Tales From the White Hart

Jasmine wrapped the small box of lemon and ginger tea. “There you are, Miss Patience. Can I help you with anything else?”

“No.” Miss Patience placed the packet in her bag. “Thank you.”

Jasmine watched the vampire glide towards the door and open it with a lace-gloved hand. Waiting until Miss Patience was well out of earshot, Jasmine shook her head. “She is weird.”

“She was wearing jeans a few weeks ago,” Adele said, coming over from the café.

“It’s probably a psychotic break or being overtaken by evil.” Freydis wandered over with a frappe. “I am so stunned that there is ice in summer. How can people imagine ice in summer?”

“I’ve been in faerie realms where there are corners that are always winter,” Mrs Tuesday said.

“But that is winter there,” Freydis said. “It’s summer here.”

“You could always go to those corners, grab an icicle and bring it back into a summer realm,” Mrs Tuesday said.

“But the icicle would no longer be in winter,” Freydis said. “So it couldn’t be imagined.”

“But you just carry it from one part of the domain to another.” Mrs Tuesday looked at the others in search of sanity.

“But then it wouldn’t be in winter,” Freydis sighed. “It is too quiet today and I still haven’t decided on a name. Perhaps Mocha?”

“Frappe might be nice,” Jasmine said. “It’s got a ring about it.”

“You could call yourself after one of those coffee pod things,” Adele suggested. “That would make a change.”

“They’re trademarked.” Freydis waved a hand. “I need to convey my inner self. I need Lord Ragnar to see me completely desirable, unattainable but yet a sliver of hope.”

“That’s a tough one,” Jasmine said.

“I should not have thrown my coffee cup at his head.” Freydis rearranged the dried grasses next to the machine.

“No, it was a bad idea,” Jasmine had been the one to clean it up.

“I worry that it may have given him hope.” Freydis stepped back and looked at her work.

“Do you want to get back with him?” Jasmine asked.

“Of course,” Freydis said, going back to the machine and moving a stem of oats a fraction to the left.

“Then don’t you have to let him think he has a little chance?”

Freydis frowned. “I have it – Chai!”

“It sounds like a martial art,” Adele said.

Jeanette came in weighed down by bags. “You have to help me.”

Jasmine bounded up to her. “What’s the matter?”

“What do I wear tonight? Ian says I’ve got to look good but not too good.”

Jasmine nodded. “You can’t look better than Kieran’s wife. That would cause trouble. But you have to look like you have class and style, because Ian’s almost a pack leader so you have to look good to reflect his position.”

“We’re just dating,” Jeanette said with an edge in her voice.

“That’s what you think.” Freydis picked up a silver bag. “This is nice.” She pulled out a well cut, navy blue trouser suit. “You would have to dress it up, but it is suitable.”

Jeanette looked at her doubtfully. “Are you sure? I think it suits me, but I’m not sure that it’s formal enough. Ian said elegant but not too formal.”

Jasmine nodded. “You can’t wear full length. But it has to look fancy.”

“What did you wear?” Adele asked.

Jasmine shrugged. “I was at the tail of the pack. I just wore a clean skirt and top or nice trousers – not jeans!”

“I got this blouse from the charity shop. It’s pure silk.” Jeanette pulled out a delicate shirt blouse patterned with steel blue paisley. “It was a real bargain. I think it could go with the trouser suit or this skirt.” She pulled out a black suede skirt, beautifully cut and almost ankle length. “I’ve lost some weight with all the work on the small holding, so it’s a little big for me, but I’ve got some nice belts and a shawl that I could wear instead of a jacket.”

“What else have you got?” Freydis peered into the heap of bags that had collapsed around Jeanette’s feet. “The blouse would be perfect with either the trouser suit or skirt, though more striking with the skirt. Was it really second-hand? It looks like it was hardly worn.”

“I have been to every charity shop in York,” Jeanette said. “My feet are killing me and I swear I can’t face another changing room.” She paused. “Is it okay to tell people I got the clothes there?”

Jasmine shrugged. “Martha is supposed to wear the good stuff all the time, and get it new, but it’s considered clever to get a good deal if you’re someone like me.” She stroked over the skirt.

Freydis pulled out a slim fitting cocktail dress in sugar pink and shook her head. “You should take this back. It would take all the colour out of you. I think looking stunning and wearing good quality clothes would reflect well on Ian but at the same time you have obtained a thrifty bargain and are not trying to show wealth but prudent care for a smaller bank balance. I should tell them. This is nice.” She pulled out a painted necklace. “It’s very striking and doesn’t look like something a four year old would make even though it is constructed from wooden beads.”

Darren walked in. “Are we adding a boutique to the business?” He strode past the clothes and over to the racks of incense. “Nobody ask me an opinion about the clothes, because I will give you an honest answer.”

