Fiona

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

Then again there weren’t always people, or dogs, or trees.

If you take cooking, building, farming, or really any other means of progress into account, then history looks a lot more spaced out.

Geologically speaking, though, they all occupied almost the exact same blip in history.

Really, it all depends on your perspective.

Nevertheless, dragons were the latest in a long line of ferocious beasts to come to the Valley.

They had come with fire and fury, an apocalypse on wings, and then in the manner once employed to turn wolves into lap dogs, the dragons had been domesticated.

Now it was a rare day when you didn’t have to chase a fire-breathing nuisance from your flower beds before it sneezed and accidentally burnt down your prized rose bush.

___

“Fiona, no!”

Eunice raced from the kitchen as fast as her aged legs could carry her. She’d been washing up and staring absently out of the window, her mind wandering amidst the views of the nearby mountains and a clear blue sky until she saw the smoke.

Grabbing a half filled bucket from next to the mossy steps, she rushed across the patch of mud she called a lawn and flung the contents of the bucket across her smouldering shrubbery.

What turned out to be dry chicken feed rained down upon the flames and added to the blaze.

“Bother,” she said, and ran back to the house. She slammed the bucket into the sink, shattering the plate she’d been washing, then grabbed the handle of the pump that brought water up from the well and into the house.

By the time Eunice had filled it and staggered back down the steps with the handle in both hands, the flames were out. A small group of people were clustered around the low wall at the end of the garden, several carrying buckets. Just inside, her singed azalea looked soggy.

Kenneth Howdon, who lived next door, waved at her.

“Thought you could use a hand,” he said, his booming voice guaranteeing that anyone who hadn’t already been alerted to the goings on by the setting sunlight reflecting off his polished head was now turning an ear to the proceedings.

“Still haven’t got that thing trained then?” Kenneth laughed, the deep belly chuckle bouncing around the low walls of the lane that Eunice’s garden opened onto.

Somewhere, there was the muffled sound of a window opening.

“Unfortunately not.” Eunice gave a little smile. “Thank you for your help, everyone. I had it handled though.” She held up the full bucket, her hands shaking a little with the weight. “See?”

“Oh it wasn’t a problem,” Peggy Howdon chimed in. Where her husband was large and tall, Peggy was stick thin and barely came up to his shoulder. At this moment, she was leaning over the wall and trying to peer beneath the bush. “I think the poor thing’s scared,” she muttered, and reached a hand beneath the damp leaves. “There, there,” she said.

“She’s fine,” said Eunice, “and I wouldn’t do that.”

There was a growl followed by a sound like a twig snapping.Peggy shrieked and pulled her hand back, squeezing her fingertips in the fabric of her sleeve. She gave a polite head bob, and stalked back to her house muttering, “horrible beast.”

No one said anything until they heard the sound of the door shutting.

“You thought about getting another roommate?” asked Andrew Gottling, who lived opposite. Beside him, Sandra Opit, who lived two doors down, put her bucket on the floor and perched on the wall, nodding enthusiastically.

“It could be really good for you,” she said with chirpy enthusiasm.

“I’m not looking for a roommate,” said Eunice.

“I know you and Hannah were close,” Kenneth said,” but surely it’s time to find someone else to help out around the place?”

“How long would it take for you to replace Peggy if she died?” asked Eunice quietly.

Kenneth looked serious, his brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I could.” His mouth moved as though looking for the right words. “But we’ve been married for twenty five years.”

There was silence.

Kenneth coughed. “So probably a week or two. Ha ha.”

“Ha ha ha,” said Andrew.

“Ha,” said Sandra.

“Anyway,” Kenneth stretched. “It’s getting late and we should all be getting home. Let us know if you need anything else, Eunice.” He gave a broad smile.

They all said quick goodbyes and headed back to their homes. Eunice watched as Sandra left her bucket on her doorstep then, with a glance around the street that didn’t quite meet Eunice’s eye, went to Andrew’s house and let herself in.

There was a small growl from underneath the bush. Eunice leant down as far as she could until she could see the edge of a scaly snout poking out.

“They’ve gone now,” she said. There was a little puff of smoke from the nostrils.

“None of that,” Eunice said. “You’re in trouble as it is.”

She straightened up, her back clicking. and looked at the sky. The edges of it were tinged with pink, and the mountains that ringed the western end of the Valley were just silhouettes where the sun was dipping behind them.

“I’m going inside,” she said to the bush. “Come in when you’re ready. And no more nonsense.”

