Witch is How The Tables Turned

by Adele Abbott

  What? How did they come up with this rubbish?

  When I got to my office building, I bumped into Lucas from the escape room; he didn’t look very happy with life.

  “Lucas.”

  “Hi, Jill.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “We’ve closed down Escape.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” But hardly surprised after the debacle with the failed ‘world generator’ spell.

  “We’ve only got ourselves to blame. We should have stuck with a conventional escape room instead of trying to be so clever.”

  “Whose idea was it to use the world generator?”

  He hesitated.

  “Wendy’s?” I suggested.

  “Yeah, but I can’t put all the blame on her. I went along with it.”

  “Where is she, anyway?”

  “She’s gone. We’ve split up.”

  “It sounds like you’re having a bit of a rough time.” I thought he was well shut of Wendy, but now wasn’t the time to say so.

  “I’ll bounce back.” He managed a weak smile. “I’ll probably look back at this in a few years’ time and laugh.”

  “It looks like we’ll be having new neighbours again, Mrs V.”

  “Already?”

  “I bumped into Lucas on the stairs. They’ve shut down the escape room.”

  “I never did understand what that place was all about.”

  “Have you heard from Mr Song?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Would you give him a call and find out when he’ll be fitting the replacement sign?”

  “Yes, dear. I’ll make us a cup of tea first, though, shall I?”

  “That would be nice.”

  I’d no sooner stepped into my office than my phone rang.

  “What do you want, Kathy? I’m busy.”

  “You really missed your vocation, Jill. You should have opened a charm school.”

  “You only ever call when you want something.”

  “It’s my day off, so I was going to ask if you fancied popping over to our place on your way home from the office tonight.”

  “Why? What do you want me to do?”

  “Sheesh! I just thought we could have a cuppa and a chat.”

  “Okay, sorry. If I can get away at a reasonable time, I’ll pop in after work.”

  It was only when I came off the phone that I noticed Winky seemed to be busy doing something over in the corner of the office.

  “What are you up to?”

  “Mind your own beeswax.”

  “Excuse me? In case you hadn’t noticed, this is my office. I have every right to know what you’re doing.”

  “You’ll steal my idea.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I run a successful business already.”

  “You never told me you had another business?”

  “I meant this one.”

  “Oh dear.”

  I walked over to get a better look at what he was up to. Spread across the floor, were all manner of cogs, springs, screws and tiny cat figurines.

  “What are you making?”

  “If I tell you, do you promise not to tell a soul? It’s essential that I’m first to market.”

  “I promise.”

  “Crazy as it sounds, it was the old bag lady who gave me the idea.”

  “Mrs V?”

  “I overheard her talking about the cuckoo clocks, and I got to thinking: why do they always have a cuckoo in those clocks?”

  “Duh! The answer is pretty much in the name. They’re cuckoo clocks!”

  “Yeah, but have you ever asked yourself why? Why not some other animal? Cat clocks for example?”

  Now the tiny cat figurines started to make sense.

  “That is possibly the stupidest thing I’ve heard you say. This week.”

  “What’s stupid about it? Ask yourself this: how many two-leggeds keep cuckoos?”

  “No one I would think. They’re wild birds.”

  “How many keep cats?”

  “Millions.”

  “There you are, then. The market for cat clocks is obviously much larger than that for cuckoo clocks.”

  “I think you’re missing one vital point: The cuckoo makes a pleasing ‘cuckoo’ sound.”

  “What’s wrong with a meow?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with a meow per se, but I’m not sure anyone would want their clock to meow at them.”

  “I take it you won’t want to invest in Winky’s Feline Clocks, then? I was going to give you the chance to get in on the ground floor. This type of golden opportunity only comes around once in a lifetime.”

  “I think I’ll pass.”

  “Your loss. Now, if you don’t mind, I have clocks to build.”

  “If you’re going to do this, you’ll have to work in the corner of the room, behind that screen. I can’t have anyone coming in here and seeing this lot.”

  “But I like it here. There’s more light.”

  “Over there, behind the screen, or not at all.”

  This time that cat had really lost the plot. Cat clocks? Give me a break!

  ***

  Making clocks must have been tiring work because when Mrs V popped her head around the door, twenty minutes later, Winky was fast asleep.

  “I’ve spoken to Mr Song, Jill. He said he’ll be installing the new sign tomorrow.”

  “Thank goodness for that. I’m tired of people asking where Max is.”

  “There’s a young man out here who’d like to see you if you can spare the time. He says that he’s Madeline’s replacement.”

  “Oh? Send him in, would you?”

  The young man had wild hair and a cheeky smile.

  “Thanks for seeing me. I’m Chester Baldwin; I’ve recently taken over Madeline’s territory here in Washbridge.”

  “Nice to meet you, Chester. Are you from around these parts?”

  “No, I was born in Manchester, and I’ve been based in Liverpool for the last three years until I got this transfer.”

  “What’s your cover job here in Washbridge?”

  “You’ll laugh when I tell you.”

  “Mad was supposed to be a librarian. It can’t be any worse than that.”

