Witch is How The Tables Turned

by Adele Abbott

  “I don’t follow.”

  “It would be a shame if your sister lost out on that shop. She seems so taken with it, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I still don’t see—” And then the bad penny dropped. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “I haven’t said anything.”

  “Do you really expect me to give up these offices just like that?”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to do anything you didn’t want to do.”

  “But if I don’t, Kathy doesn’t get her shop? That’s right isn’t it?”

  “I’ll give you forty-eight hours to let me have your decision. Once I have your answer, I’ll get back to your sister.”

  “That’s blackmail.”

  “Such a nasty word. I’ll see myself out, shall I?”

  I knew it! I knew that slimeball was up to something, but I hadn’t thought even he would stoop this low. Well, if he thought he had me beat, he had a nasty shock coming.

  Game on!

  ***

  Still seething over Macabre’s despicable, underhand tactics, I drove over to Middle Wash where Gilbert lived with his mother.

  “I do appreciate you coming over like this, Jill.” Marcy met me at the door.

  “No problem. Does Gilbert know you’ve asked me to come?”

  “Yes, I told him; he didn’t seem to mind. This way, he’s in his bedroom.” She led the way to the back of the bungalow, and knocked on the door that had a faded name plaque on it. “Gilbert? Jill is here.”

  “Okay. You can come in.”

  “I’ll leave you to it.” Marcy ushered me inside.

  The first thing I noticed was Gilbert’s complexion. The last time I’d seen him, he’d had a bad case of acne, and had spent most of the time squeezing his spots. Today, his face was blemish free. If nothing else, it seemed that all the salmon he’d been eating had done what any number of acne super-cures had failed to do.

  “Hi, Gilbert.”

  “Hi. I’m really sorry you’ve been dragged over here on a wild goose chase, but I knew my mother wouldn’t let it go until I’d spoken to you.”

  “You do know that she’s very worried about you, don’t you?”

  “Needlessly. I’m perfectly fine as you can see. In fact, I’m the happiest I’ve been since Jules broke up with me.”

  “That must have hit you hard?”

  “It did, but I had sort of seen it coming.”

  “Do you want to tell me about the salmon—err—”

  “Association? What would you like to know?”

  “How did you first come across them?”

  “I was in town, buying some cream for my spots. They were handing out flyers on the high street, I got talking to them, and then I went along to one of their meetings at the old chapel.”

  “I tried to go to one of their meetings last night, but they wouldn’t let me in. Some rubbish about only recruiting men this year.”

  “That’s correct. I was really lucky to get in.”

  “I have to say, Gilbert, this salmon thing all sounds a bit crazy.”

  “It did to me until I got into it. Now, I’m a true convert, and I couldn’t be happier.”

  “You realise that the press are calling it a cult, I suppose?”

  “I’ve seen that, but it simply isn’t true. There’s no pressure to attend the meetings, and I can leave anytime I want.”

  “Eating all that salmon can’t be good for you, though?”

  “I disagree. I’ve never felt better.” He framed his face with his hands. “Or looked better.”

  “I have to admit, it does seem to have worked wonders with your complexion.”

  “It’s a pity I didn’t do it while I was still with Jules. She might not have dumped me.”

  We chatted for the best part of an hour, and even though I found the whole salmon thing distinctly weird, Gilbert did seem perfectly happy. He certainly didn’t come across as having been brainwashed.

  “Okay, well I’d better be making tracks. Thanks for talking to me, Gilbert.”

  “My pleasure. Say hello to Jules for me, would you?”

  “Of course.”

  He got up and walked me to the door, but as he did, he seemed to get his legs in a tangle, and almost fell over.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah. My legs must have gone to sleep with sitting down for so long.”

  Marcy was waiting for me in the lounge.

  “What do you think, Jill?”

  “I don’t know what to make of it. He looks great and he seems happy enough, but he did seem a little unsteady on his feet.”

  “That’s been getting worse. Come and look at this.” She led the way into the kitchen. “Look!”

  The cupboard was full of tins of salmon. I picked one up and read the label, but it gave little away. It simply read: Supplied by the Salmon Association.

  “Do you mind if I take this one?”

  “Not at all.”

  Chapter 10

  I went back to the office to drop off the tin of salmon, but then I realised what time it was.

  Muffin time!

  The tea room in Cuppy C was quite busy, but there wasn’t a queue at the counter, so Amber left Mindy in charge, and joined me at a table by the window.

  “Pearl tried to tell me you’re going to get yourself an office manager.” Amber laughed.

  “I am. In fact, I’ve already had a handful of applications.”

  “I thought she must be joking.”

  “Why would she have been joking?”

  “Let’s face it, Jill, you’re never going to let anyone manage you. You’re too much of a control freak.”

  “So everyone keeps telling me, but I’ll prove you all wrong. I’m looking forward to relinquishing control of the day-to-day mundane tasks, so that I can focus on the important things.”

  “Like eating blueberry muffins?”

  Before I could get in my rejoinder, there was some kind of commotion over at the opposite side of the room. A witch and a wizard had stood up from their table and were complaining loudly.

  “This is ridiculous!” the wizard shouted.

  “How is anyone supposed to eat in here?” The witch took her partner by the hand, and they both stormed out of the shop.

  “Oh no, not again.” Amber sighed. “This is getting beyond a joke.”

  I stood up, to try and see what the problem was, but I was none the wiser. “What’s going on, Amber?”

  “Look at the table where they were seated.”

  Only then, did I spot that it was slowly revolving.

  “Why is it doing that?”

  “I wish I knew. It’s happened three times already today.”

  “The same table?”

