Away With the Fairies (The Swallow Barn Cottage Series, Book 2)

Fiona Opens a Can of Worms

Fiona couldn't help but laugh.

"I thought you loved the pub, Alice," she said.

"I loved the pub when it belonged to your Da, me babber," the woman said and made a disdainful sound. "When it was a proper place for a proper pint, mind. Before all these ungodly renovations your husband made, and before all these fellas with beards started coming there."

"They are called 'hipsters,' Alice," Fiona said and giggled. "Not all of them have beards."

And not every bearded man is a hipster, she wanted to add. Some of them are... bears.

"And long hair!" the old woman continued complaining. "Tied in these scourers on the backs of their heads, I tell ya! Haven't got an ideal what's even served in your pub anymore, but it's no proper lager, mind."

Fiona snorted. "I'm sure you're right, Alice. You know I don't drink," she reminded the woman as usual. They always had the same conversation - and at the moment it was most comforting. Fiona pulled her knees to her chest, perching on the chair in her usual manner. "How are you feeling these days?"

"How d'you think? It's too cold," Alice gave her the usual answer. "Bless you and the generator you bought me."

"You bought the generator yourself, Alice," Fiona once again supplied the required line. "I just clicked the button."

"It's strange to talk to you on the ringer, babber," Alice suddenly veered from the script. "Not sharing a cuppa."

Fiona nodded, although the woman obviously couldn't see her.

"It is," she said.

"Are they treating you well there, Fiona?" Alice asked after a small pause. "It's a proper job, innit? Nothing dodgy?"

"No, no, not at all," Fiona rushed to reassure. "Just as they promised me from the beginning, I get to paint and they will put my drawings into children's books. Nothing scandalous," she added with a laugh.

Well, except for all those things you did last night, Fiona. Remember how at some point you even started suggesting some ideas? As in 'pick me up' and 'turn me around.' Oh dear...

"So, four weeks, innit?" Alice said in a pitiful tone. "Me Honda properly misses you, babber."

"Oh, Alice," Fiona said and sighed. How is she supposed to tell the woman the truth now? "I miss your Honda too," she said quietly, pressing her forehead to her knees. "But you see, something happened... Well, not that something happened exactly, it's more like I've been thinking here, and–"

"Oh, so it's true then, babber," Alice interrupted, and Fiona heard something loudly clank on the other end of the line. "You're selling out then."

"What?" Fiona asked. How's her finally getting a break-through suddenly 'selling out?'

"Well, Mr. Winters - you know, the drive who fishes with me on Sundays? - he said there were some gert lush geezers circling your spot there the other day, suits and briefcases, he said, looked like proper lawyers, and I told him his noggin was full of that baccie he rolls in his raggy. But he said, no, mind, and there was some blonde lass, and walking there like she owned the place, and he even said–"

"What did he say?" Fiona asked, quickly sorting through the old woman's ramblings.

"Well, babber, we all know how your fella is, innit?" Alice mumbled. "But seeing you aren't here, mind, I reckon, he's not hiding it as much."

Fiona straightened up in the chair and slowly lowered her feet on the floor.

"Hiding what?" she asked.