The door to the old terraced house in a quiet Liverpool neighbourhood swung open almost instantly—like the woman inside had been expecting company. On the doorstep stood a spry old lady in her eighties, her sharp, knowing eyes twinkling under a head of silver hair.
“Good afternoon,” said the young man politely, flashing a practiced smile.
“And to you, love,” she nodded. “Come in, don’t stand there catching the draft. You from the council or something?”
“No, Gran. I’m with a company that specialises in water filtration. We install advanced systems—turns tap water fresh as a mountain spring, just like the old days when you could drink straight from the River Mersey.”
“Well, bless me!” The old woman arched a brow. “So you’re one of them water spirits, eh? Making rivers pure again? Lovely work. Step inside, then.”
The lad wiped his shoes on the faded doormat and shuffled in.
“Mind if I keep my shoes on?” he asked, eyeing the worn lino in the hall.
“Course not, pet. My daughter does the cleaning now. She’s still young, but me? I’m an old biddy. Past all that scrubbing.”
“Don’t talk daft, Gran! You’re full of life—rosy cheeks and all!” he said, smooth as ever. “Where’s the kitchen? Let me show you what I’ve got.”
“Oh, you charmer,” she tittered. “Haven’t seen myself in a mirror for years—daughter hung ‘em all too high. Can’t even spot the top of me head. Come on, then, let’s see this miracle of yours.”
The kitchen was cramped but spotless—kettle gleaming, geraniums on the sill, a little dish of mint leaves by the window. The old woman took a seat while the lad got to work, unscrewing pipes, pouring water into jars, showing off filters, and gushing about the difference between “dirty” and “clean” water.
“I’ll take one,” the old woman said suddenly. “But first, let’s have a cuppa. No fun drinking alone, is it? Tea tastes sweeter with company. Just five minutes, tops.”
The lad hesitated but nodded. She boiled the filtered water with surprising speed and brewed a pot—rich, fragrant, with an odd, almost magical smell.
“You got family, love?” she asked, pouring.
“Not married, no.”
“Good. Too young for all that. Tea nice?”
“Amazing. Where’d you get it? I’d buy some myself.”
“Oh, the fairies bring it round for my birthday,” she said with a wink.
The lad chuckled, playing along. “And here you are, letting strangers in. Bit risky these days, innit? Con artists everywhere.”
“What’s there to fear, duck? I’ve outlived fear. At my age, it’s my job to scare *them*, not the other way ‘round. Especially ones like you.”
Just then, the lad felt a strange lightness in his head. And… the truth spilled out.
“Who even needs this rubbish? I buy these filters for a fiver, flog ‘em for fifty! Sometimes tint the water for ‘effect’—makes ‘em pay more. Walk ‘round selling dreams to old dears like you…”
He hadn’t meant to say it.
“There we are,” the old woman smiled. “Told you—fairy tea. Can’t lie after a sip.”
The lad shot up. “The hell—what did you *do*?”
“Nothing much. You said you were a water spirit. Well, now you *are*. Our local one’s been run ragged—needs help. So you’ll be cleaning rivers, feeding fish, tidying weeds. Ten years’ service, *maybe* you’ll be human again. Till then… welcome to the water.”
Before he could scream, he was dissolving—first to a drop, then mist, then a shimmering little cloud that trickled right into her copper basin.
“Sorted,” the old woman said, tipping him down the sink. “Another lad set straight. Dreams *do* come true. Last bloke who came to ‘fix’ the electric meter? Now he directs lightning—air’s problem now. You? Water’s yours. You’ll meet.”
She hummed as she washed the cups, then caught her reflection in the darkened kitchen cabinet glass.
“Why don’t I show up, why don’t I show up…” she mimicked his sales voice.
“‘Cause I’m older than every mirror in this house. Three hundred years, give or take. Daughter knows—that’s why she hung ‘em high. Some truths aren’t breakfast talk. Me? I keep things tidy. Elements hate a mess.”
She glanced out the window at the gathering clouds and smirked.
“Fair’s fair. Even if you have to brew it in a teapot.”
