After traveling for hours and changing trains for what felt like twenty times, but was actually only four, Kin found himself on the final stretch of his journey. It was quite pleasant sitting on a plush seat on an old slam-door train with warm air coming up by his feet and cool air streaming in through the open window. The train was practically empty, so he could stretch out his long legs and relax. He watched the countryside flash by--hedgerows and streams, a pond filled with swans, tangled vines and twisted trees. It was odd returning to the place of his childhood. He'd never understood why Haruko had chosen to stay so close to home, but after years of living overseas and in Scotland it was strangely comforting returning to South East England.
The train shuddered to a halt at Twelftrees village train station. Kin gathered his suitcase and stepped onto the platform. He was immediately enveloped in a cloud of fog, so it took him a moment to get his bearings. He pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of his wool cardigan, which had been a gift from his grandfather when he first started his PhD in Scotland. It was a sort of lucky charm, wearing the same cardigan his grandfather had worn as a graduate student. He squinted at his messy handwriting, and set off along what he hoped was the right road towards the gatehouse.
Even with written directions, Kin managed to get lost. He scratched his head and squinted at the directions once more. Was that Darling or Garland Lane? He finally backtracked and made it to the pub on Baker Hill, The Fox and Child, so he could get proper directions. He remembered going to this pub with his parents and Haruko many years ago. It looked exactly as a country village pub should look; a bit cluttered and dusty but warm and inviting.
A middle-aged woman with hair that had once been red, but was starting to turn grey, greeted him with a cheerful wave and a "what can I get you, dear?"
Kin hesitated and brushed his hand through his black hair, his cheeks flushing golden rose. He walked hesitantly towards the bar.
"Umm, I'm in need of directions, actually. I'm looking for the Gatehouse?"
"Ah, you must be Kin," said the woman. She reached out to shake his hand heartily. "I'm Nicole. I've heard so much about you."
Kin didn't say anything but he felt rather embarrassed. He wondered what Haruko had been saying about him.
"Right," the woman continued, and she proceeded to give him a series of confusing directions, changing her mind frequently about which way was actually faster and more direct, so that he left feeling more confused than ever.
Finally, after discovering a road sign hidden beneath wild roses, which he stopped to sniff, delighting in their lemony sweet fragrance, Kin managed to get back on track and was soon walking through the archway of the gatehouse. It was every bit as impressive as he remembered.
He still couldn't believe his little sister lived in such an unusual house, like something out of one of the fairy tales he was translating. He paused to sniff the peach colored tea roses that trailed up the wall of the house. Haruko said she'd leave the door unlocked as she had to stay at college until later that afternoon, but Kin wondered whether Moira was at home. Perhaps he should return to the village and spend a few hours wandering around?
He realized he was just trying to avoid an awkward situation, and besides he was fairly knackered. He finally pushed open the kitchen door and called out "hello," but was met with silence. Then there was a soft thud and an orange tabby appeared in the kitchen doorway, stretching and yawning. She looked at Kin in a "Well, who are you and what do you want" sort of way, and looked perfectly capable of standing in the doorway indefinitely.
Kin set down his suitcase and took a tentative step forward. The cat continued staring at him. It was rather unsettling. Finally he said, "I'm Kin. Haruko's brother."
At the mention of Haruko, the cat mewed and tiptoed into the kitchen. She hopped onto a chair and began cleaning her face. Kin breathed a sigh of relief.
The kitchen was small and cramped, yet pleasant and comfortable looking. The walls were a soft butter yellow and there was a big bouquet of roses and some white wild flowers Kin didn't know the name of.
He wandered into the next room, which was the lounge. There was evidence of a fire in the fireplace. It still felt warm. Perhaps he could get it going again without too much trouble. The wood-beamed ceiling was very low, so that Kin, who was tall, had to stoop. He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat for his glasses, put them on, placed his hands in his back pockets, and explored with his eyes the books on the shelf near the fireplace.
He supposed they were Moira's as Haruko wasn't one for reading for pleasure. After a moment he removed his hands and traced a finger along some of the book spines. He sighed happily. Would she mind if he paged through them? He felt books were meant to be shared, but knew from experience that some people were quite possessive of their books. He took a step back and just looked at the titles.
There were so many familiar favorites--Grimm's fairy tales, Treasure Island, The Secret Garden, as well as many he was curious about and longed to read. There was a leather bound book with an unmarked spine he was keen to open, but he resisted the temptation. He kept browsing, and after a while felt a warmth, a sort of heat wave like mirage surrounding one book in particular. That one. That's the one he'd like to sit down with. He shouldn't though. He should really wait and ask permission first.
