by Chrys Cymri
‘Almost a pity it’s an air thin place,’ Morey said, still on my shoulder. ‘At least land ones have all that doom and gloom to stop anyone casually coming over. But the crossing’s been made. There’s nothing we can do about it.’
‘Dragon blood,’ Clyde stated confidently.
Morey cocked his head. ‘What does he mean by that?’
I hesitated. Then I decided that I had to trust my Associate. ‘Dragon blood seals up thin places.’
‘And just how long have you known this?’
‘A little while.’ I threw up my hands as his back arched. ‘Yes, maybe I should have told you sooner. But you can see why it’s important we keep it quiet.’
‘Any dragon’s blood?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve only tried with search dragons.’
Clyde waved his tentacles at Jago. ‘Uncle Clyde doesn’t want it closed up,’ the gryphon translated. ‘More snails might need to come through.’
‘How many more can we take?’ I muttered. Then I rubbed at my face with my free hand, trying to remove my sudden likeness to Sue Harkness. ‘The crossing doesn’t have to be so large, Clyde. I’ll ask Raven to seal up the ones we have now, and you can make one which is only big enough to allow small snails through. Okay?’
Clyde pulsed brown and grey, but he said, ‘Okay.’
<><><><><><>
I was too busy over the next few days to even think of contacting Raven. Saturday was taken up with a wedding, and working with Skylar on her sermon. Sunday services went off without a hitch, although Skylar did seem distracted by James grinning at her from a front pew. On Monday I took her around the two nursing homes which were in the parish, and listened as she talked excitedly about my brother. ‘And we have so much in common, like both of us losing our parents when we were young, and we both like cars, and we even have the same iPhone!’ I managed to eventually turn the conversation around to a discussion about which areas of her training needed to be given priority.
I’d set Tuesday aside for that bane of vicars everywhere, namely paperwork. Rotas, hymn selection, applications for memorial headstones, and the perennial problem of how to sensitively ask church members to give yet more money promised to take up a good chunk of the day. When the phone rang, I almost knocked over my coffee in my haste for a distraction. ‘Penny White speaking.’
‘You sound so formal on the land line,’ Peter teased. ‘I know this is very short notice, but are you free this afternoon? Around two? It’s work, really, I promise.’
‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘What’s up? An invasion of unicorns? A dragon’s been spotted lurching from pub to pub? Merpeople have taken over a village pond?’
‘Nothing so exciting, I’m afraid. The local constabulary was asked to send an officer to talk to a Carers and Tots group this afternoon, and at the last minute the sergeant had to drop out. The organiser knows me, and she’s asked me to step in. She also asked if I knew any ministers, because a couple of the parents are asking about christenings. The local vicar is busy, but he said he’d be happy if you came and talked to them.’
My enthusiasm withered, to be replaced by guilt. A vicar should always be willing to talk about baptism. ‘Of course I’ll come. Just give me the address.’
So, shortly after a late lunch, I climbed into my car and headed towards Mears Ashby. Morey begged off, reminding me that young children could usually see him. So I drove alone to the brick and stone village hall, parking my red Ford alongside a mixture of dependable looking family cars. All of them looked much cleaner than mine, and I hurried away from my dirt streaked vehicle.
The hall smelled as all such buildings did, namely a mixture of damp, bleach, and slightly sour milk. Around twenty adults sat on the floor, mostly women but a few men, struggling to keep babies amused with rattling toys whilst also trying to hold a conversation. I looked for Peter, and found him in the circle, talking to a middle-aged man who was comforting a crying toddler.
One older woman sprung up from a chair. ‘Penny White? Oh, Reverend, thank you so much for coming. Hannah and Nicole want to talk to you, if that’s okay.’
‘That’s what I’m here for,’ I said cheerily. ‘Just let me know when.’
‘We’ll let the tots play for awhile first,’ the woman said. ‘Then Inspector Jarvis will tell us how to post photos safely on Facebook. Afterwards we’ll have tea and biscuits.’ Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘I’m sorry, I should have said. I’m Anne. Anne Smith.’
