Icefire (7 page)

11
A
UNTY
G
WYNETH
C
ALLS

 

I
f you’ve come to see Liz, she’s out,” muttered David, flicking his gaze between the woman and the dragon, and wondering what the suitcase was for.

“How very inconvenient,” the woman said. She slid one fine hand over the other as though she was about to draw a rabbit from a hat. “Let me guess: You must be Elizabeth’s tenant?”

“Yes. How did you know that?”

“Are you her mother?” asked Zanna.

The woman gave out a derogatory laugh. “We are related,” she said in a lofty tone. “But that’s really none of your business. Now, let me in. It’s beginning to rain.”

“No, it isn’t,” said David. “It’s—” But to his
astonishment, the space behind the woman, which a moment ago had been occupied by sunshine, had suddenly filled up with a transparent drizzle. The woman produced an umbrella from somewhere and snapped it open above her head.

Before David could respond, Zanna gave him a nudge and nodded down the driveway. Liz’s car had just pulled into it.

With a curious mixture of dread and relief, David said tartly, “Mrs. Pennykettle’s home,” just as Lucy jumped out of the car and said, “Mom, who’s that?”

She doesn’t know one of her own relatives?
thought David. He glanced at Liz. Her expression was not far short of his own: surprise, with a hefty element of shock.

Lucy raced up. She jerked, wide-eyed, at the sight of Zanna, stared boldly at the woman and then at her dragon. “You’ve got a dragon,” she said, which, despite being a rather elementary observation, was nonetheless one that David would have liked to have voiced himself.

“Yes,” said the woman, her voice as clear as a glacial raindrop. “Her name is Gretel, and you may carry her indoors if you wish.”

Lucy picked up the dragon and caressed it like a doll. Her gaze fell on Zanna. “Who’s she?” she asked David.

Liz was on the premises before he could answer. “Well, this is very … unexpected,” she breezed. She plumped her hair and forced a smile onto her lips. She glanced briefly at Zanna, then turned to the woman. “Have you … introduced yourself?”

“My feet are beginning to ache,” said the woman. She put her nose in the air and folded her umbrella. The rain stopped as if she’d brought the clouds to a close.

“What kind of dragon is Gretel?” asked Lucy.

“Lucy, never mind that for now,” said her mom. “Say hello to … Aunty Gwyneth.”

The white-haired woman cast her eyes down. “The last time I saw
you,
my dear, you were no bigger than a seaside pebble.”

“Pebble?” queried David, thinking that was a strange comparison.

“Why don’t we all go inside,” said Liz with her customary habit of bustling things along. “Lucy, run and put the kettle on, please. David, could you bring Aunty Gwyneth’s suitcase.”

“Take it directly to my room,” said Aunty Gwyneth. She stepped inside, parting David and Zanna like a couple of bowling pins. She was halfway down the hall when she paused and brushed a spider’s web off the stairwell. For one dreadful moment, David thought she was going to eat it. But Aunty Gwyneth merely squashed it between her fingers and let her gaze roll slowly up the stairs. For a second or two, the whole house seemed to be holding its breath, as if the aura that Zanna had spoken of was suddenly as taut as the skin of a balloon. David was convinced he heard dragon scales rattling, but before he could really tune his ears to the sound Aunty Gwyneth snapped her fingers and everyone jumped. “Come, child,” she barked, and with a twist of her heels she took a sharp left turn
and disappeared into the living room, Lucy bearing Gretel like a standard in her wake.

“Is she staying?” David said immediately to Liz.

Liz blew a deep sigh and gave a slightly confusing answer. “I’m just as surprised as you to see her here.”

“What did she mean ‘take the suitcase to her room’? What room? Where’s she going to sleep?”

“Leave the case in the hall for now. I’ll sort something out, once I’ve had a chance to assess the situation.”

“She’s not having
my
room,” David said bluntly. “I’m not moving. I’m a tenant. I pay.”

“David.” And now there was a nip in Liz’s voice. “I said we’ll talk about this later. Just live with it for now, OK?”

“I’d better be off,” Zanna said meekly. David and Liz both turned to her then and started to make apologetic noises.

It was David who eventually simplified things. “Liz, this is Zanna from college. She’s a friend. She’s in my department.”

