FABLE

Chapter Forty Three

Unfortunately, it's not Felix on the other side of the door.

There's a rake-thin woman in a long black dress standing in the doorway. Even though her face is concealed by a red scarf wrapped around her head like a shawl, I can see immediately that she's really old.

She's holding a basket filled to the brim with gleaming red apples. A gnarled hand reaches into the basket and strokes one of the apples, the fingers lazily tracing the plump crimson fruit. The old woman appears to be muttering something over and over again. It sounds like the word fated, or maybe hated.

Nope, not happening. It's too early for Halloween.

I start closing the door, ready to lock it and run upstairs, possibly even call 911.

Just before the door shuts, I hear a voice say my name.

"Ashling?"

She pushes the scarf back, revealing a familiar face.

It's my grandmother's best friend, Bea.

I used to see her all the time before my gran passed away.

There was a time when my parents were setting up Biblio - getting the restaurant off the ground, establishing themselves in the Portland culinary scene - where I'd spend most afternoons and some evenings at gran's house.

Bea used to visit a couple of times a week, even though she was always super busy managing The Rose Inn.

I spent so much time with Bea throughout my childhood that I eventually started thinking of her as some sort of great-aunt. But ever since gran earlier this year, I've barely seen her. In fact, the last time I actually spoke to her was at gran's funeral.

Standing before me now with dark circles under her eyes and her long gray hair all tangled up in an unruly mess, she looks like she's aged twenty years since then.

And there's something wrong with her eyes. There's a glassiness in her gaze - like she's looking through me, rather than at me.

Before I can react, she drops the basket with a loud thud. Apples roll out across the front porch as she swoops forward through the doorway and wraps me up in a tight embrace.

"It's so good to see you again sweetheart," Bea says. She squeezes me tighter before leaning down to gather up the spilled apples. "It's been way too long. Are your parents home?"

"They're at the restaurant," I say.

"Oh, I see," she says. "I suppose that's no surprise. Biblio's doing so well nowadays, isn't it? Imogen would be proud."

I feel my chest tighten at the sound of my gran's name.

"Anyhow, mind if I come in?" She asks, peering into the hallway behind me. "I wanted to drop these off, and the walk was longer than I expected."

She holds up the basket, and I realise that her arms are trembling slightly under its weight. There must be at least twenty apples in there, and she's looking more fragile than I've ever seen her before.

I quickly reach out and take the basket from her, feeling terrible for not noticing before.

Even though she gave me one hell of a fright, it's only Bea after all.

"Of course, come in," I say. "Can I get you some tea? Or some coffee?"

"No, I'll pass on that," she says, gliding suddenly into the hallway much faster than she looks capable of moving. "I'll just sit down a moment."

I follow her through to the living room, where she settles down in an armchair. I perch on the sofa, placing the basket of apples on the floor between us.