Chapter 3 – Discoveries
At Charley's nod Freda simply tossed the rest of the cookies onto a plate and the two women sat munching their way slowly through them.
"So you planning on doing much with your yard?" Charley asked sleepily over an hour later.
"Yard? Oh – you mean my garden? Yeah, I'll be doing some gardening – got to have my home grown veggies!" Freda grinned. "Do you think your suspicious friends might like to earn a few bucks?"
"Well I could ask them – but they are a bit, well, shy around strangers." Charley answered slowly.
"Due to the tails and ears huh?" Freda asked with a smirk. Charley sat bolt upright with a small exclamation of shock.
"You knew? All this time you knew?" Charley breathed out slowly. "Freda you can't say anything!"
"I know, I know! Don't worry I won't! If it's any comfort to you I did actually move here deliberately – and by deliberately I mean I looked up your address and bought the lot next door on purpose." Freda chuckled.
"Why?!" Charley asked in rising panic.
"Because I was asked to." Freda shrugged. "Apparently it's easier to visit friends if they're all in one place."
"Who told you that?" Charley paused, thinking; then groaned. "No, don't tell me – let me guess – you didn't happen to meet anyone by the name of Stoker did you?"
"Whew – clean shot Charley! Yup I know Stoker, met him a while back. I was already thinking of moving to the USA – Stoker just picked out where I'd be moving to." Freda smiled as she remembered her first encounter with Stoker.
"How did you meet?" Charley asked in amazement. "Did Stoker end up in the UK for some reason?"
"Nah, he was meant to be headed here, but he took some hits from a Plutarkian ship and something on board his ship got damaged so he ended up in Gloucestershire, UK instead of Chicago, USA." Freda shook her head. "I don't really understand it fully."
"Martian ships are a bit complicated." Charley agreed.
"I'm glad I met him – he was an interesting kinda guy. Plus the dogs loved him!" Freda grinned. "He stayed an entire two weeks, mainly fixing his ship, but the company was nice. He told me a lot about the bro's and you, Mars, the war, his niece – Carbine? Yeah loads of stuff, it was really interesting – and I think he found me interesting as well – slightly terrifying, but interesting!"
"Terrified – Stoker? You frightened Stoker? How!" Charley asked in amazement.
"Heh, um – I'm a re-enactor. I do quite a few different periods, but my main speciality is medieval European stuff – British mainly – so yeah bona fide way of terrifying Stoker – come at him with a fifteenth century sword and bollock dagger!" Freda laughed. "He had just crash-landed in my shed – I thought he was breaking in after some of my kit – it's pretty expensive stuff – and making a really bad job of it! So he kind of got the full blown these are sharp and I know how to use them malarkey!"
"Whoa!" Charley laughed. "Were they really sharp?"
"My weapons – nah – they're for re-enactment so they have to be blunted. But in fairness in the dark you can't actually tell that easily." Freda admitted.
"So did you bring them with you?" Charley asked hopefully.
"My weapons? Heck yeah! Never leave home without them – come on I'll show you the armoury." Freda got up and trotted off into the hall. Charley followed slowly, still unsure on how the dogs would react to a stranger in their midst. Freda led the way up two flights of stairs and into a large room with no windows and a heavy lock on the door.
"Welcome to the armoury!" Freda motioned round the room at the array of weapons and armour she'd amassed over the years that currently lay half unpacked over various surfaces.
"Wow! Have you actually used all of these?" Charley asked taking in the incredible and slightly terrifying sight.
"Yup – most of them see regular use." Freda nodded. "Here try this."
She lightly tossed a short sword to Charley who fumbled to catch it. Charley weighed the metal in her hand dubiously.
"I was expecting it to be heavier." Charley pulled a face.
"Oh you want heavier? Right, well that's a fifteenth century blade – try this twelfth century sword, it's got a bit more weight to it." Freda carefully passed the blade to her friend.
"Whoa!" Charley was amazed at the difference in weight. Freda smiled smugly – whoever said technology was a modern thing?
"I've got swords from other periods too, even other countries – you're welcome to come over and... heck! Sorry Charley – giving you the whole come on lets practice thing!" Freda shook her head. "I seriously need to find a group!"