  “I wish they had put me in the library. They’ve got me working in the tax office. It’s so boring.”

  “Hopefully, there’ll be plenty of rogue ghosts to keep you busy.”

  “I hope so, but so far, it’s been pretty quiet. I didn’t have any contact with sups back in Liverpool, but my new boss mentioned that you and Madeline sometimes worked together.”

  “Occasionally, yes. Mad and I have known each other for years; we were at school together.”

  “Right.” He suddenly seemed distracted, and began to pat his pockets.

  “Have you lost something?”

  “My wallet. I know I had it earlier this morning.”

  “When was the last time you saw it?”

  “I used it when I paid for a coffee earlier. Oh, wait, I took out my handkerchief when I was talking to your receptionist. Maybe I dropped it out there.”

  “Stay there. I’ll go and check for you.”

  Sure enough, his wallet was on the floor underneath Mrs V’s desk.

  “Here it is.”

  “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d lost that. Between my wallet and my phone, my whole life is pretty much in there.” He stood up. “I won’t take up any more of your time, Jill. I’m sure you’re a busy woman. Hopefully, we’ll get the chance to work together at some point.”

  “I hope so too.”

  “What does that young man do for a living?” Mrs V asked, after Chester had left.

  “He works in the tax office.”

  “And yet he seemed so nice.”

  ***

  It was the Elite Competition in three weeks, and I really wasn’t looking forward to it. I’d only agreed to take part because Grandma had made it a condition of her helping to protect Alicia. Even if
I was to win, and that was by no means guaranteed, it wouldn’t be enough. I was under strict instructions from Grandma that I had to humiliate Ma Chivers, so that she would lose the support of her followers.

  No pressure then.

  In preparation for the tournament, I’d been holding regular meetings with Grandma. The purpose of our get-togethers wasn’t to discuss magic, but to work on what she called my positive mental attitude. According to Grandma, the competition would be won or lost in the heads of the competitors. Frankly, I found the sessions boring and a total waste of time, but I wasn’t brave enough to tell her that.

  We’d arranged to meet in her office at Ever. When I got there, she had her bare feet up on the desk, and she was sucking on a candy lollipop.

  “Am I early?” I hesitated in the doorway.

  “Early for what?” She managed to say without taking the lollipop from her mouth.

  “It’s our regular get together to discuss the Elite Competition.”

  “Is it?” She took a small black diary from her pocket, and flicked through the pages. “Oh yes, so it is.”

  “If now isn’t convenient, we could always give this one a miss?” Fingers crossed.

  “No, it’s important we do it. Come and take a seat.” She took her feet off the desk, and wedged the lolly behind her ear.

  “Are you okay, Grandma? You seem a little distracted.”

  “I do have a lot on my mind at the moment.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Anything to waste a bit of time.

  “I’ve been reviewing my business interests here in Washbridge. As you’re no doubt already aware, the successful business owner should be prepared to regularly cast a critical eye on their own businesses.”

  “Yes, of course. I do that all the time.”

  “Hmm. Anyway, I’ve come to the conclusion that they’re not performing as well as they should be.”

  “Maybe opening Forever Bride next door to another bridal shop wasn’t such a good idea?”

  “I’m not talking about my bridal shop; that’s doing just fine. I’ll soon crush that sister of yours. I’m talking about this shop and the one across the road.”

  “EAWM?”

  “What’s EAWM?”

  “It’s what I’ve started calling Ever A Wool Moment.”

  “I’ll thank you to call it by its full name, young lady. There’s no place for acronyms in my business empire.”

  “Right. Sorry.”

  “I’ve decided that it’s time I gave these two businesses a bit of a push.”

  “If you’d like me to help brainstorm ideas, I’d be happy to.”

  “You?” She laughed uncontrollably. “The day I come to you for advice on how to run my businesses will be the day I retire. No, I already have a couple of ideas.”

  “What are those?”

  “We don’t have time to discuss that now. We need to focus on the Elite Competition. You do realise time is running out?”

  “I just told you that.”

  “Enough of your jibber jabbering, then. Let’s get on with it.”

  ***

  By the time I left Ever, I felt mentally drained. Grandma insisted the sessions were good for me, but I wasn’t convinced. As I walked back up the high street, I noticed Have Ivers Got Internet For You had only one customer. Oh wait, strike that, it was Mr Ivers, all alone in the shop. Poor guy. He seemed to have a knack for picking the wrong type of business to get into.

  Just then, he looked through the window, and spotted me. Drat!

  “Jill, I thought that was you. Would you like to book a session on one of the computers?”

  “I’m okay, thanks.”

  “You really should give it a go. There’s so much to see on the internet.”

  “Yeah.” I held up my phone. “I use this to go online.”

  “Your phone?”

  “Yeah. It’s got 4G.”

  “Forjee? What’s that?”

  “It’s err—it doesn’t matter. How’s that surprise of yours coming along?” Not that I cared, but anything to avoid having to explain the intricacies of mobile communications technology.

  “It should be ready by the time I get home. You’ll be amazed when you see it.”

  “I’m sure I shall. Anyway, I should be getting back. Lots to do.”

