by Adele Abbott
“Err, bye.”
Oh bum! The twins were going to kill me.
***
I had planned to drop in at Cuppy C on my way to see Lillian Wrongplant, the witch who had been in charge of the community centre at the time it was taken over by developers. After my conversation with Aunt Lucy, I changed my mind about visiting Cuppy C because I had a feeling that the twins might be after blood. My blood.
Lillian Wrongplant lived in a mushroom. Not literally, that would be silly. Her tiny cottage was shaped like a giant mushroom. The brass knocker on the door was also in the shape of a mushroom. The woman obviously had a thing for them.
“You must be Jill.” She answered the door wearing an apron covered in—wait for it.
Elephants.
“Thanks for agreeing to talk to me. Is it okay to call you Lillian?”
“Everyone calls me Mushy.”
“On account of the mushrooms, I assume?”
“Actually, no. It’s because I’m rather partial to mushy peas.”
“O—kay.”
She must have seen me glance at her apron because she said, “My mushroom apron is in the wash, so I had to make do with this one. Come inside, Jill, we’ll go in the parlour. Can I get you anything to drink?”
It took me a moment to respond because my senses were overwhelmed by the mushroomness.
What’s wrong with mushroomness? I think it’s a great word, and I challenge you to come up with one. All suggestions on a postcard to the usual address.
“Sorry, Lill—err—I mean, Mushy, it’s just that I’ve never seen anything quite like this.”
“That’s what everyone says.”
“The wallpaper, the carpet, and where did you find all those mushroom ornaments?”
“I started collecting them when I was a child, and I’ve never stopped. My friends and relatives buy them for me on my birthday and at Christmas. Now, about that drink? Is tea okay?”
“That’ll be lovely, thanks.”
Mushy disappeared into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with two cups of tea and a biscuit barrel, decorated with pictures of mushrooms.
“You mentioned on the phone that you wanted to talk about the old community centre.”
“That’s right. I’ve been looking back through old issues of The Candle at the library, and I came across an article about the community centre. I believe it was bought by property developers?”
“It was, and it still makes me angry to think about it, even after all this time. May I ask what your interest in it is, Jill?”
“Someone has bought the lido and there’s a rumour going around that they intend to close it down and build on the site. I’m trying to find out who’s behind it. So far, all I know about them is their name: Reptile Holdings. I looked in the archives at the library, to see if I could find any info on them, but drew a blank. That’s when I came across your story. It was a longshot, but I don’t have anything else to go on, so I thought I’d check to see if there was any connection.”
“I’ve never heard of Reptile Holdings, but I’m happy to tell you what happened in our case if you’re interested.”
“I am.”
“The community centre was loved by everyone. All kinds of activities were held there, for children and adults. It was a real focal point for the community. Then, suddenly, out of the blue, we heard it was being sold. Just like that—no warning, nothing.”
“What did you do?”
“We tried to stop it. We started a petition, went to see the council, even had a sit-in. None of it did any good, though.”
“Did you find out who bought it?”
“We never did, but it wasn’t for the lack of trying. Whoever it was had hidden behind an army of solicitors. One night, just before we had to give up the keys, I did see a big guy, dressed in a smart suit, in a fancy car parked outside the building. He stood out like a sore thumb. I tried to have a word with him, but as soon as he saw me approaching, he drove away. He might not have had anything to do with the takeover, but I’ve always thought maybe he did.”
“Could you describe him?”
“Not really. Like I said, he drove off before I could get close. I did notice he had a scar on the left side of his face, though.”
“What happened after you handed over the keys?”
“The place was demolished within a week.”
“They didn’t hang around.”
“They sure didn’t. The thing that makes me most angry is they didn’t even use the land to build housing. They put up some faceless office building. And do you know the worst part, Jill?”
“What’s that?”
“That building is still standing empty. I ask you, what was the point?”
***
I’d just left Mushy’s mushroom cottage when my phone rang, and I made the fatal mistake of answering it without first checking caller ID.
“Thanks very much, Jill!”
“Yeah, thanks a bunch!”
It was the twins on speakerphone.
“Hi, girls.”
“Why did you have to go and shoot your mouth off to Mum?” Amber barked.
“Hold on. When I was with you two yesterday, you specifically said that you were going to call Aunt Lucy in the afternoon, so naturally I assumed she’d know all about your plans.”
“We didn’t get the chance,” Pearl said. “We got distracted.”
“Anyway, what’s the big deal? It’s not like Aunt Lucy is going to refuse you, is it?”
“She just did.”
“Oh. You two will be able to talk her around.”
“I doubt it. She was pretty annoyed. She said she didn’t want any Tom, Dick or Harry handling her Blue Sue.”
“I’m really sorry, girls, but you did bring this on yourselves. You should have cleared it with your mother before you ploughed ahead with your plans. You’ll just have to come up with another idea for the rooms upstairs.”
