Page 28 of Basket Case

Gran spotted us immediately.

“There you are.” She marched across the grass and hugged me before turning to Aonghus. “And there you are.”

I wasn't surprised in the slightest that she knew who he was.

Aonghus bowed his head. “Keeper.”

Gran looked him over. Her attention paused at the gap where his shirt had failed to contain his chest.

“You’ve scrubbed up well. I always said there was a decent man somewhere beneath all that wicker.”

“Gran, please don’t start making basket jokes.”

“I’ve waited sixty years. I’m getting my money’s worth.”

Aonghus’s mouth curved into a smile. “You kept me safe.”

“Well, nobody wanted to buy you.” Gran reached up and touched one of the leaves in his hair. “I took you to three jumble sales and brought you home every time.”

“You tried to sell him?”

“He took up half the pantry.”

Aonghus stared at her.

Gran patted his arm. “I’m joking. Your sense of humour clearly slept longer than the rest of you.”

“I heard every word spoken near the creel.”

“Then you know I talked to you.”

His expression softened. “Every evening.”

Gran’s fingers remained on his sleeve. For once, she had nothing clever to say. Aonghus covered her hand with his, and she squeezed his arm before stepping back.

“Did you work out how to free him?” she asked me.

“Yes.”

“How?”

Aonghus looked unbearably pleased with himself. I wanted to elbow him in the ribs.

“Magic,” I said.

“What sort of magic?”

“Private magic.”

Gran’s eyes narrowed. She knew exactly what that meant. “Did he bring you joy?”

“A reasonable amount.”

Aonghus laughed. “She is lying.”

This time, I really did elbow him in the ribs. He didn’t move, although his arm tightened around my waist.

Gran beamed. “I knew he would. Never underestimate a well-made basket.”