are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same. Don’t tell me you’re the Montol ’Oss.”
“Oh, no. They’ve got their own chap for that. But I carried Old Penglas here so well at our last Golowan, the Penzance organisers asked me to come and dance around a bit for the kiddies. Who knows? They could end up with a two-’Oss festival, like they have at Padstow.”
“Maybe they will.” Gideon glanced dubiously up at the wicked old head. “You’ve altered him a bit, haven’t you?”
“That I have. I got this shoulder-frame made, see, so that he can sit right on top of my head instead of over it, and I can look out of his neck. I’m not the short-arsed Penglas anymore.”
Everyone’s becoming what they should be . “Yes, I can see that.”
“And because I didn’t need his eyes, I put some lovely old glass marbles in ’em. All the better to see you with! And I decided to saw through him just there, and attach a pole I can move up and down like this, so...” The hinged jaw swung in Gideon’s direction, snapping ferociously. “So he bites! All the better to eat you with.”
“Good grief, Ray.” Gideon edged back. “Those are quite some alterations.”
“I know. Wouldn’t my old man turn in his—well, in his bunk, I suppose, in whatever prison cell he’s in? But I thought, sod him. What does he matter?”
“He doesn’t matter at all,” Gideon agreed. “Is Kitto here tonight?”
“Yes, just inside there. He’s meant to be my teaser, dance around in front of Old Penglas, stop me bumping into things. He’s got a new boyfriend, though. He’s oblivious.”
Gideon glanced through the pub’s open door. On the edge of the scrum by the bar, an exquisitely beautiful curly-haired lad was talking animatedly to a skinny one in glasses. “He looks well.”
“He’s fine. They’re an odd couple, aren’t they? But Kitto doesn’t see that. It’s like he doesn’t see the outsides of people at all. Hoi, Gwylim! Bring Jem out to say hello to Gideon.”
“No, leave them. I’ve got to be getting along.”
“Oh, right. On duty, are you? Me too, I suppose.” He pulled the little curtain across his face and was instantly lost in the majestic, terrifying frame of Old Penglas. When he spoke again, his voice had altered, cheerful Falmouth burr overlain by a sonorous chant. “See me here, Guardian Frayne— a live man in the old death’s head. But that’s the nature of gateway, the solstice door. Life in death, and death in life.”
“Er... Ray?”
A shift like changing weather. “Yes?”
“Was that you, or Old Penglas?”
“Oh. Did he make another pronouncement? Kitto says I’ve got to learn to control him, but it’s easier said than... Hang on.” The great skull whipped round, narrowly missing the top of Gideon’s. “Isn’t that Jana Ragwen?”
Something black and swift-moving caught Gideon’s eye, the tail of a raggedy crow disappearing round the corner into Hob Lane. “What—Granny Ragwen from Dark?”
“Yes, your village witch. Her Madge was in my shop the other day—said she can’t let the old girl out on her own anymore.”
“She must have slipped Madge’s leash. I’ll go make sure she’s okay.”
“Right you are, Sergeant! What would any of us do without you? Say hello to Lee and Tamsyn for me.”
The lane was empty when Gideon turned the corner. A single streetlamp was shedding a cone of light onto the pavement. The alley had an air of a vacated stage, the sea-salt breeze still vibrant, as if he’d just missed the performance. There was no sign of the old lady, although that didn’t mean she wasn’t there. “Mrs Ragwen?” Gideon called. He was beginning to feel foolish. His friends and neighbours had sent him uphill like a pinball in a machine. The houses and shops here had turned their backs to him, tight-drawn curtains shutting him out from the warm indoor world. He could barely hear the music and shouts from the town behind him. He waited,
“I could ask you the same. Don’t tell me you’re the Montol ’Oss.”
“Oh, no. They’ve got their own chap for that. But I carried Old Penglas here so well at our last Golowan, the Penzance organisers asked me to come and dance around a bit for the kiddies. Who knows? They could end up with a two-’Oss festival, like they have at Padstow.”
“Maybe they will.” Gideon glanced dubiously up at the wicked old head. “You’ve altered him a bit, haven’t you?”
“That I have. I got this shoulder-frame made, see, so that he can sit right on top of my head instead of over it, and I can look out of his neck. I’m not the short-arsed Penglas anymore.”
Everyone’s becoming what they should be . “Yes, I can see that.”
“And because I didn’t need his eyes, I put some lovely old glass marbles in ’em. All the better to see you with! And I decided to saw through him just there, and attach a pole I can move up and down like this, so...” The hinged jaw swung in Gideon’s direction, snapping ferociously. “So he bites! All the better to eat you with.”
“Good grief, Ray.” Gideon edged back. “Those are quite some alterations.”
“I know. Wouldn’t my old man turn in his—well, in his bunk, I suppose, in whatever prison cell he’s in? But I thought, sod him. What does he matter?”
“He doesn’t matter at all,” Gideon agreed. “Is Kitto here tonight?”
“Yes, just inside there. He’s meant to be my teaser, dance around in front of Old Penglas, stop me bumping into things. He’s got a new boyfriend, though. He’s oblivious.”
Gideon glanced through the pub’s open door. On the edge of the scrum by the bar, an exquisitely beautiful curly-haired lad was talking animatedly to a skinny one in glasses. “He looks well.”
“He’s fine. They’re an odd couple, aren’t they? But Kitto doesn’t see that. It’s like he doesn’t see the outsides of people at all. Hoi, Gwylim! Bring Jem out to say hello to Gideon.”
“No, leave them. I’ve got to be getting along.”
“Oh, right. On duty, are you? Me too, I suppose.” He pulled the little curtain across his face and was instantly lost in the majestic, terrifying frame of Old Penglas. When he spoke again, his voice had altered, cheerful Falmouth burr overlain by a sonorous chant. “See me here, Guardian Frayne— a live man in the old death’s head. But that’s the nature of gateway, the solstice door. Life in death, and death in life.”
“Er... Ray?”
A shift like changing weather. “Yes?”
“Was that you, or Old Penglas?”
“Oh. Did he make another pronouncement? Kitto says I’ve got to learn to control him, but it’s easier said than... Hang on.” The great skull whipped round, narrowly missing the top of Gideon’s. “Isn’t that Jana Ragwen?”
Something black and swift-moving caught Gideon’s eye, the tail of a raggedy crow disappearing round the corner into Hob Lane. “What—Granny Ragwen from Dark?”
“Yes, your village witch. Her Madge was in my shop the other day—said she can’t let the old girl out on her own anymore.”
“She must have slipped Madge’s leash. I’ll go make sure she’s okay.”
“Right you are, Sergeant! What would any of us do without you? Say hello to Lee and Tamsyn for me.”
The lane was empty when Gideon turned the corner. A single streetlamp was shedding a cone of light onto the pavement. The alley had an air of a vacated stage, the sea-salt breeze still vibrant, as if he’d just missed the performance. There was no sign of the old lady, although that didn’t mean she wasn’t there. “Mrs Ragwen?” Gideon called. He was beginning to feel foolish. His friends and neighbours had sent him uphill like a pinball in a machine. The houses and shops here had turned their backs to him, tight-drawn curtains shutting him out from the warm indoor world. He could barely hear the music and shouts from the town behind him. He waited,
Similar Books
