Page 56 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle

‘Scullery,’ Axe said, and led the way. There was Dolly, in a box under the sink, with three squirming puppies tugging at her teats, while she gave her master a martyred look.

‘You said she had four,’ Alice said.

‘One died right off. Runt,’ he said. Alice squatted by the box. ‘Best not touch ’em,’ he warned. ‘She’s a fierce little mother.’

‘I won’t,’ Alice said. Dolly gave her a careful look, then turned away to lick her pups. ‘What’s this?’ she asked, picking up a small, very grubby and much chewed rag doll that was lying by the box.

‘It’s her doll,’ said Axe. ‘Dolly’s dolly. She don’t care about it now she’s got the pups, but once she gets tired of ’em, she’ll want it again.’

She stood up. ‘Where’s Captain?’

‘Out back somewhere.’ The rear door was open onto another beaten yard surrounded by wooden sheds, with the dark woods beyond. Axe stood and whistled. In a moment, there was a whir of wings, and a black bird with a grey neck flew down onto his outstretched arm and gave a sharp cry.

‘Oh, he’s handsome,’ Alice cried, as it tilted its head and examined her with a pale eye. ‘Will he come to me?’

‘C’n try,’ said Axe. But as he brought the bird towards her it hopped up his arm to his shoulder and then onto his head. ‘Shy,’ he said. ‘He’ll get used to you.’

‘Can I see his tricks?’

‘Once he settles.’ Axe considered. ‘I was just going to mash some tea. Will you have a cup?’

‘Yes, please,’ Alice said shyly.

‘Go and sit you down, then,’ he said.

She sat at the table, and watched as he made the tea, his movements quiet and sure, a creature at home in its element. The bird hopped down onto his shoulder, and after a while, onto the back of the chair opposite Alice. It examined her, first with one eye, then the other, then let out a stream of ‘words’ that made Alice laugh, because it sounded so close to human speech. When Axe sat down at the table with the tea, the bird hopped again to his shoulder, and chattered to him with its beak poked into his ear, as if to make sure he could hear.

Axe poured a cup for Alice, and then said, ‘Oh, look, I went and forgot the sugar.’

He said the last word sharply and distinctly, and the bird cocked its head, and flew over to the dresser, where there was a bowl of roughly broken sugar. It picked up a lump in its beak and flew back to Axe, dropping it on the table beside him. ‘Two lumps,’ Axe commanded, and it repeated the action. Then he said, ‘Spoon!’ and it fetched a spoon from the half-open dresser drawer.

Alice applauded, and the bird cocked its head at her and reeled off another sentence. ‘How clever!’ she said.

Axe looked pleased. ‘Tea all right – my lady?’ He added the last as an afterthought, but with a faint blush that he had forgotten it before.

‘Oh, you needn’t call me that,’ Alice said hastily. ‘Yes, thank you, the tea’s good. Nice and strong. It’s always so weak at home. Mama has Earl Grey, and it’s awful, like dish-water.’

‘I’ve never drunk dish-water,’ Axe observed, and she realised he was joking, and laughed.

‘Do you do all your own cooking?’ she asked.

‘Mostly,’ he admitted. ‘Not that I’m much good. Stews and such, they’re easy, and there’s plenty of good stuff in the woods to go in ’em. That bit of pie, Mrs Rowse gave me that,’ he explained. ‘She thinks I don’t get enough to eat, makes me pies and cakes. I don’t stop her.’

‘What do you put in your stews?’

‘Pigeon, rabbit, game when it comes my way. Mushrooms from the wood. Herbs. Veg from me patch out the back.’

‘Sounds lovely. Food is so dull at home. It never seems to taste of anything – except when it’s burned.’

‘I like things tasty,’ he admitted. He looked at her for a moment – rather, she thought, like the bird, a sort of considering look – and then said, ‘Got some baby rabbits. Orphans – fox got their ma. Want to see ’em?’

In a shed in the rear yard he showed her the four little rabbits in a box of hay, protected by chicken-wire. The cats came stalking daintily in to visit, and the jackdaw kept them company and conversed, and at last consented to hop onto Alice’s shoulder and even press its beak to her ear. It was surprisingly hot. And all the while, she watched Axe move about in his own familiar world, astonishingly graceful for so large a man – and, she began to notice, astonishingly beautiful. When his blue eyes turned to rest on her, she felt it like warmth in the pit of her stomach; when he spoke to her, she felt a quake as if his words were physical touches, little feet running on her spine. He seemed at ease, as though he was glad of her presence. No-one in her life had treated her like that, and she loved the sensation. She felt she would like to stay there for ever, and never leave; but eventually she became aware that she needed to use the privy, and she didn’t like to ask to use his: it would be too embarrassing. So at last she had to say, ‘I must go.’

He seemed taken aback for an instant, and then at once became more formal, as though he realised he had forgotten himself. She wanted to say, No, don’t be like that, don’t make me Lady Alice again, but she couldn’t, quite. So in slight stiffness they went back through the scullery, where Dolly was resting in her bed, her pups asleep, and declined to get up to see her off, though she wagged her stumpy tail.

They passed through the cottage to the front yard, where Pharaoh had finished the hay and was half asleep. Axe untied him, tightened the girth, and stood waiting to leg her up. She came up close, keenly aware of his presence, his smell of clean man – soap and leather, with an under-hint of musk. Their eyes met for an instant and she gave a little shiver. His lips parted as if he was going to comment on it, but closed again. She gathered her skirt, cocked her knee, and he threw her up neatly. He held Pharaoh while she arranged herself, then as she gathered the reins, let him go and stepped back.

‘Thank you for the tea,’ she said. ‘And for showing me everything.’