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SPRING
After the storms of autumn and winter, it was a surprisingly dry spring. Freya hoped that this meant she’d find some outdoor-minded people to make friends with. After all, she could talk about plants, and they weren’t surrounded by the mysteries of the demi-world. But before the spring was well advanced, Danae announced that they were moving again.
“I’ve got a better job, girls. And I won’t be sorry to move out of this house.” Danae looked at the graffiti-covered walls with distaste.
They took a bus to the town where the new job was located, carrying their things in a random assortment of bags and suitcases. Freya had managed to acquire a second-hand cat cage from someone’s dumped rubbish. It certainly made it easier to carry Mr Fluffbum with them, though the cage bumped painfully against Freya’s legs as she lugged it along on the long walk from the bus stop to their new abode. Distressed wails emerged at regular intervals.
“Sorry, Mr Fluffbum. We’ll get there soon. I hope.”
Both Freya and Tammy were unconvinced by their new cottage when they arrived at last. A two-story red brick building at the end of a road on the outskirts of town, it was identical to every other house on the street, except that it was missing several tiles from its red roof. The garden around it was overgrown, a mass of weeds obscuring any landscaping that might once have been present.
‘It’s very cheap,” said Danae as the family stood outside the house, looking at it in some dismay.
“It’s lucky it’s been so dry,” said Freya, noticing some of the missing roof tiles in the grass beside the front door.
“Mum, exactly how much are we paying for this dump?” Tammy’s voice was sharp. She didn’t wait for Danae’s reply. “Too much, I bet. Did you actually sign a contract? Are we stuck here?”
“Of course, I signed a contract, Tammy. You don’t get to rent a place unless you do. For your information, young lady, we’re here for six months, at least. It depends on if I can get a better job again. If I manage that, we won’t stay long - or if we do, we’ll make sure the landlord does some repairs. Meanwhile, we can make it clean at least.”
Tammy sighed dramatically.
“I suppose the weather’s warming up. Honestly, Mum, does this place even have running water?”
“There’s a stream nearby...” Danae’s eyes glinted. Tammy didn’t notice. Freya did, and held her tongue.
One, two, three and...
“Mum!” Tammy was outraged.
“Of course, it has running water, Tammy. It may not be warm water, of course. I’m not sure that the hot water tank is working. Your father was always better at checking on that sort of thing.”
“Wow, did you hear that, Freya? Mum admitted Dad was good at something!”
“Oh, shut up, Tammy. Don’t make things worse,” said Freya.
“Girls, stop bickering and let’s get to work on the inside. Freya, there’s some old cloths in the kitchen, you can start cleaning there. Tammy, you can start in the bathroom. You’ve always had more water affinity than me. Get some water flowing in there.”
“Are you telling me I can invite water nymphs into the bathroom?”
“No, Tammy, I’m not. I’m telling you to clean the bathroom the old-fashioned way, with soap and water. No nymphs inside, thank you. We’d be washed away in no time.”
Tammy stomped off to the bathroom. Freya put Mr Fluffbum’s cat cage on the floor in the corner of the kitchen.
“You won’t be in there too much longer, I promise. We need to get everything clean first, then you can explore inside.”
The cat meowed piteously for a while, before giving up and curling up to sleep.
Fifteen minutes after they’d started cleaning a tremendous gurgling sound began from the bathroom. Danae, who’d been battling the mould in the bedrooms upstairs, called out.
“Tammy? Is that you? Freya, go check on her, please,” called Danae.
There was no answer from Tammy, but the gurgling transitioned to splashing, then a dull thumping came from the bathroom door. Freya dumped her ragged cleaning cloth on the kitchen bench - the Formica must be decades old; it wouldn’t suffer further from having a dirty rag on it - and went to investigate. She took the nearly full spray bottle of sugar soap she’d found under the sink. Maybe that would speed up Tammy’s cleaning, assuming that was what was causing the noises.
“Tammy, are you in there?” There was no answer, but more thumps sounded on the door. Freya tried the door. It seemed to be locked. “Tammy, what are you doing? Look, I’m coming in. Can you unlock the door?” Still no answer. Freya considered her options. There was an outside window to the bathroom, but it was small. Too small for someone her size to get in and out of. That wasn’t going to do much good. She looked at the sugar soap in her hand. Useful, yes, but maybe not what she needed right now. She went back to the kitchen, where a box of food sat, yet to be unpacked. A nearly full packet of salt was wedged between cereal and a paper bag of dried herbs.
Yes, that might help. I’m sure Mum said salt was good for removing negative energy, and it sure sounds like that’s what there is in there.
Freya pulled at the packet, which stuck. It came unstuck all at once, pulling the herb bag out with it, and ripping it open. Both she and the kitchen floor were showered with salt crystals and green flecks.
