The Other Big Secret Volume 2: Rabbit Stew

THE OTHER BIG SECRET 2: RABBIT STEW / CH. 1:ROSE

LONDON, TUESDAY, OCTOBER 21ST 1975

Rose, not really of a fixed abode, saw the strange man going into the lawyers. That was novel, even for him, normally he just phoned them. For some reason she really wanted to find out what happened next.

----------------------------------------

The man knocked at the door of the lawyers' office, he was probably in his thirties, well-built, calm, but he had a watchful air about him. The secretary let him in. He recognised her voice from the phone. It was just after twelve o'clock, he noticed.

“Good afternoon. I'm James Turnbull, I rang earlier, can you confirm that I really have the pleasure of having finally tracked down the practice described in the old letter?”

“Yes, Mr Turnbull, assuming the details you gave me are correct, we're the continuation of that practice.” The secretary replied. “I can show you the old deeds of partnership if you wish.”

“Wonderful! It's taken me quite a lot of tracking down to find you. Seven different places of business, not to mention partners coming and going!”

“Could I ask why you needed to find us?”

“Oh, sorry. My grandfather left instructions that on his death a trust be established for his heirs, I've come to let you update the family tree.”

“Urm, I don't quite understand, surely the register of Births, Deaths and Marriages...”

He shook his head, “My grandfather left here as a missionary in 1905 and lived out his life in an isolated tribe. I have the records of births deaths and marriages such as they are, here, with me. My father was killed in a shark attack before he could come and say 'Hello, Dad did have kids, by the way.' So I thought I really ought to come and do my family duty, just in case some shark got me too.”

“I told the senior partner you'd asked for an appointment. You'll need to speak to him.” she said, a little flustered at the thought of man-eating sharks, and ushered him through to the plush office.

“Mr Fotheril, this is Mr Turnbull. He says the partnership holds his inheritance in trust.”

“Now that's a significant name. I trust you can prove identity?”

“Jacob Turnbull was my grandfather. He left this letter of instructions, which you should have a copy of, and he also left me his grandfather's signet ring.”

“You have the ring here?”

“Yes.” James said.

“You must understand, I can't just hand over five million pounds without some checking, might I see the ring?”

“Of course. But I'm not actually here to claim the inheritance, so much as update your records.”

“Update our records?”

“Yes, I've got Grandfather's family Bible here, we felt that it might be appropriate for the births, deaths and marriages to be recorded with the trust document.”

“So your grandfather found his remote tribe, did he? It's sort of a legend in the practice.”

“Yes. He was held prisoner for the first five years, but claimed he didn't mind one bit, because they treated him well and it gave him plenty of peace and quiet to learn the language well enough to translate the Bible.”

“After that he stayed?”

“Of course. He was fascinated with the tribe's myths and legends, which go back to Odysseus and beyond. Some say we're a Greek people who fled the Romans, others say... well, other things. Who can tell?” He shrugged, “But anyway, he stayed, and after a long and exhausting search I've finally caught up with you.”

“Urm, yes. The practice does have rather a complex history.”

“So, regarding the trust.”

“You'd like to to continue? I must say that while it's valid, the whole 'a descendent of mine who carries this signet ring' thing is positively archaic, and not exactly fool-proof, you know.”

“Well, I suppose you could tell me the options.”

The lawyer went to the safe and leafed through some of the papers in it.

“First, I ask that you make an impression of the ring, so I can compare with the copy I have here.”

That procedure didn't take nearly as long as James had expected.

“Yes, yes, that seems to match. Now, if you can give me the password?”

“Password?” James asked, confused.

“Yes. One of my predecessors finally received a letter, about five years after your grandfather had been declared legally dead I might add, bearing the mark of the ring, adding a codicil that required the ring-bearer to also name Mr Turnbull's wife.”

“Oh. Urm, Yes, I can do that. Which bit of her name?”

“Pardon?”

“Names are complex things. Are you asking for my Grandmother's first name, her maiden name, her common name, the name he gave her on their wedding day, or her full name which is a mixture of genealogy and history, and would take up quite a lot of paper.”

“I'm looking for three words. I'd guess it's her maiden name.”