‘Good to meet you, Anne.’ I gave her a reassuring smile. ‘And just call me Penny, please.’
I wondered for a moment if I could get away with using a chair. Then Peter saw me and waved me to a spot between him and a woman attempting to cradle a baby and adjust the shoe of a toddler at the same time. I forced myself to smile as I sat down and lent a hand to help resolve the footwear crisis.
The children wandered around, playing with the bright toys and occasionally stumbling over each other. The woman on my left was Hannah, and we talked about baptism for her two children. ‘And I want my brother-in-law to be one of the godparents,’ she told me. ‘Alongside my sister and my cousin.’
I nodded. The baby was attempting to chew my shoelace, and I gently pulled my foot back. ‘As long as they’re all baptised themselves.’
‘My sister and cousin are, I asked,’ Hannah said. ‘But Simon isn’t.’
‘Then, if the local vicar agrees, he can stand as a sponsor. You’ll need someone else, who is baptised, to be a godparent.’
Hannah shook her head. ‘I want him to be a godparent. Can’t he just get christened as well?’
‘We usually want a period of preparation for an adult candidate,’ I said. ‘I’m certain his vicar would be happy to meet with him.’
‘Simon’s not really that big on church.’ Hannah pushed long blonde hair away from her face. Then a thought made her grin, and I braced myself. ‘Hey, but my sister’s been christened, right?’
‘So you’ve said.’
‘And aren’t they, she and Simon, aren’t they one flesh because they’re married? That’s what the Bible says, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ I replied slowly.
‘So, since they’re one flesh, can’t he come in under her baptism? And be a godparent?’
Why had my ministerial training never prepared me for these sorts of conversations? ‘They might be one flesh, but salvation is an individual matter. Simon has to choose Christ for himself.’
Hannah sighed. ‘I don't understand why this has to be so difficult. I just want to get Josh and Alfie done.’
‘I’ll get your vicar to talk to you,’ I promised, feeling slightly guilty at my sense of relief. ‘Can I have your phone number?’
The baby started to wail, which successfully drew the discussion to a close. I listened in as the man on Peter’s right talked about the joys of being a house husband. ‘I missed my first set of kids growing up,’ he said, bouncing a small girl on his legs. ‘This is my second chance. Lily loves her career, I love looking after Annabelle, so it’s all working out great.’
Peter leaned forward. ‘And what about you, Annabelle? Do you like having Daddy look after you all day?’
‘Ice cream!’ the child answered.
‘I promised her one later on,’ the man apologised. ‘And now it’s all she thinks about.’
‘How is it, being a father again?’ Peter asked.
‘I do get tired more quickly,’ the man said. ‘But I think I'm also much more patient than I used to be. There are some advantages to being an older dad.’
I moved away to seek out Nicole. Our conversation was far more straightforward, and I was pleasantly surprised to discover that she’d even considered which Bible passage to use. I was writing down her contact details when Anne called us to order and introduced Peter.
‘I’ve been told it’s called “sharenting”,’ Peter said. ‘Sharing all those happy moments of your children’s lives. I know that Facebook, Twitter, and other social media
has made it very easy to share photos and videos with relatives and friends. But there are things you should think about.’
I watched as he gave guidelines and reminded them that children had their own right to privacy. ‘Think about what you post. Would your child be happy for this to resurface later on in his or her life?’
One mother asked about safe browsing. ‘Put on filters now,’ Peter advised. ‘My nephew, Luke, is only four years old, but he can already look up CBeebies on his mum’s iPad.’
‘No children of your own?’ asked an older woman. ‘A handsome young man like you?’
Peter flushed. ‘I am engaged, actually, and we’re getting married in August.’ He glanced over at me for permission, caught my slight shake of the head, so continued, ‘Sometimes it just takes a while to find the right person.’
‘It’s worth it, mate,’ said Annabelle’s father. ‘And make sure you come back. I’d like to see more fathers here.’
Titters went through the hall. I looked down at my hands and found myself twisting my engagement ring.
‘Time for squash and biscuits,’ Anne announced. ‘And something hot for the taller ones amongst us.’
