4.

Thor puzzled over the words all that morning as he explored the garden, wondering what they could mean, wondering why, though it prickled the back of his neck, he was not more terrified. But he knew, with a certainty as inexplicable as anything else, that whatever ghost haunted this house, it did not mean him harm. He suspected only that it was trying to tell him something and itched with the need to help.

The garden however, provided enough distraction to keep him from distress. From the yard outside the kitchen windows he could see that from the back the roof of the house was dark and shiny with solar panels. He had read in the brief about those and been pleased. Not that he disliked wind farms – the great whale tail structures had reached out to him out of the sea on the way over here, and he was looking forward to the view of them later when he walked the cliff top, but for powering his own house the solar panels would be quieter and less distracting. He supposed the wind farms powered the town and public areas, each house having its own energy supply the same way they did things in the city. He was not sure yet how hard he needed to conserve power and supposed he would have to just use what he could and see, even if that meant going in darkness for the first few evenings. One of the first things he had done in the kitchen was find the supply of candles and the camping stove – if that was the right word for it.

Where the patio ended and the allotments began the garden became much more unruly, although not, as Thor had expected, as much as he had thought it would be in the knowledge that this house had not had a tenant in over seventy years. Again he wondered if that was Heimdall's doing, the curious gentlemen he was more and more coming to realise it would be best if he better acquaint himself. He walked out between the vegetable patches a little way and knelt down. There were green plants growing in tangles out of the soil – he had seen plants before a few times but soil. He touched it with his fingertips at first; it was slightly damp, warm, rich brown like the wood and flecked with chalk. It was a curious feeling, like a soft material but crumbly like breadcrumbs. He sifted some though his fingers and then, smiling to see it fall, plunged his hands right into the ground. It was almost surreal the way it yielded, at least until he closed his hands around something smooth, cold and hard – like a rock only softer. He dug it out of the earth, stared at the knobbly round shape in his hands for a long time. He was not sure, but he thought it might be a potato. He frowned, interested. Had he just dug food up out of the ground?

Thor stood up and went over to the little shed to the right of the patio. Someone had curiously hung the key up just under the sloping triangular roof. He took it down and opened up. Inside the shed smelled like nothing he had ever smelled. It was intense and good, like the earth outside and like wood if wood were distilled into a perfume. There were other smells too, he could not recognise all of them, paint perhaps and turpentine maybe. There were tools, none of which he recognised – one of them looked like a spade from a pack of cards. Was it a tool as well? He could not wait for Mjoll to get here and tell him all these things.

He did at least find a large metal kind of bucket on wheels with a handle, which he took to maneuverer the contraption to where he had been kneeling by the first patch of earth. He placed the possible potato in it carefully and fell back to rooting through the earth to see if there were more. There were. It was brilliant; like the treasure hunts his mother had thrown him as a child only messier. The mess was even better though, and it was not long before his hands were covered in brown gloves of soil, nestling in the lines of his palms and settling down beneath his nails. It was exhausting and fantastic work and he was soon gathering quite a pile of the vegetables in this useful contraption.

Thor was still up beyond the wrists in the soil when he heard the door open and Mjoll announce that she had brought pies.

"How did you know?" he stood up, wiping his forehead down with a hand. It occurred to him this must have instantly painted his forehead with soil and did not much care.

"Know what?" Mjoll came out onto the patio with a plastic bag in her hand.

"I wouldn't have eaten breakfast."

"And come straight out into the garden?" Mjoll raised an eyebrow – "Fucking hell Thor, have you seen the state of yourself?"

Thor ignored her and went into the kitchen to wash his hands off. When he went back onto the patio Mjoll was prodding the shaky looking garden table and chairs

"I can fix these," she said, sitting down on the wall instead and taking the contents out of the bag, lying them on the stone beside her. They were wrapped in towels and Thor looked at them with interest.

"Tea?"

"You worked the kettle then? Yeah go on. What kind do you have?"

"There are different kinds?"

"Yeah," Mjoll laughed – "You should have seen my house when I first moved in, some old guy had left me half his tea collection, pots of leaves all over the pantry."

"It comes in leaves?" Thor boggled – "I want some."

He came back outside with two cups. Mjoll unwrapped the packages to reveal pork pies that were like nothing Thor had ever seen, lumpy and crusty and large, none of them the same shape. When he bit one he wondered for a moment, having not wondered through all the events of last night – if he was in a dream. His mouth filled with flavour and the pastry crumbled. The pork was tender and made him nearly drool.

"So –" he said, around a mouth of pie – "What do you think about ghosts?"

Mjoll looked at him very slowly and closed her eyes very patiently.

"Oh." She announced calmly – "Fucking hell. Shit Thor it's been one night. You can't have gone weird already."

"That's a no then?"

Mjoll groaned.

"I dunno. No. Maybe." She thought quietly for a moment and then nodded – "Yeah, okay."

