by Kim M Watt
“What, on your own?” Rosemary asked.
“With us,” Beaufort said.
“Some of us,” Amelia amended. “Some of us shouldn’t be allowed out at all.”
Gilbert made a face at her.
“But what are you going to do?” Pearl asked. “Call the police if you find the other farms empty?”
Miriam scratched her shoulder. “Um.”
“I’m not sure we need bother the police at this stage,” Beaufort said. “Not if it’s just an empty farm.”
“We need to do something,” Rose said, hands on her hips. Angelus was sitting next to her, making Mortimer nervous. Why did he have to be so big? “Bloody developers! I bet they haven’t even carried out proper research into the wildlife species in the area!”
“But what can we really do?” Jasmine asked. “I mean, even if they start using diggers and so on, it’s their land.”
“There are regulations, though,” Gert said. “It being the national park and all.”
“It’s not right!” Rose shouted. “Do you know how many times I’ve seen species wiped out because someone wanted a new car park?”
“Preach!” Gilbert said, and Amelia shoved him into the petunias.
“I do see that,” Teresa said, plucking at her leggings. They were patterned with mermaid scales. “But I’m rather with Jasmine here. We can’t really stop them.”
“We can’t let them hurt the Folk, though,” Priya said. “That’s not right.”
“No, we just need to see what’s going on,” Miriam started, but Rose shouted over her.
“Sabotage! We need to find their machines and put sugar in the tanks!”
“Slash their tyres!” Gilbert cheered, scuttling away from Amelia.
“Easy, now,” Beaufort said.
“Yes, we’re not doing any of that unless we absolutely have to,” Miriam said, but now Rose was shouting about the extinction of some sort of frog, and Pearl was pointing out that if everyone looked the other way all the time people could get away with the worst things, and Teresa was nodding and saying civil disobedience was sometimes the best option, and Amelia was still chasing Gilbert across the garden. Angelus took the opportunity to jump up and stick his nose in Mortimer’s face, and Mortimer pushed him away with a yelp of alarm.
“Oh dear,” Beaufort said. “And we just got away from this at the cavern.”
Miriam slammed her cricket bat into the ground and shouted, “Everyone be quiet!”
“And what about the bats?” Rose roared. She was really very loud for someone so small. “There are at least three endangered varieties in these woods!”
“Save the bats!” Pearl shouted, apparently caught up in it all.
“Quiet,” Beaufort said. His voice was a rumble Mortimer could feel in his scales, rolling around the garden and silencing the evening birds as well as the women. Angelus dived behind Rose with a whine, and Jasmine’s dog kept yapping hysterically from the shelter of the bag, but everyone else looked at Beaufort.
“Excuse me?” Priya said, and Gert crossed her arms, scowling at the High Lord in a most impressive way.
“Please,” Beaufort added, giving Gert an alarmed look. “Miriam was trying to say something.”
Everyone looked at Miriam, and she cleared her throat. She was very pink. “Alright, then. Everyone done shouting?” There were agreeable noises from around the table, and a Ha! from somewhere in the garden as Amelia finally caught up to her brother.
“So, my – our – idea is that we go and check these other farms and see if they really are empty. And if we see anything that suggests they’re up to something dodgy—”
“We attack?” Rose asked hopefully.
“No, we call Colin.”
“What if they’re up to something now, though?” Gert asked. “Like they’ve started bulldozing the woods or knocking down buildings?”
“Well, we thought that if we absolutely had to the dragons could slash the tyres, and then we’d call Colin.”
“I like it,” Rose said. “But what if there’s people around? The dragons won’t be able show themselves. What’s the plan then?”
“Oh.” Miriam scratched her arm. “Oh, that’s a good point. Maybe we could, um, film them?” Everyone looked at her silently. Even Pearl’s old Labrador, who’d slept through Beaufort’s bellow, lifted her head and stared.
“We stand in front of the machines,” Rosemary said. “Do a full protest.”
