-Nothing," she said. -I'm not frightened at all. You're trying to talk about subjects you don't understand."
-Then help me understand."
-Not my job," she said. -I warned you off."
-You warned me off working here. This - you, what's happening with you, and what happened to Santo - isn't part of my employment."
She smiled briefly. -Stay round, then. If you haven't already, you're soon to find out what's part and parcel of your employment. Now if you'll excuse me, I want a ride. I doubt you'll still be here when I return."
-Are you coming over tonight?"
She raised her eyebrows. -I think that part might be finished between us."
-What are you saying? Something's happened since yesterday. Beyond Santo, something's happened."
-Oh, I do know that." She mounted her bike, gearing it to take the rise of the driveway, heading into town.
She coursed along the southeast edge of St. Mevan Down where unmowed grass bent heavily with a weight of raindrops and a few dogs romped, grateful for a respite in the rain. She, too, was grateful, and she decided she'd head roughly in the direction of Polcare Cove. She told herself she had no intention of going to the place where Santo had died, but if she ended up there by chance, she would consider it meant to be. She wouldn't pay attention to the route. She would merely blast along the lanes as fast as she could, turning when she felt like turning, continuing straight on when she fancied that.
She knew she needed a source of energy to do the sort of ride she had in mind, however, so when she saw Casvelyn of Cornwall (County's Number One Pasty) to the right on the corner of Burn View Lane, she coasted over to the bakery, a large operation that supplied pasties up and down the coast to restaurants, shops, pubs, and smaller bakeries unable to bake their own. The business comprised an industrial-size kitchen in the back and a shop in the front, with ten bakers working in one area and two shop assistants in the other.
Kerra leaned her bike against the front window, a stunning monument to pasties, bread loaves, pastry, and scones. She ducked inside, deciding in advance that she would have a steak-and-beer pasty and she'd eat it on her way out of town.
At the counter, she placed her order with a girl whose impressive thighs looked like the result of their owner having sampled the products far too often. The requested pasty was being bagged and rung up at the till when the other shop assistant emerged with a tray of fresh goods to go into the display case. Kerra looked up as the kitchen door swung closed. At the same moment as her glance fell on the girl with the tray, that girl's glance fell upon Kerra. Her steps faltered. She stood expressionless with the tray extended in front of her.
-Madlyn," Kerra said. It came to her much later how stupid she sounded. -I didn't know that you worked here."
Madlyn Angarrack went to one of the display cases and opened it, sliding fresh pasties from the tray she held. She said to the other girl, who was in the process of bagging Kerra's purchase,
-What sort is that, Shar?" Her voice was curt.
-Steak and beer." Kerra was the one to answer. And then, -Madlyn, I was asking Cadan about you only twenty minutes ago. How long've you been - "
-Give her one of these, Shar. They're fresher."
Shar looked from Madlyn to Kerra, as if taking a reading off the tension in the air and wondering from which direction it was flowing. But she did as she was told.
Kerra took her pasty over to where Madlyn was lining up display trays neatly. She said to her,
-When did you start working here?"
Madlyn glanced her way. -Why d'you want to know?" She shut the lid of the display case with a decisive snap. -Would that make some sort of difference to you?" She used the back of her wrist to move some hair from her face. It was short - her hair - quite dark and curly. At this time of year, the copper that streaked it from exposure to the summer sun was missing. It came to Kerra how remarkably like Cadan his sister looked: the same colour of hair that was thick with curls, the same olive skin, the same dark eyes, the same shape of face. The Angarracks were thus nothing like the Kerne siblings. Physically,