ISOF by Pete Townsend

you caused.’
    Ben took another nibble of cake.
    â€˜I don’t remember much about it,’ he said, allowing a few crumbs to escape.
    â€˜We didn’t know what to think,’ explained the figure. ‘What with the recent spate of animal thieving it was only natural to assume someone was stealing our ducks.’
    â€˜Fish,’ said Ben. ‘My Dad deals with fish.’ He nodded and grinned in unison. ‘I remember now.’
    The figure moved closer to Ben. As the glow from the candle embraced them both, Ben could see that the figure was that of an older woman, whose features were partly hidden by hood draped around her face. The woman’s face appeared kindly, with eyes the colours of autumn and little wisps of brown and grey hair showing beneath the hood. The woman smiled and stroked Ben’s chin.
    â€˜Ducks, dear,’ she grinned. ‘We haven’t any fish to be stolen or to sell.’
    Ben looked around him at the confining walls.
    â€˜So how…’ he began to ask.
    The woman sighed.
    â€˜Once Smegglebert had rushed out to discover you in sitting in the middle of the pond surrounded by screeching ducks, the rest of our neighbours had also come out to see what all the fuss was about. Well,’ she shrugged. ‘It was too late then. Somebody had reported a disturbance to the Jaresh and you were dragged here to wait until somebody decided what to do with you.’
    â€˜Smegglebert?’ queried Ben. ‘Jaresh?’
    â€˜First things first,’ said the woman. ‘You’ve had one brush with the Jaresh, and you’ll get to know what they are soon enough,’ she added. The woman paused and smiled. ‘As for Smegglebert, well, he’s my husband.’
    Using his tongue to manoeuvre cake crumbs into his cheeks, he framed the next question.
    â€˜So you’re Mrs Smegglebert?’ he spluttered.
    â€˜Well,’ chuckled the figure. ‘You’re a smart one and no mistake,’ she said as her smile competed with the candle for brightness. ‘People know me as Pinchkin. Everybody knows Smegglebert and me. We knew their grandparents and their grandparents, grandparents.’
    â€˜So you’re old then?’ said Ben, a smile briefly flickering across his face.
    Pinchkin’s eyes twinkled and she chuckled again.
    â€˜You’ve such a way with words, young man,’ she replied, playfully prodding his chest. ‘We were around when the forest was no more than a few seedlings in the ground and...’ Pinchkin’s voice dissolved into silence followed by a moist sniff. Ben squirmed his feet in the slime on the floor. He felt embarrassed and awkward.
    â€˜Is everything alright?’ he asked, offering her the cloth he’d used to wipe his hands earlier.
    Pinchkin sniffed again and sighed a smile.
    â€˜Bless you boy, but I’ll use one of my own if you don’t mind.’ She extracted a neatly folded piece of white cloth from her pocket and wiped away her sniff. ‘You must excuse me,’ she mumbled dabbing her eyes before folding the cloth neatly and putting it back in her pocket, ‘I think the atmosphere is making my eyes prickle.’
    â€˜As long as it wasn’t something I said,’ mumbled Ben.
    â€˜Oh, my dear no,’ said Pinchkin. ‘Things have been a bit unsettled recently. With your arrival, and what with the forest and all that, it doesn’t make life easy. My eyes have seen too many changes, that’s all.’
    Ben wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and immediately wished he hadn’t. Although his hands were no longer covered with the tacky substance that oozed from the ceiling onto the floor, the smell lingered. Ben shook his head slightly and looked directly at Pinchkin.
    â€˜What I don’t understand, ‘he began. ‘Is how I ended up in the duck pond in the first place?’
    It was PInchkin’s turn to shake her head.