Fynn flashed a grin. “She hadn’t mentioned it. Tell me more.”
“No, that’s quite enough, thank you, Cat.” I shook my head but couldn’t keep from smiling. “What’s happened?” I gestured around the crowded market. “Did a boatload of tourists arrive ahead of schedule? Or is Mrs. Kissack giving away sticky buns?”
“We were about to have a look,” Cat answered as Alis attempted to finish her bonnag in one huge bite. “Austeyn Boyd and Brice Nelson say the dry spell in their fishing is over. They’ve caught some giant crabs.”
Alis flung her arms wide, nearly smacking me in the stomach. “They’re bigger than horses!”
Cat smiled patiently. “You don’t know that. They haven’t shown them to anyone yet, silly goose.”
I tried to smile at Alis’s antics, too, but my insides seemed to have turned to liquid as I tried not to think of what crabs the size of horses would look like.
“You know how Mr. Boyd loves to brag. He’s just like his son,” Cat continued, oblivious to my discomfort. She meant Thomase Boyd, one of the lads who used to court Mally. “He’ll probably wait till the whole town’s come out before he shows us the blasted things.”
“Mmm.” I scanned the crowd for a sight of the monstrous crabs, but to no avail. Instead, as I turned back to my friends, my eyes met Fynn’s.
“Bridey.” He glanced over his shoulder, then back to me, a faint frown crossing his lips. “Why is that woman glaring at us?”
I peered around. I’d been so set on finding out more about the fishermen and their catch that I hadn’t noticed the tall woman quarreling with her two young sons. Her name eluded me, but I knew her face. She always sat in the front pew at church.
“I wanna toss a ha’penny in the fountain!” one boy cried.
“Just one? Please?” his brother added hopefully.
“Not today, boys.” The woman paused to glare at us. “Not while she’s here.” She released one of her son’s hands and made the sign of the cross in the air.
“Ay!” Cat shouted as the woman made to push through the crowd, then turned abruptly to see who called her. “Is there a reason you’re being so rude to my friend?”
The woman drew herself up, frowning. “I don’t consort with witches, Catreena Stowell. And neither should you!”
My face burned. The word witch rang in my ears, harsh and unforgiving. It was no wonder Morag avoided coming to town if this was the treatment she could expect to receive.
“You miserable old hag!” Cat called, putting an arm around me. “Bridey’s no witch.”
Fynn leaned in, his ruddy cheeks mirroring the heat in mine. “Witch?” he repeated in a low voice. “Why would that woman call you a—”
The clamor of the crowd rose suddenly.
“It’s starting!” Cat grabbed Alis’s hand. “It’s starting! Hurry, you two, or you’ll miss everything!” Without waiting for Fynn and me, she darted forward, pulling Alis with her.
“Tell Grayse to come play on Friday!” Alis called above the din.
“I will!” I shouted, but she had already vanished.
Folk were gathering by the rickety stand where fishmongers usually sat announcing their bargains. The top of Mr. Nelson’s head, with its few obstinate white hairs, was visible at the front of the crowd.
Fynn and I exchanged a glance, and without warning, he took my hand. It was warm and calloused, and while holding Lugh’s hand sent tingles up my arm, holding Fynn’s made fireworks burst in my chest.
“Let’s go see these mysterious crabs.”
“All right.” Sweat coated my palms. “But if I want to leave—”
“Say the word, and we’ll go.”
We approached the edge of the crowd, my knees wobbling. Fynn eyed the broad backs of two men as though he intended to push through.
I shook my head. “No. I’ll not go any closer.”
“Well then, neither will I.” Fynn squeezed my hand, sending a pleasant shiver through me. I squeezed back, then lowered my eyes to avoid the spectacle.
“Look here!” Mr. Nelson cried. “See what I dredged up in my nets—there’ll be a crab feast at my house tonight!”
The crowd fell silent, save for an infant’s complaint. Then, several women oohed. A man gave a whoop of laughter, and the crowd burst into applause.
Mr. Boyd joined the boasting. “I almost nabbed this one with my largest scap net, but he broke through with his claw! Can you believe it? It nearly took my arm off.”
“Incredible,” one of the men near us muttered. “Simply fantastic.”
His companion elbowed him and whistled. “Suppose I’ll have to take up crabbing. Giants like those will fetch a pretty pound….”
“Bridey.” Fynn spoke close to my ear. “You can look. They’re just big crabs. They don’t have horns. They even look good enough to eat.”