Free The Fearful by Keith Gray Page A

were the youngest Saturday morning regulars by a good twenty-five years. Tom and Rhonda Bye’s son used to come – until he’d got too old to be forced.
    Jack Spicer appeared and was greeted like an old friend. He wasn’t one of the Fearful himself, not officially, but he was well-liked and well-respected by everybody here. He had seen the Mourn after all. He moved around the room, clearly enjoying his particular status among them – like a more-famous actor turning up backstage at somebody else’s play.
    Tim managed to extricate himself – politely – from the conversation with Cagey Brown, but didn’t get very far before Nana Dairy made a grab for him. Her grey hair was sticking up at clownish angles because of the wind and drizzle and she had sticky scone crumbs at the corners of her mouth.
    â€˜Here he is!’ she said loud enough for
everybody
to hear. ‘Here’s my handsome grandson!’
    He cringed, blushed uncontrollably.
    She fussed around him. ‘Oh, but I expect you’re excited about next week.’
    If I had a pound for everybody who’d said that . . .
    She prodded him and stroked him and straightened his clothes. ‘And I’m
so
proud, Timmy. We’re all
so
proud. Aren’t we
proud,
Grace?’
    Mrs Kirkwooding smiled widely at him. ‘Of course we are. Who wouldn’t be?’
    He tried to duck away, but the old ladies had him cornered, trapped. Tom and Rhonda Bye were quick to close in, making him feel surrounded. It was up to Anne to attempt a rescue.
    â€˜Please stop clucking, Mother,’ she said, filling Nana Dalry’s cup of tea for what could be the third time.
    But Nana was having none of it. Her cheeks glowed with pride. ‘Have you chosen your reading for next week yet? I thought your father’s was
very
nice today. So
very
nice. Wasn’t it
nice,
Grace?’
    â€˜Very,’ Mrs Kirkwooding agreed. ‘I enjoyed it immensely.’
    â€˜You’ll have to choose a nice one for your Carving, Timmy. I remember your father’s first Feed when—’
    â€˜Your father has a gift,’ Rhonda Bye interrupted loudly, ignoring the scowl on Nana’s face. ‘Indeed he does. A real feel. He knows how to reassure us of all our worries and troubles.’ She wasn’t that much younger than Nana or Mrs Kirkwooding but shopped for clothes in the same places Jenny and Sarah did, and only unconvincingly squeezed herself into them. She was tanned like marmalade. ‘I’m told your grandfather had the gift as well. You have a pair or two of large boots to fill, young man.’
    â€˜He’ll fill them,’ Nana Dalry stated almost aggressively. ‘He’s very much like both his grandfathers. The gift of theMilmullens, but there’s equal Dairy in him too.’ She squinted at Mrs Bye mischievously. ‘He’s got a look of my Alan about him, don’t you think? You were in the same class at school with my Alan – you must remember.’
    Not for one second was Rhonda Bye going to admit she was the same age as Tim’s grandfather. She turned to her husband. ‘Tom might be a better judge.’
    But Tom Bye looked pissed already. ‘Hmm?’ He seemed both surprised and frightened to be included.
    â€˜Maybe you could have a word with Sylvie,’ Anne said to Nana, judiciously changing the subject.
    â€˜That dreadful American woman?’ Nana Dairy wasn’t impressed.
    â€˜She’s upset about missing the Feed, having come all this way. Maybe you could explain to her what it is we do, and why. I think she’d appreciate learning more about the old traditions.’
    Nana perked up immediately. ‘What a good idea. Shall we, Grace?’ Mrs Kirkwooding followed her.
    Tim smiled gratefully at his mother and let her steer him away. He liked Nana Dairy – she was always generous at Christmas and birthdays – but she could be a bit