Ruth peered at her, long enough to make Annice squirm. The kettle finally sang, and Ruth got up to fiddle with the teapot and leaves and pouring the water. When she brought the pot and mugs back to the table she asked, “What’s the man like then?”
“He, um.” Annice paused. “He’s in a wheelchair. There’s someone with him, an apprentice. The apprentice didn’t say much, but he helped with the tea earlier? Not stuck up, I thought he would be. He sounds posh.”
“And the other one?” Ruth leaned back. “Your client?”
“His name’s Griffin Pelson. He’s, um. He knows a lot of things I didn’t even know were things to know? But he’s not as posh, I think. Not to start. His da was a shop-keeper, then made good.” Annice looked down at the table, in between where her hands were resting. “He was in the War. He came back hurt. I don’t know how, but he can walk a little? That doesn’t make sense. And I don’t know how I feel about him. Not scared, it’s not like that, but it’s not comfortable, either?” She then looked up, hoping to find words, and didn’t.
Ruth tilted her head, opened her mouth, then closed it. “You let me know if you need Sam to come be about. In case. Or one of the others.” Whatever else was scant in their lives, there were a number of burly weatherbeaten men who could loom in the background. “You’re going to talk to him again, then.”
Annice looked down at the table once more. “Aye. Because maybe I can help.” She then shifted, brushing one of the boxes. “I told you about what I found, that stone. There’s two more empty boxes, the same size and shape, and some pencil markings I don’t understand. And this box of papers. Maybe Griffin could explain a little of what they mean. The papers.”
Ruth pursed her lips. “You think there're more stones?”
“Maybe. Dunno. Or what the one I have does. Maybe it does something we don’t need. Don’t want.”
Ruth nodded. “You could go round and ask Carrey and Hudson. Or whoever.”
“Don’t want to. I will.” Annice shrugged. “Give me a little to work up to it.”
Ruth laughed, and then changed the subject, which was at least something. The boys were being boys. When they’d caught up, Annice promised to be round for Sunday supper in a day and a half.
Which meant Saturday was for going round to the Careys’ shop. She waited until there was a lull, making awkward small talk with Bess Carey. Bess and Rob were both Whitby through and through, and Da hadn’t been, and, well. It meant it was all awkward. Finally, the shop was quiet, and Annice cleared her throat. “Pardon, Rob. But I found something in a cupboard, and I’m not sure about it. I made a sketch.”
She pushed it over the counter toward Rob, who peered at it. “Some sort of talisman. Not my sort, don’t know what it does. Do you have it?”
Annice didn’t want to admit to it. “Know where it might be. I wondered if you knew who’d made it. Or if there might be others. There were some sketches, some empty boxes.”
Rob stared at her, and well, it was a good example of things that made her uncomfortable in ways she didn’t want at all. “Nah.” He pushed the notes back to her. “You given any more thought to your shop? Bess has a nephew, looking for work. You could meet him. Maybe make a match of it. You could do the carving, he’d give you cover for it.”
She could do the carving and the cooking and the cleaning and run the shop. She was pretty sure the nephew would sit around on his backside and never do anything. “Thank you, no. People keep trying to marry me off.” That was the problem with having grown up on her parents and their romance. Nothing else had that shine to it. It was all coal, no jet. “Ta for your time.” Before they could say anything else, she tucked the papers away and went out the door to the Hudsons.
That, at least, was a more comfortable conversation. People gossiped - a lot - about Maud. On the magical side, people gossipped about love potions. On the non-magical, about her getting above herself. But Cliff seemed more than happy. Maud had been good to Grandad and Nan, coming round to check if the three of them needed anything. Or when she got extra eggs from a sister with a farm. Not the sort of person to lean on for more personal things, but more friendly than not.
Annice went through the same explanation as soon as she got a moment. Cliff peered at it for longer. “You were down at the Careys?”
“Seniority,” Annice agreed. She didn’t know what had caused the problem between the Hudsons and the Careys. She was pretty sure it was before she was born, or at least before she’d have noticed anything. Annice had no idea how to ask now. But one thing she liked about Cliff was that he understood how other people dealt with it.
“Guessing they didn’t tell you anything useful.” Cliff glanced at her, and she shook her head. “Right. I think you’re right, there’s more than one. Now, I heard your Da talk about it, but theory, not the thing itself, you ken?”
Annice nodded again. “I didn’t ever hear of it. My Aunt Sarah, she remembered it coming up, but then my uncles drowned. No one talked about it again.”
“Ah, that makes some sense. Protection’s a funny thing. Sometimes it’s a wall, and sometimes it is a net, see? Jet can do both. Now, I don’t know all of it - you’d need someone went to Schola for that, specialised in it.” Which Annice had, if she could take the risk of talking to him about it. Even if Griffin didn’t know, he probably knew who else to talk to. Not that whoever it was would talk to her. So she could just forget the whole idea now.
“But you don’t have any idea where the other piece - pieces? - would be?” Annice asked.
“You have one of them?” This time Annice did nod, rather than ducking the question. “They might be different locations, to make a shape, between them? Three would give you a triangle. One where you are, one, I don’t know, down this end of the beach. One down the bay, I don’t know. Safety while looking for the jet, maybe.” There were plenty of things that could go wrong on the beach, and all three of them knew it. Anyone could slip, there could be a sudden wave. Maybe coming upon a smuggler at the wrong time, or someone with a grudge taking a chance at ending it. “Where’d your Grandad spend time, north or south?”
“Robin Hood’s Bay. He had a hut there, fishing and all. Old fishing boat, too, though he didn’t take it out much by the time I was old enough to help.”
“Maybe down there, then. You might look at a map, think about if he knew anyone might have held one for him. Friend or somewhat. Just a thought. You let us know if you could use a hand looking.” Annice hesitated, then nodded. Then Cliff said, “That man from Trellech talk to you, then?”
“He did. Offered to have me come look at the courtroom, at least, see if I could figure anything out. But I don’t know that kind of work. And I don’t know if it’s, I mean.” She glanced at Maud, who at least might understand the basic problem.
Cliff snorted. “I asked round about him, some of my clients. He’s got a good reputation. Sharp, but not unkind, yeah? Few people ended up on the wrong side of decisions he was part of. They didn’t like that. But they admitted it was fair. Maybe a little too fair, y’know?”
That was an interesting way to put it. “And you wouldn’t go?” Annice asked. “You know a lot more about that sort of thing.”
“Booked up, like I told him. And I don’t know as much more than you do as you think. You’ve got a good feel for the jet. Tell you what, though. If you go, bring your notes back. I’m glad to talk them through with you if I’m not working elsewhere. If there is something I could do, maybe I could make the time for the doing. Just not for the mucking around before and after and all that.”
