Page 27 of Basket Case

“I wore leaves. I had a beautiful tunic woven from birch leaves.”

I laughed. “You’re still wearing leaves. They’re stuck in your hair.”

He reached up and found one above his ear. Instead of removing it, he pushed it deeper into the dark curls. “Then I am properly dressed.”

Nobody questioned him. Half the village had covered themselves in antlers, feathers or green face paint, so an enormous barefoot man with leaves in his hair fitted in perfectly.

Moira found us before we reached the bonfire. Her gaze travelled from Aonghus’s face to his bare feet, then back to me.

“And who’s this?”

“A friend of mine. Cre-..." I coughed. "Creed.” I wasn't going to give out his true name to just anyone. And since he couldn't be Creel anymore, this was what I'd come up with just then. I should have thought about it before we'd left the house.

“And where did you find him?”

“The pantry.”

She laughed and handed me a cup of whisky. “I knew coming home would be good for you.”

Aonghus took the cup before I could drink. He sniffed it suspiciously, then swallowed the whisky in one go.

“That was mine!"

“You had enough last night.”

“Last night’s whisky led me to you.”

“Then you have had enough for a lifetime.”

Moira watched us with growing interest. I grabbed another cup from the table before she could ask questions I had no intention of answering. Explaining that my boyfriend had spent the previous few centuries as Gran’s vegetable basket would not help me settle into village life.

Boyfriend was probably the wrong word anyway. We had known each other for less than a day. Most of that time had been spent naked. We'd showered together, slept together, fucked. As first dates went, it had been a pretty good one. What was missing were romantic gestures. Sweet whispers. Holding hands. Candles - although maybe Aonghus wasn't quite ready for those yet.

Aonghus placed his hand on the small of my back as we joined the crowd. His palm was warm through my coat. I was still getting used to him having hands. They lacked the reach of his wicker strands, but he had already proved they could be equally distracting.

The main bonfire towered above the one from the previous evening. Flames climbed through the stacked wood while sparks disappeared into the dark. The local pipe band played near the village hall, making me wish for the fiddler from last night.

Aonghus stopped at the edge of the crowd. His fingers pressed harder against my back.

“Are you alright?”

“There are more houses than there used to be."

“That tends to happen as time passes.”

“The road was a track. The hall was woodland.”

He stared across the village as people passed around us. Nobody carried an iron blade or looked ready to hunt a fae. Most were too busy trying to stop their paper cups blowing into the fire.

I slipped my hand into his. “We can leave.”

“No.” He looked down at our joined hands. “I would like to stay.”

A horn sounded from the road. Everyone moved aside as a white minibus came crawling towards the village hall. The words Glenarraidh Care Centre were printed across the side.

I groaned. “Of course.”

The door opened and Gran climbed out wearing a purple coat, pearls and a pointed witch’s hat. Douglas, her current boy-toy, followed her carrying a folding chair and looking very cheerful about accompanying her to a village festival.