“That was a question! You used up your question!”
Miss Trang gave him a stern look and he sat back, one hand over his mouth as he continued to snicker. “Go ahead.” She nodded to Willa.
Willa’s mind raced. What did she most want to know about? The fairy? The bird Fadiyah? Horace the lion? Robert the centaur?
Hearing the sudden tick-tick-tick of nails on the wood floor, Willa peered back over her shoulder to see the long, skinny lizard dash across the room, jumping, writhing, and wriggling. She thought it was biting at its own tail, but soon saw that it had two heads, one at either end, which snapped at each other with jagged teeth! Finally one clamped onto the neck of the other. The lizard formed a hoop and rolled away out of sight. Willa turned back to Miss Trang.
“Don’t you own a cat?” she asked. The table erupted into guffaws and squeals of laughter. The bird squawked. Even Miss Trang smiled.
“The answer to that is no.”
Which was all very well, but when Willa arrived for work the next morning there was a dead little bird waiting for her on the doorstep, looking for all the world like a cat’s welcome gift.
Chapter Five
In the ordinary everyday, one question at a time
Willa returned to work, doing the same chores plus new ones, since she now had to clean and tidy the entire house. She didn’t mind in the least. The extra pay of a real full-time job made her parents very proud. The mood at home became much more relaxed, which was great. No more talk about “money worries.”
Willa’s days at the boarding house changed from quiet to boisterous. Everyone could now go about as they pleased while Willa was there. They bickered in the parlour, pestered Baz for tea and biscuits, and generally got underfoot as Willa was trying to clean. Robert awkwardly clip-clopped through the too-small rooms, knocking things over with his tail. Being so restricted in space made him extremely cross and argumentative, though he was always civil to Willa. And Horace was very kind to her too. He was usually in his human form, although once in a while she’d chance upon him as a lion, curled up on the carpet for a nap, and taking up the entire room. Mab occasionally flitted by her, glittering and giggly. Tengu grinned when he saw Willa and did his best to talk her into a friendly arm wrestle or some other contest of strength. She always declined, though, fearing that she might win. Baz was friendly enough, even though Willa always felt she was snickering at her.
Belle, however, was another story entirely. She rolled through the house, pushed by Baz or wheeling herself, with nothing but a scowl and a hrrmph for Willa, who had no idea what she’d done to incur the old lady’s wrath. Belle seemed to blame her for some ancient injustice. Maybe she just didn’t like kids. Or maybe she hated everyone from the “outside.” Whatever the reason, the mermaid was always in a foul mood and Willa tried to stay out of her way.
The old folks spent their days sniping at each other, not always good-naturedly, while the bird clucked disapprovingly in the corner. Squabbles quieted immediately whenever Miss Trang emerged from her office, gliding quiet and mysterious through the house, but resumed as soon as she was out of earshot.
Despite all distractions, Willa spent her days diligently focussed on her work. The cleaning of the upstairs bedrooms was no small job, as the old folk were all packrats and had been accumulating possessions for hundreds of years. The dark and dusty rooms were full, floor-to-ceiling full, of weird odds and ends. Horace’s room was crowded with a huge collection of bird feathers, mounted and framed, or simply stuck into jars, vases, books. His books too were overwhelming, tottering stacks of them everywhere. Some had pages so faded they were totally illegible, while others were in languages Horace admitted he had no knowledge of. And yet he refused to let Willa dispose of any of them, even the ones which were entirely missing their pages, eaten out by bugs or some other long-gone pest.
“What if they fell into the wrong hands?” He’d throw his hands up in despair at the thought.
“Whatever hands they fell into would just throw them in the trash!” countered Willa, but Horace just smiled.
Robert didn’t keep so many things, but his room had its own challenges. To accomodate his height, a hole had been broken in the ceiling so that his room opened into the attic, which was teeming with spiders, and sometimes bats as well. (Willa never saw any sign of mice, however. If there wasn’t an actual cat on the premises keeping them out, she felt there must surely be some kind of ghost cat at work.) Robert didn’t seem to mind insects or pests, but they made it doubly hard for Willa to keep the place even remotely tidy.
Tengu’s room, on the other hand, was a snap to clean. It was a small room, simple and clutter-free. He slept on a mat on the floor and had next to no personal possessions. That’s not to say he didn’t want things, though. Willa often heard him begging Miss Trang for ...
“A bardiche? Or a morningstar! No? How about a sweet little shuriken? Just one?”
Willa would go to the immense dictionary in the library to look up his requests — massive medieval weapons mostly, pretty gruesome-looking. And the “sweet little shuriken” was a razor-sharp throwing star. Fortunately Miss Trang held firm. No weapons was a fundamental house rule. Thank goodness for that, thought Willa.
Baz’s room was dominated by a great huge cabinet with dozens of tiny drawers containing all sorts of dried herbs, dead bugs, and reptiles, and unidentifiable bits of fuzz which made Willa queasy. Belle had a wardrobe full of gorgeous clothes she never wore and an ornate vanity table with a beautiful set of ivory and pearl brushes and combs. A golden inlaid with gemstones probably held her jewellery, though Willa didn’t have the nerve to peek inside. Mab’s dollhouse was usually tidy enough, which was good, because Willa didn’t know how she’d ever dust in there without breaking something. Miss Trang’s room was the only one she was still not allowed to enter, though she could now go in to clean the office.
Baz did all the cooking, but Willa helped there too whenever she could. The backyard remained off limits to her. Willa thought it would be wonderful if it was cut back, mowed, and cleaned up. As Miss Trang pointed out, however, the overgrown trees and bushes effectively shielded them from the prying eyes of the outside world — most notably the nosy next-door neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. Hackett. The Hacketts were fond of calling to Willa from their front porch, waving her over as she was arriving or leaving so they could complain about something ... most often the abysmal condition of the front or back yards. They were annoyed enough at the sight of a single weed in a neighbouring lawn, so naturally the jungle in Miss Trang’s backyard was really driving them up the wall. It was part of Willa’s job to listen sympathetically and try to keep on good terms with the Hacketts, which was possibly the hardest part of her work at the house.
There was a lot to do, but Willa arrived every morning eager and excited. She worked hard to finish her chores as quickly as possible so she’d have at least some of the afternoon free, all the while pondering what question she would ask that day. It was a difficult decision to make. Willa felt fortunate to be in Miss Trang’s good graces at last, so she certainly didn’t want to push her luck by being too inquisitive. And she was still a little afraid of Miss Trang, so she decided to steer clear of her for the first week at least. Better to start with the others, and the simpler, more straightforward questions.
So on her very first day she sought out Horace, in the library as usual, and in human form. The day outside was rainy and grey, and the library was dark, but there was a fire lit in the fireplace and the chairs were big and cozy. Horace smiled to see her and set his book aside.
“Come. Sit down.” Willa climbed into a tall wingback chair as he poured her some tea. He passed the cup and looked at her kindly. “You’d like to ask me something?”
“Yes, please. If you don’t mind. I was wondering what you ... what exactly ...” She paused awkwardly.
“What exactly am I?” Willa nodded and sipped her tea. Horace sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes.