Weaveworld

3

When Cal and the woman had gone, Brendan sat awhile watching the garden. He’d have to get to work on it soon: Eileen’s letter had chastized him for being so lax in its upkeep.

Musing on the letter inevitably led him back to its carrier, the celestial Mr Shadwell.

Without analysing why, he got up and went to the ‘phone, consulting the card the angel had given him, then dialled. His memory of the encounter with Shadwell had almost been burned away by the brightness of the gift the Salesman had brought, but there’d been a bargain made, that he did remember, and it somehow concerned Cal.

‘Is that Mr Shadwell?’

‘Who is this please?’

‘It’s Brendan Mooney.’

‘Oh Brendan. How good to hear your voice. Do you have something to tell me? About Cal?’

‘He went to a warehouse, for furniture and such …’

‘Did he indeed. Then we shall find him, and make him a happy man. Was he alone?’

‘No. There was a woman with him. A lovely woman.’

‘Her name?’

‘Suzanna Parrish.’

‘And the warehouse?’

A vague twinge of doubt touched Brendan. ‘Why is it you need Cal?’

‘I told you. A prize.’

‘Oh yes. A prize.’

‘Something to take his breath away. The warehouse, Brendan. We have a deal, after all. Fair’s fair.’

Brendan put his hand into his pocket. The letter was still warm. There was no harm in making bargains with angels, was there? What could be safer?

He named the warehouse.

‘They only went for a carpet –’ Brendan said.

The receiver clicked.

‘Are you still there?’ he said.

But the divine messenger was probably already winging his way.