"Group of who?" Charley asked curiously.
"Re-enactors! I'm going a little loco here on my own." Freda admitted dryly.
"Ohhhh – well I don't think we have too many groups round here – so why don't you start one?" Charley suggested.
"You think folks would be interested?" Freda asked in surprise.
"Yeah probably – we have some bikers round here. They might be interested, and there are plenty of other folks into their history I guess." Charley nodded.
"What about you?" Freda asked with a shrug.
"Maybe... just keep wafting swords under my nose and I think I might just be persuaded!" Charley laughed.
A howl echoed up from downstairs. Both women turned to the door looking puzzled before frowning as a reverberating knock sounded on the front door. Freda raised her eyebrows, rolled her eyes and trotted out. Charley followed slowly after placing the sword down on a table. A large, scruffy looking, grey and white dog was setting up a perfect one dog operatic chorus from behind a packing case; Charley hastily tried to reassure the large scruff. It looked Charley up and down before switching the noise to a deep, menacing growl as Freda approached the front door with a very small metal shield in her hand. Freda wrenched the door open to discover her least favourite of Chi-town's residents dripping on her front porch.
"Youse ready to sell up yet yer mouthy dame?" Greasepit snarled. "Coz if you ain't the boss says I can be imaginative."
"Really, you have an imagination?" Freda asked silkily. "Go away please – I have company."
"Oh that's the dame from next door – Mr Limburger wants her." Greasepit started forward as he spotted Charley. Freda shot a crotch shot at Greasepit with the shield and was rewarded with a howl of pain. She slammed the door and shoved several heavy packing cases against it.
"The armoury! Quick!" Freda yelled. Charley hurried back up the stairs. Freda slung the shield thing down; quickly selected her favourite longbow and grabbed a quiver of sharp arrows she usually used for target practice.
"Er – Freda you're not planning on using those?" Charley pointed at the articles Freda carried.
"Yup – after all it's not like they're good law abiding citizens now is it?" Freda snapped. "Besides it's hardly as permanent as laser fire. And I can't use the buckler long distance."
Charley glanced at the metal buckler and realised it was probably actually designed for close combat; the small size made it easily manoeuvrable, whilst the raised central boss would pack a mean blow in lieu of a punch. She hurried after her new friend and watched as Freda strung the bow and took aim at Greasepit out of one of the upper storey windows. The shot hit home, straight in Greasepit's thigh; Freda grimaced at the row the oversized goon made when he was hit. She aimed and shot again this time catching his upper arm. Charley clapped her hands over her ears. Despite muffling the racket outside the window it still didn't block the sound of motorcycles roaring down the street. Freda held the next shot as she watched the three mice see off the goons. A tan furred mouse, apparently the leader, looked up at the window; although Freda couldn't see his face she could sense the frown. He motioned to the others that they were leaving and they roared back off down the street.
"Don't tell me – they didn't even bother to check I was ok?" Charley asked grumpily.
"Afraid not Charley." Freda grimaced as she unstrung her war-bow. "Whew! Hope I don't have to do that again anytime soon."
"Well it's more than likely you will Freda." Charley spread her hands. "I better get back home and lock up the garage properly."
"Sure thing – after you've locked up come back over and I'll fix dinner ok?" Freda grinned.
"You sure? You only just met me..." Charley trailed off and rubbed the back of her neck.
"The dogs' like you, that tells me all I need to know." Freda smiled and shrugged. "Any fancies?"
"Not hot dogs!" Charley replied decisively.
"Heh – yeah I remember Stoker seemed to have a penchant for them and – root beer?" Freda raised an eyebrow; Charley nodded.
"Sounds like Stoker." The mechanic laughed. "I'll be over in a bit then?"
"Definitely! If you're not over here by the time dinner is cooked I'll come get you." Freda grinned. "You're not vegetarian are you?"
"Nope." Charley laughed. "And I'm not afraid of trying new things either."
"You realise that does give me free license to cook anything barring hot dogs don't you?" Freda teased. "Including some unspeakable historical dishes?"
Charley gulped and shrugged before smiling. Freda laughed at her friend's innocent trust in her culinary skills.
"I'll be nice – I promise." Freda grinned.