Of Friends and Flowers, Chapter Six
Neville is shocked to realise something has been happening to Luna.
Chapter Six-The Attack
Flowers leave some of their fragrance in the hand that bestows them.
When Neville arrived back on Tuesday after two days off, he could sense that something had happened. He could see discreet wizards and witches clad in the sombre blue robes of security, marginally more of them than usual, and Saida’s colleagues from the mental wards were holding a quietly-spoken conference in the lunch room. They stopped talking when he went a little too close and glared pointedly at him until he moved away.
“What’s up?” he asked Derwent, as they met in the changing rooms. Derwent shrugged, looking harried.
“Don’t know. Some trouble in the mental wards, I guess. I’ve had a hellish time here the last two days-haven’t really had time to listen to the goss. I’m off to an operation now, catch you later...”
“Sure. No, wait! Are we still on for Friday?”
“’Course. I’m not that stressed out.” Derwent smiled at him, then rushed off.
Neville was off to the garden first thing, to check on his plants and see if anything needed immediate attention. The blood apples did-they were just ripe and needed to be pickled promptly. He plucked a basketful and headed for the lab.
“Hey Imp,” he called as he pushed open the door. “How is everything?”
“Imptsikovich. And fine,” muttered Imp. He was shredding Mandrake leaves, using Neville’s silver dagger again.
“Good knife, that, huh?” said Neville innocently, depositing his basket by the nearest cauldron and looking around for another knife to use.
“Your fault for leaving it around for anyone to take,” grunted Imp, correctly sensing the hidden barb. “You’d think you’d be more careful, what with the mental patients running amok and attacking people, and whatever else has happened.”
“What?” Neville stared at his older colleague. “There’s been an attack? When?”
“You didn’t know?” Imp looked at him, confused. “I thought you’d have heard immediately, being pals with Saida and all.”
“I’ve been off,” Neville reminded him. “What happened?”
“Well, as I wasn’t there I wouldn’t really know,” shrugged Imp. “But the alarm went off suddenly last night, and then Saida came down dragging a Body Bound patient. Apparently she’d reacted badly when it was time for her medication and lashed out. Saida acted very professionally, getting her under control almost immediately-so I was told.”
Neville sighed, noting the careful addition of “apparently” and “so I was told”. He knew that Imp disliked Saida, and indeed, all women, very much, but this reluctance to admit that even she might act with an ounce of professionalism was rather childish, wasn’t it?
The thought of problems in the mental ward followed him for the rest of the day, making his stomach clench with worry.
He didn’t see Luna that day. He hadn’t expected to.
She didn’t come the next day either, or the day after, or the day after that. He took to eating his lunch in the garden, guessing that if she did come again she would probably look for him there. But a week and another of his free days had come and gone before he saw her again.
He was working in a fine drizzle of rain, that still managed to get him completely soaked. The Venomous Tentacula needed a dental and was being horribly uncooperative about it, and he was tired and cross and sweaty. He had discovered a bad tooth that needed to be pulled, but the Tentacula was writhing this way and that and refusing to open its petals wide enough for him to get at it. He was turning to reach for something to block its jaws with when he saw her.
Luna was sitting two paces off on an overturned flowerpot, watching him silently. Her legs were crossed at the ankles and leaned to one side, and her hands were folded delicately in her lap. She was wet right through, her white robes clinging to her bony frame, and her cropped hair was plastered down with the rain. With her composed but vacant expression and large eyes she could have posed for a statue of some delicate water creature-a Mediterranean mermaid, or a benevolent kelpie.
If it hadn’t been for the black eye and the swollen lip.
“Do you want help with that?” she asked, and without waiting for an answer she rose from her seat and walked swiftly across to stand behind the Tentacula’s head. She inserted her fingers expertly between the petals and pulled, having the flower gaping within a second.
“There’s a trick to it,” she said calmly and nodded towards the tongs Neville had laid out, ready for use. “You should probably pull the tooth quickly though, before it has time to realise what happened.”