  “Me too. An entrepreneur’s life is never dull, is it?”

  I scurried away, but hadn’t got very far when—

  “Jill!” Betty Longbottom was standing in the doorway of She Sells.

  “Hi, Betty.”

  “I have big news: The Sea’s The Limit is opening at last.”

  “That’s great. You’ve got the tanks and licences sorted, then?”

  “The new tanks have been installed and thoroughly tested, so there’ll be no repeat of the last catastrophe. As for the licences, I’ve decided not to keep the dangerous species, so that means I only need a regular licence, and that’s all sorted.”

  “That’s fantastic. I’m really pleased for you and Sid.”

  “There is no Sid. At least, there’s no me and Sid. We decided to call it a day.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I’m not. To be honest, it’s great to be young, free and single again. It’s a pity you went and got yourself hitched. We could have had some wild nights out.”

  “That is a pity.” Bullet dodged.

  “You’ll never guess what we have planned for the grand opening.”

  “Is it the guy with the snazzy jumpers again?”

  “Much better than that. We’re going to have mermaids.”

  “You do realise they’re not a real thing, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.” She laughed. “It’s a troupe of synchronised swimmers who dress up as mermaids.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ve seen their act a couple of times now, and it’s amazing. If you didn’t know better, you’d think they were real mermaids. You must come to the grand opening. It’s going to be spectacular. We’re expecting a massive crowd.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  After I’d said goodbye to Betty, it occurred to me that I hadn’t asked her what day the grand opening was taking place. Oh no! It would be awful if I missed it.

  Chapter 3

  I’d spent a little time doing research into Chambers Precision Plastics, but I didn’t learn anything of any significance. Most of the articles I turned up online related to awards they’d won, large contracts they’d secured, or long-service awards for members of staff who were retiring. There were no scandals that I could find, and no obvious reason why anyone should want to sabotage their operations. From the little information that Oswald Chambers had given me, it seemed fairly obvious that this must be an inside job. What else could account for the fact that the problems only ever arose on the nightshift?

  While I was taking a few minutes’ break from the research, my gaze was drawn once again to the ridiculous headline being run by The Bugle. A cult based around salmon? Seriously? Maybe I should tell Winky about it—that might get him off my hands. Beneath that ‘lead’ story, was a smaller, but more down-to-earth article about a man, missing for over nine weeks, who had turned up out of the blue. As was often the case with articles in The Bugle, it was short on detail, but it suggested that he’d been kidnapped and held captive somewhere, but he’d managed to escape. Accompanying the article was a photograph of the man, sitting up in a hospital bed. Standing next to the bed were his brother and his sister-in-law. Why wasn’t that article the main story? How could anyone think that a story about a salmon-loving cult should take priority over this real-life drama?

  I was in the outer office when Armi turned up.

  “Hello, my precious dewdrop.”

  No, he wasn’t talking to me; he was giving Mrs V a hug.

  “What are you doing here, my little gingerbread man?”

  Dewdrop? Gingerbread man? Where were the sick bags when you needed them?

&nbs
p; “I had some business in town, so I thought I’d pop in to see how you were doing.”

  “Isn’t that sweet, Jill?”

  “Lovely.” Another sick bag, please.

  “Tell Jill about the competition you’ve been asked to judge, Armi.”

  “Jill doesn’t want to hear about that. It’s all very boring.”

  How very perceptive of him. Phew!

  “Of course she does,” Mrs V insisted. “Don’t you, Jill?”

  “Err? I—err—”

  Mrs V fixed me with her gaze. “Jill?”

  “I’d love to hear about it, Armi.”

  “Okay, but only because you’ve insisted. The Cuckoo Clock Appreciation Society runs a number of competitions each year, the most prestigious of which is the Cuckoo Clock Of The Year Award. It’s awarded to the best cuckoo clock purchased within the last twelve months. I’ve never actually won it myself, but I have been runner-up twice. Anyway, this year, they’ve asked me to judge the competition.”

  “That’s fantastic.” And thankfully a much shorter explanation than I’d feared.

  “Tell Jill what it entails.” Mrs V was determined to prolong my suffering.

  Armi obliged, “Unlike all the other competitions, the entries to the Cuckoo Clock Of The Year Award are judged in-situ. I’ll have to visit the houses of all the entrants to see the clocks on their walls. I have to tell you, Jill, I’m really very excited.”

  “I can see why you would be. It’s a great honour.”

  The door behind Armi opened, and in walked one of my least favourite people: my landlord, Martin Macabre. Although I dealt with all manner of strange supernatural creatures, few of them gave me the creeps like this man did. There was something of the night about him.

  “Could we have a word in private, Miss Gooder?”

  “It’s Mrs Maxwell, now.”

  “I see. Did you remember to update your details with my office?”

  “I—err—”

  “Never mind, there are more pressing issues we have to discuss.” He gestured to my office. “Shall we?”

  “Wait there a second, would you? I have some confidential papers I need to move first.”

  He looked a little put out, but I didn’t give him the chance to argue. Once inside my office, I hurried over to Winky who was back working on the clocks.