This time it was Thor's turn to groan and shake his head.

"I thought you were the one person would give me a straight answer."

"Oh I'm nothing if not straight –"

"Well that is a lie."

"Shut up Thor. Yeah okay, you have a ghost. If there was gonna be a house for it I guess this'd be it. Is it a friendly ghost?"

There was a just a hint of laughter in her voice that made Thor suspicious –

"You're referencing some ancient movie I have not seen aren't you?"

"Aye, usually."

"Yeah, I mean –" Thor told her everything that had happened since he got into the house. She listened, thoughtfully, Thor thought at first but at the end he suspected she had switched right off because she was looking at the pie crust in her hand like it was crystal ball.

"Mjoll? You listening to me?" She shrugged –

"Actually I was thinking about Euphemia Coulson, the stone mason's daughter".

"Mjoll!" Thor yelled, groaned and then, frowning – "What's a stonemason?"

"Walls and graves," she shrugged "Anyway yeah – the young – I'm mulling it over. Meanwhile what are you doing with that wheelbarrow?"

"The what?"

"The wheelbarrow Thor – the – the – big metal bucket on wheels."

"Oh," Thor said – "Is that what that is? I was using it for these –" he went over to it and picked up a potato.

"That's a potato," Mjoll told him gently. Thor almost did a dance of pleasure at his guess being right for once. Mjoll came beside him to prod at the ground with a foot –

"Someone's been keeping this alright for you."

"I thought so! Someone left the kitchen well stocked too."

"Probably Heimdall."

"I'll thank him when I get a chance."

Mjoll grunted –

"That your greenhouse?"

Thor had not known what it was. Mjoll headed off down the garden path to look. In the early morning sun it looked like something completely alien, all poles and panes of glass, sticking out here and there like a tiny city-scape all of its own. He had assumed it was broken and said as much.

"Yeah," Mjoll nodded, moving some poles around – "It is broken. Easy enough though."

"I forgot you were a builder."

"Yeah. That thing where some of us have jobs to do, eesh Odinson, twenty years of friendship and this is all I get."

"It's been awhile – Mewmew."

"Thor," Mjoll was looking at him very pointedly. It was frightening – "Don't call me that."

"Well don't call me Odinson."

"Yes but – Thor, you remember what happened when you last called me that don't you?" She said it so sweetly Thor found himself starting to shrink;

"You – uh, punched me in the dick."

"And that is the closest to it I will ever get," Mjoll smiled – "Come on – let's re-build some shit."

For the next few hours they worked solidly repairing the greenhouse, between Mjoll's knowledge and Thor's strength and – as she just had to point out later – Mjoll's strength – the work came on in leaps and bounds and by mid-afternoon the last shelves were re-fitted and it was ready to go. Mjoll handed him the last boards for the top shelves wiping her forehead –

"Here. You're taller than me, you get this."

"And I have better hair," Thor agreed.

"I think that's a tad irrelevant don't you?"

Mjoll had, as Thor recklessly put it, about as much hair as a scrubbing brush, due to a habit of getting fed up and shaving her head almost every summer. They glared at each other amiably and high fived the completion of the work on the green house.

"You want, I can come by tomorrow and help you plant some shit," Mjoll said as they walked back up the garden path.

"How do you …. plant?" Thor was fascinated.

"There are these things called seeds and – fucking hell Thor, I'll show you tomorrow okay? Easier than trying to explain."

"Okay."

"Oh yeah, and I dunno but I've been thinking about it, and I dunno but maybe the theatre?"

"Huh, what?"

"In town. The Young Theatre. It's just down the road. Maybe that's what your mystery words were pointing you to," she shrugged – "It's all I could think of. Worth a look. Y'know, in a few days when you come and see me. Go take a look around, it's like over five hundred years old or some shit, but they still play some stuff now and then. It's not a wreck. Not yet."

Mjoll shrugged again and raised a hand in a goodbye as she left, though she said it no more than she had offered a hello, earlier. Thor was left standing by the back door suddenly cold. More than that, he felt like he had been hollowed out and filled up and down with icy water. Somehow the mention of the theatre had frightened him with a chill that nothing in the house had given him and though he knew that he would, he did not want to go there. Not at all. At the same time he knew, without a doubt, that uncertain as she had been, Mjoll had come straight to the truth. It was a particular talent she had really. All of a sudden Thor found himself wishing he had not asked and she had not known.

_x_

Yup, still no Loki….but we're getting closer to him all the time! Tisn't my fault if Thor keeps spending many chapters getting distracted by potatoes! Who doesn't like potatoes? You're gonna enjoy it when he gets to the theatre next chapter though, I promise! I know it seems like I gave that away faaar too soon but trust me there are so many mysteries I haven't even kick started yet – the original version of this story I had in mind started in the theatre for the first chapter, so there's a LOT to unravel! :-)