With a great deal of reluctance, he tore himself away from the books and went to explore the rest of the house. There were lots of curious items in the lounge. He could guess which items belonged to Haruko and which were Moira's. He didn't know Moira very well at all, but he supposed the more whimsical items--antiques and pretty florals and odd curiosities were hers. Haruko gravitated towards modern and streamlined. As such, the house contained an interesting juxtaposition of clean, modern lines, with items that had a history and were full of stories. He personally preferred Moira's things.
After picking up and setting down countless items, including a fold-out book with intricate cut-out designs that particularly fascinated him, Kin went to the bathroom to relieve himself, taking note of the fact that there was no shower and he would find it difficult to bathe in such a miniscule bathtub, thought it was a charming clawfoot one.
He remembered all of the bedrooms were upstairs, though on opposite ends of the house, having helped Moira and Haruko move in four years before, but had forgotten which bedroom belonged to which woman, and therefore which was the spare room, and decided to wait to be told before exploring any more.
Instead, he returned to the kitchen and put the kettle on. He opened cupboards and drawers until he found tea and cups. He took his time choosing a mug for his tea, for it was an important decision and not to be rushed. It was always fun deciding on one. It had to be just the right size and shape to suit him. He usually chose a cup or mug to go with whatever book he happened to be reading. His thoughts returned to that book of Moira's he longed to read. Perhaps that was why he chose Moira's special mug without realizing it belonged to her. He only knew that seeing a picture of the Little Prince and reading "C'est tellement mystérieux, le pays de larmes," made him feel a kindred connection with this particular mug. He was a scholar of French fairy tales afterall, and Le Petit Prince had always been one of his favorite books.
All was quiet save for the purring of the orange tabby cat and the gentle ticking of the Art Deco clock on the mantelpiece as Kin set his mug of tea on a table next to the sofa and threw a log on the fire. He blew on the ashes and coals and somehow managed to get the flames to roar into life once more. He settled down on the sofa with his mug of tea and waited, twiddling his thumbs, feeling restless and nervous.
Finally, he stretched his long legs and strolled over to the bookcase. With great care, he removed the book from the shelf and brought it over to the sofa. He opened the book gently and ran a finger down the print of the title page, reading "I Capture the Castle." There was a postcard tucked in the book. He didn't mean to be nosy, but as a scholar he was inordinately curious about bits of ephemera. It was a birthday card-- "To Moira, with love, Jeremiah Little." So, the book was Moira's. Kin ran a hand through his hair and said in barely more than a whisper, "Hmm." He put his index finger over his top lip, his thumb tucked under his chin, and just thought for a moment. He set the book down on the table, suddenly feeling unsure as to whether he should read it or not.
As he was trying to decide, his mind turned foggy. He yawned and shut his eyes, only for a moment, but was soon fast asleep.
He awoke to the clinking sound of keys being set on a table and the sound of gentle footsteps. He knew they must belong to Moira, as Haruko was never quiet. He yawned and stretched and ran a hand through his hair, which was tousled from sleep by now.
A slender figure dressed in periwinkle and spreading soft clouds of some mysterious floral and citrus perfume stood in the doorway looking at him.
"You found us okay then?" she asked. Her voice was soft and musical; a pleasant voice Kin could easily listen to all day. It still bore traces of an American accent, but spoke in an English sort of way.
"Yeah, thanks. I actually got lost at first, but asked directions at the pub." He smiled at her in what he hoped was a warm and grateful way, but his smile faltered when he saw her glance at the book on the table and then over to the mug beside it. A strange expression crossed her face and her body stiffened, but the moment passed quickly.
'Well, welcome," she said and smiled, but it looked rather strained. "Haruko should be home in about an hour." She continued to stand in the doorway, much as the cat had done earlier, but facing into the lounge instead of the kitchen.
'Right," he said, unsure as to whether he should stand up, or continue sitting on the couch, or what.
"Would you like to see your room?" Moira continued. She removed a claw clip from her hair and shook her mane of golden curls. 'That's better," she sighed.
'Yeah, that would be great," said Kin. He stood up and looked at the mug. Moira frowned slightly again. "I'll just bring this to the kitchen first, shall I?" Moira moved into the lounge to allow Kin entry to the kitchen. He felt so uncomfortable. After setting the mug in the sink, he took a deep breath, attempting to regain his composure. How could such a tiny woman unsettle him so much? Get a grip. He picked up his suitcase, which he had left in the kitchen earlier, and followed Moira up the twisted steps into the tower. As they reached the first level, Moira stopped and said, "This is my room. There are no doors, unfortunately, so that might be awkward. I'll try to hang some fabric at least."