I waited until the rush had died down before claiming my own cup of tea and a Jammie Dodger. But I’d only taken one bite of the biscuit before Hannah hurried over to me. ‘I’m sorry to ask, but Josh has filled his nappy and Alfie can’t find his truck. Can you take care of Josh for me?’
I would have preferred to be on truck hunting duty, but the smelly baby was dumped into my arms before I could protest. As Hannah went off with Alfie, I made my way over to a changing mat.
The colour and odour of what I found when I undid Josh’s nappy took me back several decades. At least all the necessary items were to hand. I removed and wiped and replaced, trying to breathe through my mouth and to give the baby reassuring smiles at the same time.
‘You’re quite good at that,’ Peter said as he drifted over.
‘I changed James’s nappies often enough.’ I pulled Josh’s trousers back over his bottom, and looked around for his shoes. ‘That was years ago, but you never forget how to do it.’
‘How often were you his babysitter?’
‘Often enough.’ I winced. ‘That’s why we weren’t with Mum and Dad when that drunk driver ran a red light and smashed into their car. I guess my babysitting saved our lives.’
Peter took a seat next to me and placed a warm hand on my shoulder. ‘You were both very young.’
‘James was four. He regressed. Started wetting the bed.’ I rolled up the dirty nappy, placed it in a plastic bag, and lifted Josh onto my lap. ‘I was only just eighteen.’
‘I’m surprised you managed to get custody.’
‘It was a battle,’ I agreed. ‘Social Services didn’t think I was ready for the responsibility. But I’d promised my parents that I’d look after James.’
‘What, they made you promise that?’
‘No, I made it to them.’ I removed the shoe from Josh’s mouth and put it back on his right foot. ‘When I stood beside their coffins.’
‘That must have been tough.’
‘It was.’ I blinked rapidly. ‘Then Alan came along. Some people didn’t approve, with him being fifteen years older than me. But he was a good father to James.’
‘Which is why he took on Alan’s last name.’ Peter’s fingers on my chin were gentle but insistent as he made me face him. ‘And he was a good husband wasn’t he? I’m not jealous, Penny. It’s not a competition. But raising James, that explains why you’re so good with kids.’
‘Really?’
Peter laughed. ‘Look at Josh. He’s perfectly happy on your lap, even though his mum is on the other side of the hall.’
‘Some kids are easier than others.’ Josh reached up to my long hair, and I grabbed his hand in mine. ‘And I’m not always sure I did such a great job with James.’
‘He’s young,’ Peter said. ‘And, yes, there are times I’ve thought you could take a firmer line with him. But he’s tackled dinosaurs, and faced down gryphons who wanted his liver for lunch. And he took on feeding Jago. He’s growing up. Some people just take a bit longer to get there.’
I chuckled. ‘He’s infatuated with Skylar, and I think the feeling might be mutual.’
‘Skylar? Your curate?’ Peter lowered his voice. ‘She’s a vampire, isn’t she? You’re not worried?’
I frowned. ‘Peter--’
‘No, not because you would have anything against that,’ he said quickly. ‘I was thinking of Cadw ar Wahân. You’re not worried that they might try to do something to hurt them?’
‘So long as James and Skylar stay out of Lloegyr, I should think they’d be safe.’ A chill settled in my stomach despite my words. Cadw ar Wahân had managed to arrange for people to die in England, after all. Protecting James sometimes felt like a never-ending project.
Chapter Eighteen
Wednesday morning. The sound of the doorbell cut through my pre-coffee haze. I abandoned my toast and shuffled to the front door.
My next-door neighbour, Albert, stood outside, his face grim. ‘Now, vicar, you know how I feel about the state of your back garden, but as my wife says, you have to take the rough with the smooth. So I’ve let it slide. But you can’t keep a cow back there. All right?’
Rarely had I been more desperate for caffeine. ‘All right.’
‘So you’ll get rid of it?’
‘I promise,’ I said. ‘And have a nice morning.’
Albert muttered something noncommittal. I closed the door and hurried back to the kitchen. Granted, I was never at my best until it was 9am and I had at least two cups of coffee in my system, but surely I would have noticed a cow?