“No chance,” Amber said. “The cork museum is still a brilliant idea.”
“Maybe, but it won’t be much of a cork museum without any corks, will it?”
“We’ll just have to get them from somewhere else,” Pearl said.
“Where?”
“We haven’t worked that out yet.”
There would be no free muffins for me for the foreseeable future, that much was clear. After I’d finished on the call, I checked my email and was shocked by what I saw. There, in amongst all the usual spam, was an email with a one-word subject line: Winky.
Nervously, I clicked on it; the contents were brief and very alarming.
We have Winky.
If you want him back in one piece, place two-hundred pounds in a brown envelope, and put it in the bin in the layby next to Wash Woods, by four o’clock today.
What was I supposed to make of that? It could be a hoax; anyone could have seen Mikey’s posts. But what if it wasn’t? What if they really did have Winky? I couldn’t risk ignoring it, so I headed for the nearest ATM, and withdrew the cash, then headed for Wash Woods.
If the catnapper really did have Winky, there was nothing to guarantee that they’d honour their part of the bargain by releasing him once they had the money. But I had a plan.
Can you guess what kind of plan it was?
Cunning? No, much better than that.
Devious? Nothing so obvious.
What I had come up with was nothing less than a master plan. Truly the king of all plans. Impressed? I thought you would be.
I pulled into the layby, got out of the car just long enough to drop the envelope containing the cash into the bin, and then drove away. Half a mile down the road, I parked in another layby, turned myself invisible, and used the ‘faster’ spell to leg it back to the bin. I arrived there just in time to see a wizard, dressed in tramp-chic, dip his hand into the bin. Was he the catnapper or just someone down on his luck? He pulled out the envelope, and without even opening it, shot off into the woods. Even though I was invisi
ble, I followed at a distance in case he heard my footsteps on the brush-covered path. After a few minutes, he left the path, and made his way through the undergrowth. Eventually, he reached a clearing, in the middle of which, a small tent had been pitched. A tent that looked strangely familiar.
“It’s me,” the wizard said.
One of the tent’s flaps opened, but I was at the wrong angle to see who was inside. The wizard handed the envelope to someone, and then waited. Moments later, whoever was inside handed the wizard a bank note, and then the wizard went on his way. Should I follow him? I decided not to because all of my instincts told me that he was just the go-between. The catnapper must be inside the tent, and hopefully, Winky would be in there too.
I reversed the ‘invisible’ spell, walked over to the tent, and pulled back the flap. Whoever was in there was about to wish they had never been born.
“Winky?”
“Jill?”
“Are you okay? I’ve been worried sick.”
“I’m fine.”
“Where is he? Where’s the catnapper? Just wait until I get my hands on him.”
“He—err—left. You just missed him.”
“But I didn’t see—” That’s when the penny dropped. “What are you hiding behind your back?”
“Nothing.”
“Show me your paws. And the other one. Now both of them together.” I stared at the pile of bank notes. “It was you! You’re the catnapper.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I suppose the catnapper asked you to look after his money while he just nipped out for a while, did he?”
“Err, yeah. That’s exactly what happened.”
“I’m not a complete idiot. This is your tent! Why would you do something like this?”
“Okay, I admit it, but you drove me to it, by accusing me of something I hadn’t done and forcing me out of my home.”
“I know, and I’m really sorry about that.”
“I didn’t quite hear that.”
“I said I’m sorry, but that still doesn’t excuse you trying to get ransom money out of me.”
“How about we call it quits? You forget about the fake kidnap, and I’ll forget about the way you made me homeless?”
“Okay, that’s fair.”
“Great, so let’s get back to the office. I’m dying for a bowl of salmon.”
“Hold on. Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What?”
“The ransom money. I want it back.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal.”
***
Florence was out in the garden, watching the two chrysalises like a hawk, just in case Archie and Angie emerged as butterflies. Meanwhile, Jack was staring at his phone, and looking very puzzled.
“Has Candy Crush got you confused again?”
“I was just checking the bank app. Did you draw out some cash today, Jill?”
“Err, yeah.”
“Two-hundred pounds?”
“Yeah, give or take.”
“What did you need all that for?”
“I—err—it was for Winky.”
“Is he back?”
“Yeah.”
“So, what happened?”
“It’s a funny story. You’ll laugh when I tell you.”
“I’m listening.”
“He’d been catnapped.”
“Really?”
“As it turned out, no. Not really. He’d catnapped himself.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He pretended to have been catnapped and sent me a ransom demand.”
“The two hundred pounds?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re saying you paid Winky two hundred pounds to set himself free?”
“I didn’t know he was the catnapper when I drew out the cash.”
“But once you did, you kept hold of the money?”
“No, because I didn’t find out what had happened until I’d already handed over the money to an intermediary.”
