, perhaps we can make a plan.”

Tom held up his hand. “Your phone is ringing,” he said.

“Of course, I left it in my bag. Excuse me.” Hilary wiped her hands quickly and rushed towards the shop.

Tom frowned. He had an uneasy feeling that Hilary was right and that a supernatural would struggle down in the cellar. That didn’t mean that he felt happy about it. It went against his nature to have someone else walk into a dangerous situation while he stayed safely behind. He picked up a plate to dry.

“Tom! We need to go!” Hilary called.

Startled, Tom dropped the plate and rushed into the shop. “Is it Bracken? Has something happened at Rowan Cottage?”

“We’re needed up at Sam Storton’s farm!” Hilary was checking for her keys. “All the milk in the milking shed has turned and the cattle are acting wild.” She rushed out of the shop and waited impatiently for Tom to lock the door behind them. “It sounds pretty bad. Lord Peregrine said that there was over a hundred litres of milk spoiled and the cows had knocked down some fences. He needs my craft to get the charms off the milk and put some basic wards up and he needs your muscles to help Sam out.”

“We can take my car,” Tom said. “I’ve got some extra kit in there.”

Hilary slid into the passenger side as soon as the car unlocked. “It sounds like the work of a pooka,” she said. “And one that’s very angry indeed.”

“As if we didn’t have enough to do,” Tom grumbled.