The Wicca Woman

by David Pinner

  ‘So that means…’ Paul yelled, his eyes ignited with fury. ‘Well, it means that ever since, the bastard has done nothing but lie to us all, about absolutely everything!’

  ‘Yes, but the extraordinary truth of the matter is, Jimmy didn’t realise that he was lying.’

  ‘How is that possible?’

  ‘Easily. You see, in that storm, when the falling stable-slate struck Jimmy on the head, it not only gave him the worst headache of his life, but also it completely wiped away the memory of his terrible crime. What’s more, for the next twenty years, every time his heinous deed started to re-emerge from Jimmy’s subconscious, then yet another of his blinding “electrical” headaches would completely blot-out the fratricidal truth from his memory. And that’s why Jimmy went on believing that his twin brother had truly disappeared in London. It’s also why he felt that he still loved and missed Don. So, you see, from Jimmy’s point of view, he was totally innocent. Furthermore, he even believed that he hated being a farmer. Indeed, it was only last night, when Don’s voice from the grave became so insistent, that the horrendous truth – about himself – finally re-emerged from the murky depths of Jimmy’s subconscious. This made him face the fact that he had murdered his own brother out of envious hatred – and also because Jimmy lusted to possess the family farm, which, later, he claimed that he “loathed”!’

  ‘But, Lulu, it was still you, who made Jimmy go into the wood last night, with the spade, the ladder, and the hangman’s-rope, wasn’t it?’ Paul challenged her in a stentorian voice. ‘So it was you, who goaded the poor bastard into topping himself!’

  ‘No,’ Lulu said, with a brief shake of her blonde tresses. ‘I simply told Jimmy to go into the oak grove, and that he should take with him everything that his subconscious was demanding; so that, at last, he could fulfil his long-awaited destiny. But Jimmy could easily have ignored my advice. As, equally, he could have ignored his dead brother’s voice. But he didn’t. Instead - of his own free will - he dug up Don’s cloven skull. Yes, and even then – if he had wanted to – Jimmy could still have saved himself, by immediately filling in his brother’s grave. And then, once again, Jimmy could have run away. But unlike Cain in the Bible, Jimmy didn’t want to “flee into the Land of Nod”. No, at long last, he wanted to embrace his fatal destiny.’

  ‘Lulu, I still say that if you hadn’t put me into that strange sleep last night, I could have prevented Jimmy from snapping his fucking neck!’ Paul raged in his frustration.

  ‘No, you couldn’t. You see, from the moment Jimmy discovered that he had committed fratricide, he would never have listened to you,’ Lulu replied as she moved away from Paul along the cliff top.

  ‘Now, Lulu, surely you’re not going to deny that you helped him to hang himself, are you?’ Paul demanded vehemently as he followed her across the uneven shale.

  ‘I didn’t help him,’ Lulu replied, stopping and shaking her head. ‘But I didn’t stop him, either. I simply watched a man, who was writing the truth about himself, in his notebook. And I was his silent witness as Jimmy finally fulfilled his tragic destiny,’ she said as she turned back to face Paul. ‘Yes, and you must understand that my bearing witness…well, that is one of the many reasons that I am here in Thorn,’ she continued while she pinioned him with her eyes. ‘As you, Paul, will find to your cost, in the very near future.’

  ‘So I’m going to end up by topping myself, like Jimmy did, right?’ he rasped, flailing his fingers at the night sky. ‘And then, I suppose – like him – I’m going to be incinerated by a fucking-bolt-of-fucking-lightning!’

  ‘No. But, one thing is certain, Paul; unless you face the truth about yourself pronto, I sense that you will unleash something in this village, which could sear us all to the marrow,’ Lulu warned, before moving off along the clifftop. ‘And as you are obviously not yet ready to face your demons, Paul; you must stop following me – because, rely on it; “that way madness lies”.’

  Then the moon slid out from behind a blood-blackened cloud, and instantly the Goddess bathed the hurrying figure of Lulu in a corona of icy light.

  ‘Lulu, let me tell you,’ Paul shouted at her, rapidly catching her up, and waving his accusatory fist close to her moonlit face. ‘You are also going to pay in full for the dreadful things that you have done. And much sooner than you fucking think!’