"Oh, right," Kin said and then thought Am I incapable of saying anything else?
They continued up the stairs to the second floor of the tower.
"Here we are, your room," said Moira, beckoning Kin to venture in in front of her. The room was circular shaped so that the furniture didn't quite fit in properly. There was a cushioned window seat that curved around the tower windows. It would be a pleasant place for reading. The bed was a small, antique, wire-framed bed. Kin sat down on it. The mattress was squishy and soft at least.
Moira looked like she was going to say something else but thought better of it. She smiled at Kin again and said, "I hope you'll be comfortable here. There are clean linens in the wardrobe, and there are spare towels downstairs on the bathroom shelf. I'll let you settle in, shall I?"
Kin smiled back at her but didn't reply. Moira retreated gracefully down the spiral steps, her periwinkle dress flaring out behind her like some ethereal fairy fabric.
He let out a soft groan of embarrassment as he remembered the first time he had met Moira, eight or nine years ago. He'd stared at her mismatched eyes, and then when he was aware of how uncomfortable it made her he had hurriedly glanced away. Anytime he had to look at her that day, he would look past her, just over her shoulder, avoiding meeting her eyes. He'd heard of heterochromia before, but Moira was the first person he'd come across with the condition. Her eyes were oddly fascinating. Beautiful and mysterious; one gold-green like the sunlight streaming through the forest and the other silvery-blue like the moon in the night sky. He knew she had thought he was repelled by them, but he wasn't. They were fascinating. He thought they were the most beautiful eyes in the world.
He busied himself with unpacking his laptop and books, and the few clothes he had with him. The room was rather sparse; just the bed and wardrobe and a small desk. There was a bouquet of wildflowers on the desk, but other than that, there were no decorations in the room. There was a small trapdoor in the ceiling, perhaps there was a loft. He'd investigate later.
After unpacking, he sat on the window seat and looked out over the pathway and gardens of the manor house. He'd have to ask Haruko if it was okay to walk there. She hadn't mentioned it was inhabited. It had been empty when they had moved in four years ago. It did look rather neglected and somewhat wild, so that he was reminded of Beauty and the Beast. A fairytale house.
A crow flew by the window, cawing shrilly and landing in the clump of ivy which strangled half of the window, causing Kin to jump. He glanced around the room and debated whether he should hide in here until Haruko returns, or brave his irrational fears and go downstairs to get to know Moira better. He decided on the latter.
***
The moment Kin descended the twisty, spiral staircase he knew Moira was not alone. The sound of Moira's gentle voice was met with a loud male voice. An elderly man dressed in a crisp, candy pink shirt and pinstripe trousers was seated on the loveseat, deep in conversation with Moira, who was clasping a photograph in her hand and appeared to be scrutinizing it intensely.
"Is it him?" asked the elderly man.
"I can't be sure. We were kids really when last I saw him. He has the right coloring and build, but gosh, after sixteen years, who knows?" replied Moira.
"Well. This Jeremiah Little was last seen in Birchley," he said with a triumphant tone of voice.
Moira looked at him with a faint glimmer of hope on her face. Kin was starting to think he should have made his presence known. He wouldn't want anyone to eavesdrop on such a private conversation if their roles had been reversed. Where had he heard that name before? Jeremiah Little.
"Do you want my advice?" the elderly gent continued.
"Yes, please," said Moira, returning the photograph to him. He placed it in the pocket of his waistcoat.
"In a small village such as Birchley, the person to ask after your boy Jez is the publican. Telephone the pub and see what you can find out."
"I'll do that. Thanks, Frank. This means so much to me."
The man, whose name was Frank, apparently, patted Moira on the knee. Kin coughed softly.
Moira noticed Kin just then and said, "Ah, Frank this is Kin. Kin this is our neighbor, Frank."
"So you are Haruko's brother. You look alike, you know. Sit down, young man," said Frank. Kin sat down in an armchair. "Have a biscuit," continued Frank, waving a tin of biscuits under Kin's nose and smiling at him with a warm, generous smile.
"Thanks," said Kin as he chose a biscuit. He caught Moira's eye and blushed. Frank noticed and smiled at him with mischievous eyes.
Kin tried not to look at Moira again, afraid that she'd think he was disgusted by her mismatched eyes. He looked at the books on the shelf instead.
"You have quite a collection of books," he said.
"Yes. Do you see any you've read?" asked Moira.
Kin got up and browsed through the titles, aware that he had already done so when he had first arrived. "I see several favorites. They're like old, familiar friends."
"That's how I feel too," said Moira, with a note of surprise in her voice. Perhaps she thought Kin was only the type to read dry, academic books. He was glad she knew he loved books as much as she did. That made them seem like old, familiar friends too. He smiled to himself as he kept looking at titles.
