by H. Y. Hanna
“Mew?”
“Shh!” Caitlyn pushed his head gently back down. “I’m not supposed to bring any animals into the clinic. Go back to sleep, Nibs! Just another twenty minutes…”
She sat down next to the Widow Mags and, after a moment’s hesitation, placed her bag on the floor next to her chair. She was worried that Nibs squirming in the side pocket might draw too much attention if she kept the bag on her lap. Thankfully, though, the kitten seemed to have settled down again and she breathed a sigh of relief.
Beside her, the Widow Mags was grumpily answering a series of questions as the doctor listened to her chest with a stethoscope. Her usual GP wasn’t seeing her today and, like many old people who disliked change, she was very put out.
“Dr Stanton asked me all these things last time,” grumbled the old witch. “Why do we have to go through them again?” She leaned back and eyed the young doctor critically. “Are you sure you should be seeing his patients? You don’t look old enough to be qualified.”
The GP flushed. With his clean-cut good looks and mop of blond hair that flopped boyishly over his forehead, Dr Nichols did look very different from the usual stereotype of the grey-haired, bespectacled, middle-aged family doctor. He cleared his throat politely.
“Er… yes, I’ve been practising for a few years now, as a matter of fact. Dr Stanton is planning to retire soon and I shall be taking over his practice.” He smiled at the Widow Mags, ignoring her look of horror. “Now, the purpose of your appointment today is to go over your test results. If you’ll remember, the last time you were here, you had some blood tests done.” He tapped on the keyboard at his elbow and glanced at the computer screen. “Ah… yes… yes… Well, it all looks remarkably good, I must say, for a lady of your age… your iron levels are good, your cholesterol is within range… hmm… your vitamin D levels are a bit low, though. Do you get out in the sun much?”
For a moment, Caitlyn thought the Widow Mags was going to snap: “None of your business!” but to her relief, the old witch muttered:
“I go out when I have to.”
“Well, I think you need to make an effort to go out a bit more,” said Nichols gently. “We’re still having lovely summer weather—you should take advantage of that. You live in Tillyhenge, don’t you? Beautiful countryside all around there. Great place for walks… up that hill… around the fields... And the village green is nice too—pick up a pint at the pub and sit at one of the wooden benches outside, hmm?”
Caitlyn winced slightly as she thought of the Widow Mags’s last disastrous visit to the pub. “Uh… is it bad to be low on vitamin D?” she asked to change the subject.
“Well, you need vitamin D to absorb calcium and phosphate from your food,” Nichols explained. “Otherwise you can develop bone density problems, which can be particularly serious in the elderly. You get a bit of vitamin D in your diet—oily fish, for example—but your body can actually make most of the vitamin D you need when your skin is exposed to sunlight. Of course, you have to be careful about the risk of skin cancer too… but a bit of sunshine is very good for you.” He tapped on the keyboard again and something churned out of the printer on his desk. “I’d like you to start taking some vitamin D supplements as well. I’ll give you the name of a brand I recommend.” He rose from his chair. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to examine you and check your mobility… I have a special interest in arthritis, you see, and I have been trialling some new management techniques. That’s why you were transferred to me. Dr Stanton thought I might be able to help you…”
“I’m not trying any new-fangled quackery!” said the Widow Mags suspiciously. “It’s bad enough having to go to that physiotherapist every few weeks.”
The young doctor smiled, undeterred. “Well, let’s just have a look at your range of movement first, shall we?” He coaxed her up and led her into the centre of the room.
Caitlyn was impressed with Nichols’s patience and good humour, although she supposed that dealing with cranky geriatrics was just a normal part of his job. She leaned back in the chair and looked idly around the room as the GP took the Widow Mags through a series of exercises. It was a bright and cheerful office, with a sink in one corner, next to the examination bed, and a set of filing cabinets in the other. Several “thank you” cards decorated the top of the filing cabinets, the shelves on the wall, and the windowsill—it looked like, despite his youth, Dr Nichols was popular with his patients. There was even a half-open box of chocolates on the shelf by the window. Then she did a double-take as she saw something else on the shelf… a little black kitten picking his way between the cards, pausing every so often to sniff them curiously.
