The Garden of Magic by Sarah Painter

the kitchen. There was no used mug on the table, the counter or hiding in the sink. She touched the kettle. It was cold.
    When she turned back, Iris was watching her with more interest than Bex had seen her exhibit before.
    ‘Did you want to something?’ Iris said, her head tilted. ‘Or is this bob-a-job week?’
    ‘What?’ Bex didn’t know why teens were always getting it in the neck for being incomprehensible; it was old people who spoke a different language.
    ‘Never mind,’ Iris said. Her face was paler than the day before and there was a layer of sweat on her forehead.
    ‘You’re in pain,’ Bex said. ‘Let me get you something.’
    ‘I’ve taken all the drugs I’m allowed,’ Iris said, grimacing. ‘Just need to let them work.’
    ‘What about a hot water bottle?’ Bex thought about how soothing that was when she had period cramps.
    Iris started to shake her head then paused. ‘All right, then. If you insist. It’s on my bed. Third door on your left at the top of the stairs.’
    Bex walked out of the kitchen to the sound of Iris telling her not to touch anything else. Bex was used to being in other people’s houses; she’d had cleaning and babysitting jobs before she’d started nannying, and she took the responsibility that the position conferred very seriously. She didn’t glance around any more than was necessary to locate the old pink hot water bottle, but she couldn’t help noticing that the whole place needed a good scrub. Iris seemed like the old school kind of woman, the type who would’ve counted cleanliness as next to godliness, but perhaps it was all getting a bit much for her in her old age. At the entrance to the kitchen, Bex almost stood in something that looked suspiciously like animal droppings.
    ‘Do you have family nearby?’ Bex said, filling the kettle.
    ‘Don’t you use that tone with me,’ Iris said.
    ‘What tone?’
    ‘The social worker tone. I’m not a pity case.’
    ‘I didn’t say you were.’ Bex filled a glass with water from the tap and put it in front of Iris.
    ‘I don’t like plain water,’ Iris said.
    ‘You don’t have to like it. It’s to take your next lot of tablets. So you don’t have to get up. Unless you’d prefer me to help you upstairs to bed.’
    ‘No!’
    ‘Or to the sofa, perhaps. You don’t look very comfortable there.’
    ‘I’m perfectly all right, young lady.’
    ‘Hey, I’m getting older,’ Bex said, hand on one hip. ‘That’s a good sign, right?’
    ‘I beg your pardon.’
    ‘Young lady. Older than “child”. That means you’re warming to me.’
    Iris smiled without any humour. ‘You are a very irritating child.’
    ‘Fine,’ Bex said, giving up. ‘I’ll get out of your hair.’ She went to find the telephone so that she could put it next to Iris. There was one in the hallway, but it was the old-fashioned dial type with an honest-to-god cord. A cord which didn’t stretch more than a metre. There was a beige-and-red community-nurse-issued panic button sitting on the phone table, so Bex took that instead.
    ‘I don’t suppose you have a mobile,’ she said, setting the button in front of Iris. ‘But you can use this if you get into bother. You ought to wear it around your neck, you know.’
    ‘I’m not a fool,’ Iris said.
    ‘Right. I’m going.’ At the door she hesitated. The woman was a crusty old bag of wrinkled rudeness, but she was also a vulnerable member of the community. Bex had been brought up to believe that you looked out for people like that. No matter how annoying they were. ‘Is there someone I can call to check on you later? A family member?’
    Iris shook her head, not able to hide the wince of pain the movement brought on.
    ‘Children?’
    Iris lifted her chin and didn’t answer.
    Bex was going to ask about nieces and nephews, cousins, anyone, but it struck her that perhaps Iris was truly alone. It was a chilling thought and it softened her towards the woman. ‘Don’t worry,’ she