A Girl, a Murder, and Twelve Dreadful Children

Chapter VII: You Must Be Joking!

You know you can trust me; you know that I can't trust you. -- Anthony Hope, Rupert of Hentzau

As far as tea parties went, this was one of the most awkward Dani had ever attended. It was more like a stand-off than a tea party. The young man sat on one side of the table, munching his way through a ham and cheese sandwich. Dani sat on the other side, eating a slice of shortbread without tasting it.

For several long minutes the only words spoken were "Would you like some more tea?" and "Yes, please". The elephant in the room was so obvious it was practically visible.

"What did you want to speak to me about?" Dani asked when she couldn't bear it any more. The metaphorical elephant was casting a metaphorical shadow over the entire room.

The young man -- she could think of no other way to describe him, when she still wasn't sure if he was a lunatic or not -- set down his teacup and frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose I'd better start from the beginning. You've never met a personification before?"

Dani thought about this. "I've met the Grim Reaper."

That was an experience she never wanted to repeat. It wasn't that Death was unpleasant; she was surprisingly good company, for the embodiment of... well, death. It was just that she was said embodiment of said concept, and therefore something to be kept at arm's length if at all possible.

"I'm something similar," the young man said. "Except instead of personifying a concept, I personify a place. I watch over the people who live here, and protect them if I can. Watch." He held out his hand. The wall to his left suddenly moved forward several inches, then slid back into its usual place. "I can rearrange buildings and streets when I want to. Last night a man planned to rob an old lady. I moved the roads around until he didn't know up from down, and he gave up and went home."

Anyone else would have been more suspicious of believing him. But Dani had already seen plenty of supernatural occurrences. A personified town was odd, yes. But now that she had seen proof it was true, she accepted it as fact and wasted no more time on doubt.

"Why do you want to speak to me, sir?" she asked. A suspicion dawned on her. "If it has anything to do with my being questioned by the police--"

"It hasn't," Caledon assured her. "Well, not exactly. You see, my sister Ballinamallard also wants to catch the murderer. And she thinks you might be able to help us."

So apparently there were multiple personified towns. That was an unsettling thought. They couldn't all be as apparently well-meaning as Caledon claimed to be. Heaven knew what the personification of Londonderry would be like! As ill-mannered, ill-bred and ill-spoken as its people, no doubt.

This led her thoughts in a different direction. Were personifications' personalities reflections of the people who lived there? What happened when people with many conflicting personalities all lived in the same town -- as was inevitable, given the nature of towns? A confused image of personifications with a Jekyll-and-Hyde problem swam through her mind.

"Why does... Ballinamallard... think I can help?" Dani asked, trying to ignore how strange it was to speak of a town as a person. "I don't know anything about the murder. My detective efforts have been a miserable failure."

Caledon nodded. "I know. But Enniskillen is being most unhelpful, so we need someone else to help us investigate. Ballinamallard told me to ask you. She'd come and talk to you herself, but she's busy with a wiring fault."

Dani wondered briefly what sort of wiring fault a personification could have trouble with. It seemed such a mundane, human thing. This led to another thought. Where did personifications live? Did they buy their own houses like ordinary people? They were hardly likely to live on the street, after all. Or did they have their own accommodations in the district council buildings?