A Family For Christmas (3 page)

Slowly, the veil inched upwards. A witch's
face stared down at her.

‘Decided to join us, have you?' she
cackled.

‘Don't put a spell on me,'
Eliza whispered.

The crone gave a harsh laugh and, cloth in hand,
leaned closer. Eliza's eyes widened in terror, she opened her mouth to scream, but no
sound came.

Eliza tried to open her eyes but they were too
heavy. She tried again, shocked to see a giant hovering high above her. As she opened her mouth
to scream, he grinned and patted her hand. Through her wooziness, fragments of nightmare
returned.

‘The witch?' she muttered, trying to
sit up. He frowned, gently pushing her back down again.

‘Lie still or you'll get dizzy. High
temperature has made you delirious. Even the storm raging outside's no match for your
moaning and thrashing.' Leaning forward, he moistened her lips with a cloth.

‘No more poison,' she protested. But
the effort was too much and the last thing that registered was the giant shaking his head, a
halo swirling around him.

When she next surfaced, the first thing she heard
was that crackling sound. This time, piercing green eyes stared down at her, seemingly seeing
right into her soul. Long bony fingers clutching a cloth reached out to cover her face. She
gasped.

‘Go away, you witch.'

‘You'll do,' the woman
chortled. ‘You had us worried for a while, child.'

‘Fever's broken. Give her some cooled
water and let her sleep.' As the giant's voice came out of the shadows, she felt the
damp cloth on her forehead, then more liquid
spooned into her mouth. She tried to speak but the effort was too
much. Her head swirled and whirled then darkness descended, claiming her once more.

Next time Eliza opened her eyes no one was
peering down at her, and to her relief, the room wasn't moving. She struggled to sit
up.

‘Welcome back to the world, little
one.' The giant, seemingly appearing from nowhere, grinned down at her, his voice soft and
reassuring. Then she heard the crackling.

‘The witch,' she croaked.

‘Hush, there's no witch here. Fever
probably gave you strange dreams.'

‘I think she means me,' the woman
grunted, bending over her again. ‘Here, have a drink.' She held a mug to
Eliza's lips, snorting when she recoiled. ‘It's only boiled water.'
Tentatively Eliza took a sip then, realizing how thirsty she was, gulped greedily.

‘Gently does it, little un,' the
giant urged. ‘You'll be sick if you drink too much.'

Hearing another crackle, Eliza looked round and
saw she was lying in front of a roaring fire. For a few moments, she lay watching the flames
shooting up the chimney like orange rockets. Then the wood spat, giving a loud crack that made
her jump. Another memory surfaced and she turned back to face the woman.

‘You shot me,' she exclaimed.

The giant laughed. ‘Believe you me, if Fay
had, you'd be dead meat. She's a crack shot; never missed a rabbit or pigeon in her
life.'

‘But you pointed your gun at me,' she
insisted.

‘Indeed I did,' the woman nodded. ‘I thought you
were an intruder, prowling around my homestead like that. I didn't need to shoot; you
fainted clean away in the snow.'

‘Oh,' Eliza muttered, sinking weakly
back onto the mattress.

‘Oh? Is that all you can say after I let
you sleep in my bed?' the woman retorted.

‘Now then, Fay, don't torment the
girl. She's frail as a feather. Give her some of your beef tea. I'll be back to see
how you are tomorrow, little un,' the giant said, leaning closer. Eliza noticed he had
kind eyes, the colour of ripe chestnuts, and realized the halo she had seen was the riot of dark
curls tumbling around his head. Reassured, she smiled back at him, but even that effort was too
much and her eyelids fluttered closed. She barely registered the door shutting or the woman
moving around before sleep claimed her once more.

Next time Eliza woke, her head felt clearer. She
tried to sit up, only to collapse again.

‘Steady, child, you're feebler than a
runt. Hold onto me,' the woman urged, helping her into a sitting position then propping
her up with soft sheepskins. ‘What's your name?'

‘Eliza.'