“The common form of her maiden name is Sathzakara Karella Lamura.” seeing how the lawyer's face reacted, James went on, “But the normal form of her name around the time that letter was sent would have been Sathzakara Far-seer Evangelia Turnbull.”

“Ah, that's the name, but without the Turnbull. So among her people names change?”

“They get added to, other bits pass into disuse. Karella and Lamura were her parents, so once she's known by some other deed, then you don't need to say their names any more.”

“Oh, I see. I think. Yes, I can update our records, that's no problem.” He looked at the entries in the Bible. “I'm guessing the tribe lives somewhere near the sea.”

“Yes. A little bit of farming and a lot of fishing. Most of the danger's at sea, as you can see.” There were four deaths by shark, two by storm, one by rock-slide, one by jellyfish, and two that really stuck out.

“I see a lot of shark attacks, how do you die by submarine?”

“He was fishing, it got caught in his net and dragged him under.”

“And his wife died from radiation?”

“That's our best guess, yes. My parents were looking after her daughter anyway — she was a bit strange after her husband's death, and she went sailing around parts of the pacific. She didn't keep very good notes, but it looks like she might have visited Bikini Atol or some other test site. She was starting to get sick by the time she came home.”

“She went sailing single-handed around the Pacific Ocean?”

“Well, wandering from island to island, anyway. I told you, she went odd.”

“I must say, I'm amazed! How did she survive?”

“Fishing, mostly, like at home. Maybe a bit of trade.”

“Can I ask, where is your home?”

“Oh, I'm sure you can ask, but I'm afraid I've taken a vow not to say.”

----------------------------------------

“So, that's it, then?” the dark-eyed beauty who'd said she was currently using the name Rose asked from the doorway where she'd been lurking. James wasn't surprised to see her: she seemed to have appointed herself to watch his every move, ever since he'd arrived in London, several weeks before. He guessed she was in her early twenties, but wasn't sure.

“I've done what I came to do.” James answered. He'd met her when he'd been at a pawn-brokers, exchanging some gold jewelery for some money. Jewelery was pretty easy to find in his experience, if you could see well underwater and didn't mind getting wet. Paper money, however, was a lot less waterproof.

She'd oohed and ahhed over it and persuaded the pawn-broker to offer James a sum that was much closer to their real value. He wasn't quite sure what had motivated her to, but he was grateful, and had bought her a meal when she hinted to him that it'd be appreciated. She was pleasant company, too, he had to admit, though she'd said almost as little about her past has he had.

“Seems like a lot of searching just to find some stuffy old lawyer and talk to him for an afternoon. I never thought you had that much money on you, it should have cost you a fortune.”

“Well, he was a pleasant enough bloke. As for money, he paid me.”

“Oh! Well let's go talk to him some more then! I could do with some extra cash.”

“I expect it doesn't work like that, sorry.”

“So, you're going to get those pretties back?” she asked.

“I suppose I could, but I don't really need them, and you haggled so well it's hardly worth paying the mark-up.”

“Oh, come on!” she protested “If you don't pay the mark-up, I don't get my tip!”

“Oh so that's how it works is it? He lets you persuade him to part with more cash and then he gets a bigger mark-up?”

“O' course!” she said with an open smile.

“Maybe I ought to buy at least some of them back then, it'd be a poor recompense for all your good advice if I didn't.”

“You really are a puzzle, you know?”

“Who, me?”

“Yes. I can't place your accent, and I'm good with those. You don't seem to know squat about living on the street, but you've been sleeping rough on Wimbledon Common and so on as though there's nothing unusual about that at all. You seek out a church, but don't know any hymns from the last century. But you do know the old ones and sing those like you know who you're singing to. And you sure know how to avoid people, it's uncanny. I guess you don't mind me around because you keep making it easy for me to find you. 'm I right?”

She was right. He'd decided early on it would be rude to vanish as soon as she'd found him again, and she was right about living on the streets. It was a comfort to him to know she'd been around, in case he got in trouble. He nodded and she carried on:

“Most men living rough don't bother to shave. Or wash.” she wrinkled her nose. “You do both, so you're unusual. You almost dress like a business-man, but business-men don't sleep rough. I've seen you laying snares for rabbits with more success than my Grandad ever did, an' 'e was one of the best. And then to crown it all you walk out of a lawyer's office with more money than you go in with, and I'm telling you that ain't the way of the world as I know it.”