“I’d better get these out of the way.” Jeanette scooped the heap up and scuttled towards the back room.

“I’ll have a look at that skirt and see if I can take it in quickly this afternoon,” Mrs Tuesday said. “It’s a tricky material, but it may be possible to do a quick fix for tonight and a proper job later on.” She followed Jeanette into the back.

Jasmine watched Darren scan through the varieties and pick up a couple of packs of church incense. She looked around quickly. Adele was in a far corner re-stocking the ornaments and Freydis was serving a couple that had followed Darren into the shop. She smiled nervously at Darren as he placed the incense on the counter and reached for his wallet. “It’s okay. Steve said that you get all incense free. There’s a special button on the till.” She scanned the packs and slid them into a paper bag.

“That’s kind of him,” Darren said. “I don’t mind paying.”

Jasmine shook her head. “Steve said it was important.” She looked around again. No-one was paying much attention. Adele was trying to work out how to stuff four plastic fairies into a space meant for three and Freydis was charming the couple who were both nodding and smiling as she added whipped cream to their hot chocolates with an elegant flourish. “Can I ask you something?”

“No, I can’t see your underwear,” Darren said as he picked up the bag. He looked over Jasmine’s long, gypsy skirt and loose shirt. “You look very nice.”

“It’s not about clothes,” Jasmine said. “Do you really think I look nice?” she added.

Darren wished he knew what to say when women asked him questions like that. He never seemed to get it right. “You look nice. You look comfortable and happy.”

Jasmine glowed. “Thank you. I know I need to look nice to reflect well on Ian. He’s been so good to me and I don’t want him to be ashamed.” She glanced around again. “But I need to ask, do you think Ian likes me? I don’t mean likes me like he likes Jeanette, but likes me like he likes Callum?” She twisted her fingers. “Does he think I’m useful?”

“Of course he does,” Darren said. He stopped and thought. “Has he said anything to you?”

“No, but he’s so busy and he’s taking Jeanette to dinner at Fulford with Kieran and I don’t want him to feel awkward if he gets asked questions about me.”

“He’s not really said anything about you to me, except that he thinks you’re a good kid,” Darren said. “And I think he’s right.”

Jasmine’s smile lit up her face and she took a deep breath. “Did he say that? It means that I’m an asset, not trouble.”

“I don’t know about that,” Darren said. “But, what is it they say? Keep your tail up and your fur flat and you’ll do fine. And you will, I’m sure.”

Jasmine sighed happily.

Lord Ragnar stared moodily down at the street below. He and Kadogan had found their way to the rooftops above Stonegate and were perched unseen next to the wary jackdaws. “I cannot believe she would change her name.”

Kadogan shrugged. As a loyal subject of Lord Ragnar, and possibly the nearest the elfen got to a friend, he had heard a lot on this theme. He was bored. “She still uses Freydis.”

“But she talks about changing her name to outlandish things such as ‘Steamer’. She is not mine.”

“You could change your name,” Kadogan said with a hint of malice.

“I am the Prince of York. I change my name for no-one.” Lord Ragnar snapped. He glared at the pigeon which was pecking around the nearby gutter. “On the other hand, a Viking name could be considered a little dated.”

Kadogan regretted his jibe. “What could you use? A name from a tea to go with her coffee?”

“I could use Assam,” Lord Ragnar said thoughtfully.

“I suggest that you consider how it could be shortened. Punishing that would take up too much time.” Kadogan watched the crowds swirling below as the tourists flowed towards the Minster or ebbed away.

“How about Chai?” Lord Ragnar was still glaring at the unconcerned pigeon.

“It sounds like a martial art.” Kadogan sprawled lazily along the ridge tiles. He could watch the movement of the crowds and their shadows for hours. He frowned and leaned forward.

“I am not calling myself English Breakfast,” Lord Ragnar said in an attempt to be light-hearted. “There is a type of tea called Gunpowder Tea.”

“Those shadows are wrong,” Kadogan said.

“What? What has that to do with Freydis?”

“My lord, look. That patch there – it’s wrong.” Kadogan pointed at a corner of an alley.

Lord Ragnar followed Kadogan’s direction and frowned. “That’s not a natural shadow.”

“I think, with respect, your name can wait.” Kadogan stretched and flowed into a form ready to land in the alley. “That is dark energy piling in heaps and it is very near the entrance to your domain. It is looking for a home. My lord, we need to act.”

Jeanette smoothed down her skirt. Mrs Tuesday had done a fantastic job and it fitted perfectly. Her hair was loose for once and hung in shining curls over her shoulders and down her back. She had draped a lacy cardigan around her shoulders and felt elegantly uncomfortable.

