Toil and Trouble: 8

                                    

                                              


                          
            
                          
I ran downstairs.

                          
The landlady only confirmed my worst fears: she had seen nothing of Jay all morning, not a peep since yesterday evening. She had not heard anything in the night that might have sounded suspiciously like a break-in by magickal marauders; but then, neither had I. At dawn, Jay had been sleeping comfortably in front of a desultorily flickering television. A couple of hours later, he'd vanished. 
                          
I stood in Jay's abandoned room, dithering like a ninny while my mind turned in confused circles. These are the moments in life when one would wish to be a picture of unflappable resolve, brimming with self-confidence and perfectly clear upon the best course of action. My brain would only consent to ask foolish questions. Where was Jay? No way to tell. Why had he gone? Well, he probably hadn't stepped out for coffee without his jacket, wallet or keys. 
                          
Then Rob showed up. 
                          
I was informed of his presence when my landlady — a mild retiree with a taste for forties fashions — stood diffidently on the tiny landing outside our rooms and called: 'Dear? There is a gentleman to see you.'
                          
I thought first of Katalin's mysterious sidekick, and marched downstairs with my Wand in my hand, ready to wrest Jay from him by hook or by crook. But of course, the man patiently awaiting me in the hall was Rob. He was looking extra forbidding: with his dark frame swathed in even darker clothes, no wonder my landlady had seemed a bit nervous. He looked like the riot police, or maybe an assassin.
                          
'No!' I yelped when I saw him, and stopped, frozen, two-thirds of the way down the stairs. 'Go away!'
                          
'Morning, Ves,' said Rob, unperturbed. 'Why?'
                          
'Because when I tell you what's happened you'll have to kill me.'
                          
'I might kill somebody,' Rob allowed — not at all to the reassurance of my poor landlady, who was, at that moment, creeping past us into the safety of her living-room. 'But never you. What's the matter?'
                          
'I've lost the book.' I sat down heavily upon the stairs and clutched at my hair, whose jaunty pink colour seemed quite inappropriate just then.
                          
Rob didn't move. 'That is unfortunate.'
                          
'And I've lost Jay.'
                          
That gave him greater pause. He blinked, uttered, 'Ah,' and fell silent.
                          
'Just make it quick,' I pleaded. 'I probably deserve to suffer, but I haven't the courage.'
                          
Rob came forward and extended a hand. Reluctantly, I allowed myself to be hauled back to my feet. 'Calm, Ves,' he said, more kindly than I felt I deserved. 'It isn't your fault.'
                          
'Of course it is! If I wasn't responsible for keeping them safe then who was?'
                          
'Jay is not helpless.'
                          
'He's never been sent out by himself yet. I'm here because I'm supposed to be competent. Milady said I could be relied upon to handle any "difficulties" that "might happen to arise"! And I haven't! I was asleep, and Jay was hauled off like a sack of potatoes!' 
                          
'Not necessarily.'
                          
'What do you mean, not necessarily? That is clearly the case.'
                          
Rob made no reply, exactly. He only said, 'Jay is clever,' which did not appear to relate to anything. 'Tell me what's happened.'
                          
I brought him up to speed with as much detail as I could manage, finishing with, 'I don't even know how they found us in this wretched—' I broke off as a horrible idea occurred to me. I did not pause to explain; I merely turned and high-tailed it back up the stairs.