“Ah, well. I'll be a good tale to tell your children then.”

“Is that a proposal? If so, yes.”

“It wasn't.” he said, surprised.

“Yes, anyway; I like you. Oh!” she blushed, “You're not married or something are you?”

“Not married, not something, either.”

“Then why not?”

“We don't actually know each other very well, you realise, Rose?”

“That can change. What do you say?”

“I say you're a beautiful woman and good company, but you don't know what you're asking for.”

“You're a long way not local, I reckon; that's good. I'm asking for out of here.”

“Why?”

“Firstly, I'm too old not to be married. Second, it's not exactly easy, living clean around here. You manage it, I see that, I've managed it so far, but I've come real close to the edge, you know? 'Specially in winter-time. And I've got people that'd really like to see me fall apart.”

“So, you'd trust yourself to a stranger?”

“You're a good man. I've seen that. You even pray before you eat your rabbit. Not many would do that.”

“Why not? And if you were close enough to see that, why didn't you invite yourself to the meal?”

“There's a name for a woman who invites herself to a man's campsite for the night. My name's bad enough anyway without lowering myself to that.”

“But you stayed close?” He's known someone was, and had guessed it was her.

“I reckoned that if I screamed you'd come and help, so I was safer near than far.”

“I probably would have.” he agreed. “I don't even know if you're a Christian. Are you?” She'd followed him to church, but he wasn't sure if that was from faith or curiosity.

“Jesus died for me. The righteous for the unrighteous. Yeah. God's good, unlike lots of people. So, you're Christian, I'm Christian, you need a woman, I need a man. What do you say?”

“Why do you say I need a woman?”

“I've watched your eyes. And you don't have a gun in your pocket, I'm pretty sure.”

“I've got a pocket knife.” he said, and heard her decide he'd totally missed the reference. He agreed, and smiled “So, what did you mean, about the gun?”

“Old line from a film. 'Have you got a gun in your pocket or are you pleased to see me?' You've never watched it?”

“I've seen... urm... I think it's two films in my life.”

“Wow! Where have you been living, man?”

“A long way from here. Where camping out is normal, but not often as miserably wet as it is here, and lunch means catching rabbits if you don't like fish. Can you swim?”

“I didn't drown when I jumped in the Thames. Yeah, I can swim.”

James pulled a face. “I'm not sure I'd want to swim in that.”

“Me neither. It was that or worse.”

He made a decision, but it wasn't in a language she recognised. “Come on, Rose.”

“Does that mean yes?” she asked in surprise. It had been a really long shot.

“It means we're going to get those pretties you mentioned. Then I'm going to buy you a meal again.”

“And then?” she asked eagerly, hardly daring to hope, but doing so anyway.

“Then, you're going to tell me more about yourself. And maybe I'll return the favour. But I'm thinking that it's not getting any warmer at night, and now I don't need to save every penny for lawyer hunting, I might ask you to help me find a cheap place for us to stay for a week or so, where we can do a lot of talking. Separate rooms, of course. Where do you stay when it's cold?”

“Here and there. Sometimes even at my mum's.” Rose answered.

“Is that such a bad place to be?”

“Not really. Just too much verbal. Too much 'When are you going to get married and settle down, girl?' 'Why are you living rough when you've got a room here?' 'Why do you keep disappearing for weeks on end?' 'Do you realise what you're doing to your reputation?' and so on.”

“She's got a point.”

“She's got lots of points, like a cactus. That's why I stay away. There's only so many times you can say 'I don't know' before it gets irritating. Plus Dad trying to drink himself to death isn't good for my head. I just don't fit at home.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Has your mum got a spare room?”

“You are not serious!” Rose protested.

“I see a phone-box. Actually, I smelt it first, but I'm used to that. Is she on the phone?”

“Yes.” Rose admitted.

“Who do I ask for?”

“Mrs Abbot. She does take lodgers sometimes. Please don't do this!”

“Rose, if I do take you with me when I go, then you'll vanish. There's not exactly many phones where I live. There's no point making them think you're lying half-dead in a ditch somewhere, is there?”

“No.”

“So, I stay with your mum, you too, we talk. I let you read what I showed the lawyer. You decide maybe you don't want that life, and find someone more civilised to spend your life with.”