  ‘I’ve already paid more times than you can possibly conceive, Paul,’ Lulu admonished, transfixing him with her aquamarine eyes. ‘Now go home. And when you have jogged your way down into your basement – because I sense your basement, is where you keep your greatest secret – then, in its depths, you should ruminate on the hidden horrors in your own life. In so doing, Paul, hopefully you will discover what is venomously bubbling away in your subconscious – which is about to erupt into the light. And when it erupts, then the Goddess help us all!’ she said as she walked away from him.

  With his mouth ajar, Paul gazed at her rapidly-retreating figure.

  Striding onwards, Lulu smiled desolately at the moon as its ethereal light seemed to transform her into a lunar ghost.

  In consternation, Paul shook his head. He couldn’t believe that she intuited so much about him.

  God help me! he cried internally. Although, I fear, that this is not the worst of it because I am sure that Lulu is aware of the dark and disturbing things that dwell in my inner being. But, tragically, they are things that I can’t remember. Or, in truth; deep within me, there are dreadful things that I don’t want to remember! So now my only answer is to go on endless praying for the strength to continue. But what if all my prayers fail me…?

  In despair, his thoughts trailed off.

  Yes, Paul Hopkins… Lulu thought as she trudged away from the cliff top. You are, indeed, a lost soul. But at the moment, I do not have the answer to your terrifying desolation.

  Soon she was skirting around the edge of the tangled woodland. Disconsolately she paused by a leafless, giant-oak. Again she looked up at the moon’s incandescence as she pondered; But what disturbs me most, Paul, is I am sure that there is something ominously-direful deep within you, which I do not yet comprehend. It is why my spirit is filled with such foreboding tonight. And as I cannot fathom you, indeed, I may be wrong about everything. And then…well, then only the Goddess knows what will happen…

  14

  It was morning, two days later, Wednesday, 3rd November 1999.

  On the furthest edge of the village, the wind was whirling around the witch’s cottage.

  Despite suffering with her rheumatic joints, Gwynne wielded her broom in a hopeless effort to subdue the swirling leaves, although she wasn’t alone in her endeavours. Also armed with garden brushes, and with their hair whipping across their faces, Mary and Sue were sweeping heaps of gusting debris into piles.

  As the wind continued to tear at their faces and clothes, after pausing for breath, Mary shouted to the witch, ‘For God’s sake, Gwynne, let’s stop this now before the three of us are blown away.’

  ‘Yes, we can sweep up the rest of the leaves for you tomorrow,’ Sue agreed, thankfully leaning on her broom.

  ‘Sue’s right, Gwynne,’ Mary nodded. ‘We need to talk to you before the kids come home from school, ‘cause the moment the little darlings step off their school bus, they’ll want their tea.’

  Nodding Gwynne slumped onto a garden bench, and she propped her broom against the leaf-strewn table. After exchanging looks of relief, Mary and Sue dispensed with their brushes, and they crossed over to her.

  ‘Gwynne, isn’t it too windy for you to sit out here?’ Sue asked. ‘And wouldn’t it be better for us to go into your cottage?’

  ‘No, I like the wind,’ the witch rasped. ‘See, the wind is utterly ruthless. Like destiny should be.’

  ‘Yeah, and Lulu Crescent seems to have a “charmed” destiny, too, doesn’t she?’ Mary snarled, removing a dead leaf from her dishevelled hair. ‘Well, she certainly charmed the cops, didn’t she?’ she went on, sitting down on the b
ench opposite Gwynne. ‘And that’s despite the fact that I told the cops that Crescent was a scheming, evil bitch, who stole Jimmy from me. But, of course, I couldn’t prove that Crescent was in the wood with Jimmy that night - or that she helped him to hang himself. But I’m sure she bloody did!’

  ‘You’re right about that,’ the witch concurred, with her tongue curling over her wind-chapped lips as she turned to Sue. ‘But you went to the Police, Sue, with your daughter, didn’t you?’

  ‘I did. You see, while Scarlet was out Trick-or-Treating, she told me that she saw something “strange” outside Lulu Crescent’s front door. But when Scarlet got home, she couldn’t remember what she’d seen there. That’s why I thought it was important that we go to the cops, so they could jog her memory.’

  ‘And did the cops succeed in jogging her memory?’

