Mike Shevdon: Sixty-One Nails

"No, I don't think that's actually what you said. I think you asked me what age I thought you were and then, when I told you, you laughed and said you were a lot older than that, but you never told me how much."

"Perhaps I thought you were being nosey." The comment was not harshly made and left just enough of an opening for me to ask once more.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"No, I don't think so, except to say I have rolled in the buttercups here and come away dusted in their pollen. I have slept here under the stars on the solstice and been gifted with dreams of the future and I have fought for my life here and come away bloodied, but unharmed. It is a place that has been special to me for a long time." Her words hung in the air despite the milling tourists that passed us by, unaware of her reminiscences.

"Buttercups, huh?" I mused.

"Trust you to latch on to that." But the smile she flashed me was one that hinted of the young woman in the square.

She walked through the meandering tourists and I followed her, walking past numerous stalls until we came to one selling semi-precious jewellery. We stood waiting while an elderly couple debated the merits of a haematite pendant versus a pair of olivine earrings.

The stallholder was a middle-aged woman with fair wavy hair which fell around her shoulders. She wore a peasant skirt and a bronze top with an open neck. Her earrings were made from coloured feathers and beads and her belt was a band of interwoven colours with more beads strung from it. If this were the Sixties then she would have been one of the flower people. Her face was lined as if care-worn and she looked pensive; worried even. Then she smiled and twenty years vanished. Her eyes were alight with humour and her creases became laughter lines.

We waited until the couple had made their decision and their tiny gift-wrapped parcel was handed over. She wished them a good day and turned to us.

"Hello, Blackbird." To my surprise, she walked around the front of the stall and embraced Blackbird with affection, which Blackbird returned. She had told me that the Feyre didn't touch others, but here was Blackbird greeting this woman like a sister.

"How's everything?" she asked Blackbird. Her voice was deep for a woman and had a worn quality, as if it had once been soft and low and someone had taken sandpaper to it.

"Things are good," said Blackbird, holding onto her hands for a moment. "I would like to introduce you to someone. This is Rabbit. Rabbit, this is Megan."

She turned to me and extended a hand in greeting. "Pleased to meet you, Rabbit."

I took her hand, figuring that if Blackbird had embraced her then it must be OK. Her hand was warm and, like her voice, had a delicate roughness to it.

"Pleased to meet you too."

Closer to her, I realised that what I had thought were beads were actually polished stones. Her necklace, earrings and even her belt were adorned with small stones, carefully matched for shape and colour.

"Megan and I have known each other for some time, haven't we, Megan?"

"It's been a while, Megan agreed, "but it all goes by so fast. I can't keep track," she admitted, shaking her head and leaning back against the stall.

"Anyway, this isn't entirely a social call. Rabbit would like to choose some stones from your excellent selection."

"I would, would I?"

"Have a look and see if there's any that take your fancy," Megan gestured across the selection.

"It is a test of sorts. You cannot pass or fail, but it may tell me something," said Blackbird.

"Is it something you should know?" Blackbird appeared to have my interests at heart, but there were still too many unknowns for me not to ask the question.

"Well said, Rabbit, and by your choice I will do you no harm." She said it as a promise or a vow, and I believed her. After all, if she lied to me I thought I would know.

"How many?"

"As many as you will, and no more."

Megan gave me a complicit smile but offered no help.

I turned to the semi-precious stones set out on the table, searching for obvious clues. They were all nicely shaped, though not completely regular. Megan plainly had a gift for selecting ones that were attractive because they were imperfect.

A stone in a cotton-lined rectangular box caught my attention. It was a lozenge with brown and gold stripes that glowed with an inner light. I lifted it from its box and was slightly startled when Megan held out a black suede pouch for me to drop it into. I let it fall into the soft pocket and she retracted it, waiting for me to choose again.

The second choice was easier as I had more idea as to what I was looking for now. My gaze settled on a lump of minty rock with a sparkly surface. I collected it and dropped it into the proffered pouch. I glanced at Blackbird but she had a watchful withdrawn expression.

My third choice leapt out at me when I spotted it amongst the stones at one side. It was stratified like the first, but had verdant green hardness that stood out amongst the others. It joined the rest in the black pouch. For the next one I struggled, scanning the rows of boxes for some minutes until I lit upon a dark red stone, deeply embedded and sulking in its nest of cotton fibre. I found myself curiously hesitant to touch it. Instead, I lifted the box and emptied it into the pouch. Megan nodded, knowingly.

I would have ended there, but there was a sense of incompletion, of things left undone. I went over the table again, sifting through the boxes with a fingertip, until I passed over a box and felt a nerve-tingling jolt. I came back and hovered over a stone that hummed under my finger.

"What's that one?"

"It's a green fluorite," Megan answered. "Most of them are purple, so the green ones have a rarity value."

I picked it out and dropped it into the pouch with the others. "I'm done then, I think," I told her.

She walked back around the table and laid out a black velvet cloth, tipping out the pouch. She fell into a rhythm and recounted the stones, placing each at five points of a circle.

"Tiger's eye to see beyond and pierce the veil, actinolite for balance and healing, malachite for connection to the spirit, red jasper for grounding and connection to the earth, green fluorite for guidance and self-knowledge."

"You choose well. These will be well received." Blackbird offered the compliment with something of a degree of respect that had been absent before.

"I just chose the ones that felt right."

"Just so."

I turned back to Megan, pulling out my wallet.

"No cards," said Blackbird. "This is a cash transaction between you and Megan. There is to be no intermediary."

"For a friend of Blackbird's-" Megan began.

"It is for a gift and for that it must be Rabbit's to give," Blackbird told her.

At that Megan nodded her understanding and scooped the stones back into the pouch.

"How much do I owe you?" I asked her.

"You owe me nothing, Rabbit, but I will accept ten pounds if you agree?"

I smiled and offered her a tenner from my wallet which she squirreled away in a cash box after handing me the black pouch. It felt weightier than it should.

"Thank you, Megan." If this was a test, maybe I had passed it.

"If I may?" She scanned quickly across her wares and plucked a stone from a box. She held out her closed hand for me to put mine underneath.

I glanced at Blackbird and there was the slightest indication of a nod. I put my hand out, palm underneath her fist. She dropped the stone into it. It was shaped into a tiny pear in a deep glossy blue and had a silver ring attached where the pear-stalk would be. It felt initially cold in my palm but it pulsed into warmth in my hand as if fuelled by some inner heat. It didn't look any different, but it felt somehow alive in my palm.