Mortimer gave Beaufort a horrified look. Surely they couldn’t let that happen? But the High Lord was just watching, fascinated.
“We could,” Miriam said slowly. “That could work! Rainbow and I used to chain ourselves to trees when we were younger.”
Mortimer thought Miriam’s older sister probably still chained herself to trees, given his last encounter with her.
Jasmine had gone very pale. “That sounds awfully dangerous.”
“They won’t hurt you, dear,” Teresa said, patting her shoulder. “Not with all of us as witnesses.”
“Well, obviously we won’t do anything that endangers us—” Miriam started.
“I do see one problem,” Gert said.
“What’s that?” Miriam asked.
“If they have got more than one farm, how do we know where to start?”
“We may be able to help there,” Beaufort said.
“Oh no, you have to stay out of sight,” Miriam said. “You can come in the car, but you can’t go flying about the place.”
Beaufort looked startled. “But of course we can.”
“Look at that sky,” Pearl said. “Perfectly clear. No, that’s a terrible idea.”
“Oh,” Beaufort said, and looked at Mortimer. “Really?”
Mortimer gave a funny little shrug that he hoped indicated that he didn’t think anyone should be doing any of this, but that he also agreed flying around in the evening light was a bad idea.
“Pre-emptive strike,” Rose said. “I really think it’s the only option.”
“I don’t think it’s a very good option,” Jasmine said, hugging her dog bag a little closer. “I mean, that’s vandalism.”
“What they’re doing to the woods is devastation!”
“If they’re doing it,” Miriam reminded her.
There was silence as the ladies of the Toot Hansell Women’s Institute considered their options, then Carlotta said, “When I was young—”
“In the old country?” Rosemary interrupted.
Carlotta glanced at her and said, “Manchester, actually. I may have learnt a few things regarding how to disable vehicles without actually damaging them.”
“What, like removing batteries?” Priya asked. “That’s quite heavy work.”
“No, wires, mostly,” she said, and Rosemary nodded.
“And here I thought you were going to suggest leaving a horse’s head on the seat or something.”
Carlotta snorted. “You’re racist, that’s your problem.”
“Against Lancastrians? Completely.”
Miriam said, “That’s all very well, but there’s something else as well. The last time we went to a farm someone showed up almost immediately, and he wasn’t very nice.”
“Danger keeps you young,” Rose said.
Miriam shook her head. “These could be the same people that sabotaged Alice’s car, remember. It’s not like they’re just going to scold us and send us away. It could be dangerous. I can’t ask you to come with me.”
The ladies of the Toot Hansell Women’s Institute stared at her, then Rose started laughing. Gert joined in, and within a moment the only ones not laughing were Miriam and the dragons. Miriam had gone very pink.
“I had to say it,” she pointed out.
“You are silly,” Pearl said, still giggling.
“Well,” Gert said, “Miriam, you know more than any of us. We’re going, and you take the lead.”
“Really?” Miriam squeaked.
“Yes,” Gert said, and looked around the t
able.
Everyone nodded, still wiping eyes and laughing a little, and Mortimer sagged to the ground and took a deep, wobbly breath of air. He’d been half-convinced the Women’s Institute were about to add guerrilla warfare to their skill set, but with Miriam in charge they should be safe.
“Alright,” Miriam said, then took a deep breath and stood up straight. “Alright. We go, we observe without getting too close, and if anything happens we call the police and protest peacefully.”
“Boo,” Rose said, but without any real vehemence.
Getting four dragons and one woman into an old Volkswagen Beetle was complicated, to say the least. Mortimer rather thought that they should have waited for one of the other ladies to come back with their car, and he was starting to regret insisting that they shouldn’t fly.
“Ow!” Amelia yelped. “Gil-bert, that’s my tail!”
“So? You’ve got your elbow in my ear!”
