Page 28 of The Christmas Invitation
‘Does the pottery close right over Christmas?’ I asked curiously.
‘They do officially close down operations, though Alan and Tara keep an eye on things because they live nearby. Tara has her own little studio at the Old Forge, making jewellery. But of course, with two small children, Christmas is a busy time for them.’
The busier the better, I thought, because if I was going to be faced with Alan as well as Lex before I left, it would be the last straw.
‘Do their children go to the same school as Teddy?’
‘No, they’re younger and at the local infant and junior school, which is where Teddy was until he entirely outran the teaching and we thought he’d be better at Gobelins.’
‘Gobelins is a strange name for a school,’ I commented.
‘There aren’t any goblins really,’ said Teddy, looking up again, ‘unless you count Miss Aurora’s garden gnomes. It’s just the name of the house.’
‘I expect it was called after a previous owner,’ said Henry. ‘These things stick.’
‘“Gnomelins” wouldn’t have quite the same ring to it,’ offered Tottie, and for some reason this struck Teddy as so exquisitely funny that he burst into irrepressible giggles and rolled about on the carpet. Tottie had to grab the water mug before it went flying.
Lass, unsure if she should join in with a game or protect Teddy, opted for the latter and tried to lie on him protectively.
Chaos ensued for the next few minutes.
After tea everyone scattered to their various pursuits and I went into the studio to brood over a sketch of Clara I’d made that afternoon, and which I’d pinned to the old easel. She’d settled down to work more or less in the exact pose I wanted, with the grimacing faces on the totem seeming to look over her shoulder and the light from the lamp shining on the honey-coloured piece of incised stone that she would absently pick up and turn in her hands, when she was pondering deeply.
I propped up the iPad displaying the picture of her I’d taken to set the pose, too.
Now I was officially back in the land of the living I was remembering to charge my various gadgets up occasionally, even if I didn’t always turn them on. I dislike having my days punctuated by calls and messages and I certainly didn’t want my phone going off while I was working.
But now I checked and to my irritation found several missed calls from Rollo and a series of voice messages:
Are you there?
Have you met Henry Doome yet?
Did you mention me?
Yes, yes and a resounding no, were the answers to those. In the next he said,If he doesn’t want to do an interview forStrimp!I’ve had a great idea.
I bet he has, I thought, sighing as I scrolled down to the next.
He could write the foreword to my new poetry collection. He’s old-school, but it would give it quite a cachet.
‘Wouldn’t it, just!’ I muttered.
Ring me back, because I need to talk to you. I’m relying on you to pave the way before I contact him.
‘In your dreams, buster!’ I said aloud, then sent that back as a text message.
I checked my emails after that and found only two, one each from Oshan and River, sent from the laptop in the craft centre office at the Farm.
Oshan’s said,
Hey, sis! Pop says I get to wear the Cloak of Power and wield the Staff of Mightiness at the Solstice this year, now he’s invited to stay with your current clients, though he’s coming back afterwards for the feasting. He wasn’t sure if you’d make it back with him or not, though.
I replied assuring him that I’d have completed the commission before the Solstice, and intended returning to the Farm in convoy with River.
River’s email began, predictably, with,
Blessings of the Goddess upon you, dearest child! I will be with you early on the 21st for I will be staying the previous night with my old friend Gregory Warlock, who has a museum of witchcraft in the village of Sticklepond, not far from Starstone Edge. I will bring my cloak and staff, in case required. Oshan is having to have much larger robes made for the ceremony.