Liz held out a hand. Zanna shook it. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Pennykettle. I really like your dragons.”

“Yes,” said Liz, looking deep into her eyes. “Yes, I expect you do.” She dropped Zanna’s hand and backed away slowly. “Excuse me. Lucy seems to have disappeared, so I’d better go and put the kettle on myself.” With that, she drifted into the kitchen.

“What was all that about?” Zanna whispered. “Did you see the way she looked at me? What’s going on?”

David realized he was shaking slightly and couldn’t for the life of him understand why. “I don’t know. Liz doesn’t miss much, though. Maybe she knew you’d been in the den?”

“So? I didn’t
do
anything, did I?”

David shook his head, but privately he was wondering about that egg. And Gadzooks. The dragon had not been happy. Had he sensed that Aunty Gwyneth was coming? And if so, why had he looked so worried?

“Here,” said Zanna. She unzipped a purse that looked no bigger than a pirate’s eye patch. From it, she
pulled out a business card. “My address and cell number. Call if you need me. Any time, OK?”

“Um, fine. Thanks. But why would I need you?”

Zanna clicked her tongue and steadied herself. Then sliding her hand around the back of David’s neck, she pulled him forward and kissed him on the mouth. “There. That’s just in case you never do. But somehow, I think you will. I don’t know who that woman is, but I’ll tell you who she’s not.”

“Uh?” muttered David, still shocked by the kiss.

Zanna found her car keys and stepped outside. “She’s not Liz’s aunty, and her name’s not Gwyneth. Take care, Rain. Use the number.”

12
F
LOWER
P
OWER

 

David watched Zanna disappear up the path and continued waving till her car was out of sight. He tried more than once to utter good-bye but his mouth was still recovering from the strength of her kiss. It was like being numbed by a dental injection, though much more enjoyable and not as long lasting. He thought about Sophie then, and his lips, though deadened, soon managed to straighten to a guilty line. Sophie might be in Africa, but they were still going out. Did that mean he’d two-timed her? Did a single kiss count? Sighing, he turned and looked at the suitcase. So, he was a bellboy now. But who for exactly? Who
was
the mysterious white-haired visitor who might not be an aunty or a Gwyneth? He searched for a name tag, but none was
present. Neither could he see a zipper or a buckle anywhere on the case at all. Puzzled, he carried it into the hall. It felt weightless and airy, as if all it contained was a box of tissues. He was about to turn it over and examine it further when Liz’s voice called him into the kitchen.

The moment he walked in, he knew he was in trouble. Her gaze rolled away from him toward the bread box. She had taken off the lid, but not removed the contents. The listening dragon! He’d forgotten to put it back on the fridge.

“You know, this has got to stop,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, trying to look anywhere but into her face. He stepped forward and returned the listener straightaway.

“And that?” Her gaze flickered over the book. It was still on the table where David had left it.

“Zanna brought it. Research — for my essay.”

“Research,” Liz repeated, folding her arms. Not a good sign, and David knew it. He braced himself for
what he knew was coming next. “Did you take Zanna into the den?”

“Yes,” he answered quietly. There was no point lying.

“Did she touch anything?”

“No, not really.”

“What do you mean, ‘not really’?”

“She picked up an egg.”

“The bronze one?”

“Yes.”

Liz closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her gaze settled into the middle distance. “I see. You’d better go to your room.”

David looked up, annoyed. “I’m not a little boy.”

“This is my house,” Liz said curtly, stabbing a finger onto the dragon book. “I don’t object to your bringing friends home, but I do expect you to respect my privacy. You should not have taken Zanna into the den, not without my permission, anyway.”

“But—?”

“David, please. Disappear for a while. I need to make arrangements … for my aunt.”

Knowing protests would be futile, he turned to leave, but found his way immediately blocked by Lucy. “Mom, Aunty Gwyneth says don’t forget to put a slice of lemon in her tea and, Mom, Gretel is a
potions
dragon.”

“What?” said David. “What’s a potions dragon?”

“I’m not talking to you,” said Lucy. “Oh, thanks. And what have I done to
you?”
Lucy, contradictory as ever, replied,
“She
had a dog collar around her neck —”

“Lucy, do the lemon,” Liz said tartly.

“— and a tattoo.”

“Lucy.”

