by Booth, John
“We are meeting my parents in the restaurant. They have a table for four booked. It will be in the book as Owens.”
He continued to stare at me for a few seconds and then glanced down at a book on his counter. “Yes, they have already arrived. If you would like to go through? Mr. Morrissey will remember the way.”
So much for not being recognized. He’d probably tell the kitchen staff before we reached the table and I’d end up eating an old army boot disguised as a steak.
Jenny took my arm and I led her through the lobby over to the restaurant. A waiter met us at the door and took us to the table. He didn’t look terrified so word probably hadn’t reached him yet.
“Jenny love,” Mrs. Owens said; her face lighting up as she saw her daughter. “Jake, it’s so good to see you in a suit. You look so distinguished.
“Thanks,” I mumbled. She had asked me several times to call her Mary, but I found it difficult, it would be like calling my Mam, Mandy.
“Jake,” Mr. Owens said, offering his hand. I took it and he gave me a firm handshake. No need to check my fingers afterwards. I was a little surprised.
I took a menu and hid behind it. It was a waste of time looking at it. Steak and chips was the only thing I ever ordered from places like these. The menu was in French, but they had the English translation in curly brackets. It looked like I’d have to have some kind of fancy gravy with the steak. With luck there wouldn’t be much and I could scrape it off when no one was looking.
“I saw Brian yesterday. He said to thank you and to say sorry about the television program.” I lowered the menu to give a puzzled look at Mr. Owens.
“Brian Mathews, Bronwyn is making good progress and seems happy at both school and home.”
“What television program, Dad?”
Mr. Owens smiled at his daughter. “You look radiant, dear. Were there any problems at the hospital?”
“Everything was fine. The baby’s fine too. What television program, Daddy?”
“There was a documentary on Bronwyn’s disappearance. One of those investigative journalism type things. Brian and Gwyneth kept saying Jake had helped them find Bronwyn, and of course Bronwyn couldn’t remember Jake, but the program makers cut things so it looked as though Jake might be guilty of something. They were careful not to say what he might be guilty of though, especially after they showed Inspector Thomas’ statement expressing his confidence in Jake’s innocence.”
“It’s what you get for saving the world,” I said dismissively, but I was hurt. No one welcomes being accused of kidnapping a child. Lord only knows what they would have liked to accuse me of.
“That’s horrible. How dare they accuse Jake of anything?” Jenny said in outrage.
“Well at least they didn’t accuse him of bigamy,” Mrs. Owens said. It was meant to be a joke, but there was a squeak to her voice that suggested she still wasn’t happy with the idea. Luckily, just then the starters turned up. I had ordered a prawn cocktail, as I always do. Being a fancy restaurant it was served in a tall glass that made it impossible to get at the lettuce without spraying prawns and sauce everywhere.
Naturally, the Owens ordered wine. I am a wine connoisseur, in that I know the stuff that isn’t red or white is called rosé. However, Mr. Owen suggested I taste the wine to see if it was okay and the waiter poured a thimbleful into my glass. Sniffing it, (as people always do in films) I deduced it smelled like wine, tasting it resulted in a similar conclusion.
The waiter and I got our signals crossed and I didn’t realize he was about to fill it when I momentarily put it down. A little wine got spilled and I stood up to avoid it running onto my trousers. Everyone on the other tables turned to look at me. That’s me in a nutshell; you can’t take me anywhere.
As we waited for the main course the level of background noise from the other tables rose considerably. Everybody seemed to be talking in stage whispers.
Somebody said “It is him. I’m sure,” in a whisper so loud the concierge probably heard it out in the lobby. I became aware of a presence behind me. A large belligerent man stood there when I turned in my chair to look.
“You’re Jake Morrissey, aren’t you?”
“Jake, ignore him,” Jenny suggested, which wasn’t the right thing to say as it confirmed my identity.
“Think you can fiddle with little girls and get away with it?”
That had me on my feet ready to hit him. The waiter turned up and seemed to be having trouble deciding which of us to restrain.
“He was on the six o’clock news. He’s going to be a millionaire, lucky bastard,” someone shouted. This seemed to further infuriate my accuser.
“See what you make of this,” he shouted and swung his fist at me.
“Stop,” I commanded and everybody froze, including my attacker who stopped his fist in mid-flight. The only people still able to move freely were those at my table.
I looked at my attacker and could see the fear in his eyes. “You have not seen Jake Morrissey tonight. This fight did not happen. Go back to your seat and continue your meal.
The man let his arm drop and walked back to his table. I looked at the other people in the restaurant. When I spoke it was using more command magic. “None of you have seen Jake Morrissey here tonight. You will forget this incident. Go back to your meals and do not think of this again.”
As I sat down the waiter shook himself and looked around in surprise. Then he returned to the kitchen. The restaurant returned to normal as people began speaking again at normal levels.
“I never realized properly before,” Mr. Owens said softly. “You have so much power.”
“I feel unclean. I hate going into people’s heads. It’s never right.”
Jenny squeezed my hand reassuringly. Moments later the serving staff put our meals down in front of us. The steak was ruined by the sauce which tasted suspiciously of boiled wine.