As they waited for the phone box to be free, she asked. “What did you show him?”

“Family Bible: births marriages and deaths. Lots of deaths.” Rose heard him decide to press on, and try to scare her off. “On my dad's side, I had two uncles and an aunt. My dad, my uncles, my uncle's wives, and my aunt's husband are all dead. I had six cousins, one died aged ten, his dad died trying to save him in a storm, his brother died age fifteen, failing to protect his mother from a shark. The other cousins married, one lost her first husband, another lost his wife. What I'm saying is: you think life here is dangerous, it is. But it's not exactly safe where I come from; not many live long enough to get old. Your survival skills that count here probably don't mean much there, either.”

The litany of death scared her, he could see. “So your parent's generation are all dead?”

“All but mother, and an aunt on my Dad's side. There are more survivors on Mum's side of the family.”

“Dear Lord! And you're serious about going back though?”

“Yes. My family probably need me.”

“You don't feel like moving them somewhere safer?”

He laughed, but it had a bitter edge to it. “That is somewhere safer. You've got a lot of immunity my family don't. I've been careful and also pretty lucky not to catch anything fatal. I assure you we'd rather die from being careless near a shark than watch the family die from one of the things you immunise your children against, or the childhood illnesses that we've never been exposed to. A hundred and fifty years or so ago, a half a generation died of a plague. From what my grandfather could work out, it was what you'd call a nasty cold.”

“But....”

“It's not fatal here, because everyone gets them, so everyone's fairly immune.”

“So, you're taking a risk? Just being here?”

“Yes, taking risks is part of what's called being alive, isn't it?”

“I hope it's worth it.” Rose said, looking at him curiously. She really wanted to know what he'd been talking to that lawyer about.

He shrugged “It'll probably only matter in another fifty years or so. So, now you know a little bit more about me, do you want to have a re-think?”

She shook her head.

“You're a bit daft, you know?” he challenged.

“Oh I know that. But maybe we're suited to each other.”

“What's your mum's number?”

“I'll dial it. You're not going to make me talk to her are you?”

“Should I?” he teased. “I've heard she might have a room to rent, that's all. What should I offer?”

“Ask to see it first. Say you can't know what it's worth until you've seen it.” she said, turning the familiar number on the dial.

The mechanism clicked the final digits and he heard the tone of it ringing at the other end.

A woman's voice confirmed the number, and he heard the coin drop.

“Hello? Mrs Abbot? I've heard that you might have a room for rent.”

“You've got a funny accent.” she said, suspicious and racist. “You're not black are you?”

“No, Mrs Abbot. I'm told I've got a bit of Greek in my ancestry, so maybe I'm a bit darker skinned than the average Englishman.”

“Oh, Greek's all right. It'll be twenty pounds a week. In advance.” Rose shook her head, no way it was worth that much.

“Could I come and have a look? I'm not going to agree a price until I've seen the room, Mrs Abbot.”

“All right, where are you? You'll want directions.”

“It's OK, Mrs Abbot, I'm sure the person who gave me your number can tell me. I'm guessing I'll be round in about an hour, is that convenient?”

“Oh, yes, yes, all right.”

“See you then, then. Goodbye.”

He put the phone down, just as it started to beep to warn him to put more money in.

“You should have let her give you directions.” Rose said.

“Why?”

“Now she'll be in a panic about who's been giving out her number.”

“Well, she would anyway, wouldn't she? And this way it won't be a total shock that there's someone with me. Just the who. Or do you often persuade men to lodge with her?”

“What? Never! And it was your idea, remember?”

“Thinking along those lines, how many men have you proposed to? Just for interest's sake.”

“None.” he gazed at her until she felt uncomfortable “Well, OK, just you. Mum is going to hit the roof.”

“Is that another film quote?”

“No. Just an expression. Expect screams and shouting.”

“Especially when you tell her you want me to carry you off to far flung lands.”

“Urm, yeah.” she said, not looking forward to that conversation one bit.

“Out of interest... no, too soon to ask.”

“What?”

“Oh well. Consider me an ignorant savage...”

“Ignorant well-dressed savage.”

“I'm just guessing, but I think getting married is a bit more complicated here than it is at home.”

“How complicated is it there?”