She walked slowly back to the house and put the bucket down by the steps once more. Then she went inside and began to carefully remove the broken plate shards from the sink, stacking them to one side and sweeping up any small bits she might have missed amongst the soap suds.

After a minute or two there was the sound of scampering feet and something rubbed up against the back of her legs.

“Good girl, Fiona,” said Eunice.

___

There is a lot that can be said about the hardy folk that lived in Klepperton. It was a small village built in the southern end of the Valley that straddled the River Klep just where lush farmland became rocky, impassable mountain. Most of the residents had never left the village, and certainly hadn’t left what everyone just called the Valley, but they cared deeply about people, and their actions spoke at least as loud as their words. They were undeniably small-minded, but for them that mostly meant they approached any activity with singularly focussed determination and forgot anything on the periphery.

Details that didn’t fit their worldview were very much peripheral.

Eunice lay on her side of the bed and stared up at the ceiling, telling herself as she had every night for the last year that she was lucky to have such attentive neighbours. There was no doubt in her mind that she would not have been nearly as helpful had Peggy been left widowed.

In the weeks following Hannah’s funeral, she had been grateful for the chats on the doorstep, the extra bag of apples dropped off, the offers to visit for lunch, or dinner, or breakfast or brunch or afternoon tea or…

She had been thankful for the distraction.

Unfortunately, a year on and with no sign of letting up, this approach to helping her out was smothering.

There was a thump as Fiona landed on the other side of the bed. She wiggled her way across the covers, placed her head heavily on Eunice’s stomach, and began to snore.

The first time Fiona had slept on the bed, Eunice had been terrified that the sheets were about to go up in flames. She had stayed awake for hours, until a pain in her hip had made her get up. She’d checked and found nothing even slightly singed, and thus decided that since Fiona had presumably been sleeping every night and hadn’t burnt the house down yet, it was probably fine.

Two small trails of smoke crept into Eunice’s vision, and she watched as it floated up and dissipated against the rough plasterwork above her.

“You think too much,” Hannah had once told her years back, long before Fiona was around. Rain hammered the windows and lightning flashed over the distant mountains. “And that’s not going to change overnight because you’re you.”

They were lying next to each other, holding hands as they fell asleep.

“I have to worry away at every problem,” Eunice murmured. “Always have.”

“I’m just saying,” Hannah said, squeezing her hand, “that maybe if you could cut those worries off before they spiralled then you might have more time for other things.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Then we’ll work out a way together.”

Fiona sneezed and made Eunice jump. She was alone once more.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes, and tried not to think about tomorrow.

___

The sky was grey and the air was brisk as Eunice stepped out of her house, Fiona in tow. The river was just visible between the trees at the end of the lane, the early morning mist hanging over it like smoke and rolling slowly up the street. Fiona huffed, and set off towards it, straining on her lead and pulling Eunice with her.

They walked together, past houses with curtains drawn and blinds pulled down, as still and silent as the grave. Everywhere, the neat gardens were full of small flowers - whites, blues and yellows - as spring bulbs began to bloom.

Left.

Right.

Straight on, over the bridge.

Before long, small drops of dew beaded over Eunice’s cardigan as the heavy atmosphere pressed in and she wished desperately that she’d thought to wear a coat.

She waited at the edge of a road as headlamps emerged from the grey fog and a car swept past, its windscreen wipers flicking accumulated moisture over Eunice’s face.

She glared at it, then took a deep breath and crossed into the graveyard.

Fiona led the way, winding serpentine between the gravestones, sniffing at the damp ground as she went.

Eunice would have normally spared a thought as to how she knew where to go, but today she didn’t even notice.

At the crest of the hill, a hundred yards or so from the chapel in whose grounds they now walked, was the gravestone.

They moved closer and Eunice spotted fresh flowers that someone had left resting gently against the stone, a bouquet of small white blossoms that infused the whole area with a delicate fragrance - fruity and familiar. She breathed in deeply, and as her tunnel vision widened she saw the figure who had brought them. Fiona was making a beeline towards him.

Abraham was Hannah’s brother. He was a head taller than Eunice, and his long hair and beard were a dark grey flecked with silver. His face was downcast as he turned to see who was approaching, but he brightened slightly when he saw Eunice.

“How you doing, love?” he asked. Fiona began to rub against his legs as Eunice stepped up alongside.

“Fine,” she said, and looked down at the stone for the first time since it had been set here.

