Qinmeartha and the Girl-Child LoChi Read Online Free
Author: John Grant
his arm. "He was a poor, lonely old man, that's all. Lay off him. Let him rest in peace."
"OK, OK." He pushed his sister's hand away. "I won't even mention the heaps of girlie maga –"
" Steve! There were no such –"
"Sorry, sorry."
"Do you like it here in Ashburton?" said Joanna. It sounded like the kind of question someone might ask at a school prizegiving – something that indicated the asker didn't want an answer. She lifted her glass to her lips as if somehow that would make the words sound wittier.
"As good as anywhere," said Tony. She started to say something else, but bit it back.
You were going to say, thought Joanna for her, that, just like in all these little places around the moor, the people don't take kindly to newcomers. Aunt Jill's been here for over three years, but they still, though they're friendly enough, treat her as if she were a weekend tripper rather than someone who's come here to stay.
"We're going to sit down," said Steve in that rich voice of his. "Join us?" He shrugged towards a table near the rear, where the loos were. Tony was already on her way across, holding her Coke out from her side theatrically, as if Jas would throw her out if she spilt any of it.
"Love to," Joanna said. "I don't really know anyone much around here."
She followed, amazed all over again by the contrast between these two rather beautiful people and the rest of the folk in the pub. They were bright splashes of acrylic set on the wall alongside twee, cautious watercolours. Greta, too, had had that same washed-outness about her. And Aunt Jill, of course ...
"I can't stop long," Joanna explained as she sat down. "My aunt – I've only just arrived – something in the oven ..."
"It's nice to meet you," said Steve forthrightly. He put his hand lightly on hers. "Ashburton's all right, like Tony was saying, but it's a bit – you know, dead."
Except when people like you two are around to breathe life into it, she thought. "As you said, I'm Joanna," she muttered. "And you?"
"Gilmour. Steve and Tony Gilmour. The idlest layabouts in an idle family, in case you were going to ask us what we do. Funny sort of question, that, now I come to think about it, and yet we're always asking it of each other."
For a moment Joanna was lost by him, unable to work out if "we" were Steve and his sister or the human species at large.
"As if you could tell more about a person from what they do between nine and five, by what they earn their meals from," Steve was saying, "than from whether they've just helped you out of a hole, or if they like Stockhausen better than the Black Crows, or ..."
Tony, who had been so indifferent to Joanna's presence when they'd met, now seemed to have decided she liked her. "You're burbling, Steve," she said. "You'll bore the poor woman before she's properly even met us."
"Tishwash, sister!" he said. "I'm sure that Joanna here has long ago decided that the sooner she can get out of this pub and never see us again, the happier she'll be. Am I right, Joanna?"
"Not at all," she said, flustered. "Quite the opposite, in fact." And that may sound like just the sort of courtesy you'd expect from me, but it's true, she added mentally. Truer than you could possibly imagine.
"But I do have to go." She gulped down half the remains of her beer – which, now she was paying attention to it, wasn't up to Jas's usual standards.
"Yes – you said." Steve's voice was sympathetic. "You have an aunt and a casserole to attend to."
"Something like that." And quite a lot else.
I think.
~
That night, hot though the night itself hadn't seemed to be hot, Joanna dreamed.
She was in a place where the sky was always light, a single mass of brightness that arched all the way from one horizon to the other. She knew quite a lot about her situation in this place, but not really enough altogether to explain it. There was a sun somewhere in the dome of radiance, but it was lost in the general brilliance: the sun never set, and it
"OK, OK." He pushed his sister's hand away. "I won't even mention the heaps of girlie maga –"
" Steve! There were no such –"
"Sorry, sorry."
"Do you like it here in Ashburton?" said Joanna. It sounded like the kind of question someone might ask at a school prizegiving – something that indicated the asker didn't want an answer. She lifted her glass to her lips as if somehow that would make the words sound wittier.
"As good as anywhere," said Tony. She started to say something else, but bit it back.
You were going to say, thought Joanna for her, that, just like in all these little places around the moor, the people don't take kindly to newcomers. Aunt Jill's been here for over three years, but they still, though they're friendly enough, treat her as if she were a weekend tripper rather than someone who's come here to stay.
"We're going to sit down," said Steve in that rich voice of his. "Join us?" He shrugged towards a table near the rear, where the loos were. Tony was already on her way across, holding her Coke out from her side theatrically, as if Jas would throw her out if she spilt any of it.
"Love to," Joanna said. "I don't really know anyone much around here."
She followed, amazed all over again by the contrast between these two rather beautiful people and the rest of the folk in the pub. They were bright splashes of acrylic set on the wall alongside twee, cautious watercolours. Greta, too, had had that same washed-outness about her. And Aunt Jill, of course ...
"I can't stop long," Joanna explained as she sat down. "My aunt – I've only just arrived – something in the oven ..."
"It's nice to meet you," said Steve forthrightly. He put his hand lightly on hers. "Ashburton's all right, like Tony was saying, but it's a bit – you know, dead."
Except when people like you two are around to breathe life into it, she thought. "As you said, I'm Joanna," she muttered. "And you?"
"Gilmour. Steve and Tony Gilmour. The idlest layabouts in an idle family, in case you were going to ask us what we do. Funny sort of question, that, now I come to think about it, and yet we're always asking it of each other."
For a moment Joanna was lost by him, unable to work out if "we" were Steve and his sister or the human species at large.
"As if you could tell more about a person from what they do between nine and five, by what they earn their meals from," Steve was saying, "than from whether they've just helped you out of a hole, or if they like Stockhausen better than the Black Crows, or ..."
Tony, who had been so indifferent to Joanna's presence when they'd met, now seemed to have decided she liked her. "You're burbling, Steve," she said. "You'll bore the poor woman before she's properly even met us."
"Tishwash, sister!" he said. "I'm sure that Joanna here has long ago decided that the sooner she can get out of this pub and never see us again, the happier she'll be. Am I right, Joanna?"
"Not at all," she said, flustered. "Quite the opposite, in fact." And that may sound like just the sort of courtesy you'd expect from me, but it's true, she added mentally. Truer than you could possibly imagine.
"But I do have to go." She gulped down half the remains of her beer – which, now she was paying attention to it, wasn't up to Jas's usual standards.
"Yes – you said." Steve's voice was sympathetic. "You have an aunt and a casserole to attend to."
"Something like that." And quite a lot else.
I think.
~
That night, hot though the night itself hadn't seemed to be hot, Joanna dreamed.
She was in a place where the sky was always light, a single mass of brightness that arched all the way from one horizon to the other. She knew quite a lot about her situation in this place, but not really enough altogether to explain it. There was a sun somewhere in the dome of radiance, but it was lost in the general brilliance: the sun never set, and it
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