“And tassels.”

“So?” said David. “What’s wrong with tassels?” Lucy pinned him with an unforgiving glare. “Are you going to tell Sophie you kissed a
witch?”
“Lucy!” said her mom. “That’s very naughty.” And David, for once, was right. “What I do is my
business,” he said to Lucy, coming almost nose to nose. “Zanna is a
friend,
not a girlfriend or a witch. And I’ve told you before not to spy on me.” He shoved her aside and stomped to his room, closing his ears to any more gibes.

His first impulse was to pack. Get out of this madhouse. Live a life of happy squalor with other students. But as he paced back and forth, weighing his outrage against his guilt, he decided that quitting was the weaker option. He should stand firm, assert himself, protect his rights. No cantankerous old woman was going to oust him! Or any nosy little girl for that matter. And as for Liz. Well, she often showed people around the Dragons’ Den, didn’t she? And putting a dragon in a bread box was hardly a crime! He sat at the computer and switched it on. A short, sharp letter would suffice for this. A list of his grievances and expectations. He would apologize, of course, for causing any upset, but remind Liz, in no uncertain terms, that he had a verbal contract to rent this room and would not, under any circumstances, think about resigning it.

“Come on, come on,” he moaned at the computer. As usual, it was taking a lifetime to boot. Impatient, he dashed upstairs to the bathroom. By the time he’d returned, the desktop was loaded. He reached for the mouse — and leaped back in shock. Aunty Gwyneth’s dragon was sitting on his mouse pad.

“Lucy!” David shouted. “This isn’t funny!” Now who was invading whose privacy, exactly?

He waited half a minute, but Lucy didn’t come. Frowning, he studied Gretel hard. She was a pretty little dragon with short, neat wings but a slightly larger pattern of scales than the others. Her glaze was a darker shade of green as well, which gave the impression that despite her sweet, charismatic appearance, she was really rather old, even from another age. What fascinated David most were her eyes. They were specked with a myriad of tiny pits, which caught the light from all directions and spiraled it around like a swirling pool.

David rolled his chair a fraction closer. Was it his imagination, or was the dragon inviting him to smell
her flowers? She had three in her bouquet: pink, yellow, white. David leaned in to sniff them. Away to his right, he thought he heard a gentle rattling sound, like the noise the scales of a dragon might make if the dragon was gently quaking with fear. It didn’t stop David from inhaling. A light scent of honey and cinnamon sticks pricked the capillaries in his nostrils. He blinked, cross-eyed, and pulled away again. “Hmm, very refreshing,” he muttered. “Now, where was I …?” And he reached out and switched his computer off. Then he dropped to his knees and fished out a gym bag from under his bed. Ten minutes later, he’d filled it with clothes and some of his smaller personal items. He put on his jacket and hoisted the gym bag onto his shoulder. He waved at Gretel. Her eyes had turned a very bright violet. Then he left the room.

Reaching the living room he knocked politely and popped his head around the door. Aunty Gwyneth and Lucy were watching television and having a debate about dinosaurs. A taut-looking Liz was sitting in her chair.

“All right, I’m away,” David announced. “Thanks for having me. I’ll be back for the bigger stuff in a few days.”

He smiled and pulled the door shut.

He was halfway up the drive when Liz came tearing after him. She put herself in front of him and held his arms. “David? What are you doing?”

“Leaving,” he said with a smile and a shrug. “I thought it was all arranged?”

“Arranged? Who with?”

“Aunty Gwyneth, of course.”

“David, nothing’s arranged. What’s she done to you?”

David chuckled softly. “Liz, I know we had a bit of a spat, but when it’s time to go, it’s time to go. Come on, give me a hug. Then I’ll be off.”

“David, you’re not going anywhere,” she said crossly, throwing back her thick red hair. “Turn around and walk back into the house.”

“Liz-zz, I’m going to miss my bus.”

“David, look at me. Straight in the eyes.”

David looked. “That’s funny, they’ve gone all purple,” he muttered, then immediately fell into a heap at her feet.

“Oh, David, what am I going to do with you?” she sighed.

Strangely, her answer was close at hand. A door clicked open and Mr. Bacon stepped out onto his porch. He raised himself on tiptoes and peered across the drive. “Problem, Mrs. P.?” he asked.