The door creaked almost as soon as he pressed the bell. An elderly woman, about eighty years old, stood in the doorway with sharp, mocking eyes.
“Good afternoon,” the young man said politely.
“And a good day to you, young man,” she replied. “But why so sudden? Didn’t even ask ‘who’s there’—aren’t you afraid, Gran?”
“Sonny, I’ve been afraid of everything worth fearing in this life,” the old woman chuckled. “Now it’s my turn to tell ghost stories. Come in—did they send you from the council or some such?”
“No, Gran, I’m from a company that makes miracle devices. Hook it up, and your tap water turns pure as a spring. No chemicals, just like the old days when you could drink straight from the brook.”
“Well, look at that—the water fairy’s come calling,” she grinned. “That’s a fine thing. Step inside.”
The lad made a show of wiping his feet on the doormat.
“Mind if I keep my shoes on?” he asked, eyeing the rug.
“Go on, never mind that. My daughter’ll mop up later—she’s young yet, not like me, an old crone.”
“Don’t say that, you’re lively, lovely, cheeks like roses—ready for a dance, I’d say,” he murmured with a practiced smile. “Where’s your kitchen? I’d like to show you the goods…”
“Flatterer,” the old woman snorted. “Haven’t looked in a mirror for years, so I’ll take your word for it. Come on, then.”
Once inside the kitchen, the lad glanced around and suddenly asked,
“Why don’t you cast a reflection? You a vampire or something?”
“No, no,” she cackled. “Just my daughter hung the mirrors too high, and I’m short. Can’t reach ‘em, even if I jumped.”
He set about installing the filter, tweaking things, showing murky water before and crystal-clear after. The old woman listened closely, nodding along.
“I’ll take it,” she said suddenly. “But first, have a cuppa with me. Hate drinking alone. Five minutes—no more. Got good tea here, herbs and all.”
She quickly boiled the water, brewing a fragrant blend. The room filled with the spicy scent of mint and elderflower.
“Got family?” she asked casually. “Kids?”
“Not yet. Just me for now.”
“Good. Too soon for you yet. How’s the tea?”
“Brilliant, Gran. Where’d you get this?”
“Oh, I don’t get it. The fairies bring it for my birthday.”
He laughed, thinking she was joking. But soon, his smile faded.
“Tell me, lad, why d’you really go door to door? For clean water? I don’t buy it.”
Suddenly, he spoke against his will:
“Course not. Buy cheap filters from the shop, sell ‘em twenty times over. Sometimes add a pinch of something to make the water taste nice. Folks fall for it, and I turn a profit.”
“There it is,” the old woman nodded calmly. “Told you—my tea’s magic. Drink it, and you can’t lie. Fairies, you say? Aye. They brewed this blend. For your cheating, you’ll pay.”
The lad tried to protest, but his body was already dissolving into mist, drifting down into the copper basin she’d placed beneath him.
“Wanted to be a water spirit? Now you will be. Our river’s been asking for help. Ten years’ service, then we’ll see.”
She picked up the basin and poured the water down the sink.
“Aye, ‘why no reflection, Gran?’ Because I’m three hundred years old. Daughter hung the mirrors high so folks wouldn’t get scared.”
She laughed to herself.
“First bloke came to switch the meter—now he steers lightning in a storm. Air’s his element. Yours is water. You’ll meet him. Next time it rains.”
The old woman walked past the mirror, where nothing reflected. Only a shadow slid across the floor and vanished into the silence of the old flat.