‘Well, Eliza, people around these parts
call me Fay. Now we've been properly introduced, let's see about getting you
something to eat.' She lifted a blackened iron pot from the crook over the fire and deftly
poured liquid into a mug. As a savoury aroma wafted Eliza's way, her stomach growled with
hunger.

‘Drink this,' the woman ordered
before settling herself
onto the chair beside the
hearth. Eliza did as she'd been bid and before long she felt her strength returning.

‘I'm sorry for turning up like that
yesterday,' she said, thinking an apology was in order.

To her surprise Fay gave a harsh laugh.
‘Yesterday? Ten days ago, more like.'

‘Ten days!' Eliza spluttered.

‘You've been really poorly, my girl.
In fact, on a couple of occasions, you very nearly went to join your Maker. The fever was so
high, even my curatives couldn't contain it. Thank heaven for Duncan the Druid and his
greater knowledge or you wouldn't be here.'

‘Duncan the Druid – he's the
giant?' Eliza asked.

‘He is tall, I grant you, but I can't
say I've ever thought of him as a giant. Anyhow, you've much to thank him for, my
girl. He refused to leave your side until that fever finally broke. Satisfied you're on
the mend, he's finally gone to get some rest.' Fay stifled a yawn and Eliza guessed
Duncan wasn't the only one who'd gone without sleep.

‘I'm truly grateful for everything
you've done.'

‘Couldn't leave you outside to
perish, could we?' she said brusquely. ‘Now, if you've finished that broth,
I'll take the mug and have some myself. Lie down and get some more sleep. It's the
most restorative thing for you now.'

‘I can't spend all my time
sleeping,' Eliza protested. ‘I need to find somewhere to shelter, get a job and
…' She slumped back against the sheepskins, drained of energy. In truth she had no
idea where she could go.

‘You must rest. It's Mother
Nature's way of helping you recover. Besides, the sooner you're better the sooner
you can be on your way to wherever it was you were going.'
Sensing Fay's animosity, Eliza turned over and eased herself
further down the cover. The woman obviously resented her presence so the best thing she could do
was get well and leave. Although where she was going to, goodness only knew.

She must have drifted off again for it was dark
when she woke. The only light was coming from the fire, which cast flickering shadows across the
walls, scenting the room with the sweet smell of applewood. She heard soft snoring and saw Fay
asleep in the chair, covered by an old greatcoat. Despite her gruff manner, the woman was still
keeping a watch over her and Eliza felt guilty for putting her to so much trouble. Even thinking
made her head hurt. She closed her eyes and it wasn't long before sleep claimed her once
more.

When next she woke, soft grey light of morning
was filtering through the window. The room was quiet and she saw the chair was empty. Feeling
stronger, she eased herself into a sitting position. Holding the cover around her, she struggled
to her feet but the room started spinning. Eliza reached for the chair, collapsing onto it just
as the door clattered open. Fay stood there, wearing the greatcoat that had been keeping her
warm the night before, a length of string tied around her middle. She was laden with sticks and
logs, but as soon as she saw Eliza she tossed them in the direction of the fireplace where they
landed on the stone hearth with a clatter. Clicking her tongue in annoyance, she eased Eliza
back down onto the mattress.

‘You're going to have to take it
easy, my girl,' she chided, piling the fleecy sheepskins over Eliza's shivering
body.

‘But I felt so much better,' Eliza protested
weakly.

‘No arguing. That fever's knocked the
stuffing out of you and it's going to take time to regain your strength. Now, for
heaven's sake do as you're told and rest. I'll bank up the fire and make
breakfast. Nourishing food and rest, that's what you need, my girl.'

Weakly, Eliza nodded then watched through
half-closed eyes as the woman threw off her coat and kneeled beside the fire. Once she'd
riddled the embers, she added sticks and logs until the grate was a fiery blaze. Then she poured
water from a hide pitcher into an old kettle and stood it on the fender to boil. With the
dripping in a battered old pan sizzling, she tossed in huge lumps of black-red meat. Hearing
Eliza gasp, Fay turned and stared down at her.