  ‘No, Gwynne. And although the police questioned Scarlet for quite a long time, she still couldn’t remember what the “strange” thing was - that she saw by Crescent’s front door.’

  ‘Then you can bet your life that it was Crescent, who wiped it from your daughter’s memory. Which means you aren’t any nearer to destroying the whore!’ the witch retorted sardonically. ‘Yes, and according to last night’s News - because Jimmy confessed in his notebook that he had murdered his brother – now the police are certain that Jimmy was the only person involved in Don’s death. And as Jimmy as hanged himself, well, the cops’ve been only too happy to close the case,’ Gwynne said, with a grim smile. Then she turned to Mary and Sue, wagging her gnarled forefinger at them. ‘So my point is, ladies, that unless some other drastic action is taken against Crescent, then the vicious harlot is going to get off scot-free - even though we all know that she was responsible for Jimmy killing himself.’

  ‘You’re right, Gwynne. And it’s so bloody unfair!’ Sue yelled, banging her fists on the table. ‘And look at poor Mary here,’ she said, putting her arm around her friend’s shoulders. ‘Well, you’re having such a terrible time, aren’t you, Mary love?’

  ‘I am. See, now I miss Jimmy a lot. Even though he did turn into a right bastard when Crescent came here to Thorn!’ Mary hissed, fighting back her angry tears. ‘But before that tart appeared, things were pretty good between him and me. ‘Fact, most of the time, Jimmywas really kind to me, so I did love him very much. And I’m sure …in his own way…well, he loved me a lot, too,’ she said, with tears dripping off her nose. ‘Yes, and he wouldn’t be dead now, but for her! Yes, I know he did that…well, that terrible thing to his brother, but Jimmy was only nineteen when he did it. And, anyway, it was his horrible headache in the storm all those years ago that drove him crazy in the wood, and it was his terrbile headaches that made him kill Don. So it’s just awful that Jimmy should’ve ended up hanging from a rope, and then being struck by lightning. Oh God, dear God, life is so bloody unfair,’ Mary sobbed, lunging away from the table.

  ‘You poor love,’ Sue said, crossing over to her distraught friend by the garden wall.

  As Sue enfolded Mary’s shivering body in her arms, she called to Gwynne; ‘There must be something we can do to get some justice for Mary, for Christ sake!’

  ‘There is a way, Sue,’ the witch agreed. ‘Although it does depend on what kind of ‘justice’ you’re looking for,’ she added, pushing herself to her feet as the wind increased in velocity.

  ‘Gwynne, you just go and do whatever it takes to destroy the evil bitch!’ Mary yelled as she broke free from her friend’s comforting embrace. ‘See, you’ve been right all along. We should’ve finished the whore off with those bloody knitting-needles.’

  ‘And, Sue, you also agree that Crescent has to be destroyed, don’t you?’ the witch demanded.

  ‘Of course I do,’ Sue nodded as more leaves gusted into her face. ‘Well, I just can’t bear to see Mary suffering like this.’

  ‘But then, of course, Sue, you have your own reasons for wanting the strumpet broken on the wheel, don’t you?’ Gwynne said, hobbling over the grass to join the women by the wall.

  ‘Yes, I do, but…’ Sue muttered. Then disconsolately she turned away from the witch. ‘Look, I’m sorry, Gwynne, but…well, I don’t want to talk about that now.’

  ‘As you will, dear,’ Gwynne said, with a fell smile. ‘But, Sue, I am right in thinking that you will go along with what I’m planning to do to Crescent.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll back you to the hilt, Gwynne.’

  ‘But, Sue, will you continue to back me if someone, who is very close to you, has to suffer, too?’ the witch demanded, her eyes glittering like shards of quartz.

  ‘Yes, as long as you don’t involve Scarlet,’ Sue said. ‘See, my daughter’s the most precious thing I’ve got.’

  ‘And it mustn’t involve my Bella, either, Gwynne,’ insisted Mary, rubbing her tear-enflamed eyes. ‘’Cause Bella’s all I’ve got left.’

  ‘But what about your husband, Sue?’ Gwynne asked, thrusting her wizened profile close to Sue’s face. ‘Surely you wouldn’t want Vince to suffer in our just cause against Crescent, would you?’