“Call friends and relatives for a party and when people say why, you say, we've decided, we're getting married this evening.”

She looked at him in shock. “You're 'aving me on.”

“Some might say tomorrow evening.”

“You're serious?”

“Oh dear. I'm guessing a lot more complicated.”

“Church wedding here, you need at least a month's notice, I think. People are normally engaged for a year or so.”

“Engaged meaning... something like betrothed?”

“Yes.”

“That's tricky.”

“When do you need to go back?”

“I don't want to wait until next year. The later I leave, the worse the weather.”

“How will you travel? Not plane, I'm guessing.”

“No.... a fairly small boat.”

“I don't think I get seasick.” Rose offered.

“The way we'll be going it shouldn't be too rough, most of the time. But there's only one cabin.”

“For you and the crew?”

“No crew. Just us, assuming...”

“Oh.”

“And... Rose, it's borrowed, not mine, so don't go telling you parents I've got a private boat.”

“And I'm guessing it's not a luxury yacht.”

“Luxury? No. Old, and battered, yes. But... really, it'd be better if you don't mention it. It'd be awkward if your Mum decided she wanted to wave us goodbye.”

“How awkward?”

He shook his head. “You'll see if you're coming with me.”

“But not if I don't.”

“Exactly.” James agreed. “So, your parents are alive, any brothers or sisters?”

“Yes. I'm the youngest. Mum had three of each. You've met one brother, he's got some pretties of yours.”

“Oh. This'll be interesting then.”

“Why?”

“'Patience is a virtue', as my grandfather used to say.”

“He's dead too?”

“Yes. He actually died of old age, a few years ago. Grandma's still going strong, too. Isn't six kids rather a lot for here?”

“It's... cultural.” she looked embarrassed.

“I'm not complaining.”

“I guess you don't realise, do you? You just think I'm English?”

“Aren't you?”

“Yes, sort of. I've probably got some Greek blood in me too, if you go back far enough. How far back is yours?”

“A few thousand years.”

She started laughing. It was a rich, sincere laugh, and it carried on as though it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. “Oh, that's precious! But don't tell Mum, she'll think you were taking the mickey out of her.”

“We wouldn't want that, would we?” James asked.

“Depends how loud you want the screams.”

“You have a nice laugh. You should use it more often.”

“I don't get the chance very often. I think it's just so typical of Mum. She hates it when people pick on us, but she'll pick on Black people any time she can.”

They continued chatting, and James felt more and more certain that he could get used to Rose being around. He was careful to think those thoughts in his mother's tongue, rather than his father's. He wasn't sure yet if Rose could hear thoughts, but he thought she could. He'd test it soon enough.

----------------------------------------

“Hello, Rose tells me she wants her tip.” James said, handing over the receipt. The man shot Rose a sharp glance. Why had she told a customer that?

“Where 'ave you been, Rose?” he asked. “You've been gone for more than a week.”

“'anging round, here and there, Rick.” she shrugged. “Seeing life in different bits of the city. I ran into your customer here and reminded him he ought to settle up if he wanted his pretties back.”

“There you go, sir, all safe and sound.” Rick said. “That'll be a hundred and ten pounds, as agreed.”

James got out his wallet. He'd put some of the money in there, most of the money he'd put elsewhere on his person and in his briefcase.

“So, you make ten on the deal, and it would have been five originally, I seem to remember. How big a tip does Rose get for her part?” he asked curiously, “Other than the meal she cadged off me, after last time, of course?”

“She did that, did she?” he asked, disapprovingly. “What'd your mum say 'bout eating with strange men, Rosie?”

“Nothing, 'cause you're not going to tell her, are you?”

“Probably not. Here's your tip, Rosie: 'Don't ever tell customers how you operate.'”

As Rose drew her breath to retort, James picked up the necklace. It had a fine gold chain, and held an emerald which was so big that everyone thought it must be glass. At first sight, it looked like the cheapest piece of the whole collection: the gold in it didn't weigh much, and of course glass was cheap. James knew better, that it had been part of some treasure trove lost at sea centuries before, but that didn't matter, it needed to be worn and he wanted to give Rose something. As to the value, he'd found something of equal value every few months when he'd been scavenging. So far he'd only met one Rose. “Here, Rose. A little something for your trouble, if Rick can't tip his own sister properly.” he offered it to her.