“How can we be sure, Jake?” Mr. Owens asked as we sat drinking coffees.
I waited for him to finish his sentence before I attempted an answer. I was pretty sure what he was going to ask, as I had asked it of myself on many occasions.
“How can we be sure our daughter isn’t under your mind control, that you haven’t ordered her to love you?”
“Daddy!”
“It’s a fair question,” I told Jenny. “He has the right to ask.”
“No he doesn’t, Mr. Morrissey. You’re my husband because I chose you and it’s insulting to me to suggest otherwise.”
“You can’t ever be certain. Even I don’t know what my subconscious does with my magic sometimes. Esmeralda told me that no one was killed near me during the revolution on Salice because I didn’t want them to be. That my magic spilled out to make sure no one was. Lots of people died that were out of my sight that day. Then, when I first met her, I gave Esmeralda the ability to know exactly where I was in Salice and didn’t even know I had done it.”
I took Jenny’s hands in mine and looked deep into her eyes. “All I can be certain of is that I have never knowingly used magic to influence your mind and I never will.”
Jenny smiled at me and kissed me on the nose. “That will just have to be good enough for you, Dad. It’s more than good enough for me.”
Mrs. Owens raised her glass, which still had a little wine in it.
“To my daughter and son-in-law. May they always remain true to each other.”
We all reached for our glasses and tapped them against each other before drinking the few drops that remained. I think my wine must have gone off, because I was left with a sour taste in my mouth that lasted for ages.
14. Some Days
I woke with that feeling you get when you think you’ve forgotten something important, but can’t remember what. I gently lifted Jenny’s head off my arm and rubbed desperately to try and get some feeling back into it. This was the first time I had spent the night at Jenny’s parents, well ‘officially’ if you know what I mean, and I wasn’t sure about the protocol.
Should I wait until they got up? Would they be annoyed if I took a shower and blocked the bathroom? Would they expect me to stay for breakfast?
It would be useful if married life came with a manual, but then, when I thought about it, I never read the manual anyway.
It would be easy to lose track of all the things I had to sort out. Jenny and I had searched the net when we got back to the house and it was full of blogs, news reports and accusations about me. Andy Gorsham had wasted no time in telling his television friends about the discovery of the hoard and it appeared that the Hardy’s farm was besieged by reporters.
Someone had set up a webcam showing the front door of my parent’s house. From the angle it appeared to be the couple at number 23, which made sense because all the other neighbors had known my parents for years. The Ellison’s had only lived there for a couple of years at most. I would have to find a way to disable it without it looking suspicious as my comings and goings were far from usual. So far nobody was door-stepping Jenny’s parent’s house, but that was only a matter of time.
I should visit the Hardy’s farm and see if they needed any help or for me to sign anything. Solving the food crisis in Salice was becoming more urgent, I had to figure out what the Elves were up to, Esmeralda would be furious because Jenny was now two up on her, I had to figure a way to buy us a house in Wales, there was my official Welsh marriage to arrange, and then there was the small matter of giving the Valhallans access to data they shouldn’t have. I knew there were more things to worry about, but that was enough to be going on with.
Going over the list spurred me to action. Getting out of bed and picking up my clothes was a start. I looked at my boxer shorts in dismay. Jenny had been a little too eager last night and had ripped them.
Magically mending them was an option, but I had visions of them coming apart at a critical moment. If I fully understood how the cloth had been woven I could have used magic to create a lasting perfect repair, but there are some things I’ve never bothered to learn.
Hopping to Salice would put me in Esmeralda’s sights and nipping over to Mam’s in the nude risked embarrassment as she might be tidying the room. Nothing for it, under the circumstances, but to go commando.
There is a tricky moment with trousers and zippers when you’re not wearing underwear, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I successfully closed up.
“I’ll have to get you some clothes for here,” Jenny said and I turned to see she had been admiring my backside. “That shirt’s looking tired and if you start visiting in a suit people will think I’ve been nagging you.”
I did an instant magic iron on the shirt and she smiled.
“Much better, but you really need underwear to sort out that unsightly bulge in your trousers.”
“That’s only been there since I turned and saw you.”
“Sometimes, you say the nicest things. Where are you going?”
That brought me up short. I didn’t really know. There were too many choices.
“Meet you at the registry office at twelve?” It was eight, so that gave me time to run a few other errands. Jenny nodded eagerly.
“I’m going to visit the Hardy’s and see if they need any help. Then I’ll pick up Fluffy and pop over to Salice. Maybe visit Urda.”
“Give my love to her when you see her.”
It occurred to me that Jenny might be able to help. “Any idea how to stop that camera pointing at my Dad’s door?”
“I think it might be illegal.”
I gave Jenny a kiss and then had to disentangle her hands from my trousers. Some girls have a one track mind. Besides which, since her comment I had figured out where to hop first.
Inspector Thomas grunted as he saw me appear in his office.
“You have to learn to knock first, Jake. What if someone saw you?”
Once upon a time, Inspector Thomas and I had been enemies because he believed there was something dodgy about me. He knew what I was now and while not exactly friends, we weren’t enemies anymore.