Nibs! What is he doing up there?
Caitlyn glanced quickly down at her bag and was dismayed to find it flopped sideways on the floor, the side pocket gaping and empty. Oh rats. The little kitten must have crawled out while she was preoccupied, and was now happily exploring the room. Caitlyn wondered if she could grab him before the doctor noticed. She stood up. Dr Nichols paused in what he was doing and looked at her enquiringly.
“Oh… uh… I was just admiring your cards… It must be very rewarding being a doctor… helping so many people…” Caitlyn babbled, pointing and crossing over to the windowsill.
“Ah.” He gave an embarrassed laugh. “Er… yes, many of my patients are kind enough to show their appreciation.”
He turned back to the Widow Mags and Caitlyn pretended to bend down and look at the cards more closely, whilst she moved closer to the shelf where Nibs was perching The kitten’s tail went up as she came near and he uttered a happy chirrup of recognition.
Nichols looked up, startled. “What was that?”
“What was what?” said Caitlyn, hurriedly moving so that she stood between Nibs and the doctor, blocking the kitten from view.
“That sound… I thought I heard…”
“Hmm? I didn’t hear anything,” said Caitlyn brightly.
The GP gave her a doubtful look, then turned back to the Widow Mags. Caitlyn glanced back at the shelf, to find Nibs batting at the box of chocolates.
“No, Nibs… don’t!” she hissed, rushing to grab him.
But the kitten ignored her. Before she could reach him, he gave the box another playful swat with his paw and sent the whole thing flying off the shelf. Chocolate bonbons scattered everywhere, rolling across the carpet and under the furniture.
“Nooo!” Caitlyn groaned, horrified.
“Mew!” cried the kitten excitedly, jumping down and chasing one of the bonbons as it rolled under the desk.
Dr Nichols turned and stared in astonishment.
“I… I’m sorry!” Caitlyn gasped. “He was supposed to stay in my bag…”
She knelt down quickly to collect the scattered chocolates. Almost all the bonbons had fallen out of the box and were inedible now, having rolled across the dirty carpet. And these didn’t look like cheap, mass-market supermarket chocolates either, Caitlyn noted with dismay—no, they looked like creations from a fancy chocolate shop. In fact, each bonbon was in the shape of a mushroom—a little toadstool—with the detail of the spots beautifully rendered on the rounded surfaces.
“Ah… don’t worry about it…” said Nichols, coming over.
“I’m so sorry… I really am so sorry!” said Caitlyn, mortified. “I feel awful. These must have been a special gift from a patient.”
“Er… it’s okay,” said the doctor with an awkward smile. “Probably better for me not to eat too much chocolate anyway.”
“We’ll bring you a box from my shop next time,” said the Widow Mags gruffly.
The young doctor’s smile widened. “Ah… I’ve heard a lot about your chocolates. I certainly wouldn’t say no to that.”
Caitlyn finished picking up the fallen bonbons, including the one that had rolled under the desk. Nibs was still trying to play with it and, recalling James’s concern for Bran, she hastily snatched the bonbon out of the kitten’s reach. She had no idea if ch
ocolate was poisonous to cats too, but she wasn’t taking any chances. As she was about to rise, she spotted a small pink card which must have fallen out of the box as well. She picked this up, glancing at the handwritten message which said: “To my favourite doctor… from your Ticklewickle”.
“Oh, I’ll take that,” said Nichols, grabbing the card and stuffing it in his pocket, his face red. He cleared his throat, then said: “Animals aren’t allowed in the clinic, you know, unless they’re registered guide dogs or other therapy pets.”
