Mike Shevdon - Sixty-One Nails

Thankfully I met no one else before I came at last to the black door onto Covent Garden Piazza where we had emerged yesterday. I smiled to myself remembering Blackbird's remarks about the buttercups. Rolled in them, she'd said, not on them, but in them. I would have liked to see her then, though perhaps that wasn't such a good idea since I had got the distinct impression that she hadn't been alone. A snag of jealousy pricked me, which was irrational given that she was so much older than me. Why should I care about the antics of someone twenty or more years older than I was? She wasn't even human, but then neither was I, apparently.

I pushed the door open and strolled out into the open piazza surrounding Covent Garden Market. The space was welcome after the claustrophobia of the alleys and walkways. At this time of day the tourists were still doing museums and galleries, leaving the square sparsely used. Delivery trucks were parked in the open piazza and there was no sign yet of the street performers and entertainers who would show up later when the tourists gathered.

I walked across the cobbles and under the glass roof of the covered market. I didn't think I was doing too badly in the circumstances. I had managed to follow Blackbird's route around the alleys and so far nothing had tried to eat me.

Megan was setting up her stall, intent on setting out the small boxes in their ordered rows. I watched her for a moment, though she showed no sign of being aware of my presence. Then I remembered my Ignore me spell and focused for a moment on dispelling its effects.

Megan turned around to collect more stones from the crate behind her.

"Oh! Rabbit, you made me jump." She stepped backwards, alarmed by my sudden appearance, one hand grasping the edge of the table behind her for support.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. You were so absorbed."

"Hmmm. Yes, I suppose so. Is Blackbird with you?" She scanned the stalls nearby as if Blackbird might be lurking there.

"I was going to ask you if you'd seen her, actually. I wondered if she'd stopped by."

"Really?" She returned to setting out stones. There was a note of scepticism in her voice. Didn't she know I would have trouble lying to her?

"So have you seen her?" I asked.

She looked up from what she was doing, assessing me. Then she took a small cloth handbag from the floor behind the stall and came around to lean against the front of the stall. Taking a green and yellow tin from it, she opened it to extract a roll-up cigarette.

"Smoke?" she asked.

"No thanks. I don't."

"I shouldn't either," she said. "Filthy habit."

Nevertheless she took a plastic lighter and lit the end of the cigarette, taking a drag that made her eyelids crinkle and then blew the smoke sideways, away from me. "You haven't known her long, have you?" she said.

"Not long at all actually," I admitted.

"She'll be found when she's ready and not before."

"Well, if she calls by, I wondered if you'd let her know I was looking for her?"

"I will if I see her."

"Thanks."

"But I won't see her."

"Why not?"

"Not unless she wants to be seen," she told me, taking another drag.

I hesitated. Did that mean I was wasting my time trying to find her?

"Is there anywhere in particular that I could go… where I might find her? You've known her for some time, right?"

"I've known her for a fair while, but we're not exactly close."

"I only met her yesterday. She rescued me."

"She has a habit of doing that. That's how I first met her. I thought I was going mad. I'd put one of my pieces down and the next minute it'd be gone. The little sods were cleaning me out, taking all my best work. I couldn't afford to replace them, not on my pension."

"Your pension? Did you retire early?" She didn't look much older than me, and certainly not old enough to be retired.

She laughed. "No, I didn't retire early. I retired at sixty-four and bought the pitch for the stall then. I needed something that would generate an income and I had a little money put aside for a rainy day. I'd been making jewellery as a hobby for a long time and it was a good way of combining what I liked doing with making a living."

"I thought Blackbird said you two had known each other for a long time?" If she'd met Blackbird after she had retired then it can't have been that long ago, could it?

"Not that long really, at least in her terms. That was in seventy-two."

"Seventy-two? But that would mean you were… No way!"

"I can show you my pension card if you like." She smiled, but it was an ironic smile. "What did you think? I've been around a while. Blackbird says my Fey genes are keeping me young and I suppose she would know. It might explain a few other things too."

"What sort of things?"

"Little things. I smoke too much, drink too much, stay up too late and do far too many things that are bad for me, but I've never had a day sick since my teens. These things should be the death of me." She held up the cigarette and took a last puff before dropping it to the floor and grinding it out with the toe of her embroidered slipper.

"It sounds like you have it made," I told her. "I mean, it's what every woman wants, isn't it, to stay young-looking forever?"

"It has its drawbacks."

"Like what?"

"For one thing, it gets difficult when I go to collect my pension. I don't look like I'm about to get a telegram from the Queen congratulating me on my centenary, do I?"

"Does the Queen still send telegrams like that?"

"I don't know. I guess in a year or two I shall find out, shan't I?" she grinned.

"So how do you get your pension?"

"Usually I have to sign to say I'm my own daughter and I'm collecting it for my mother who's too old and frail to come and get it for herself, which is ironic, isn't it?"

"Why is that ironic?"

"Because I don't have a daughter, or any other children." The sudden bitterness in her voice was palpable.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise." I hadn't meant to pry into personal matters.

"You may live a long time, Rabbit, but you had better get used to the idea that you'll never be a father."

"I'm already a father."

It just came out in response to her statement but I realised as soon as I said it that I probably shouldn't have mentioned it. It was just that I had felt the need to shake off Megan's dark prediction before it turned into a foretelling. I cautioned myself to be more careful in future about who I told about my daughter.

Megan, though, was startled. "You are?"

"I have a daughter," I admitted, finding it too late to retract the statement.

"A daughter?" she muttered to herself, momentarily lost in thought. "Are you sure she's yours?"

She looked up suddenly as if she'd just realised what she'd said.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to imply that… it's just it's very unusual. A daughter you say? And the mother is normal — human, I mean?"

"I think so. At least she's never shown any sign of being anything other than completely normal." Then again, until yesterday neither had I.

"How old is she?"

"A little younger than me, why?"

"No, silly. How old is your daughter?"

"Fourteen." There was no point in being coy about it now. Besides, she appeared fascinated, as if I had just done something truly magical.

"Fourteen. Nearly of an age, then. Has she shown any sign of being gifted?"

"She's quite good at maths and science and she has a good eye for art."

"No. I meant signs of being Fey. Any strangeness about her, shifts in appearance, odd affinities?"

"I don't think so, not that her mother has mentioned."

"You'll know if it happens. For her sake I hope she takes after her mother, no offence meant. I hope she has a normal life and has a bevy of beautiful babies. I hope her children grow up while she grows old and she turns into a wrinkled grandma with grandchildren to care for and great-grandchildren to come."