"Help yourself to any of them," said Moira.
There was the sound of the kitchen door flung open and a moment later they heard Haruko's voice. "Hello, hello dear people. Has my brother arrived?"
"I'm in here, Haruko."
She came clomping in and ran to hug Kin, who had torn himself away from the bookshelf to greet her.
"You look like shite," she said. "When was the last time you slept?"
"Umm, actually I fell asleep on your couch when first I arrived."
"No wonder. You look as if you haven't slept in months. Doesn't he Moira?"
Moira made a noncommittal noise which was drowned out by Haruko anyway.
Kin rolled his eyes, but secretly he liked Haruko fussing over him. A honeyed warmth settled in his stomach. He let Haruko talk on and on, while he sat back in the squashy armchair and helped himself to another biscuit and traded smiles with Frank. For the first time in years he felt like he was home.
Before bed that evening, Haruko and Moira casually slipped into the conversation the news that Kin might be sharing his room with a noisy specter.
"A ghost? Really?" Kin replied, raising one eyebrow in disbelief.
Haruko rolled her eyes, but Moira said, "It's no joke. Don't say we didn't warn you when a loud crash wakes you up early in the morning."
It was perhaps because of the talk of ghosts that Kin jumped when his mobile phone rang the moment he switched off his bedside lamp. He groaned when he saw the number, but answered anyway. He couldn't help himself.
"Are you awake?" said a voice on the other end. "Of course you are. That's stupid I know. Look, I just wanted to make sure you made it okay and are settled in. I miss you."
Kin was stunned into silence, but eventually brought himself to answer. "Yeah. I'm here. Everything's fine." He couldn't tell his ex girlfriend he missed her too, because it simply wasn't true. They hadn't seen each other in months. He'd been floating around from friends' to complete strangers' couches ever since she kicked him out. It came as a shock when she called him a few weeks ago, seemingly out of the blue. They'd agreed to stay in touch, but now it sounded like she was hoping for a reconciliation. It was too late. Now.
"How's your sister? And her roommate? What's her name again?"
Ah. So now he understood. He'd made the mistake of telling Ashley about his initial crush on Moira and the embarrassing moment when he couldn't stop staring at her mismatched eyes. She wasn't calling because she missed him. She wanted to make sure he hadn't found a replacement yet. The nerve of her!
But all he said was, "Moira. Yeah, they're both okay. They've made me feel welcome."
Ashley sighed exaggeratedly. "Okay, well. I should let you sleep. Ta-ta for now." She didn't wait for him to respond before hanging up.
Great. Now his thoughts were buzzing around like a swarm of bees in his mind. Haruko was right when she noticed the dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't slept properly in months. His thoughts kept circling around, but eventually he heard signs of Moira in the room below. Was she singing? It was very faint, but the sound reminded him of a clear, starlit sky. His breathing slowed and his thoughts evaporated. He was snoring peacefully within moments.
***
His first breakfast at the gatehouse was a memorable affair. Haruko had brought a breakfast tray up to his room, but even before the smell of coffee greeted his nose he was awake due to the heavy tread of his sister's footsteps and her sudden shout of "bloody hell," as she nearly tripped over apparently thin air.
"It's Saturday, isn't it? Are you always awake so early?" he groaned as he reached for his glasses from his bedside table and hurriedly forced them onto his face.
Haruko just grunted and said, "eat your breakfast like a good brother."
He had barely bitten into a triangle of toast when a voice called from downstairs, "You up yet?"
He recognized the voice as Frank's. Haruko turned to go out the door, almost tripping again, this time on Lizzie, who jumped up on Kin's bed and curled up at the foot of it. With raised eyebrows he turned to Haruko, who correctly interpreted his look and responded with, "Yes, it's always this crazy here. Welcome to our house which should rather be named a zoo."
As she headed out the door, Kin said, "Um, is Moira up too? Should I wait to go downstairs?"
Haruko paused in the doorway, quirked her lips into an amused smile, and said, "Please don't tell me you've been hiding in here out of respect for a fair maiden?" She emphasized the last words in a playful way.
Kin snorted and waved her away. He drank his coffee, grateful for the jolt of caffeine. He wanted to make headway on his project. Truth was he hadn't made much progress on translating the obscure French fairy tales into English because he had fallen down a rabbit hole of research. He was fascinated by the life story of the original collector of the fairy tales, Claudette de Bossigny. He'd also noticed something curious about the original French text. There were repeated symbols and motifs continuing on from one story to the next. That wasn't unusual in fairy tales of course, but what was unusual was the order Madame de Bossigny had chosen for the fairy tales in the book. It was almost like a secret code, or a puzzle. He felt compelled to solve it before continuing with the English translation.