“Hey! That's worth at least a fiver! Her tip ought to have been fifty pee!” Rick protested.

“Well, maybe Rose will let you value it properly some time, Rick. it's hers now.”

“James!” Rose protested, without accepting it. “You can't do this!”

“Why not? It needs a neck to go round, and I don't think mine would do. Come on, turn round, let me put it on you.”

Unwillingly, but getting no help from her brother behind the counter, Rose let James put the necklace round her neck. It was the first time they'd touched. [I picked it up cheap, but the stone's not glass, Rose.] he thought to her.

[{shock}You hear me?] She asked, she'd gone from just speechless to white, he noticed.

[Of course. Don't pass out.] he broke the contact.

Rick's brain was the first to recover, and his big-brotherly thought processes were getting suspicious. “Just how well do you two know each other?”

“Not well enough.” James said.

“So, one meal together? Or more than one?” He looked at his sister, who was still staring at James in shock.

“One meal, so far.” James said, “But I'm about to try and rent a room from your mother, so hopefully we'll have more time to talk.”

“James isn't staying long.” Rose said. “But I think I want to go with him. He's a better trapper than Grandad. I was curious, so I've been watchin' 'im.”

“You've been watching him. That's where you've been?”

“Yeah. I didn't have much else to do. Not all the time. A girl's got to eat.”

“Oh yes, and how did you do that?”

She shrugged. “Bit of fake palm reading. It's easy money.”

“I don't know how you manage to do that.” Rick said.

“It's easy! I just go up to a group of people and say 'Want me to pretend to read your palm? I'm a genuine gypsy fake palm-reader, I won't tell you your future, but you can pretend it is if you like, just a couple of bob.' It gets a few laughs and then they try to guess how I'm so accurate. Once one punter's agreed, half the others have a go too. A quid or two for ten minute's work.”

“That's my amazing sister, all right.” Rick said, appreciatively, “You really think you can keep up with her?” he asked James.

“I think 'e can, Rick. I'm not sure I can keep up with 'im, though. He let me catch up with him, at least twice a day.”

James shrugged. “It seemed important to her, so it didn't seem polite to just leave her with no trail.”

“And you can catch rabbits.” Rick said. “Anything else to keep the wolf at bay?”

“Hunting, fishing, done it all my life. I know what you can eat and what you can't. I can put the meat on the table, and if there's no table I've made a few before now, and could again.” he sighed, seeing that survival skills weren't what Rick had meant, and added “And I can also spot the difference between an emerald and a bit of glass a lot faster than the average man, which is how I got hold of the small fortune I've just put round Rose's neck.”

“It's glass.” Rick said, confidently.

“Got a loupe?” Rose asked, looking at the stone.

As Rose examined it, James said “Minor cracks, none reaching the top, some reaching the bottom, none penetrating more than about a tenth of the way in. To be precise, about where I got it, a friend had found it, and was letting his five year old daughter play dressing up with it. He very happily swapped it for a necklace for his wife with a little diamond in it.”

“I think he's right, Rick.” Rose agreed.

“Where did your friend get it?” Rick asked, having his turn.

“He told his daughter it was in this pirate's treasure chest he found once. But maybe he picked it up at a market or something.” James said, providing an alternative story that was a little more believable than the truth.

Rick laughed as did Rose, but then she looked at him a little curiously, and decided that later on she'd ask him where it had really been, James guessed she didn't think his people went to that many markets.

“Do you have any idea what this is worth?” Rick eventually asked.

“The last time it was valued, it was worth one necklace with a gold chain and a diamond about the size of an ant on it.” James answered truthfully.

“Rose? Want my house? I'll swap you for it.”

“Forget it, Rick.” she replied. “I've decided it's just glass.”

“Mum and Dad's house too?” Rick offered.

“Can't. Much though I'd love to hear Mum screaming at you for a change, James needs somewhere to stay, and it wouldn't be right for him to stay in the same house as me without Mum around, would it?”

“Why wouldn't Mum be around?”

“Can you imagine me letting her scream at me if I owned the house?” Rose asked. “Just don't you dare tell her or Dad it's not glass, OK?”

“Course not.” Rick agreed, then turned to James. “You know, I'd have tried to sell that necklace for about ten quid, if you hadn't reclaimed it.”

