“Scandal?” Mouse choked. She dug up the cover story Mickelwaithe had circulated in the village. “Thornwood’s just here from London to help repair the house.”
John’s eyes narrowed. “We can talk inside.”
He pushed open the gate to find Smudge trapped on the other side. She sat and gave a long, pitiful whine.
“Who is this?” John asked, bending down to the dog’s level. She nuzzled his hand, chirping as he scratched behind her ears.
“Her name is Smudge.”
“Would Smudge like a delicious cut of ham?” John asked, his voice taking on the wobbly quality he always adopted around animals, even his bees. The dragon-dog bounced merrily in place, happy to play along.
After toweling off, they took seats in John’s kitchen. He placed a plate covered with a thick slice of ham on the ground. Smudge lay down next to it and chewed on one side slowly, savoring the salt for as long as she could.
“What a well-behaved little lady,” he said, scratching between her ears. Smudge preened. Mouse knelt, taking up John’s scratching as he moved back to the stove.
“You love this attention,” she said quietly. Smudge smiled, her teeth more dragon than dog. Mouse snorted.
John poured two cups of tea, and as the steam lifted, an idea struck Mouse.
“Can I get another cup for the driver?”
John frowned but went back to the counter. He returned with a tin cup and a biscuit wrapped in parchment paper. Raincoat back on, Mouse dashed out to the car. The driver turned to look at her as she stood next to his window.
“For you,” she said, holding the cup up to the glass. She met the driver’s eyes and was struck by how large they were, fully round, like tea saucers.
He rolled down the window, gingerly took the cup, and opened his mouth. He did not have teeth, although you could not tell by looking at him. Instead, his mouth split his face in half. Mouse gasped, the biscuit pressed tight in her shaking hands. The tea went down in one gulp.
The driver held out the empty mug, and she took it. His focus shot to the wrinkled wax paper, and Mouse handed it to him wordlessly. It was gone in seconds, wax paper and all.
“We won’t be long,” she said shakily. He tilted his head at her, blinked once, and then turned back toward the road.
“That was quick,” John said as Mouse handed him the mug as soon as she was inside. “He did not need to finish it while you were out there.”
“He was thirsty,” Mouse said, then quickly amended. “He doesn’t want another cup.”
She did not want to venture out there again, without Smudge, before she had to.
15
“So, your friend from the war, whom you conveniently never mentioned in any letter, has come to help you with Thistlemarsh?”
“Yes,” Mouse said, taking a hasty sip of tea.
John sighed. “You are a terrible liar, Mouse.”
She choked, and Smudge looked up at her with concern until she could get her cough under control.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Oh, and that was the reaction of a guiltless conscience, was it? You’re only making me worry more. I understand being too busy to come to the vicarage, but sending me away when I visit? That’s low.”
“I haven’t sent you away,” Mouse said.
“Yesterday you did.”
“I was ill.”
“So Mr.Thornwood said, but you are well enough today to run around in the rain.”