Ian was wearing a suit but without a tie and looked incredibly distinguished. As Jeanette glanced quickly at him, her heart turned over. Jeanette knew he was nervous, but he hid it well as they walked into the large lounge. Every head turned. Jeanette could feel colour in her cheeks but she kept her smile in place. It looked like she had judged it correctly. The men were all wearing suits and the women all looked like they had taken some effort. Some of the older ladies wore pearls with their summer dresses, some of the younger ladies wore tailored trousers with their crisp, fresh tops but all looked like they stuck to a dress code.

Ian guided her over to the centre of the room. “Jeanette, this is Kieran Latimer and his wife Martha. He is the head of the pack here. Kieran, Martha, this is Jeanette Fowler. She has recently taken over a smallholding just outside York.”

“I’m pleased to meet you.” Kieran smiled and shook Jeanette’s hand. “I trust Ian is treating you well?”

Jeanette kept smiling and wondered how to take this. There was a definite undertone to Kieran’s words. “Ian has been very kind to me, and incredibly helpful. He installed irrigation for me, and I am very grateful.”

“Hmm.” Kieran gave Ian a hard look. Ian met it without flinching. “Glad to hear that.”

“You look lovely,” Martha said, drawing Jeanette a little way away from the men. “Where did you get that amazing skirt? I’ve been looking for one just like it.”

“I picked it up in a charity shop,” Jeanette said, a little thrown.

“Of course,” Martha sighed. “Which means I can’t go back and get my size. What a shame. I used to love rummaging in charity shops. I came home empty handed more often than not, but it was the thrill of the chase.” She threw a loving look at her husband. “Kieran prefers I shop at the better boutiques these days, but I do miss it. Perhaps you would invite me along next time? I may not be able to pick up anything myself, but I could still enjoy looking.”

“That would be nice.” Jeanette found herself relaxing. Martha was safe in a way that few people were. You knew that whatever happened, Martha would keep her head and make sensible and calm decisions while mayhem reigned around her. She looked in her late thirties in a mature but well maintained way, taller than Jeanette with soft blonde hair and a warm smile. “I’m sure you know the best places.”

“We need to go to Leeds,” Martha said. “There are around twenty shops within yards of each other in Headingley and lots of lovely tea shops. We could make a day of it – in the winter. I couldn’t interrupt you during growing season.”

Jeanette relaxed a little more. “I went to Headingley a few years ago. My grandad was watching the cricket, but I went around the shops with my mum and you are right – there are dozens of them.” She hesitated. “Is it okay to talk about Jasmine? It’s just that she needs clothes and it would be good to go with her. I think she needs reassurance. If that’s okay with you or I could go with Jasmine some other time,” she added hastily.

Martha looked worried. “Is Jasmine a trouble to you? I would be worried about keeping her in line. She has a bad reputation, you know, but I had a word with Darlene from Liverpool and…” Martha stopped. “Jasmine has a reputation for fighting, but I understand where it came from. Have you had any trouble?”

Jeanette shook her head. “She’s actually been very sweet and a little nervous, if anything. I know she fought with Ian when she first came to York, but, apart from that, she’s been fine. In fact, I worry because she seems so eager to please, as if she’s waiting for a kick.”

Martha nodded. “It’s hard if she has spent time as a stray. It’s a cruel life and if she can keep her tail off the ground after that then all credit to her.” She looked over to where Ian and Kieran were deep in conversation. “Ian took a risk taking her in, though I suspect Mrs Tuesday was a big influence after talking with Kieran. But it looks like it was a good choice.”

“She’s really helpful in the shop,” Jeanette said. “And she copes with it really well. I’m getting used to it, but there is Freydis and Mrs Tuesday to deal with before you even consider what some of the customers can be like.”

“Keep an eye on Freydis and listen to what she says,” Martha said. “She’s a handful and a nuisance, but she knows more than she tells, and she often knows more than she thinks. What is it like working with Steve Adderson? I know he got hold of some speciality dog biscuits for us a few years ago when we were hosting a big Christmas and he did a very good deal.” She stopped and looked over to her husband who had turned away from Ian to take an urgent call.

Jeanette’s heart sank. Ian’s face was pale and set. He glanced over at her and nodded. “Martha will tell you where to go.” He took his jacket off

“It looks bad,” Martha said quietly. “Keep your head down and follow Kirstie.” Martha waved over an older teenager that looked a lot like Jasmine. “Look after Jeanette.”

Jeanette looked round at Ian who was watching Kieran. Kieran walked over to the corner of the room where he deliberately placed down his phone, turned and raised a hand. All eyes burned into him.

“It’s a full pack muster. This is not a drill. The Paladin’s citadel has been destroyed.”