“Yes, I know,” said Caitlyn sheepishly. “I’m sorry. We were late for the appointment and I didn’t have time to drop Nibs off at the chocolate shop. And I couldn’t leave him in the car on such a hot day…”
“Yes, well, as long as you remember for next time,” said Nichols. He picked up the printout from the printer and handed it to the Widow Mags. “Here you go—you can ask for that supplement at the pharmacy. Any good chemist should stock it. And try some of those mobility exercises I showed you. Let me know how you get on… and I’ll see you for a follow-up in about… say, three months?”
A few minutes later, Caitlyn followed the Widow Mags gratefully out of the doctor’s office, a squirming Nibs held firmly in her arms. The receptionist and other patients stared in surprise at the sight of the kitten but Caitlyn didn’t offer an explanation, just bundling the little cat out to her car as fast as she could.
“Mew!” said Nibs indignantly, his fur all ruffled and standing up, as Caitlyn placed him back in the cat carrier. He pressed his nose against the bars of the carrier door and shoved, trying to get out again.
“Oh no… you’ve got up to quite enough mischief for one day,” said Caitlyn severely. “I still can’t believe you knocked all those chocolates to the floor! I nearly died. They were probably really expensive, from some fancy shop—”
“Those chocolates were homemade,” the Widow Mags spoke up.
“How can you tell?”
The old witch gave her an impatient look. “I know chocolates. Those were made by hand, in a domestic setting. Very good mould used too—probably Belgian—very fine detail. I don’t think I’ve seen a mould for bonbons in the shape of toadstools.”
Caitlyn helped her grandmother into the car, then got in herself. As she drove off, she wondered if someone in the village was trying their hand at homemade chocolates, with the view to starting a rival chocolate business to challenge the Widow Mags?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
When they arrived back at the chocolate shop, it was to find Pomona in the kitchen, helping herself to some chocolate fudge that the Widow Mags had made yesterday and impatiently waiting for them.
“Where have you guys been? I’ve been waiting, like, forever!” the American girl said as they came in.
“I took Grandma to see the doctor,” Caitlyn explained as the Widow Mags went out to the front to open up the chocolate shop. Then she leaned close to her cousin and added: “Pomie—listen to this!” Quickly, she told Pomona about seeing Julian Pritchard with Derek Swanes and what she had overheard at the petrol station.
“Holy guacamole… you think they were in it together?”
“Well, it sounded like it. I mean, they didn’t actually discuss the murder in detail, but Swanes talked about Pritchard promising him half the money ‘when the job was done’. He also talked about not wanting to go to jail—he seemed really scared. He said ‘I didn’t sign up for murder’—”
“But that’s practically a confession!” cried Pomona.
“Well, it depends on how you look at it. It could have other meanings too, like… either he didn’t mean to kill Sir Henry but it happened by mistake… or there was some other crime that he was happy to commit—something that he did ‘sign up for’—but now he’s panicking because he’s inadvertently become a suspect in a murder investigation and that was not part of the deal.”
“You’re over-thinking it,” said Pomona, wrinkling her nose. “The guy talks about Sir Henry’s murder, he talks about having done the ‘job’ and not wanting to end up in jail… what else do you need? I’ll bet Pritchard got Swanes to poison Sir Henry, so that he could inherit the estate. In return, he promised Swanes a ‘cut’—”
“But where does the tramp fit in, then?” asked Caitlyn. “Why would Pritchard and Swanes want to kill him?”
Pomona shrugged. “I told you—he probably saw something or heard something about their plans and they had to silence him.”
“I guess… it just seems strange though. Like a piece of a jigsaw that doesn’t quite fit in the space it’s supposed to go in.”
“Anyway, you gotta tell the police what you overheard.”
“Yes, I was planning to call Inspector Walsh as soon as I got back.” Caitlyn glanced at the time. “Or maybe after lunch. Another half an hour won’t matter.”
“Oh, lunch! That reminds me—James wanted to know if you’re free for lunch tomorrow.”
Caitlyn blushed. “With… with him?”