“I only just cleaned that floor!” Freya glared at the speckled floor, before scraping together the remaining salt that had hit the bench rather than the floor. It was speckled, too. “Oh well, I guess a few bits of fennel in the salt won’t hurt.”
She marched back towards the bathroom. There was water spurting through the keyhole and out from under the door, now. The long, dusty carpets in the hall were history, judging by the squelching as she walked on them.
No great loss, I guess, thought Freya, observing the ugly pattern on them.
“Hold tight, Tammy. I’m trying to help.” There were more muffled gurgling sounds. “What are you doing in there?”
“’M fine,” came Tammy’s muffled voice.
She doesn’t sound fine. I’d better do something.
Freya unscrewed the spray-cap of the soap bottle, poured the remaining salt from her palm into the bottle, and replaced the cap. She shook the mixture up, gave an experimental squirt towards the floor - it needed a good clean, too - and raised the bottle towards the bathroom door’s keyhole.
“Stand back, Tammy.”
Pushing the soap bottle against the keyhole, she gave three quick squirts. The water stopped trickling. She gave another squirt. The water started to slow its progress from under the door.
Maybe I need to put some spray down there, too.
She bent lower, and gave a few squirts of salty, soapy, herby solution to the crack below the door. The water stopped flowing altogether, and the gurgling sound resumed. “Tammy, are you OK in there?” The gurgling stopped at last, and Tammy’s voice, rather fainter than usual, replied.
“Er. Yeah. Fine. Give me a moment.” There was a silence punctuated by muffled thuds.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
The door opened a crack, and a bedraggled Tammy looked out. She was wet from head to toe, and her usual artfully enhanced face had makeup smudged across it.
“Bathroom’s clean,” she announced in bright tones. Freya opened her mouth, then closed it without saying anything. She didn’t want to be a nag, not when her sister was pretty much the only near-aged company she had. But it was quite clear to her that Tammy had ignored their mother’s injunction against using water nymphs as cleaning aides.
“Good,” she said. After all, what more was there to say?
Later, they hung up all the soggy carpets outside, hoping that the uncertain spring sunshine would dry everything out by sunset.
Mum shouldn’t have been surprised that Tammy didn’t listen. After all, she doesn’t usually.
Their mother did seem surprised though. Her admonitory lecture had begun when she came downstairs to find out what the thumping had been about, and hadn’t finished yet. From behind the longest rug, part of Tammy’s face appeared. She saw Freya on the other side of it, and winked.
No, I don’t think Tammy’s listening now, either.
As it turned out, Freya loved many things about their new town. It was further inland, for a start, and the hills were novel after so long in the fens and broads. But she couldn’t tell kids at school about nymphs in the bathroom, or making her first feathered cloak from collected feathers, or identifying demis by the subtle clues in their behaviour or dress. That meant that once again, she had no friends at school. And it was too far to get to a beach to meet Lio.
“Honestly, Tammy, how does Mum expect me to make friends when I can’t tell them anything about who I really am? How I spend my time after school? It’s not like I can invite anyone home for a quick lesson in deity-recognition. Even if I wanted to, Mum never agrees.”
Tammy shrugged.
“I don’t try. Friends come; friends go. It works out. They don’t need to know my innermost secrets, or even my outermost ones. Just be yourself, your mostly-human self, I mean.”
There was a sudden glint in Tammy’s eye.
“Of course, that could be the problem. Maybe you’re just too ‘I’m more deified than thou’.” She didn’t finish the sentence as Freya leapt at her, mock pouncing like a cat.
“OK, OK, calm down. I’m teasing you. I know it’s tough coming to a new town. Think of me, I haven’t got to see Dan in weeks. I have to break in a whole new crowd.”
“But that’s just it. How do you always manage to get a crowd?”
It was Tammy’s turn to shrug.
“It takes more time in some places. I mean, look at me, I’m having to clean bathrooms in order to get company here.”
“That didn’t work out so well for the rest of us.” Freya had not enjoyed lugging wet carpets around.
“Maybe you don’t remember, but we had some history in the town on the cliff, people knew us a bit. We were there for a couple of years, after all. Tell you what, stick with me for a bit, this weekend. You’ll fit in sooner or later, but there’s some things I could do with your help with, when we get some time off.”
“I’m guessing that if it’s something you want to do, I won’t enjoy it. No thanks.”
“Just help me out this weekend, and I’ll show you what I mean. No need to be lonely when you’re descended from Freya and Dionysus.”
Freya hunched her shoulders.
“Maybe I like being lonely. Anyway, I’ve got Mr Fluffbum.”
“A cat is not an excuse to have no friends, Freya.”
***
