Silver Linings by Liam Hogan

The horse pulled up with a snort in front of the next dwelling on their list. The wizard, dozing in the cart behind, tugged the floppy hat from her eyes and did a double blink. An unusual place to live. But this was the Enchanted Forest, where building permission was granted retrospectively by council workers wary of the threat of curse and counter curse.

       The wizard, who went by the name of Gidiana Niesbietto, stood on tiptoes to reach the dangling cord and gently pulled, unsure if the frayed shoelace would take even that much load. A bell clanked somewhere deep inside the giant shoe.

        “Yes?” an Old Woman said, narrowing her eyes at the unexpected visitor.

       “Enchanted Forest Green Team, ma’am.” Gidiana replied, with a bow that morphed into a curtsey. “Tasked with helping the council reach Net Zero, while helping the denizens of the Forest such as yourself with fuel poverty.”

       The Old Woman peered towards the horse and cart. The cart was empty. The horse had once been a Lord and refused to be ridden by anyone other than a King. Or a Duke, at a pinch. Since he was a cantankerous nag that didn’t seem very likely. But the former Lord didn’t mind pulling a cart, as long as he was fed copious carrots, and as long as there were no reins or whips involved, thank you very much.

       “Ah!” Gidiana said. “Today I’ll be conducting an eco-survey, with your permission, of course? To see what we can do for you.”

       “And then they’ll send a team to do the actual work?”

       “Yes. Though… that team will also be me. Don’t fret, ma’am! Truth be told, I usually do the work at the same time as the survey, it’s more efficient that way.”

       The Old Woman stared at the cart. It remained resolutely empty. “With what?”

       “With whatever you’ve already got, ma’am. Whatever you have too much of. Like the witch in the Gingerbread House? Candy floss is a great insulator, you just fill the cavities and Roberta’s your aunt. Your neighbour no longer has to keep her oven running twenty-four-seven. It’s the ultimate green solution, reduce, reuse, recycle, and hardly any fuel miles, not counting carrots. After, you should be able to afford bread to have with your broth. So, let’s take a look inside, shall we?”

       They clambered up the tongue of the shoe, the Old Woman reluctantly leading the way. It was dark inside. It took a moment for Giadiana’s eyes to adjust, and to work out what was tugging at her hands and her coat and even at her hair.

       “My, that’s a lot of children!” she said, patting the silvery head of a particularly attentive one. “Did you knit them all yourself?”

       “I can’t help it,” the Old Woman admitted, her bony fingers in constant motion. “I’ve got the knitting bug, started with yarn babies. I should never have made that dratted wish. Really, I don’t know what to do!”

       Gidiana smiled. “Leave it with me, ma’am. The spell will work through the night, and in the morning all your problems will be solved. Just sign here, and here, and… here.”

The Old Woman woke up late. Despite the glimpse of bright blue skies through an eyelet fringed with frost, her house was warm and snug. Overnight, the shoe had been lined by a thick woollen sock, in all the chaotic colours of the rainbow.

       It was also silent, and empty, and her heart ached. What was the point of getting out of bed? She pulled up the blanket and turned over, and found herself staring at the newly insulated wall. The wizard might be good at magic, but she wasn’t much of a knitter. Here, at the toe of the shoe, hung a loose thread in pale glimmering silver. A fragment of Arianwyn, her favourite wool child. She pulled at it, and a length of yarn came loose, exposing the dark leather beneath. The Old Woman sat up, reached for her needles, and began to knit.