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Mike and Sylvie went out for the day – they’re delivering small, ugly votive offerings they picked up on their travels called ‘keyrings’ and ‘fridge magnets’ that say things like ‘My friend went to Italy and didn’t take me.’ When Sylvie showed them to me, I said that I’d gladly help her deliver them to her enemies, but she gave me an odd look and said that these were for her friends in the village. And I asked if they would still be her friends after receiving such cursed gifts, and she left in a huff.
I will never get used to the customs of Bree’s people.
I spend the morning practising sword drills in the back yard. Edward spends it in his boudoir, practising his poetry and glaring at me out the window.
Mike returns home around lunchtime and heads off in the direction of the greenhouse. He walks differently now, with a little shuffle in his steps, and he wears a strange headdress made of straw on his head, probably something he must wear when giving his ritual offerings to Ceres for a bountiful harvest. I wave my sword at him and ask if he’d like to spar with me. He ducks beneath my blade, saying he needs to see if there’s anything salvageable from his cucumbers.
He bounds back through the garden, his face aglow. “Bree was kidding about forgetting my cucumber! It looks amazing. She must have been watering it just right for it to grow so huge. I think I’m in for a real shot at winning first place at the Giant Vegetable Festival.”
“Praise Ceres!” I exclaim, because Mike is happy, and that makes me happy, even though I don’t understand why you would grow a giant cucumber that no one was allowed to eat.
Mike meets my eyes, and then he scans the sword, his brow furrowing. “So Pax, do you…do medieval re-enactment?”
I don’t understand the question, but I can tell from the way he’s looking at my sword that he’s asking about it. “I stab things,” I say helpfully, giving him a demonstration of some of my most valiant moves from the battlefield. “I can teach you, if you like. I’ve been teaching Bree, although she isn’t very good. She keeps being distracted.”
“Ah, maybe some other time. I need to get the lunch on before Sylvie gets back. But thank you, Pax.” He pats me on the shoulder. “It’s good to know that Bree’s had you looking out for her while we’ve been gone.”
I wave as he goes back into the house. I just had a real conversation with Mike! And he didn’t guess that I’m really a Roman centurion. I am very good at being a modern human person.
I can’t wait to tell Bree.
* * *
“You didwhat?”Bree screeches. “You tried to give my dad a sword-fighting lesson?”
“I’m surprised Mike didn’t take him up on it.” Edward winces as he passes through the wall of Bree’s bedroom. “He does enjoy useless hobbies.”
I waggle the tip of my blade at him. “You won’t say this is useless when I stick it up your—”
“Would anyone like a scone?” Ambrose bellows from the doorway, a tray piled high with date scones and little jars of cream and jam balanced in one hand, while he raps his cane with the other. “I ran into Mike and Sylvie on the driveway. They were heading to the pub for quiz night, but Mike left these on the kitchen counter for us.”
“Oooh.” I take two, generously slathering them with butter, jam, and cream. I turn around to offer one to Bree, but she’s staring at her phone screen and biting her lip.
“Uh-oh,” Bree says.
“Who needs stabbing?” My hand flies to my sword.
“No one.” Bree holds up her hand. “I’ve just had a text from Mum. ‘Hi darling, we’re two rounds in and our team is winning! We should be home around ten. Just a reminder that we have a real estate agent coming to appraise the house in the morning, and then I need to prepare the house for our next round of guests, so your friends won’t be able to stay over again. Sing out if you want me to bring anything home, Mum.’”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that you can’t sleep in the spare room.”
“Where will we go?” Ambrose’s lip trembles.
“The answer is simple. We will sleep in Bree’s bed.” I slap my hand on the iron bedhead.This means she has to tell her parents that we’re her boyfriends. Today is a good day!
“You can’t do that,” she says, her voice sharp.
“But where will we go?” Ambrose’s voice rises with panic. “I don’t have any money for an inn, and I don’t want to leave Grimdale. You and I haven’t even…that is, we haven’t…”
“He’s trying to say that the two of you haven’t had any rumpy-pumpy,” Edward pipes up. “There has been a distinct lack of amorous congress, an absence of wick-dipping, a want of a bit of crumpet, a deficiency of debauchery, a shortage of shagging. The pink fortress has yet to be conquered, the beast with two backs has bolted from the stables, and all the trout in the peculiar river have swam away—”
“We get the idea, thank you, Edward. And that’s not it at all. I swear.” Bree’s cheeks glow red as she clutches her phone. She squeezes Ambrose’s hand. “I’m sorry. I know…I know that you’ve only just become a human, and I want nothing more than to share tonight with you. But I can’t exactly tell Mum that the two of you have nowhere else to go. That’s not how I endear her to you, especially since this has probably come about because Dad saw Pax training with his sword.”
“What’s wrong with training? I would dishonour myself before your father bynottraining. I wouldn’t want to duel him and accidentally take an eye out.”
“Pax, you’re not duelling my father.” Bree folds her arms. “You didn’t challenge him to a duel, did you?”