“Ah, yeah,” said Neville stupidly, grabbing the tongs and fastening them around the tooth, then quickly yanking the rotting tooth out. The Venomous Tentacula reared its head violently, throwing Luna off; then it pursed its petals, paused for a second as if it was inhaling, and sprayed Neville with thick, black, evil-smelling pollen.
“I think it’s upset with me,” said Neville once he had wiped his face enough to banish the fear that he might swallow the soot-like stuff if he opened his mouth. He grinned at the Tentacula, which was now standing quite still in its pot and sulking, then looked at Luna. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Luna answered placidly, pulling herself to her feet again.
“That’s a good trick,” said Neville. “Wish Professor Sprout had taught me that.”
“I didn’t learn it from Professor Sprout,” said Luna vaguely, “my mum does it.” The fingers of her right hand crept to her left sleeve and twisted it, while she gazed somewhere past his shoulder. “She does a great recipe with Tentacula pollen and Gurdyroots and hawthorn berries. The gnomes love it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” mumbled Neville, painstakingly brushing his robes clean in an effort to keep his face hidden. “Does she mention anything about how to get the pollen out of your clothes?”
“What?” Luna looked at him briefly, frowning. “Of course she doesn’t. She’s dead.”
“Oh. Yes.” Neville sighed and sat down next to his gardening case. He picked up one of the glass vials sitting snugly in the lid, dropped the bad tooth into it and inserted a cork. “What happened to you since I saw you last?”
Luna was watching the glass vial. “You’re keeping it?” she asked, crouching down opposite him.
“I’ll do some tests. I’m researching dental diseases among the Tentaculas.” He put the vial back in its place and shut the case. “What happened to your face?”
“I walked into a door,” said Luna uncertainly.
“With fists?”
“No, with my face.”
“I meant the door, Luna,” said Neville tightly. “Did the door have fists? Because it looks very much as if you’ve been punched .”
“It was a hard door,” said Luna, stubbornly.
“If someone is hurting you, you have to tell me. Because I don’t care what is deemed as acceptable violence for restraint-there are some things you don’t do. I wouldn’t accept it from anyone.”
“It was a door.”
“Fine.” He opened the case and rummaged angrily for a toothbrush and paste. Then he looked up, remembering. “Do you have the DA coin, still?” he asked.
“No.” Luna shook her head slowly. “No. I lost it.”
“I have a spare. Here.” He took out the two coins he kept in his gardening case and handed her one, smiling as she looked at it, somewhat confused. “I know it’s a bit weird to have kept them still-and two of them, no less-but I’ve always found them very practical. So if you run into another door,” he looked hard at her, “be sure to let me know?”
“Mm,” said Luna, stowing the heavy coin in a pocket.
The coin had made him remember something, and he asked carefully, “Luna? What about Dean?”
She looked up at him sharply and opened her mouth; then seemed to hesitate, to falter, and looked down again. He realised that he’d touched on a hard subject-she looked flustered and startled, uncertain of how to respond.
“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I don’t... he said he’d come and visit me.”
“Here?”
“Yes... no,” she said. “Not here, of course.”
“Of course.”
“That would be silly.”
“Yes.”
“He said he’d visit me in my new... at my... in my new apartment.”
“Oh.”
“But he hasn’t.”
Neville looked at her, small and pale and with frayed sleeves on her white robes, and was filled with rage once again. To abandon someone who needed you, no matter what had happened-he couldn’t forgive it.
With an effort, he smiled. “Well, I’m sure he’s just been busy. You’ll see-he’ll come and visit when you least expect it. Do you want to help me out with brushing its teeth?” He nodded towards the Venomous Tentacula, which looked as if it was still inclined towards giving him a hard time. “You seemed to have a knack for handling it.” He grinned at her, wanting to make her forget about Dean’s betrayal by focusing on something positive. But she didn’t accept his offer; and if anything, it looked as if he’d only made her sadder.
She stood up, letting go of the sleeve she been picking at, and stood looking down at him.
“I want you to know I hate this,” she said. “I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.”