“So, that's it's value. Thank you, now Rose can say if anyone asks.” James said, with a smile.

“You really are a weird one, aren't you? I think you two'll get on fine. Excuse me while I go and cry into my account books.”

As they were leaving, Rose said over her shoulder, “I promise I'll leave it to your daughter, Rick, if you ever have one.”

“Thanks Rose. I'll let you tell her that when she's born. Any idea who the mother will be?”

“What about Jane?” she asked, turning back.

“History.”

“Didn't you once get on well with Samantha?”

“Once. Then I got to know her better.”

“Oh. Barbara?” Rose suggested.

“Engaged.”

“Really?”

“Just announced on Sunday, to the church organist guy.”

“Really? To greasy Nick? Yuck.” Rose said, pulling a face.

“Urm... Short-sighted Silvia?” she asked, running out of options.

“Amazingly enough, going out with someone.”

“Wow.”

“His glasses are even thicker than hers.”

“You're going to have to look further afield then.”

“I know.” Rick agreed.

“But if I meet any likely candidates I'll send them along, OK?”

“The others have said the same thing. Just what I need. My little sisters as matchmakers.”

“Hey, it's one of us or Mum. Who'd you rather trust?”

“Unfair choice!” he claimed.

----------------------------------------

Rose knocked on the door, and was somewhat amazed that she managed to speak first “Hi Mum, this is James, your new lodger. Assuming you don't try to rip him off.”

“Hello, Mrs Abbot.” James said.

“I've been sick with worry about you, girl, where've you been?”

“Here and there, mostly following this strange man in his intrepid hunt for a particular lawyer. It was an education in persistence. I don't think he's spent more than ten quid in the last two weeks, and most of that was on phone-calls.”

“What did he eat, then?”

“Rabbit, fresh fruit, mushrooms. It depended what I could catch or find.” James said, taking his lead from Rose.

“Fancy yourself as a bit of a trapper then, do you?” Mrs Abbot asked.

“He's better than grandad.”

“Maybe I've had more practice.” James added, with a shrug.

Mrs Abbot laughed raucously. “My Dad caught a rabbit every weekend for his entire life.”

James shrugged again. “I used to catch about ten a week, back home. Rabbits are more reliable than bigger game, but I got a few deer a year too. I had to be more careful, didn't want to deplete the population too much. Fish are easier, of course, but fish every day gets boring really fast, in my experience.”

Rose looked at him in surprise “That sounds like a lot of people you were feeding.”

“Yes.” he agreed, not wanting to go too far into the specifics.

“What are they eating now? No, don't tell me. Fish?”

“Got it in one. But I wasn't the only one who could set a trap so a rabbit wouldn't spot it.”

“Where'd you get that necklace, Rose?” her mother asked.

“Rick wouldn't give me a tip, so James gave it to me.”

“I thought it went with her eyes.” James said. “And I'm not going to wear it.”

“So you've been 'watching' him for a fortnight, have you girl. And what else has been going on?”

“You want an entire history?” Rose asked, resignedly. “I was at Rick's, in walked James Turnbull, here, looking almost business-man, speaking a bit odd, and put down a nice pile of pretties. I did my bit of talking up the offer, innocent James thought I was doing him a favour, and bought me a meal in thanks. Then he set off hunting down a lawyer. I saw him by chance that evening, heading to Wandsworth Common. I was curious, I followed, and saw him pick up a stone and brain a rabbit at fifty paces.”

“Thirty. And it was mostly luck.”

