Once they were alone the world seemed to lose its punishing dynamism, becoming more gentle, more kind.
“Thanks,” Jennifer said after a moment, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor, “thanks for making that easier.”
Not too much easier, Ruth realised. As soon as she saw her brother the world had seemed to shrink to a point, focussing on old fashioned sibling rivalry and leaving little thought for Jennifer. A part of Ruth was still irritated from that encounter - wishing her friend could have done more. Still, again she felt that warm glow of being needed.
“You’re welcome,” Ruth replied uneasily before changing the subject, “let’s get out of here.”
The weather had grown dreary; flecks of rain peppering a grey sky. Yet this was a strange relief after the baking morning air. As the two of them retraced their steps (Jennifer sparing her vacant vault a final anxious inspection) and stepped out into the dim light, Ruth smiled to herself. A hint of mildew drifted on the breeze and her car was getting soaked through the still-open windows, but it was comforting to know that the elements had returned to their natural, miserable state.
One advantage of this escapade was that it was not far to Browning’s Market where a few shops remained open despite the thickening rain. Leaving the car parked where it was they made the short walk back into the main thoroughfare where Ruth spotted a place to eat. Nestled amongst the hulking shopping centres there was an almost whimsically small cafe with an orange and red tarp being rolled over the outside tables. Through the window they could see an almost deserted interior arranged in the eastern style with a booth-like circular counter surrounded by places to sit, eat and talk. But before they could do any of those things the two women spontaneously, nonsensically, burst out into happy laughter the moment they were inside the warm sanctuary.
“That was a nightmare,” Ruth remarked as if this were some hilarious observation.
Some of the scattered customers looked up at these newcomers, their eyes lingering a little longer on the elf before turning back to their business. Jennifer grinned, seemingly oblivious to this attention.
“Your brother was certainly an experience,” she agreed. The tension that once held them was draining away with the rain to be replaced by a heady excitement that reeked of nostalgia. After a moment their euphoria abated and quiet settled over the greasy table.
Ruth cleared her throat. “Shall we get some lunch?” “Good idea.”
Wandering over to the counter they ordered the most exciting, exotic-sounding food on the menu from an older man slouched down so far his head was nearly obscured. Now they had a better look around at the cafe beyond the colourful facade, it was a place. But perhaps a little less dismal, Ruth thought, since the wizard had arrived with her curious eyes and innocent laugh.
“What did your brother mean,” Jennifer asked once they had sat back down, “when he told you to forget about bringing me with you this afternoon?”
Ruth should have known this question was coming but it still caused her to take a sharp breath. “Well,” she began reluctantly, “it’s complicated. How about in return for the answer you tell me what was in that vault of yours?”
There was a pause and for a moment Ruth feared she had gone too far. Her friend looked conflicted before steepling her fingers.
“Very well. Would you mind going first?”
“Not at all,” Ruth replied, her relief morphing into apprehension, “I don’t know if you noticed, but my family have always been a traditional lot.”
The elf nodded, leaning a little closer.
“Well, they were not happy about us keeping each other’s company in the old days. For a while they even thought we were well, you know, romantically engaged.”
Jennifer narrowed her eyes in a bewildered expression. “I thought we were.”
“What?”
“Romantically engaged,” Jennifer replied calmly, still seeming confused, “didn’t you?”
“No,” a hint of panic, “no, of course not.”
“Like an unspoken thing. Between the lines, you know?”
Ruth had no idea what to say. “No,” she repeated, almost to herself.
“Hmm.”
Both of them had drawn a blank. Jennifer’s frown thickened as she sat back a little, her eyes darting beneath closed eyelids.
“Oh,” she said eventually, “my apologies, Ruth. At the time I… I assumed you had grown tired of me. That was why I was so defensive when you came to see me after so long.”
A few people were peering over at them from across the room having overheard snatches of their conversation. Only now did Jennifer seem to notice them, curling her shoulders inwards. As Ruth remained silent the elf continued in a rambling, desperate tone.
“After we kissed I thought it was a given.”
“We kissed?” Ruth said, breaking her silence.
She seemed to think this through. “Yes, but we were quite drunk. It might have slipped your memory.”
This was about as much as Ruth could take. Making mumbled excuses she got to her feet and walked towards the back of the cafe, leaving her friend in the shadows. Behind closed doors she found a sink and, mercifully, an empty lavatory for customer use. Like a schoolgirl Ruth stepped inside, locked the cubicle, and rested her head against the wall, her spinning world finally coming to a stop.
It was dark. The only illumination came from a sputtering overhead lamp casting an unnatural light over the place. Graffiti covered the walls with mocking images - broken faces - uneven scrawls. They reminded Ruth of her mother.
Sarah Lapham was not a bad person. She was a small woman with a kind face; exactly the sort of wife the world demanded once the Incursion was over, back when people needed a sense of stability, of humanity. But this perfect wife had lost her less-than-perfect husband to a sudden fever, so she turned her matronly attention to keeping Ruth and her siblings on the straight and narrow. Perhaps having to take on this burden alone was what made her so stern.
Once Ruth had finished her psychology degree - something she had never been any good at but her mother approved of - Sarah Lapham determined to be less lax with her daughter in future. She found an earnest husband of her daughter’s own who seemed loyal enough. Loyal to someone, as it turned out, but not the distant Ruth who never understood the need for this hurriedly arranged union. After all, what was there to fear? Nobody was more normal, more ordinary, more grounded than Ruth.
There was a knock at the cubicle door.
Touching her face Ruth found it to be damp. “Go away, Jennifer.”
“Hello?” came a small voice. She froze before, with a small sigh, Ruth swung the door open to see a small figure. A very young girl looking lost and afraid.
“You are not my mum,” she said, stepping back at the sight of this strange woman’s wretched form.
“No, I am not,” Ruth replied, wiping her eyes, “let’s find her, shall we?”
The girl could not have wandered far. She was a mousy thing with a pair of jet black pigtails trailing down behind her neck. There was a faintly ashen complexion to her skin that some inner city kids had from spending too long in the urban underbelly. Ushering this small creature out of the door and back into the main cafe Ruth had time to collect her emotions, pick herself up and begin wondering what she would say to Jennifer. But on returning the elven woman simply smiled and stated;
“Oh, hi again. Want some Kithri?”
Ruth looked down at a pair of steaming hot plates that must have been delivered whilst she was gone. It was an odd looking food from a far-flung place that looked as if some vegetative squid had died in a pool of green-tinted water. Some orange spice had been roughly sprinkled on top as if to reassure people that it was indeed edible. Ruth stood transfixed for a moment, her mind swimming, before she felt a slight tug on her sleeve.
“I see my mum now,” the child said almost in a whisper, pointing out of the window, “thank you, strange lady.”
She smiled and Ruth forced herself to smile back. “Take care.”
As the little girl trotted out of the cafe Jennifer made a low, cooing noise. “That was adorable,” she remarked, “I’ve never seen somebody so awkward around children. It makes me want to give you a hug.”
After a moment Ruth realised she was talking about herself and not the girl.
“That won’t be necessary,” she said briskly, taking a seat. What was she supposed to do now? Her leg was juddering anxiously beneath the table thankfully out of Jennifer’s sight. The elf was inspecting that strange Kithri food with an almost scientific look, paying her only the occasional glance. Ruth was not sure whether to be annoyed or relieved.
“Do you want to know the answer?”
“Hmm?” Ruth looked up from her thoughts.
“The answer to your question,” Jennifer reminded, voice still neutral. Was she truly oblivious to what had just happened? Giving her a wary look, Ruth nodded.
“All right then,” the elf said, “It was a demon.”
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