A few moments later, he was seated in the lounge, circling each repeated symbol from the photocopied text in various colored inks. Moira was working at her desk, or rather alternating between yawning, sipping tea, tapping her pen against the desk, and twisting strands of her blonde hair as she gazed out the window. Kin smiled to himself. He knew how she felt. Ah, the life of a writer. As she lifted her mug to her lips, he realized it was the mug he had chosen when he first arrived. Whoops. No wonder she had given him a funny look.
"Making any progress?" he finally brought himself to say.
Moira's forehead creased. "No, not really. I'm too distracted. You?" She rubbed her right hand against the left sleeve of her sea-green jumper. It looked soft and fuzzy, like velvet.
"I should be translating this next fairy tale, about a Bird Whisperer, but I'm more interested in making connections between it and the one preceeding it." He chuckled softly and ran his hand through his hair.
"I know how that goes," said Moira. "I often lose myself in a flood of research when I'm supposed to have only researched one tiny thing for my writing. And then I can't bring myself to write even one sentence." She smiled at Kin in an open, friendly way. "The Bird Whisperer, huh? That sounds interesting."
"It's a great story. I'll let you read it once I actually get the translation written, unless, do you read French?"
"Ha! Not really. I'm terrible with languages. English is hard enough for me."
Interesting, thought Kin. I wonder why she owns a Le Petit Prince mug then?
Their moment of companionable connection seemed to have ended as Kin didn't reply and Moira turned back to her computer.
"Don't work too hard," called Frank from the kitchen. "And, Moira, let me know what you find out."
"Of course. Thanks again," said Moira. Kin wondered what that was about.
"Are you sure you don't want to stay for lunch?" Haruko asked. She was in the kitchen with Frank, washing their breakfast dishes and humming to herself.
"Nah, I've got to get my house in order for tomorrow."
"What time should we show up," asked Moira.
"Whenever you want. You come too, Kin, alright?"
Kin looked at Moira who mouthed at him "his birthday."
"Yes, I will. Thank you," said Kin. He heard the sound of Frank's footsteps followed by Haruko cursing, "Oh, you bloody cat!" A moment later, Kin heard Frank's voice again. "She's a clever one," he said. Lizzie stalked into the lounge, scowling, and went over to the fireplace to clean her fur, her back to Kin and Moira, annoyed at having failed to make her great escape. Moira didn't seem to notice as she was finally typing away on her laptop. Kin thought he'd better get to work too, and was soon at work translating The Bird Whisperer.
It was 2:30 when he glanced at the Art Deco clock on the mantelpiece. He smiled to himself, feeling satisfied at completing the translations for half the fairy tales in the book.
Moira glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece at the same time as Kin. 2:30. How was it so late already? Time had a curious way of folding in on itself when one was busy in a creative task. The pub should be open now. She closed her laptop and picked up her mobile phone, her mind racing with anxious thoughts, planning out what she should say. She didn't have long to wait before a voice said "Hello?"
"Hi. My name is Moira and I'm trying to find a friend of mine. I don't have his number, but someone suggested I contact you to maybe give him a message. Could you do that for me?"
"Who's your friend?" The breathy female voice sounded a bit guarded.
"Jeremiah Little, Jez."
"Oh, I know Jez." The voice sounded relieved. "You're out of luck though. He moved, oh, about a month ago."
Moira felt her heart drop into her stomach. "No, really?"
The lady seemed to take pity on her because she said, "I don't know where he moved to, but his girlfriend might. Hang on a minute and I'll give you her telephone number."
His girlfriend? Suddenly Moira wasn't so sure about this. What if she stirred up trouble for him? Yes, but wasn't that what she was trying to do? No, another voice answered. I just want my sealskin back. That's all.
"Here you are. Do you have a pen?"
Moira scribbled the number and thanked the woman before ringing off. She chewed on the end of her pen, lost in thought, wondering how to proceed.
She'd had another vivid dream the night before. This time the selkie was unknown to her, a young woman with silvery white hair. She assumed she was another family member, a cousin or such. Somehow or other, the selkie had managed to convey how urgent the situation was.
Moira's heart went out to her family. How horrible to be trapped in one place, unable to leave. She felt claustrophobic just thinking about it. She had to help them. She had to find those herbs and mix the potion that would cure them.
That part didn't worry her. She knew she could find most of them growing in the woodland or on the heath, and the rest could probably be found online. What concerned her was the actual seemingly insurmountable task of securing her sealskin so she could bring the potion to her family.