Then she turned, and was gone.
Chapter Seven
Chapter Six-The Attack
Flowers leave some of their fragrance in the hand that bestows them.
When Neville arrived back on Tuesday after two days off, he could sense that something had happened. He could see discreet wizards and witches clad in the sombre blue robes of security, marginally more of them than usual, and Saida’s colleagues from the mental wards were holding a quietly-spoken conference in the lunch room. They stopped talking when he went a little too close and glared pointedly at him until he moved away.
“What’s up?” he asked Derwent, as they met in the changing rooms. Derwent shrugged, looking harried.
“Don’t know. Some trouble in the mental wards, I guess. I’ve had a hellish time here the last two days-haven’t really had time to listen to the goss. I’m off to an operation now, catch you later...”
“Sure. No, wait! Are we still on for Friday?”
“’Course. I’m not that stressed out.” Derwent smiled at him, then rushed off.
Neville was off to the garden first thing, to check on his plants and see if anything needed immediate attention. The blood apples did-they were just ripe and needed to be pickled promptly. He plucked a basketful and headed for the lab.
“Hey Imp,” he called as he pushed open the door. “How is everything?”
“Imptsikovich. And fine,” muttered Imp. He was shredding Mandrake leaves, using Neville’s silver dagger again.
“Good knife, that, huh?” said Neville innocently, depositing his basket by the nearest cauldron and looking around for another knife to use.
“Your fault for leaving it around for anyone to take,” grunted Imp, correctly sensing the hidden barb. “You’d think you’d be more careful, what with the mental patients running amok and attacking people, and whatever else has happened.”
“What?” Neville stared at his older colleague. “There’s been an attack? When?”
“You didn’t know?” Imp looked at him, confused. “I thought you’d have heard immediately, being pals with Saida and all.”
“I’ve been off,” Neville reminded him. “What happened?”
“Well, as I wasn’t there I wouldn’t really know,” shrugged Imp. “But the alarm went off suddenly last night, and then Saida came down dragging a Body Bound patient. Apparently she’d reacted badly when it was time for her medication and lashed out. Saida acted very professionally, getting her under control almost immediately-so I was told.”
Neville sighed, noting the careful addition of “apparently” and “so I was told”. He knew that Imp disliked Saida, and indeed, all women, very much, but this reluctance to admit that even she might act with an ounce of professionalism was rather childish, wasn’t it?
The thought of problems in the mental ward followed him for the rest of the day, making his stomach clench with worry.
He didn’t see Luna that day. He hadn’t expected to.
She didn’t come the next day either, or the day after, or the day after that. He took to eating his lunch in the garden, guessing that if she did come again she would probably look for him there. But a week and another of his free days had come and gone before he saw her again.
He was working in a fine drizzle of rain, that still managed to get him completely soaked. The Venomous Tentacula needed a dental and was being horribly uncooperative about it, and he was tired and cross and sweaty. He had discovered a bad tooth that needed to be pulled, but the Tentacula was writhing this way and that and refusing to open its petals wide enough for him to get at it. He was turning to reach for something to block its jaws with when he saw her.
Luna was sitting two paces off on an overturned flowerpot, watching him silently. Her legs were crossed at the ankles and leaned to one side, and her hands were folded delicately in her lap. She was wet right through, her white robes clinging to her bony frame, and her cropped hair was plastered down with the rain. With her composed but vacant expression and large eyes she could have posed for a statue of some delicate water creature-a Mediterranean mermaid, or a benevolent kelpie.
If it hadn’t been for the black eye and the swollen lip.
“Do you want help with that?” she asked, and without waiting for an answer she rose from her seat and walked swiftly across to stand behind the Tentacula’s head. She inserted her fingers expertly between the petals and pulled, having the flower gaping within a second.
“There’s a trick to it,” she said calmly and nodded towards the tongs Neville had laid out, ready for use. “You should probably pull the tooth quickly though, before it has time to realise what happened.”