Both younger dragons pushed into the car further, and Mortimer was so squished against the side all he could do was squeak. Beaufort tucked Gilbert’s tail in, then climbed onto the front seat and looked at Miriam expectantly. “I think we’re all in.”
“Speak for yourself,” Mortimer mumbled to the window.
“Are you alright there?” Miriam asked. “Can you breathe?”
“Just.”
“Good.” She shut Beaufort’s door and went around to the driver’s side. “She’s sitting very low. I hope the suspension can take it.”
Mortimer hoped so too, and as they pulled away from the kerb he wriggled around, trying to create a little space. “Have you told Alice?”
“No,” Miriam said. “I don’t want her worrying.”
“This is most unlike you,” Beaufort said, regarding Miriam with enormous interest.
“I suppose so,” she said. “But sometimes one just has to do what one can, isn’t that what you said?”
“I did indeed,” Beaufort agreed, and sat back, making Gilbert yelp as the front seat settled. “I’m glad someone listens.”
19
Alice
Alice wondered how Miriam was managing, explaining the whole thing to the W.I. She hoped no one was getting too overexcited about it all. She probably should have done it herself, but she hadn’t wanted to deal with answering questions and calming fears right now. She hadn’t wanted to sit there being completely unruffled and steadfast, because she didn’t feel much of either. It was the envelope that was annoying her, more than anything. That feeling of utter distaste that had washed over her at the very touch of it. It made no sense.
When she had arrived home she had made herself a cup of tea and sat for a long time with the envelope – the envelope she had told DI Adams she’d dropped – and a photo of the letter itself open on her phone, looking from one to the other and trying to decide just what it was that was so disturbing about it. Her tea had grown cold and she’d made another, then gone back to staring at the envelope, interrupted only by the arrival of the entire W.I., which seemed to have alarmed DC Smythe rather a lot. Alice had sent them away and gone back to staring, but still, nothing. Just the feeling that she was missing something, that all these pieces – the empty farms, the bribes, the deaths – were all connected in a way that would be so obvious once she found it. But she wasn’t at all sure how she was meant to do that.
Eventually she decided food might help, and with rather more indecision than usual she fished some pasta and chicken out of the fridge and set herself to chopping and frying and simmering. It wasn’t a distraction exactly, but it was at least something to do.
She seared chicken in a pan then tipped it onto kitchen roll to drain while she cooked off garlic and onions in the same pan. When they came back together she added white wine, pouring a decent glass for herself. She was a firm believer in cooking with the same quality of wine one would drink. Not only was there less waste, it made cooking rather more pleasant.
Once the dish was made, pesto and basil and peas tossed into the sauce and the whole lot mixed into a pot of tagliatelle, she dished up a generous serving and popped it on a tray with a glass of sparkling water and some cutlery, then took it out to the detective constable. DC Smythe was staring at a very soggy-looking tomato sandwich when Alice leaned down to offer her the tray.
“Since you can’t come in,” she said, hoping it conveyed the fact that she wasn’t extending an invitation in the event that the DC could come in.
“Oh! Oh, thank you. That’s lovely.” DC Smythe put her sandwich down hurriedly. “I—”
“Can’t have you starving.” Alice turned and marched back to the house, wondering whether to eat at the kitchen table as usual or whether to be slightly decadent and eat in front of the TV. She let herself back inside, locked the door, and decided on the kitchen table. Just because it had been a tough day was no reason to let standards slip.
She walked into the kitchen to find Thompson with his paw in the pan.
“Stop that!” she snapped. “Why do you insist on putting your paws in everything?”
“Would you rather I stuck my face in it?”
“I’d rather you waited until it was served to you, like the civilised creature you obviously believe yourself to be.” She examined the pan. “Which bit did you touch?”
“All of them,” he said, and if a cat could grin, Alice was quite sure he was doing just that.
She huffed, and scooped out a piece of chicken, putting it in a saucer. “If I get some hideous disease and turn into a cat lady, I’ll know why.”