Of course, if worse came to worse, she could ask another selkie to help her, but how was she going to find another selkie? That seemed every bit as impossible as finding her sealskin. Her thoughts were interrupted by Kin, who was standing over her, offering her a few sheets of paper.
"What's this?" she said as she took them from him. He had a satisfied smile on his face. She hadn't noticed before how his black eyes shined so brightly when he smiled. She felt a flush creep up her neck to her cheeks.
"I told you I'd let you read it once I completed the translation. Here you are. Let me know what you think." He handed her the pages, and then rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
"Oh, thanks Kin." She wasn't really that interested, as her mind was so preoccupied with other things, but she started reading the pages to be polite. Soon, the poetic style of writing and vivid descriptions grabbed a hold of her and she was deeply immersed in the story. There was something familiar about it, but she couldn't understand why. A chill went down her spine, despite the warmth from the glowing fire. Where had she read about this Wind Witch before? Was she a common character in fairy tales? Somehow she didn't think so.
She didn't have time to puzzle it out, as Haruko had just returned from a woodland walk, slamming the door behind her. Moira could tell from the dark cloud of energy Haruko brought in with her that something must have happened on her walk. She and Kin exchanged a look. His eyebrows were raised and eyes wide as if to say, "Is she still having issues?" Haruko tried to march past them at a furious speed in an attempt to avoid their questions, but Kin and Moira were determined to find out what happened.
"What is it," Moira asked, leaning in to Haruko, who had halted the moment Kin and Moira cornered her.
"Jill wants to ruin my life," Haruko moaned pitifully. When neither Moira or Kin asked for specifications, Haruko went on to explain. "I was having such a lovely day too. I met a wonderful woman on my walk and we chatted the whole way back to village. She's a newcomer, runs the mobile library. Lily Histed's her name," Haruko's eyes turned dreamy for a moment, but then a spark of fury returned to them. "We parted at the Jubilee Oak, and then my mobile phone rang and it was Jill. Oh, I don't know. She just left me feeling so wretched, as if nothing matters anymore."
Kin pulled his sister into a hug and allowed her to sob on his shoulder. Frown lines found their way to the space between Moira's eyebrows. This wasn't the first time Haruko had been devastated by a breakup. Her mental health was already fragile to begin with; any drastic change could put her over the edge. She and Kin traded glances again. They seemed to make a silent agreement to do all they could to comfort Haruko.
Moira went into the kitchen calling out, "I'll put the kettle on," as Kin guided Haruko back into the lounge and ordered her to sit. He proceeded to give her a shoulder rub, encouraging her to take her mind off of what happened, talking about things he knew Haruko was interested in. Pretty soon Moira was back with three mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits. She didn't have time to think of telephoning Jez's girlfriend, so preoccupied she was the rest of the day with cheering up Haruko.
***
That night, Moira couldn't sleep. Neither could Kin from the sound of footsteps coming from his room, unless he was sound asleep and Guinevere was up to her usual tricks. It had been a rough day what with Haruko's meltdown and her confused feelings for Kin. She wasn't used to sharing her workspace, but somehow or other, Kin hadn't really taken up space, even though he sat in the very same room with her, quietly working on his own project. It had been strangely comforting having him around. It was wonderful watching how he responded to Haruko's over-the-top emotions today too. She knew Haruko often relied on Kin to bring her back from the edge, through telephone calls, but this was the first time she had witnessed this interaction in person. Kin obviously loved Haruko.
For not the first time, Moira wondered what it would have been like to grow up with a sibling. Kin was only a year older than Haruko, so they had grown up the closest of friends. Moira wished she had someone in her life like that, but then of course Haruko was that person for her. She was as good as sister. And Kin? Moira had thought it was going to be awful having Kin share their home, but so far it had actually been pretty nice.
She sat up in bed and wrapped her eiderdown around herself. Maybe she'd run downstairs for a cup of hot chocolate. Tears pricked her eyes. Her dad had always made her hot chocolate whenever she couldn't sleep. This ritual had started after her mother had returned to the sea. She and her dad had prepared for her mother's departure throughout Moira's childhood, but no matter how prepared you think you are for something it's always a shock when it arrives. Although her mother was still alive, she wasn't present in Moira's life, so Moira felt like an orphan. But then, Haruko and Frank were her family now. Still, she owed it to her selkie family to help them in their time of need.
As she descended the stairs, one step creaked thunderously, and she cringed. She continued down the spiral staircase, thinking of Kin and the beautiful fairy tale he had shared with her. Why was it so familiar? Her thoughts were still on the fairy tale as she went into the kitchen and filled the kettle with water from the tap. As she waited for the kettle to boil, it suddenly clicked.