  ‘You can do what you like with Vince ‘cause my husband deserves everything that’s coming to him!’

  ‘Ah-ah,’ chortled the witch, tapping her nose knowingly. ‘So that’s your reason for wanting to have Crescent destroyed.’

  ‘Alright, alright, I can’t hide it any longer,’ Sue nodded ruefully. ‘See, the truth is, Vince dreams about Lulu Crescent every godforsaken night. So as well as all the unspeakable things that Crescent has done to Jimmy, the scheming slut has totally stolen my Vince away from me! Well, my husband’s no longer the man he was. ‘Fact for the last three months Vince has been like…well, he’s been like a sick ghost of himself. ‘Fact I only have to mention that filthy whore’s name, and he starts to drool like a sodding spaniel,’ Sue whispered in tearful disgust. ‘And what makes it even worse is…well, now my guy is the only man in Thorn, who still fanaticises about the tart every night. You see, his two best friends, Bob White and Dave Biggs, well, they don’t dream about Crescent screwing ‘em in their sleep any more. Yes, and from what I hear from the rest of the women in the village, none of their husbands are under her shitty spells, either. But my Vince can’t think of anything else but that fucking slut! Yes, and even when he’s cycling around Thorn, delivering the rotten Royal Mail to everyone, Vince keeps on muttering to himself about all the super, sexy things that Crescent does to him every night. What a shithead of a postman he is!’

  ‘So as your husband won’t be delivering any mail on Sunday – when he has had his breakfast – I want you to send Vince around to my cottage,’ ordered the witch, her eyes gleaming in anticipation. ‘And then, together; Vince and I will destroy the succubus.’

  ‘How the hell will you do that?’ Sue asked incredulously.

  ‘I have my ways,’ Gwynne smiled, showing her discoloured incisors. ‘But first; you must bring me something that is personal of Vince’s tomorrow morning.’

  ‘You want “something of Vince’s that is personal”? Like what?’ Sue muttered, with knotted brows.

  ‘Several hairs from your husband’s balding head. Or if that’s not possible; several strands of Vince’s body-hair from the bath. Plus, of course, some of his nail-clippings,’ the witch said, continuing to smile.

  Perplexed by Gwynne’s perverse request, Sue shook her head in bewilderment.

  ‘You are being really serious, Gwynne, aren’t you?’ Mary murmured, equally mystified.

  ‘Never more so.’

  ‘And if I do bring you some of Vince’s hairs, and some nail-clippings,’ Sue asked tentatively, ‘Well…then what exactly are you going to do with ‘em?’

  ‘Sue, do you want Crescent destroyed? Or don’t you?’ the witch riposted.

  ‘Yes, abso-fucking-lutely! See, me and Mary want the slut out of our lives forever, don’t we?’ Sue exclaimed, after exchanging glances with her friend.

  ‘Then, Sue, while your husband is delivering the mail tomorrow, bring me
what I require.’

  ‘But you still haven’t said what will happen to Vince if I do what you ask?’

  As more dead leaves were blown into Sue and Mary’s strained faces, the witch gestured at the wind.

  ‘Like the wind, Sue, your husband will scythe his way; until he, too, finally brings in his own, ultimate harvest. But also like the wind, only the Gods know where - and how - Vince will embrace his ultimate destiny. So if you truly want Lulu Crescent destroyed, tomorrow bring me your husband’s nail-clippings and his hairs. And then make sure that you persuade him to come here to see me at my cottage, on Sunday morning.’

  15

  It was ten o’clock in the morning, Sunday, 7th November, 1999.

  On the edge of the village, the wind was thrumming the windowpanes of Vince and Sue Townley’s front bedroom, in their small terraced house.

  As Sue swung the door open, and strode into the bedroom, Vince, who was still in bed, submerged his chin even lower beneath the crumpled duvet.

  ‘D’you realise what bloody time it is?’ Sue demanded, gazing at her almost-hidden husband.

  ‘Who cares what bloody time it is? Well, I don’t have to deliver any post today, do I? So I’m having a lie-in, OK?’ Vince snapped, turning his back towards her.

  ‘No, you get your idle arse out of there,’ Sue shouted, prodding the lump in the bed. ‘D’you hear me? Me and Scarlet have had our breakfast ages ago.’

  ‘So bloody what?’