by Adele Abbott
“Thank you.” Charlie took the cash and handed her three slips of paper. “Put your names on the back of these, please. The draw will be made at four o’clock.”
“What draw?” I was confused.
Charlie explained that the village committee had decided it would be bad form to have dozens of people walking around the fete, soaked to the skin. Instead, all would-be volunteers had to pay ten pounds to have their names entered into the draw. That would be one raffle that no one wanted to win.
Mikey and Lizzie wanted to do very different things, so we decided to split up. Jack and Peter went off with Mikey while Kathy and I accompanied Lizzie, who was desperately trying to win a teddy bear at the hoopla stall. She was already on her third attempt, but so far, she hadn’t come close to getting the hoop over the bear. If I saw an opportunity, I planned on using a little magic to help her.
“You’ll never guess what, Kathy?” I said.
“You’ve decided to put your name down for the ducking stool?” She grinned.
“There’s no chance of that. A TV station wants to make a reality show based around me and the agency.”
“Are you being serious? I can never tell.”
“Deadly.”
“That’s brilliant! When do they start filming?”
“I haven’t decided if I’m going to do it yet.”
“Why wouldn’t you? What’s to think about?”
“I’m not sure it’s my kind of thing. Don’t you think those programmes are all a bit tacky?”
“No, they’re not. I imagine they’ll want to include your family, won’t they?”
“That’s why you want me to do it, isn’t it? Because you think you’ll get to be on TV too.”
“Of course it isn’t.” She tried to look suitably indignant at the suggestion. “I just think it would be good for your business.”
“I won!” Lizzie proudly held up the flea-bitten bear. “I’m going to call him Ear.”
“Well done, Pumpkin.” Kathy gave her a kiss. “That’s a rather unusual name, isn’t it?”
“It’s because he’s only got one of them.”
“Shall I ask the man if he’ll swap the bear for another one?” I offered.
“No.” She hugged it tightly to her chest. “I love my Ear.”
After an hour of walking around, both Kathy and I were ready for a sit-down. Fortunately, there was a refreshment stall, which had a number of plastic tables and seats. While we rested our feet and had a drink, Lizzie tried her luck at the hook-a-duck stall, which was right next door.
“Hey, ladies, are you having fun?” Charlie Cross came and sat at the next table.
“Very much so,” Kathy said.
“The weather certainly helps.” I took a sip of the tea, which looked and tasted like it had never seen a teabag. “Who’s manning the ducking stool while you’re here?”
“Roberta Brown and I are taking it in turns.”
“Have you had many sign-ups?”
“Twenty-eight when I left.”
“Wow. I wasn’t expecting there to be so many gluttons for punishment. Sorry, I mean willing volunteers.”
“I’m just going to nip to the loo.” Kathy stood up. “Keep an eye on Lizzie, would you, Jill?”
“Sure.”
A few minutes later, Lizzie came over to join me. “I didn’t win anything on hook-a-duck, Auntie Jill.”
“Never mind. You did really well to win Ear.”
“That’s a handsome bear you have there, young lady.” Charlie gave her an approving thumbs up.
It was almost four o’clock, so we went in search of the guys, who we found at the tin-can alley stall. Jack and Peter looked pumped, but Mikey looked fed up.
“It’s nearly time to go.” Kathy beckoned them over.
“Hold on,” Peter said. “We’ve got one more round of our competition to go.”
I might have known. It turned out that Jack and Peter had decided that the three of them should compete against one another. The one who knocked down the most cans over the three legs would be crowned champion.
“Okay, buddy, it’s eighteen apiece,” Jack said. “This is where we see who can withstand the pressure.”
“Bring it on.” Peter grinned.
“What about you, Mikey?” I said. “How many have you got?”
“Only fourteen.” He sighed.
“You’re still in with a chance.” I tried to reassure him, but he didn’t look convinced.
“This is it, then,” Jack announced. “The third and final round. And may the best man win.”
And he did. Mikey was beaming from ear to ear. Meanwhile, Jack and Peter were competing to see who could look the most disappointed.
“You did that, didn’t you?” Jack whispered.
“Did what?” I said, all innocent-like.
“You used magic to make Mikey win.”
“Of course I didn’t. Didn’t I promise not to use it unless it was something really important?”
“Yes, but—”
“Are you doubting my word?”
“No, but I don’t see how I could have missed the cans altogether.”
“It must have been the pressure. It obviously got to Peter too. That sort of thing doesn’t seem to affect kids, though. That’s why Mikey still managed to hit the cans.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
Snigger.
We all made our way over to the ducking stool, which was to be the final event of the day. Myrtle was waiting for us there.