She went into the lounge and ran her fingers along the spines of the books on the shelf, moving Lizzie, who had been asleep on top of the shelf, into her arms as she did so. Lizzie let out a soft trill of complaint, but soon settled in Moira's arms, purring. There it was. A leather bound book. Moira placed it on the table beside the loveseat and returned to the kitchen to finish making her hot chocolate. Then she returned to the lounge and settled herself on the loveseat, with Lizzie on her lap, and began reading.
She awakened to see a figure hovering over her, offering a mug of tea in her Little Prince cup. ("Je pense a toi tout le temps,") said a hushed voice. She yawned and took the mug, surprised to discover that it was Kin who stood over her and not Haruko as she had expected.
"Thanks," she said, briefly wondering what he had just said to her, but too sleepy to question him. Kin sat down on the loveseat next to her, sipping his own tea in a sturdy white mug decorated with a silver crescent moon. Kin's mug, she thought with a smile which made her cheeks warm. She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece, 9 am. "I thought Haruko said you slept in on weekends?" she said, thinking it funny that Haruko was still sound asleep at 9 am on a Sunday, and Kin and she were both wide awake.
"I couldn't sleep," he said. "I'm at that point in my project in which my thoughts are completely consumed by it."
Moira nodded in understanding. She cradled her mug in her hands, grateful for the warmth. She suddenly realized it was October 1st, Frank's birthday. No wonder it was so cold in here. September had danced off, taking the last of the sun's warmth.
As if he could read her thoughts Kin said, "I'll get the fire going."
Moira watched him arrange logs and strike a match.
"What's your excuse?" he said.
She sat up straighter, as if she had only just remembered her nighttime wanderings. "Kin, you won't believe this. I can't believe it myself." She grabbed the leatherbound book from the table beside the loveseat and handed it to him as he sat down again. "Here, just read it."
He raised an eyebrow and took the book from her. Moira sipped her tea, listening to the quiet sounds of Kin reading, the ticking of the clock, and the sound of the wind rattling the window panes. It was going to be a cold day.
"I don't understand," said Kin after awhile, removing his glasses and rubbing the space between his eyebrows with his thumb. "How could this be?"
Moira bit her lip and shook her head. She couldn't explain it either. How was it that her mother had recorded the same fairy tale that Kin had just shared with her the day before? It wasn't worded the same. It didn't have any of the same poetic sentences and vivid descriptions as the tale Kin translated, but nonetheless it was the same story, told in more of a conversational tone and with notes written in the margins offering advice, such as "A Wind Witch must always be consulted in matters that are particularly complex and puzzling and never for ordinary, day to day problems. For that, you must instead find an ordinary wise old crone."
"I'd forgotten all about these stories. My mother used to tell them to me when I was a child. I thought they were ones she had invented. We only ever had this book, written in her hand. I'd always assumed she decided to record the stories she told me, perhaps in the hopes of publishing them one day, or maybe just so I could pass them on to my own children one day. Who knows?"
Kin glanced at the book again, a look of disbelief on his face. He paged through the book once more. "It's not just this one tale, Moira. The entire book contains the same stories I am currently translating."
"What? But how is that possible?" said Moira as she scooted closer to Kin to look down at the book in his hands, her leg accidentally brushing against his. She felt her cheeks go warm, cleared her throat, but didn't move away.
"They're not in the same order, and they seem to be written like oral stories, meant to be read aloud, but they are the very same stories." His eyes shined with a light Moira recognized, for it was the same look she wore when she was completely consumed by a writing project.
A shiver of excitement traveled down Moira's spine. This was too much of a coincidence. What did it all mean?
"May I borrow this for a bit?" asked Kin, who was still clutching the leatherbound book in his hand, a look of wonderment adorning his face.
"Of course. It's meant for you, I think. This is just too unreal," said Moira, twisting strands of hair around her finger. She gave him a smile before gathering their mugs and depositing them in the kitchen sink. Then she went outside into the grey gloom of October, clutching a wool scarf around her neck. She wanted to gather the rest of the roses for a big birthday bouquet for Frank.
As fascinating as Kin's discovery was, Moira forced her thoughts back to her own problem of tracking down Jez. She'd dialed his girlfriend's number and hung up before she answered about ten times already. This time, she was determined to see it through. The problem was, what was she to say? Moira didn't like to lie, but under the circumstances she didn't see how she was going to get the information she needed if she were to be straightforward. Umm, yes, hi. I'm a selkie and your boyfriend stole my sealskin. I need you to tell me where he is so I can get it back. So, instead, after dialing the number, when she heard a voice say, "Yes?" Moira replied with, "Hi. My name is Moira, and I was told to contact you so I can reach Jez, Jeremiah Little." She sat down on the kitchen steps, the full vase of peach roses beside her. The heavy fragrance was distracting.