“But when you did find out, you demanded the money back.”
“Of course.”
“So you have the two hundred pounds.”
“Some of it.”
“How much of it?”
“Seventy-five pounds.”
“Why only seventy-five?”
“What can I say? Winky is a tough negotiator.”
Chapter 19
The next morning, the three of us were at the kitchen table.
“Can I go outside, Mummy, please?” Florence had just gobbled down her marmalade on toast.
“It looks a little cold out there.”
“But I have to check on Angie and Archie.”
“Okay, but you’d better put your coat on.”
“I hope nothing happens to those two caterpillars,” Jack said. “She’ll be devastated.”
Before I could respond, I got a phone call from Kathy.
“What are you wearing, Jill?”
My sister had always been the weird one, but that question was strange even by her standards.
“My PJs. Why?”
“I didn’t mean what are you wearing now, numpty. I meant tonight.”
“Tonight. Err—?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten we’re going out with Rita.”
“Of course I haven’t. I just haven’t decided what I’m going to wear.”
“I treated myself to a new dress yesterday.”
“I can’t afford anything new. I’ve already had to fork out a small fortune for the cat this week.”
“How come?”
“I—err—had to take him to the vets.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. Look, I have to get going. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Okay. Bye.”
“You’d forgotten you were going out tonight, hadn’t you?” Jack grinned.
“Totally. Kathy’s had a new dress for the occasion.”
“You could have had one too if you hadn’t given all our money to that cat.”
“Don’t rub it in.” Out in the hall, the letterbox rattled. “It’s too early for the post.”
“Probably more double-glazing leaflets.” Jack went to check. “It’s a note from the vicar.”
“Please tell me they’ve cancelled the village fete.”
“Nope. It’s just a list of who’s manning which stall.”
“Which one have we got?”
“The coconut shy.”
“What? Those things are dangerous.”
“I’m only joking. We’re on the refreshments stall.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
“It doesn’t mean you can help yourself to everything on there.”
“As if I would.”
Snigger.
***
Mrs V looked down in the dumps.
“Are you alright, Mrs V?”
“Not really. I’m feeling a little down in the dumps, actually.”
There I go again. They should call me Jill Sixth-Sense Maxwell.
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s back.”
“Who is?”
“That cat.”
“Isn’t it great?”
“Are you crazy? These last few days without him have been perfect. When did he come back?”
“I—err—have no idea. I’d better go and check on him.”
“Did you find the lease for Armi to take a look at?”
“Not yet. I’ll dig it out later today.”
Winky was perched on my desk, cleaning his paws. Normally, I would have had something to say about that, but I figured I should take it easy on him, at least until he’d settled in again.
“Morning, Winky. How are you?”
“Okay, I suppose, although my joints are giving me some gyp. I reckon it must be spending time outside in all weathers.”
“You were in a tent.”
“The wind whistled through that flimsy thing.”
“There’s no need for that. I reckon double helpings of salmon will have me right as rain in a week or two.”
“A week or—okay, I guess I could run to that.”
“Could you carry me to the sofa? I don’t want to risk injuring myself by jumping down from here.”
“Err, sure.” I took him over to the sofa and put him down gently. “There you go.”
I spent the next two hours going through every drawer in my desk and filing cabinet, but I couldn’t find a copy of the lease. I must have had one, but I had no idea where else to look for it. How was I going to fight the proposed rent increase if I couldn’t find it? Then I had a brainwave.
“I’m just nipping down to Bubbles, Mrs V.”
“Alright, dear. Ask Farah if she wants to adopt that awful cat, would you?”
“Hi, Jill.” Delilah was behind the reception desk. “Do you have one of your dogs booked in? I don’t have anything on my computer.”
“No, not today. I’d like a quick word with Farah. Is she free by any chance?”
“Her next appointment isn’t for fifteen minutes. I’ll just check if she can see you.”
“Thanks.”
Moments later, she returned. “She says you can go through.”
Farah was standing next to the grooming table. “Hey, Jill, do you mind if I carry on getting things ready while we talk?”
“Of course not. Delilah said you have another appointment soon.”
“Yeah, with Tiny. He’s always something of a challenge.”
“What is he? A Chihuahua? A Yorkie?”
“An Irish Wolfhound. His owner thought the name was ironic.”
“Right. Ever since you told me about the rent increase, I’ve been trying to get hold of the landlord.”
“Any joy?”
“None so far. I was wondering if you could let me see a copy of your lease?”
“I haven’t got it.”
“How come?”
“When they handed over the keys, they said their printer was on the blink, but that they’d post the lease over to me the next day. It never arrived, and to be honest, I’ve never got around to chasing them. What did you want it for?”
“Mrs V’s husband used to be a solicitor. He said he’d look through my lease, but I can’t find it at the moment. Not to worry.”