I looked around. “Where are Hodd and Jobbs?”
“The cowards have done a runner, so they won’t end up in the water barrel. Just wait until I get my hands on them. Still, we’ve done very well today. According to Charlie, forty people have put their names down. That’s four-hundred pounds. Added to the rest of the takings, we should have beaten our target.”
“Does that mean—?”
“Yes. The bells have been saved.”
“That’s fantastic. I can actually relax and enjoy this because I know I’m not going to be the one who gets ducked.”
“Hmm.” Kathy grinned.
“What does that mean?” I challenged her.
“Nothing.”
“What have you done, Kathy?”
“I might have accidentally put your name down for the ducking stool.”
“You did what? When? How?”
“While you were having a cup of tea with Charlie.”
“If my name comes out, I’ll—”
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Charlie called for order. “We now come to the moment you’ve all been waiting for. It’s ducking time!”
Everyone cheered—except for me. With my luck, my name was bound to come out, and if it did, I wouldn’t be responsible for what I did to Kathy.
Charlie dipped his hand into a bowl and drew out a single slip of paper. “Here we have it. The name of the person who is going to enjoy a lovely dip has the initials: J.M.”
“Oh dear.” Jack put his arm around my shoulder. “Still, you have had plenty of practice.”
His grin didn’t last for very long, though.
“Would Jack Maxwell please climb the steps and sit on the ducking stool.”
On the drive home, Jack was giving me the silent treatment.
“Those trousers suit you.” I laughed.
Charlie Cross had allowed Jack to dry off at his house, and he’d been kind enough to lend him a change of clothes. Charlie was of course, at least thirty years older than Jack, and several sizes larger.
“You’re not funny, Jill.”
“Now you know how I felt when Grandma signed me up for the ducking stool at TenPinCon.”
“If you were going to put anyone’s name into the draw, why didn’t you put Kathy’s in?”
“What makes you think I didn’t?” That was easily the best twenty pounds I’d spent in a long time.
He sneezed. “I’ve probably caught a cold.”
“Man flu, mo
re like.”
***
While Jack was taking a shower, I decided to nip over to Candlefield because Aunt Lucy had said that she thought her new neighbours might be moving in today.
When I arrived at her house, I could hear voices in the kitchen.
“You have to tell Jill,” Pearl insisted.
“Yeah, it’s only fair,” Amber said.
This was like déjà vu, and this time, there was no doubt they were talking about me.
“What’s going on?” I burst into the room. “What should you tell me?”
“It’s nothing for you to worry your head about.” Grandma tried to wave away my question.
“I’m not leaving until someone tells me what’s going on.” I took a seat at the table.
“She has a right to know, Mother,” Aunt Lucy said.
“Please yourself.” Grandma shrugged.
Aunt Lucy took a deep breath, and judging by the look on her face, she wasn’t about to deliver good news.
“Darlene really should be the one to tell you this.”
“Well she isn’t here, is she? So you’ll just have to do.”
“Okay.” Another deep breath. “About five years before you were born, your mother gave birth to another child.”
My chest felt tight, and I could barely breathe. “Another? You mean—?”
“You have a brother.”
“And no one thought to tell me?” I could barely contain my anger.
“There was a good reason for that,” Grandma said.
“I can’t wait to hear it.”
“The baby was snatched from your mother within hours of his birth.”
“That’s terrible, but someone should still have told me about him.”
“You’re right.” Aunt Lucy bowed her head. “We should have said something. When you first discovered you were a witch, it felt like it would be too overwhelming to burden you with any more information. And then, as time went by—”
“What? You all conveniently forgot?”
“Hold your tongue, young lady,” Grandma snapped. “I know you’re upset, but how do you think we felt when it happened? The wounds are still raw, even after all these years.”
“Who snatched him?”
“No one knew for sure, although we all had our suspicions,” Grandma said. “Suspicions that have now proven to be correct.”
“What do you mean? Do you know who did it?”
“Braxmore.”
“How can you know that? He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is.” Grandma hesitated for what felt like an eternity. “But your brother isn’t, and he wants to meet you.”
More mystery and magic await Jill Maxwell in the next book:
Witch Is How To Fool Cats
(Witch P.I. Mysteries #34)
ALSO FROM ADELE ABBOTT:
Whoops! Our New Flatmate Is A Human
Susan Hall Investigates Book #1
Take a shy werewolf, a wizard who fancies himself as a ladies’ man, and a vampire dying for her first taste of human blood. Then add a human for good measure.
Web site: AdeleAbbott.com
Facebook: facebook.com/AdeleAbbottAuthor