"Oh, is that right?" said the whinging, nasally voice on the other end of the line.
"You see, Jez was my childhood friend, and we rather lost touch over the years, but someone very dear to us has passed away and I thought he should know." Moira crossed her fingers as she spoke these words. Perhaps a small fib was okay under the circumstances. It wasn't exactly a lie. Her father had died, though several years ago, and Jez had been close to him too.
"Oh." The voice sounded less suspicious now. "Well, in that case. I wish I could help you, but Jez and I broke up a few months ago and he moved away. And before you ask, no I don't know where to."
Moira felt a lurch of disappointment. "Well, could I leave my phone number. Just in case? If he were to get in a touch, that is." She rattled off her number and that was that. She'd done all she could do. Moira let out a long, exasperated sigh. She was still sitting on the steps several moments later when Kin opened the door and sat down beside her.
"Is everything alright?" he said, glancing from Moira to the vase of flowers. His very presence brought Moira a feeling of warmth. Why did he have to be so kind?
Moira felt tears well up in her eyes. She bit her bottom lip so as to not let her secret escape. "I just needed some fresh air, is all," she said in a falsely cheerful voice, crossing her fingers behind her back once more. She was really getting the hang of this whole lying thing now.
"Well..." said Kin. He still looked worried. "If you're sure you are okay, I have something more to show you." He held out his hand to her in a way that almost made her laugh, it was so very old fashioned and charming. She took it and allowed him to help her up from her seated position on the cold stone steps, then followed him inside.
Papers were strewn across the coffee table. Kin picked up a sheet of paper and handed it to Moira, then before she had a chance to grab it, he appeared to change his mind and withdrew his hand. He placed her mother's worn, leather book in her hand instead.
"It's the annotations I want you to look at."
Moira began reading her mother's handwritten notes along the margins of the pages. She'd read them before, of course. It seemed like utter nonsense to her--notes that said things like, "The best times to find the Wind Witch are the in between times of Beltane and Samhain Eve."
"It's just my mother's notes. I don't know what they mean. They're just her nonsense scribbles." Moira shrugged and handed the book back to Kin. She couldn't understand why his eyes were shining with excitement. What did he care about her mother's weird writings?
Kin reached for one of his papers from the coffee table and said, "Here, have a look at this."
This time Moira read Kin's notes. His handwriting was surprisingly old fashioned, the type of writing you'd expect to find in an old letter written by one of your grandparents. She rather liked it. As she read, a wave of disbelief tinged with an emotion she couldn't place washed over her. He actually believed that fairy tale characters were real--that fairy tales were recordings of actual, historical events. It was an exciting idea, though a ludicrous one. She didn't know what to say, and was afraid to glance up at him for fear that her eyes would betray her skepticism.
He seemed to read her mind anyway as he said, "I know. My research is, well, unusual. But, I'm not the only one to believe that fairy tales are more than just children's stories. Madame de Bossigny herself believed that the characters in the stories she recorded were actual people, and, well, creatures."
Moira looked up at him then, her eyes wide. She bit her lip and said "So you're saying my mother shared your belief?"
"Not just that. Moira. I think she actually met one of the characters from Madame de Bossigny's stories."
His eyes were gleaming even brighter. He was flushed rose-gold, his dark hair tousled boyishly. Moira couldn't help but feel a tinge of excitement, as if his overwhelming passion was contagious. She opened her mother's leather book once more and reread some of her notes, the notes she had always assumed were nonsense--story ideas, nothing more.
It was as if a door that had been padlocked suddenly swung open. Things that had puzzled Moira about her mother suddenly began to make sense.
Moira came from a family of selkies. Was it too much of a stretch for her to believe that other supposedly made up characters could exist also? It was clear from her mother's notes that she not only believed in this Wind Witch, but had actually met her. Not only that, but this Wind Witch had a power that could help Moira to track down Jez.
The Wind Witch could communicate with the wind. She could send messages to and receive replies from the wind. In one of the stories her mother had recorded in the leather book, the Wind Witch had used the wind to find a lost child. If this witch was actually a real person, a person who could find lost people, then Moira could ask her to find Jez so she could finally get her sealskin back.
All this clicked into place as Moira read her mother's notes. Suddenly she didn't feel so lost and forlorn. Hearing from Jez's girlfriend that she didn't know where Jez was had been devastating, but now Moira clung to a small thread of hope.