Hannah Lee Maylow

Beautiful Soul, Dearly Missed

It hadn’t seemed like enough, even when she’d written it.

Reaching into a pocket of his duffle coat, Abraham pulled out a treat and threw it towards Fiona. She caught it in mid air and made happy chomping noises as she devoured it among the long grass.

Abraham wrapped an arm around Eunice and she leant her head on his shoulder. They stood quietly together as the sun began to peek over the mountaintops and bathe the Valley in gentle light, cutting through the grey damp.

As the warmth hit her, Eunice pulled away from Abraham and wiped her face, suddenly aware she’d been crying. Abraham sniffed, and squinted in the direction of the rising dawn.

“God I miss her,” he said.

Eunice nodded. Fiona’s long tail swished the grass aside as she rested her chin gently on Eunice’s foot.

“Fancy a cuppa?” Abraham asked.

“Yes please,” said Eunice. Fiona lifted her head and scampered ahead of them as they began to make their way back down the hill.

___

Abraham’s kitchen was chaotic, stacked high with books, maps, bags and other paraphernalia that suggested a life full of travel, or at least a life spent wishing it was full of travel.

He moved a book off a chair to make room for Eunice, then bustled about trying to find the kettle.

“I hate to repeat a well-meaning but tactless comment made to me yesterday,” began Eunice, “but you could really use someone to help out around here.”

From around the corner there was a bang, followed by a cough.

“I know where everything is,” Abraham called. Another cough. “Everything important, anyway.”

He emerged, a saucepan in hand, and wandered over to the sink.

“Off somewhere?” Eunice looked around at the assorted papers. Several were maps of the same region, but by the looks of it were from very different times.

The pump sputtered as Abraham worked the handle. “I’m hoping so.” He thrust the pot under the stream of water. “Think I’m more or less ready. I could walk to Amerthistle and catch the train from there.”

The flow of water trickled off, and the pan was set to boil. He rummaged among some boxes, and pulled a couple out, examining them with a critical eye.

“It’ll be tea or tea,” he said.

“I’ll have tea, then.” Eunice watched Fiona, who was unblinking and staring at the flames that licked the underside of the saucepan. Occasionally she snorted and little puffs of smoke shot from her quivering nostrils. Eunice reached out with her foot and nudged a couple of books further out of her range.

Two mismatched mugs were set on the table with a clink, a tea strainer in each.

With a grunt and the sound of popping knees, Abraham sat down.

“You thought about getting away?” He pulled over a bowl, previously hidden behind a stack of books, and began to spoon sugar into his cup.

Eunice shook her head. “I have to look after Fiona.” She drummed her nails on the edge of her cup.

At the mention of her name, Fiona twisted her head and looked round until her big, glassy eyes made contact with Eunice. Eunice smiled.

“Might be good for her to see the world?” Abraham suggested.

“I don’t know.” Eunice glanced at the pot on the stove as the dull bubbling sound of boiling water reached her ears. She stood and wrapped her hand in a teatowel before lifting the saucepan off the fire. “How would it even work?”

“You’ve still got Hooty locked away, don’t you?” He watched closely as Eunice poured the water into the cups.

“Hannah used to drive. I’d just sit there.”

“You can drive, though. You picked me up once.” He paused. “It was terrifying, as I recall.”

“You’re not selling this very well. I’d be a danger to myself.” Eunice sat back down and looked at the colour of her tea, watching the dark swirls from the leaves slowly fade into the lighter yellow of the rest.

Abraham pulled his strainer from the cup and started to slowly stir.

“Maybe a bit of danger is good?” He removed the spoon and tapped it against the rim of the mug. “You used to go off on adventures.”

“I just followed Hannah.”

“Believe me, I know that takes courage.” He reached across and took her hand. “I worry about you, love. You deserve more than just sitting at home fretting about nothing.”

“You mean I should sit somewhere else, fretting about something?”

“Exactly.” He took a sip, grimaced, and reached for the sugar bowl again. “I know you and Hannah were planning a big trip before everything went south.”

There was silence, which Eunice tried to cover by taking a sip of her tea. She burnt her tongue and swore.

“Gods that’s hot.”

Abraham looked sympathetic, then suddenly laughed. Eunice glared at him.

“Sorry,” he said. “I just imagine what Fiona would look like in Hooty’s sidecar.”

She smiled. “I’d have to get her a helmet.”

“A trifling concern.” He waved his hand. “Think about the trip, though. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Thanks, love.”