“People see what they want to see most of the time. But I thought your office was likely to be quieter than the corridor.”
“That’s as maybe, Jake. I’m glad you’re here though. You might be able to clear something up. If you’re not too busy counting your millions?”
“I’d like you to stop the Ellison’s at Number 23 pointing their webcam at my Dad’s front door. I’ll trade your problem for mine.”
The Inspector’s hand was over the desk in a flash. “Done, Boyo”
And as it turned out, I had been. A twelve year old boy had gone missing from his home two days before. As time went by everyone was beginning to assume he was dead. He wasn’t a street wise type and had no history of running away.
“I hate finding bodies,” I complained before giving in. “Do you have anything the boy has worn recently?”
“Thought you’d want that.” The Inspector opened his desk and took out a plastic bag with a shirt in it. “This is his favorite shirt. It was in the wash box so it should be covered in his scent.”
“I’m not a bloodhound. It’s sympathy magic.” Actually I had no idea how it worked, but I like to sound as though I do. “Okay, get your coat on.”
“Why?”
“I’m not going alone.”
The Inspector pulled his coat on and reached for the intercom. He must have changed his mind because he didn’t press anything.
“We have to hold hands.”
He gave me a look that spoke volumes and then locked his office door. As soon as his hand touched mine I hopped the tee-shirt in search of its owner and hopped us after it.
We appeared in a wrecker’s yard. Cars were piled on top of each other and it was difficult to think because of the noise of heavy machinery. The shirt was on the ground in front of us and the Inspector picked it up.
“I’ll get them to shut it all down,” the Inspector shouted. That was one way of doing it. I waved a hand and the machinery stopped. A car being lifted on a massive electromagnet fell to the ground, but missed the people below as I guided its fall. Nobody was looking in our direction.
“He must be close. Follow me.” I popped the boots of the pile of cars nearest to me and then sprang their doors. I searched the passenger spaces while the Inspector searched the boots. Three cars up, he gave a shout.
“He’s in here. He’s tied up but he’s still breathing.”
“Don’t forget about the webcam,” I said as I hopped to the Hardy’s Farm. In some ways I’d liked to have stayed, because I never knew how to explain how I’d found people and now the Inspector was going to have to do it. I wondered if he’d be better at explanations than I was.
I hopped to Betty’s room. Not because I wanted anything except somewhere there wouldn’t be any visitors. Another wrong assumption. Betty had her legs spread and a very muscular young man was exerting himself on top of her. She spotted me at once and gave me a cheery little wave. The man was far too busy to notice.
I hopped out into the corridor, gave them a few minutes and was about to knock on the door when it flew open.
“How nice to see you, Jake. Eddie’s just leaving.” A man with only one sock on and his shoes in his hands pushed past me.
Betty wore a dressing gown that slipped fully open as soon as Eddie was out of sight. “I can’t keep waiting for you, Jake. A girl has needs.”
“Who was that?”
“One of the cameramen watching the house. I think he’s scared of my Dad. I told him I’d heard Dad coming up the stairs and you saw how he ran.”
“I take it you don’t need my help?”
“One of the newsmen is gay. You could satisfy him I suppose, if you wanted.”
Grief. How do I find these women?
“I’ll be off then.”
She grabbed my hand and dragged me close. “I like a man in a suit and I would have bet money I’d never see you in one. Especially when you’ve come all prepared without any under-crackers. Now that’s sexy
.”
With some difficulty I pulled myself loose. Somehow I ended up holding her dressing gown.
“Like what you see?”
“I really have to go.”
“How will I contact you if I really need you?” she asked before I could hop.
It was a good point, but I had good reasons to leave quickly. There was something overwhelming desirable about her body. “I’ll think of something.”
I hopped to the Bat Cave.
[Thank you for the dressing gown, Jake, but I don’t think it will fit me.]
I sent the offending item dancing down my imaginary hopscotch court back to Betty. That was a narrow escape and there was no way I was risking going back until she put some clothes on.
“I think we should go to Salice. If you’re still determined to keep following me, that is.”
[Did you know that you are covered in female pheromones and only one set is from Jenny?]
“I am not guilty this time, Fluffy. Apparently Betty is trying a novel way to wear out the newsmen surrounding her farm. It’s a fate I’m trying my best to avoid.”
A quick dust with a little magic and I addressed my dragon. “How about now?”
[Better, though I suspect Esmeralda has a superior nose for such things.]
“We’re visiting Urda first.”
We materialized at her cottage door. There wasn’t room for Fluffy in the cottage unless someone took the roof off. There was a line of women leading to a bench set up at the garden gate. Urda and Anna were handing bags of something to the women.
Unfortunately, the arrival of a dragon with a thirty foot wingspan can have a negative effect on some people. The women scattered with a surprising display of speed.
“Lord Wizard,” Urda said sounding somewhat tetchy. “It has taken me weeks to convince them I’m not some kind of monster and now you’ve frightened them off.”
I walked up to the bench to find out what she’d been giving them, my curiosity being aroused. Below the bench were suspiciously modern cardboard boxes filled with bags of flour. The bags were labeled as being from one of Britain’s biggest supermarket chains.