‘How often do we get one?’
Zach grimaces. ‘Not often enough. And we never know when they’re going to be.’
‘But isn’t that—’
‘—illegal, yes. And Belinda’s usually all for the unions, but she says there’s absolutely no other way the Crow will let her do it.’
Lara bends over the board and reads a few more of the dial labels.
‘If you’ve got a special occasion – wedding, funeral, that kind of thing – just let her know. She’s normally quite good about trying to get you there, sets you up in a guest cabin for the night, lets you out in the morning near wherever you’re trying to get to. Better than using normal trains, anyway. And safe. Never heard of a fairy going anywhere near the guest cabins.’
‘You ever meet a fairy before?’ Lara asks Zach. There’s a casual tone to her voice that Zach can’t quite work out.
‘We see a couple hundred of them every night right there,’ he points out into the auditorium.
‘I mean, like, outside the Grit. For a conversation, or whatever.’
Zach turns to her, alarmed. ‘I must be fucking your induction right up because that is not on the cards. Listen to me, and listen good. There are no conversations with fairies. There is no, like, hanging out. If you follow the rules you won’t encounter one and if you do, you run. Got it?’
Lara nods. ‘Sure. Sorry.’
Zach goes back to his lighting cue sheet to hide how flustered he is. He would like this new girl to trust him, to feel safe, to feel like he told her everything she needed to know. He would like her to survive her pledge. And yes, he would like her to like him. He sneaks a look at her, frowning at the lighting desk. Not wrong, is it? To want to be liked by your closest colleague? He tucks the thought away and flips over his piece of paper.
‘All right. Let me talk you through act two.’
***
Back in the Grub, the dining car is busy. Alina is slurping butternut squash soup and scrolling through her phone, while next to her Milly is stirring her soup listlessly. Derek is sitting with Yolanda and Lance, enthusiastically shoving lasagne into his mouth.
‘You see, Yolanda,’ he’s saying, waving his spoon around. ‘There are two things we don’t take bets on, here atThe Apple and the Pearl. The first is who Lance will be taking to his bed next, and I won’t talk about the other one because I’m already persecuted for my honesty.’
Lance’s knuckles whiten and his lips tighten in fury. He puts a possessive hand on Yolanda’s back as Derek giggles and puts a finger to his lips.
‘Derek, you need to—’
‘Now I won’t say any more because I can see you two would like a bit of privacy. I will just say there are a couple of young men I’m looking out for because I do believe they’d make a handsome addition to any fairy court, and a few young women I’m keeping an eye on for you, Lance. Whenever you’re ready. You let me know.’
And Derek giggles, lets his spoon clatter into his bowl and gets up, adjusting his dirty black jeans as he saunters off.
Kavi knows he needs to go up to the Grit to set his ropes for tonight and make sure they’re not snarled, but he sits for a minute with Alina and Milly, scrolling throughhis phone, eyes flicking past posts from his childhood friends – parties, holidays, jokes that you’ll only get if you spend more than ten hours a day online. He sighs, then starts to type a text to his mum:It’s Jamal’s birthday today, could you please tell his mum happy birthday if you see her at the shop? Love you, all good here x
Belinda sits with her laptop at a table on her own, typing an email back to the bell smith.Yes, two more incidents since I last saw you, that’s why I’m looking to tighten things up.She wonders if she should ask after his daughter, or his horses, or look up something from the news to make a general comment on. Really, she wants to ask him about his retirement plans, because he has looked after the bell on the Grub for forty-six years and his father looked after it for thirty-nine years before him so if he’s about to drop dead or decide he’d like to devote the winter of his life to his pets she’d like to know about it. She types:I hope your daughter is getting on well at university – any sign she’d like to join the family business?She debates putting a little cartoon smiley face, decides against it, then pressessend.
She scoops a spoonful of soup and eats it. Cold. She turns to the counter but Gino is already moving through the booths towards her. ‘Let me give that a blast in the microwave for you,’ he says, as he removes her bowl.
He hesitates a moment. ‘While I’ve got you, Belinda, I’m getting worried about the milk.’ He smiles ruefully. ‘There’s only so many scones I can make.’
Belinda takes off her glasses and folds them next to herlaptop. The changeling. Yet another problem to deal with. ‘Maybe another supplier will be higher quality?’
‘This is the fourth supplier I’ve tried.’
Belinda sighs. ‘I will sort it, Gino. Thank you for your patience.’
He smiles and takes her bowl away as Belinda stares at her laptop screen, unseeing. How exactly will she sort it? Throw Henry out of a window in the Grit? March into the Otherworld and insist they take him? Maybe she should just level with him, say,Look, I know what you are and what you’re trying to do – and maybe you know a little bit about me too – but this is not working out and we are going to need to find a solution before somebody figures it out and takes matters into their own hands.She takes a notepad out of her handbag and writes:milk, changeling, ask Crow?
***
Sitting on the grave of Desmond C Jones, dead in 1765 may he rest in the eternal peace of the blessed, Jean checks her emails. Her scarf is pulled tight around her throat and her hat close over her ears. She abhors being cold and this damp mist will do mischief in her lungs if she doesn’t wrap herself up. Her oboe and her handbag rest safe from the damp on the grave of Desmond’s wife Mary, beloved wife and mother, dead in 1782. She swipes and swipes, deleting marketing spam from websites she last used months ago – she should unsubscribe, but the extra clickthroughs feel like too much work – saving allthe interesting things for reading later. A chatty catch-up message from her cousin complete with a picture of her newest grandchild; a reminder to come for a dental checkup; three invoices. She marks the ones she needs to respond to, checks the time – three twenty-five, a good time to call him – finds the number of the nursing home and calls.