Pomona rolled her eyes. “No, with the Archbishop of Canterbury. Yeah, of course with him… and Nathan and Professor Thrope. He was thinking of a picnic on the lake, ’cos you know we missed out the last time they took the boats out—”
“Oh, you mean a group lunch!” Caitlyn stammered. “I… sorry, I thought… I mean…”
Pomona burst out laughing. “You thought I was talking about a date? Honey, James might be English, but I’m sure he can ask you out on a date himself, without needing me to act as a go-between. He’s not that reserved.”
Caitlyn’s cheeks were flaming. “I wasn’t really expecting… I mean…”
Pomona gave a long-suffering sigh. “I don’t know what to do with you two. It’s obvious to everyone that you’re crazy about each other but you’re just doing this stupid polite dance around each other all the time… it’s driving me nuts! I swear, I’m gonna find a way to lock you two into a hotel room and throw away the key—”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Well, then… you gotta sort things out. Why don’t you guys just, like, talk to each other?”
“I’ve tried talking to James. He wouldn’t listen!”
“So try again! Jeez, Caitlyn, I used to think you were pretty gutsy, but lately it seems like you just give up on things so easily… like that thing about your mother—”
“Oh, I found out something about that,” Caitlyn interrupted, eager to get the subject off her relationship with James.
Pomona stopped. “Really? What?”
“Well, it’s not about her exactly, but it’s sort of related.”
Quickly, Caitlyn told Pomona about finding the piece of parchment in the Gallery and the disappointing truth about its origin.
“…although I still think it’s weird that the man used similar symbols to what’s on my runestone when he was making up the parchment. Even if he was just randomly doodling stuff, he had to have known about those symbols in the first place, to use them—don’t you think? That must mean something… I need to ask James if he can remember any more about the man.”
“Can I see it—the parchment?” asked Pomona eagerly.
“It’s upstairs in my room—come on, I’ll show you.”
The two girls trooped upstairs; Caitlyn pulled the parchment out from under her pillow and smoothed it out for Pomona to look.
“Are you sure that it’s just random doodles?”
“Yes, James said he checked. It’s not any language that’s known in the world.”
“In this world, maybe,” said Pomona.
“What do you mean?
“Well, maybe the symbols are from a magical language… from the Otherworld! Listen…” Pomona’s eyes were sparkling with excitement. “Remember when I was telling you about the hag stone and its magical powers? One of the things legend says is that if you look through the hole in the middle, you can see beings from the Otherworld… you know, things like fairies and demons or even things made invisible by a spell or enchantment.”
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br /> “Yes, I remember you saying that… but that’s just… well, it’s just a folktale!”
Pomona gave her a look and Caitlyn ducked her head, remembering her cousin’s chiding. Pomona was right—she should try harder not to be so instantly sceptical. She took a deep breath and said, “Okay… so supposing it’s true?”
Pomona tapped the parchment with her finger. “So… maybe if we looked at these symbols through the hag stone, they would suddenly make sense!”
Caitlyn looked doubtful. “I suppose we could try. I could bring it over to the Manor tomorrow and we could get the hag stone back out of the Gallery—”
“Who needs to wait until tomorrow?” Pomona reached into her pocket and drew out something. Caitlyn caught a glimpse of smooth, grey stone with a hint of iridescent shimmer.
“Pomie! You said you were going to return it!”
“I am going to return it… eventually!” said Pomona, grinning. “But I’m just keeping it for a little longer; I mean, it’s out already—what difference does one more day make?”
“You know what the Widow Mags said—that thing is dangerous! It’s not some toy to play around with. What if it suddenly ‘activates’ again, like it did yesterday? And what if the Widow Mags isn’t around to deal with it? You could end up hurting someone—”
“Who cares if they’re stuck-up old prunes like Mrs Gibbs?”
“Pomona!”
‘Oh, all right. I’ll put it back tonight,” said Pomona with bad grace. “But first, I gotta try this!” She grabbed the parchment and spread it out on the bed, then took the hag stone and placed it over some of the scribbles.
Caitlyn felt her pulse quicken, and she couldn’t help copying Pomona as her cousin leaned eagerly over to look through the hole in the stone.
Nothing happened. The parchment looked exactly the same through the hole.