“Cat ladies are mostly just people who see Folk,” Thompson said. “It does make you a bit odd.”
“I am not odd,” Alice said, even though she’d found herself picking up a scarf covered with tiny cat paw prints the other day. Insidious creatures.
“Do you know,” the cat said, examining the chicken, “this is entirely unlike a scallop.”
“Yes, well. I didn’t get to the fishmonger today.”
“Way to let the side down, Alice.”
She resisted a very strong desire to bop the cat on the nose. “For your information, someone sabotaged my car, and Miriam was very lucky not to be injured.”
“Whoa.” The cat scratched his chin with a back foot. “Couldn’t you have gone afterward?”
“Eat your chicken, you ungrateful stray.”
“Kidding, kidding.” He looked at the plate. “Can you at least scrape that green stuff off?”
Alice poked him in the side, but she picked up the chicken and wiped the pesto off with some kitchen roll, then fished a few more pieces out of the pan and did the same to them. Then she put the saucer on the floor. Thompson glared at her, tail thumping, and she put it on the table instead. “You’re insufferable,” she told him as she dished up pasta for herself.
“But adorable.”
“No.” She took her wine and pasta to the table. “Mostly just insufferable.”
Thompson snorted and jumped up next to her as she sat down. “So, other than the attempt on your life, how’s your day been?”
“I have no car and am being guarded by a police officer.”
“Living to the max.” He gnawed on a piece of chicken. “You want to know what I found out?”
“Enlighten me.” She took a mouthful of pasta and tested the sauce. It could have done with some fresh spinach, but she hadn’t had time to get that either. Never mind. The basil from the garden was excellent.
“So I couldn’t find so much as a whisper through the official channels about vanishing livestock and so on.”
“Well, that’s helpful.”
Thompson narrowed his green eyes at her. “We need to get you another car immediately, if this is what you’re like without transport. You call me insufferable?”
“Well, you aren’t exactly telling me anything useful, Thompson.”
“Listen and learn, impatient human.”
They glared at each other, then Alice nodded. “Fine. I shall be quiet.”
�
��Good.” Thompson made a show of eating another bite of chicken, then said, “So I’ve got an in with the shadow Watch—”
“The who?”
He licked sauce from his chops. “You’re doing excellent at the keeping quiet thing.”
“I may be missing vital information here.”
“Gods. Okay, look. You know how every organisation has a department that keeps it on the straight and narrow?”
“Like internal affairs?”
“Yeah, along those lines. So, the Watch being what it is, we don’t officially have anything like that. We know we all work for the common good, which is to keep Folk and humans apart. Who’d go against it? Plus, cats. We don’t like being questioned.”
“I see. You must have a lot of faith in each other.”
“Eh. Not all of us. So there’s a shadow Watch, even though we all pretend there isn’t. It makes sure that the Watch doesn’t get too enthusiastic. You know, cleaning up problems that just need tidying, so to speak.”
Alice didn’t know, but she got the gist. No matter what the species, it seemed certain people were always inclined to err too far on the side of caution. “I’m still not sure how you do that.”
“Remember the journalist at the manor house? How I told him he’d seen nothing, and that was it? He forgot me, the bollies in the walls, everything?”
“I do.” It had been most odd. Thompson had still been in front of the man, and all he’d seen was a normal, un-talking cat. If that actually was a normal cat. Alice had doubts these days.
“So that’s a thing we can do. Another thing we can do is vanish people. Some cats get so they use one when they should be using the other, because they want to be sure.”
Alice nodded, and took a sip of wine. She’d known people like that. She still did, she supposed, only they didn’t wear uniform anymore. They wore suits and preached immigration and jobs instead of national security and air space.
“Anyhow, the shadow Watch is unofficial, and secret. They monitor the Watch, and they know things the Watch hasn’t stumbled across yet. Often they sort things out before the Watch can even get wind of it. Even they hadn’t heard about the vanishings, but they were most interested.”