A swath of snail sharks met my gaze. Then I saw the bits of brown hair caught in the bushes, and the remnants of a back leg. One pup was attempting to eat a dark hoof. And, seated to one side, Raven was watching, a curl of satisfaction in his horns and ears.
I opened the door and went outside. ‘Morning, impeccable Penny,’ Raven greeted me.
Clyde swallowed a piece of hide and slid to my side. ‘Cow.’
‘So I understand.’
‘Don’t worry, it was a quick kill,’ Raven said.
‘I’m so pleased to hear that,’ I replied. ‘A cow screaming before 7am could’ve been very difficult to explain to the neighbours. I take it you were the one who brought breakfast?’
‘From Lloegyr.’ Raven arched his neck. ‘Much better cattle over there. Your English ones don't have the same flavour.’
‘I didn’t think snail sharks were that picky.’ Then I narrowed my eyes. ‘So you’re helping out snail sharks now?’
Clyde bumped against my foot. ‘Asked.’
‘For Clyde’s sake, yes,’ Raven said grandly. ‘As I have said before, I consider him to be a friend.’
I glanced at the high fence. There was no sight nor sound of my neighbour. ‘So, while you’re here, could you seal up a couple of thin places?’
‘The two near the fence?’ The dragon took an exaggerated sniff through his nostrils. ‘The herbivore droppings aren’t enough to keep out intruders?’
‘No, although I’d hoped they might.’
Raven chuckled. ‘You didn’t leave the mess there to keep out unwelcome visitors. You just haven’t had the desire to dispose of it.’
Sometimes the dragon knew me all too well. ‘Well, it hasn’t kept out a certain prevaricating manticore. I’d like to close them up.’ Clyde made a noise of protest, and I bent down to meet his eyespots. ‘You can carve out a small one afterwards, just big enough for snail sharks. Remember?’
Raven held out one forefoot. The early sunlight danced across the green scales and shone from his golden claws. ‘Just a small cut will do.’
I pulled the penknife from my pocket. ‘Are you sure? The crossings are around six feet tall.’
‘It takes very little to seal a thin place.’
The sharp blade cut into one toe
, and a line of red followed. Raven shook his foot, and drops of blood flew across the garden. I had hoped for a sign, like a ripple in the air or a muffled explosion. But I saw nothing except the fence. ‘Has it worked?’
‘Both are gone,’ Raven assured me.
‘Can the blood of any dragon seal up a thin place?’ I asked him. ‘Or only that of search dragons?’
‘How would I know? But only a search dragon can find thin places. So it’s a rather pointless question. Any other dragon wouldn’t know where to fling their blood.’
A blur of blue and purple announced Jago’s presence. ‘Raven, Raven, Raven,’ he chanted excitedly, his long tail fanning out behind him as he hovered in front of the dragon. ‘Is it time for another adventure?’
Raven cocked his head. ‘The day is still young. Perhaps Penny would like to suggest one?’
‘Penny,’ I said firmly, ‘has work to do, starting with Morning Prayer. But thank you for the cow, Raven. It’s saved me a trip to the supermarket.’
‘Then some other time, young gryphon,’ Raven said to Jago.
Jago was still beating his wings near the dragon’s eyes. ‘Can’t I go with you now?’
From the twist in Raven’s horns, I could see that the idea held little appeal. I was about to say something, when Clyde spoke up. ‘Need you.’
‘Really, Uncle Clyde?’ Jago dropped to the ground to land beside the snail.
Raven grunted. ‘The smell of that cow’s made me hungry. Enjoy praying to that deity of yours, Penny.’
I waited until the dragon had cleared the garden before turning my attention to Clyde. ‘What do you need?’
‘Church,’ the snail replied.
‘Some of the snail sharks want to go to church,’ Jago added. ‘He thought maybe they could come on Sunday. The pups are really interested.’
I thought longingly of the coffee slowly going cold in the kitchen. ‘That could be difficult. You know how the Sight works. People wouldn’t be able to see any of you. They might, well, step on someone.’
Browns and greys swirled through Clyde’s body, and he wriggled his tentacles. ‘Jesus.’