‘Breakfast's the most important meal
of the day, girl. Nobody can function on an empty stomach,' she said, deftly flipping the
steaks onto a plate and setting them on the hearth to keep warm. Finally she chucked vegetables
into a pot, then sat back in the chair. ‘Of course, your weak system won't be able
to digest a rich venison steak, so I'll cut yours up finely and add it to the
broth.'

So that's what the dark meat was. Eliza had
never even seen deer flesh, let alone tasted it. She stared around the room, taking in the
blackened timbers of the low roof, the inglenook fireplace and a mounted antlered head on the
wall. Animal skins covered the floor, sheathed knives hung from hooks, and a gun was slung on
the back of the door. She shuddered. Had Fay shot the deer, then? And if she had, was it safe to
remain here? She only had the woman's word that she'd fainted, hadn't she?
Feeling queasy, she swallowed hard and closed her eyes.

A
sudden knocking made her jump, then a gust of wind tore through the room, sending smoke from the
fire swirling and billowing around.

‘For heaven's sake shut that door,
Duncan, before we turn into ice angels,' Fay barked as Duncan stood on the step stamping
the snow from his boots.

‘Morning, Fay, and a beautiful angel
you'd make too. Something smells good,' he said, sniffing the air
appreciatively.

‘I swear you hear me set the pan to the
fire from those woods you choose to inhabit,' Fay replied, shaking the spoon at him.

‘Reckoned I might be too late today,
though. Ben asked me to call by the farm. He thought Rose had gone into labour. False alarm, but
I gave her some raspberry leaf to help her relax and ease the cramps. He was fussing like a
mother hen. You'd think having dealt with lambing he'd take it all in his
stride,' he muttered.

Fay shook her head. ‘A baby's a bit
different, Duncan, and it is their first.'

‘True. Rose's mother was coming over
to help, but she's snowed in down at Beechcombe. Ben insisted I take some fresh food for
my trouble,' he said, placing a covered jug of milk on the table then carefully taking
four speckled brown eggs from each pocket. ‘Think one of these will be more nourishing for
our little guest than your bloody red meat. Talking of which, how is the patient today?'
he asked, hunkering down beside Eliza. Immediately his expression changed to one of concern.
‘You're whiter than the snow outside.'

‘Just feeling a bit sick,' Eliza
muttered.

‘Probably from the frying. It does smell a bit rich this
time of a morning. I'll mix something to settle your system. All right to use the mug,
Fay?' he asked, pointing to the hearth.

‘Of course, but you'd best make me
another. It's a bind having to use the same one all the time.'

Duncan lowered his voice. ‘Poor Fay,
it's a shock having to share your home, isn't it? I'd have the little un but
don't think she'd appreciate my tree dwelling. Besides, it's too cold for her
out there.'

‘Well, I can hardly throw her out in the
snow so she'll just have to stay until she's recovered. She said she'd been
seeking work so I'm sure someone round these parts will be glad of help. It's
inconvenient, though, for I've little space to spare and I don't know anything about
children. Still, if the meat's too strong for her, I'll coddle one of those eggs
when she's feeling better. With stocks running low, those provisions are most welcome,
thank you. Did you ask Ben if he'd heard anything …?' Fay's voice became
softer and although Eliza couldn't make out what she was saying she knew they were still
talking about her.

Eliza stared into the flames and sighed. No
matter where she went, she was in the way. As soon as she was strong enough to leave, she
would.

‘Here, drink this.' She jumped as the
gentle giant crouched beside her, holding the mug to her lips.

‘What is it?' she asked
suspiciously.

‘Never fear, 'tis only a bit of
betony. Cure anything and everything, that will,' he assured her.

‘Now, Duncan, you and I both know
it's those herbs
you add that makes the
difference. You're lucky, girl, this boy's a wizard,' Fay said with a
sniff.