“Ah, yeah,” said Neville stupidly, grabbing the tongs and fastening them around the tooth, then quickly yanking the rotting tooth out. The Venomous Tentacula reared its head violently, throwing Luna off; then it pursed its petals, paused for a second as if it was inhaling, and sprayed Neville with thick, black, evil-smelling pollen.
“I think it’s upset with me,” said Neville once he had wiped his face enough to banish the fear that he might swallow the soot-like stuff if he opened his mouth. He grinned at the Tentacula, which was now standing quite still in its pot and sulking, then looked at Luna. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Luna answered placidly, pulling herself to her feet again.
“That’s a good trick,” said Neville. “Wish Professor Sprout had taught me that.”
“I didn’t learn it from Professor Sprout,” said Luna vaguely, “my mum does it.” The fingers of her right hand crept to her left sleeve and twisted it, while she gazed somewhere past his shoulder. “She does a great recipe with Tentacula pollen and Gurdyroots and hawthorn berries. The gnomes love it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” mumbled Neville, painstakingly brushing his robes clean in an effort to keep his face hidden. “Does she mention anything about how to get the pollen out of your clothes?”
“What?” Luna looked at him briefly, frowning. “Of course she doesn’t. She’s dead.”
“Oh. Yes.” Neville sighed and sat down next to his gardening case. He picked up one of the glass vials sitting snugly in the lid, dropped the bad tooth into it and inserted a cork. “What happened to you since I saw you last?”
Luna was watching the glass vial. “You’re keeping it?” she asked, crouching down opposite him.
“I’ll do some tests. I’m researching dental diseases among the Tentaculas.” He put the vial back in its place and shut the case. “What happened to your face?”
“I walked into a door,” said Luna uncertainly.
“With fists?”
“No, with my face.”
“I meant the door, Luna,” said Neville tightly. “Did the door have fists? Because it looks very much as if you’ve been punched .”
“It was a hard door,” said Luna, stubbornly.
“If someone is hurting you, you have to tell me. Because I don’t care what is deemed as acceptable violence for restraint-there are some things you don’t do. I wouldn’t accept it from anyone.”
“It was a door.”
“Fine.” He opened the case and rummaged angrily for a toothbrush and paste. Then he looked up, remembering. “Do you have the DA coin, still?” he asked.
“No.” Luna shook her head slowly. “No. I lost it.”
“I have a spare. Here.” He took out the two coins he kept in his gardening case and handed her one, smiling as she looked at it, somewhat confused. “I know it’s a bit weird to have kept them still-and two of them, no less-but I’ve always found them very practical. So if you run into another door,” he looked hard at her, “be sure to let me know?”
“Mm,” said Luna, stowing the heavy coin in a pocket.
The coin had made him remember something, and he asked carefully, “Luna? What about Dean?”
She looked up at him sharply and opened her mouth; then seemed to hesitate, to falter, and looked down again. He realised that he’d touched on a hard subject-she looked flustered and startled, uncertain of how to respond.
“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I don’t... he said he’d come and visit me.”
“Here?”
“Yes... no,” she said. “Not here, of course.”
“Of course.”
“That would be silly.”
“Yes.”
“He said he’d visit me in my new... at my... in my new apartment.”
“Oh.”
“But he hasn’t.”
Neville looked at her, small and pale and with frayed sleeves on her white robes, and was filled with rage once again. To abandon someone who needed you, no matter what had happened-he couldn’t forgive it.
With an effort, he smiled. “Well, I’m sure he’s just been busy. You’ll see-he’ll come and visit when you least expect it. Do you want to help me out with brushing its teeth?” He nodded towards the Venomous Tentacula, which looked as if it was still inclined towards giving him a hard time. “You seemed to have a knack for handling it.” He grinned at her, wanting to make her forget about Dean’s betrayal by focusing on something positive. But she didn’t accept his offer; and if anything, it looked as if he’d only made her sadder.
She stood up, letting go of the sleeve she been picking at, and stood looking down at him.
“I want you to know I hate this,” she said. “I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.”
Then she turned, and was gone.
Chapter Seven