Installment 52

Harry came running to me when I came down the stairs. She had a large brown paper bag and a big grin on her face. She handed the bag to me, looking rather satisfied with herself, and rightly so. I opened the bag and pulled out potatoes, mushrooms, peppers, onions and a whole load of other vegetables. She stood, as if to attention, awaiting my response.
I almost squealed, “Oh my god, this is brilliant. We have to cook this right away.”
“I don't know how to do that,” she said.
“That's fine,” I told her, “I can do it. Do you want me to show you?”
She grinned and nodded. We went down some stairs to what had once been a kitchen, but seemed to long since have been abandoned. I found a knife, a chopping board and a frying pan, all covered in dust. I threw them in the sink and put the water on. At first, it came out a reddy-brown colour, but within a couple of minutes, it was clear. In the absence of a cloth or sponge, I rubbed the pan with my fingers and then just rinsed the board and knife, hoping there was nothing too deadly in that dust, but figuring that the heat would kill anything too bad.
I turned on the hob and sighed with relief when the automatic spark lit the gas. Harry had been looking a little too closely at what I was doing and squealed when the flames blew up, nearly catching her face.
“Are you ok?” I asked.
She nodded and we both burst out giggling.
I quickly chopped the onions and mushroom and threw them in the pan, lowering the heat. I had a quick look around and couldn't find any oil, but decided that was ok. I peeled and de-seeded what needed it, and let Harry roughly chop the rest of the vegetables. Once the onions and mushrooms were fried to my satisfaction, I added the rest of the vegetables and some water. I searched round the kitchen looking for herbs and seasoning, but found nothing, then looking out the window, I saw a patch of small plants.
“Come with me,” I told Harry.
She followed me out to what must have been a herb garden at one time. The rosemary and basil had taken over and there were no other herbs still growing, but that was enough for me. I grabbed a leaf of basil and crushed it between my fingers.
“Smell this,” I told Harry. She did so and scrunched her nose up.
“It smells weird.”
“It makes stuff taste good, though,” I told her and grabbed a handful of each herb.
We went back to the kitchen and I rinsed the herbs and threw them in the pan. The food smelt amazing, and my mouth was already watering. I knew it wouldn't taste as good as it could if I had a full range of seasonings, but I was really looking forward to eating it anyway.
About 20 minutes later, Harry and I dished up the food and sat down to eat it. I wasn't sure whether Harry wanted to try the food she'd cooked or whether she was just humouring me, but I appreciated the company, so didn't ask.
“So this is all kind of exciting for you, isn't it? Having your mother home?”
She nodded, her mouth full of food.
“I was thinking that I might go home; back to London. I mean, your mother just needed the pendant, right? She doesn't need me here.”
Harry started to chew her food faster, clearly swallowing the mouthful before she was ready to, “I don't really know. I think it's you as well.”
“I don't understand.”
“Well, you're kind of special, I think.”
“How so?”
She looked thoughtful. I tried to gauge whether she was trying to work out what to tell me, or how to explain it, “You can control it. Most people can't.”
“Can you?”
She shrugged, “Too young, that's what gran says.”
“Too young to control it, or too young to try.”
She shrugged again, shovelling another spoonful of food into her mouth.
“But surely you'd have your mother's capabilities?”
She snorted and didn't bother to finish the mouthful of food this time, “Can you do everything your mum can?”
I nodded slowly, “I get your point... but you've not tried?”
“No. Mum'll tell me if she wants me to.”
“What about what you want?”
She looked at me incredulously, “I want what mum wants.”
“Right,” I said, “I get that,” and dismissed her from my plan.