He took it back when he was done and said, "Thank you for letting me borrow this. It was very nice of you."
She looked startled and then laughed. "I think that's the first time I've ever been called that. You want a cup of tea?"
"Yes, please," he said. His stomach was growling.
He ended up staying with Gladys for most of the day, listening to her talk and watching her heat water over a rigged up flame, the tea leaves she had so well‑used all they produced were cups of water colored the faintest brown. She'd lived in the house for a long time‑‑with her father before she was married and then once she had, in a room of her own. Her husband died in a cave‑in before they'd been married a year and then she'd gone to work in the mines. "Till last winter," she said, "when I got the sickness. Now I stay here, earn coins where I can." She jerked her head in the direction of the bed. David looked but just saw rumpled sheets that were much mended and stained in places. When he looked back at her she was sitting stiffly watching him, eyes wary and calculating all at once.
"I'm sorry you're sick," he said.
She relaxed, took another sip of tea. "You been with Alec long?"
He shook his head.
"Everyone said he'd be back," she said, "but I thought‑‑well, I thought he might make it. I used to hear him singing while we worked‑‑it passes the time, makes the dark less dark‑‑and oh, such a lovely voice he has. And he was sure that if he could just get away from the mines‑‑I've never seen anyone believe like he could." She lowered her voice. "Of course, with all the talk he almost had to leave, but you know all about that."
David didn't know and he wasn't sure Alec believed in anything but he nodded and asked about the fireplace. He needed to make dinner. She told him where to get wood and when he filled the room with smoke came and showed him how to open the damper.
"Where on earth did Alec find you?" she said.
"In the snow."
She laughed and then coughed. "You are a strange one, aren't you? No matter. It's about time he had someone who appreciated him and I think‑‑no, I can tell you do. Go do your marketing and I'll watch the fire for you."
"You don't mind?"
She looked at him for a moment. "I haven't been near a fireplace for more than a moment or two all season and you know what it's like out. And with my cough‑‑"
He pulled the chair over to the fire. "Sit down and rest," he said. "Can I get you anything?
She shook her head. "You really are a strange one," she said. "Go on now, before there's nothing left but potatoes and salt fish."
She was asleep when he got back and he didn't wake her, just put more wood on the fire and then looked around for something to cook with. She woke up coughing as the sun was setting and stared at him when he gave her a small packet of tea.
"You want a go," she said, narrow‑eyed and a disappointed look on her face. "In the future, spare me the gesture and just give me coins." She stood up and started unlacing her shirt.
"Gesture?" David said as she walked toward him. "It's not really that. That's more‑‑" He moved his hands around to show her but she didn't seem to notice, kept unlacing her shirt. Whatever was making her sick was eating her from the outside in; he could see it in the stark line of her ribs, the bony ridge running down the center of her chest. She took one of his hands and put it against her skin. It was paper thin and hot under his fingers. "Look, I could just keep it here," he said.
"And you could use it whenever you wanted. Or not. I, um, didn't mean to upset you. Can I move my hand now?"
"You don't want a go," she said, surprise in her voice, and held up the tea. "Then what's this for?"
"Drinking."
"Drinking," she said slowly.
"You know, it's tea. I just ‑‑ the leaves you have are old and I thought you might like some new ones. What did you think it was?"
"Tea."
"Oh. Then why did you ‑‑?"
She shook her head, started lacing her shirt back up. "Honey," she said. "I'm starting to think what you said about Alec finding you in the snow is true. You're like a just hatched chick.
Buying me tea for no reason!"
"You could share it with me."
She grinned. "Not so wet behind the ears after all. Come over tomorrow and we'll have a cup."
"Okay," he said and smiled at her. "Tomorrow."
She stared at him for a moment. "Saints," she said a shade breathlessly. "Alec is a lucky one, even with you being as strange as you are. I bet the first time you met you snagged him with that smile."
David shook his head. "He kicked me."
Gladys laughed. "Why on earth did he do that?"
"He thought I was dead."
Gladys laughed again, then coughed once more. "Hell," she said when she was done, wheezing loudly. "You really are something."
Alec returned when it was dark, his face drawn and his hands caked with dark sparkling dust, one arm dangling strangely by his side. He looked surprised to see David, started to smile and then said, "You're still here," surprise in his voice and a strange look on his face.
"I made dinner," David said.
"You made dinner." Now Alec sounded nervous.
David served gingerbread. Gingerbread and potatoes. Alec grinned at the potatoes‑‑David had baked them, then split them open and filled them with tiny salted fish‑‑and laughed when David told him about what Gladys had said before he left to go to the square. He'd laughed more when David told him about the tea, said, "She hasn't changed a bit," and then, more quietly, "It was nice, what you did for her. She deserves more kindness than most show her." And then he ate most of the gingerbread.
"So how did you get all this?" he asked.
"I went to the square."
"I know that," he said with a smile. "What I mean is how did you pay for it? Did you borrow money from Gladys?"
"No."
"Then how did you buy‑‑?" Alec swept an arm over the table, his smile fading. His other arm was still dangling by his side, strangely motionless, and David realized he hadn't moved it once.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
Alec's mouth tightened. "How did you buy all this?" he said again.
"I had money."
"The money you made singing?"
David nodded.
"How much did you spend?" Alec's voice was clipped, curt.
David told him and Alec got up and disappeared up into the loft, returned carrying a small leather pouch. He opened it and pulled a handful of coins out, put them on the table. "This is for what you spent today." He pulled out another handful and put them next to the first pile. "And this should last you for the rest of the week."
David pushed the first pile of coins back across the table. "I don't need this."
"Take it."
"Why?"
Alec's face tightened. "I don't want anything from you. Not now, not ever. Got it?"
"No."
Alec stared at him. "You shouldn't have spent your money on me," he finally said.
"Why not?"
"You should go back to the square tomorrow," Alec said abruptly. "You liked that, right?"
"I'm going to have tea with Gladys tomorrow."
"You're free of whatever held you before," Alec said, his voice almost desperate. "You can do whatever you want."
"I know," David said. "Do you want the last piece of gingerbread?"
"I don't understand you," Alec said.
"Yes, you do," David said. "You just don't want to."
Alec stared at him, open‑mouthed. After a long silence he said quietly, "I'll get you a chair tomorrow. And some blankets. And a pillow."
Chapter Seven
Alec didn't own much to cook with. A couple of plates. A handful of utensils. Three cups. A pot.
A tin. A saucer. Everything except the saucer was chipped or dented.