“Still impressive. I watched him pick up his meal, and saunter into the woods, where I lost him for a bit, but smelled the rabbit cooking in the end. I was a bit confused about where exactly I was, so I found a nice big tree in screaming distance, just in case, and spent the night there. Next day, I read some palms, got a meal and found him again. It wasn't hard, really, since I knew what he was doing: three phone-calls per box, then move to another box, so he didn't attract much attention, then move districts when he'd called all the possible numbers in that phone-book. I knew what he was looking for and I can read a phone-book just as well as he can. The second night he went to 'Dig your shallow graves here' Forest, and I stayed a bit closer to him that night, I can tell you. I saw him pray before eating his roast rabbit, and decided he couldn't be too bad, so on day three I warned him that hadn't a very good place to camp out, and he thanked me, asked for advice, and took it. And so on. He went to tourist information to find out about churches on Saturday and went to a good one on Sunday. He finally found his lawyer today, spent all afternoon there and says he came out with more money that he went in with. I believe him because he bought his pretties back from Rick, and gave me the necklace. Oh, before we went to Rick's place, I asked him what he thought about marrying me and he says we need to talk about it. Hush mum, or I won't finish. Now, he doesn't need to save every penny he's got, he said he'd like me to be sleeping under a roof and somehow I let slip that you're still alive and he suggested asking if you had a room he could rent. So, it's all his idea that we're here, it's all his idea that I tell you I'm planning on going with him, so you don't worry. But if you start screaming at me then I'm not staying. And since he wants to talk to me, I expect he'll follow. He's going home in less than six weeks, and I want to go with him. I know from what I've seen that he's not going to let me starve. I know he can live rough and take care of himself and others too. I'm sure he'd have shared his rabbit with me, or caught another one, but I didn't ask, I kept my distance, and watched him, trying to figure him out. I failed, he's off scale unusual, even more than me. I probably should have spoken to him more sooner, but I didn't, I just kept watching. I know he's generous, and he's a Christian, and his home is a long long way away. I think he's rich in all the right ways, and if he's rich in any other ways he doesn't seem to care about it, which suits me just fine.”

“So, you're just going to run off with him, are you?”

“I'd want us married first. By your rites if we can, but if Rose agrees it can be by my tribe's. That'd mean we'd take a vow in front of witnesses, to be man and wife until death, come what may. No paperwork involved.”

“I've heard that before.” Mrs Abbot said “What about divorce?”

“A vow can't be broken.” James said.

“What if someone does break it?” Mrs Abbot persisted.

“There are plenty of sharks around home for accidents, stupidity and divine retribution. And the women of my tribe are good with knives and spears if the sharks are a bit too slow. We don't break vows, not if we want to live. It's not murder to kill an oath-breaker, it's justice.”

Rose looked at him in awe. “See, Mum? He's entirely off your scale of weird. A whole society where someone makes a vow and they keep it. A whole society where they'd rather stick a knife in Dad than let him get near another bottle after all the times he's said he'd never touch another drop. I like the thought. If I could just surgically remove his addiction, life would be much more pleasant around here.”

“And what about your oath?” her mum asked.

“I'm not doing harm.” Rose replied, embarrassed and frustrated.

“You're not curing the sick, or passing your knowledge on to others, neither.”

“They don't want me, mum. I tried, I looked for work, remember? Qualified, but unwanted, that's me. I weird everyone out, and they get scared, think I'm going to turn into a mad axe murderer, or something.”

James looked at Rose curiously, and then said “I told you I didn't know you very well.”

“I'll tell you all about it later.” she offered, and changed the subject. “So, Mum, are you going to let James stay? The rent ought to be eight quid a week.”

“Eight? You won't find hardly anywhere round here for that! The last lodger was paying twenty!”

“Then moved out when he found out you were overcharging.”

“All right then, fifteen.”

“Eight-fifty, and don't forget you get the pleasure of knowing where I am for once.”

“Stop, Rose.” James shook his head, “Mrs Abbot, I'll pay you eight pounds per room per week. Two rooms, one for me, one for Rose, and you'll refrain from any verbal abuse or aggravating of your daughter. If that's not acceptable, we'll look elsewhere. I've no need to stay in London any more, so I'm sure we don't need to pay more. We just need somewhere to talk.”

“And I just offered you fifteen, with her staying for free, so I can't refuse, can I? Very clever of you I'm sure. All right eight quid per room. But you're going to be cluttering up the house all day long are you? I ought to charge you more for that.”

“Mum, which would you rather? Neither of us are scared of a bit of wind or rain. We can stay out dawn 'till dusk if you like. In fact, with you and Dad smoking like chimneys, it'd be healthier if we did. I'll show James his room, shall I?”

“Do what you like. I've got soup on the stove. I suppose I can stretch it to four.”

“Don't bother. James has promised me a meal out.”

“Celebrating our new status.” James said.

“Oh yes? You're saying you're engaged?”

“No.” Rose said, somewhat sadly James thought. “But we are talking.”