Falling and Laughing

30 August 1998; The Blessing, City of Glasgow (sorta), Scotland, UK
.
Ken, bracketed by Mum and Da, shuffles through the gate into The Blessing's dry garden with his shoulders hunched most of the way up to his ears.
Something /peeps at ankle level.
He stops, peers.
A fist-sized, lichen-covered limestone papol butts his foot, /meeps confusion.
"Sorry, Rocky." Ken steps over, glances back—
Papol beetles across the path on its four stubby legs.
—twists around, scans the tables at the edge of the space for anyone familiar.
In the far corner, under the trees, Missus Hughes beckons, smiling broadly.
Ken ....
Da nudges his side.
Ken sighs, trudges over.
"Welcome, welcome!" cheers Missus Hughes, waving them to chairs.
He plops down between Mum and Da, across from Missus Hughes, picks up a napkin, fiddles with it.
""/AAAOOO!""
Ken jumps, catches the fluttering cloth, searches for the—
"Yes, yes, Mustardseed, we know you're a handsome bird, but /get down from there," says Missus Hughes to the immensely confident-looking red peacock strutting along the top of the garden wall.
Peacocks come in red?
"/A-OWW," squawks the bird, then it puts its beak in the air and marches out of sight behind the trees.
"Phoenixes have minds of their own," sighs Missus Hughes.
Ken gives a nervous little laugh.
""AAAOOO!""
Missus Hughes shakes her head, picks up a wand, waves it over the tea tray at the center of the table.
Steam rises from the thick pottery mugs.
Missus Hughes passes them out. "Let me know what you think of this blend, would you? I picked it up impulsively on my way here."
Ken sips.
"It's very ... red?" says Mum.
/Strawberry-chocolate rolls across his tongue.
"Nice and light," hums Da.
/Rose tickles Ken's nose.
"Murron'd love it," he sighs.
Missus Hughes beams. "That settles it, then. 'Painting the Roses Red' is a winner!"
Ken realizes, blushes hot as the tea.
"Thank you for inviting us to meet like this. It's good to get out in the sunshine," says Da.
"/Definitely not enough of that on the other side of the door, even in summer."
Da hums agreement.
Ken drinks some more.
"We're curious what you've got planned for Ken."
"Well, first, I'm so /chuffed to have a protégé!" sparkles Missus Hughes. 
Ken ducks his head, slurps tea.
"What has Mister Fairbairn told you about what we'll be working on?"
Everyone looks to Ken.
He swallows his mouthful, offers, "That you're, um, gonna tutor me?"
"Well, that I am."
Ken bites down some frustration. "I've got zero idea /what you're gonna tutor me in."
Missus Hughes blinks over her cup. "Mister Fairbairn didn't tell you?"
"Uh, no?"
She tut-tuts. "That man and his mysteries." Shakes her head. "I'm to help you improve your truth-saying."
Ken's heart stutters. "M-my wha?"
"Truth-saying?" Missus Hughes sets down her cup. "You hadn't realized you're a natural mind-reader?"
"No?" squeaks Ken.
Missus Hughes smiles reassurance. "You must've had the gift from the first minute and never noticed. Which means you /must have a tell."
Ken just ....
A half-dozen papol flock up in the sunny center of the garden, murmuring to each other as they shuffle in a slow spiral.
"Let's see ... oh!"
Ken drags his attention to Missus Hughes.
"My David called this morning from Dublin to say he'll be coming for dinner tomorrow."
He scratches behind his ear. "Uh, okay?"
"So I'll be making his favourite: carrot casserole!"
The spot itches again as Ken fails to control a grimace.
"There we go~!"
"I don't—?"
"You, love, have a place right about here—" Missus Hughes points just behind her left ear. "—which bothers you when you hear somebody lying."
"I still don't understand?"
"That was utter nonsense I was spouting about David and carrots—he /hates the things—and you got a little itch—" She mimes. "—both times."
"Umm ... isn't that only a tic or, you know, an itch?"
"I'm 'fraid not, young man. That's accidental magic."
Ken's heart sinks.
"That's ... that's really rare, yea?" asks Da.
"/Incredibly rare. Natural truth-sayers are rarer than natural shapeshifters, even." Missus Hughes laughs. "In fact, there're probably more phoenixes in my side yard than there are people like Ken and I in the European Union."
Mum blurts, "Can you teach him to /stop?" 
Ken winces.
"Now, Aileen-dear—"
"No one wants to be around a mind-reader, Fraser! And Ken's already been through so /much!" Mum turns to Ken, eyes wide and terrified. "What about all the things he's already—"
Ken flaps, frantic. "I haven't seen anything!"
"Now, now, both of you," soothes Missus Hughes, "without training, Ken can't do much more than react to overt lies. Even /with training, he'll need to make an effort to 'see' anything."
"But can he not—"
"Aileen-love," says Da, slowly, "if somebody has to be a mind-reader I'm pure glad it's someone like Ken who won't do any harm with it."
Ken debates burying himself under the papol and praying they rasp him to death.
Mum whimpers, worries her napkin between her fingers.
Missus Hughes furrows her brow, concerned. "I understand this is a lot to take in all at once, but it certainly isn't as /this upsetting."
"Int it, though? I-I'm already a werewolf—so everyone's scared of me—and now I'm a mind-reader? Like Mum said, /nobody trusts 'em."
Missus Hughes sighs. "I wish that wasn't the case, but—" Another sigh, then she brightens. "Think of my tutoring as a sort of treatment, then. I'm not sure we can make the itch stop, /but we can teach you how not to scratch."
"A-alright."
"It'll all work out for the best, love." Missus Hughes smiles, eyes sparkling. "There are a /few good things about being a truth-sayer, after all."
Ken raises an eyebrow.
"For example, you'll never be overcharged at the market again."
Ken snorts a laugh, picks up his mug.
"Start with that lesson, please," chuckles Da. "We could use some help with the budget."
"I'll make that adjustment to my lesson plans. 'Haggling' will go before—"
""/THERE YOU ARE!""
Ken chokes on his tea. 
Da grabs the mug from his hand—
Impact to his ribs and everything goes sideways.
Then the pea gravel rushes up and—
He wheezes, "Murron, plea—"
She rolls; he winds up sprawled across all of her, peering down at her as she giggles hysterically.
His ears near-enough catch fire and he flings himself off.
Murron props herself up on her elbows, still laughing.
"What's so funny?"
"Your /face!" She snickers into her hands. "You looked like you'd seen a /ghost!"
"You surprised me, is all," grumps Ken, shaking pebbles from his sleeves.
"That /was the idea."
"Just because we're—" Ken chokes, blinks rapidly.
Murron smiles, hops to her feet, offers a hand up. "There's a sale on raindrop cakes in the cloud forest and I want one, but they're too /big to eat by myself."
Ken wobbles to standing, tucks in his shirttails. "I, uh, I'm supposed to be meeting with Missus Hughes?" Jerks a thumb over his shoulder.
She leans to see around him, calls, "Can I borrow Ken to eat some of my raindrop cake? I'll bring him right back?"
""Go ahead, dear! Take your time!""
Ken swallows.
"C'mon!" Murron takes his hand, tows him along the path for the gate, out into the bustle of the barrow market.
"Hey, Murron?"
She doesn't slow, but—"Yea?"
"How'd you know where I was? I never said—"
"I followed a peacock." She looks back. "I didn't know they came in red."