  “No, a different one each time.”

  “Hold on. The table legs are fastened to the floor, so how is it doing that?”

  “It’s not the whole table that’s revolving—only the table top. Look, it’s stopped again now.”

  She was right. The table where the witch and wizard had been seated had now come to rest.

  “It’s a good job it didn’t revolve any faster otherwise all the food and drink would have been thrown off.”

  “That isn’t much consolation. It’s still enough to drive people out of the shop.”

  “Have you or Pearl upset Grandma? This looks like the sort of thing she might do.”

  “I don’t think so. We’ve hardly seen her recently.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “There’s not much we can do. We’ll have to hope it stops as quickly as it started.”

  “I guess so. At least the creche is looking good.”

  “Amber said you liked it. Neither of us ever thought we’d see the day when you were impressed by something we did.”

  “Fair’s fair. I do think it’s a good idea. I can see young mums flocking here when it’s open.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right. It’s cost us an
arm and a leg.”

  ***

  Since Deli’s visit to my office, I’d tried messaging and calling Mad, but there had been zero response. Normally, she’d return my calls the same day, and often within the hour. Although I thought there was still a strong possibility that she had simply broken or lost her phone, I decided to pay her a visit—just to be on the safe side.

  I magicked myself down to London, or more precisely, to Deptford, where Mad’s flat was located. It was on the seventh floor of a relatively new apartment block, which was only a stone’s throw from the Docklands Light Railway or DLR, as it was more commonly known. I wasn’t sure if she’d be in at that time of day, or if I’d have to hang around until she got back from work.

  “Yes?” The young woman was obviously going for the pink rocker look.

  No, I don’t mean: punk rocker. She had spikey pink hair, and was wearing a ripped pink t-shirt, a pink tartan skirt and pink DMs.

  “Hi, I’m looking for Mad.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Jill Maxwell. A friend from Washbridge.”

  “Right. Mad’s mentioned you a few times.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “I’ve no idea. She didn’t come home from work one day last week, and I haven’t seen or heard from her since.”

  “Is that unusual?”

  “She sometimes stays out all night if she’s working or she hooks up with someone, but I’ve never known her do anything like this.”

  “Might she have gone on holiday without telling you?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so. Her suitcase is here, and she doesn’t appear to have taken any clothes.”

  “Did she say anything at all before she disappeared? Anything that might have given you cause to worry?”

  “No. In fact, we were supposed to go down to Southend the weekend after she disappeared, and she’d been really looking forward to it. Do you think she’s okay?”

  “I’m sure she is. Mad can look after herself.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. That’s why I didn’t call the police or anything. I figured she’d do her nut if I had. I’m Jinx, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jinx. If you do hear from Mad, tell her to get in touch with me, would you?”

  “Will do. Likewise if you hear from her.”

  “Of course.”

  I wasn’t going to panic yet. The one person who should know what was going on was Aubrey Chance, Mad’s boss, who was based in GT. I wasn’t sure he’d be able to see me without an appointment, but five minutes after I arrived at reception, I was shown through to his office.

  “Jill Gooder, to what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?”

  We did the awkward left-handed handshake thing.

  “It’s Maxwell now. Jill Maxwell. I got married recently. I’m hoping you might tell me how I can get hold of Mad—err—Madeline. Both her mother and I have been unable to contact her by phone. I’ve just come from the address she gave me in London; her flatmate has no idea where she is. Is she working undercover or something?”

  “She called in to say that she was feeling physically and mentally exhausted, and that she was going to take an extended break. She had lots of holiday owing to her, so I told her I thought it was a great idea. She has been putting in ridiculously long hours ever since she moved to London, so I figured the holiday would do her good.”

  “Are you sure it was Mad on the phone?”

  “I thought so at the time, but I guess it could have been someone imitating her.”

  “Haven’t you contacted her since then?”

  “No, but now I wish I had. I didn’t want to intrude on her holiday, and I especially didn’t want her to think I was pushing for her to come back to work.”

  “Can you tell me what she’s been working on lately?”

  “The best man to speak to about that would be Simon Lister. He’s Mad’s partner.”

  “I didn’t realise she had one. I thought she liked to work solo.”

  “She does, but it’s a new policy. It’s become too dangerous for our operatives to work alone, so they’ve all now been paired up with partners.”

  “Is Simon Lister based here or in the human world?”

  “He’s in our London office. I happen to know he’s on holiday too, but only until Monday. I could leave a message that you want to speak to him. Maybe you could get in touch with him next week?”

  “Thanks, I will. In the meantime, if you happen to hear from Mad, ask her to call me, would you?”

  “Of course.”

  I was now officially worried, but I had no intention of telling Deli any of this. It’s not as though anything I’d learned so far was likely to put her mind at ease. Better to wait until I’d had the chance to speak to Mad’s partner, to see if he could throw any light on where she might be.

  ***

  As I’d be working the nightshift at the plastics factory, I phoned Mrs V to let her know I was going to call it a day, so that I could go home and get some sleep. While I was on the phone to her, I asked if there were any messages.

  “Only a Mr Percival, wanting to know if you were Jill Maxwell, the ventriloquist.”

  This is what comes of marrying someone with a common name; I’d never had these problems when I was a Gooder.

  “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, but I’m not sure what time I’ll be in.”

  Before I could go into the house, someone called my name. It was the two clowns from across the road.

  “Hi, Breezy. Hi, Sneezy.”

  “It’s Jimmy and Kimmy when we’re not on duty,” Jimmy corrected me.

  “Of course, sorry.”

  “I hope we haven’t caught you at a bad time?”

  “Well, actually, I was just—”

  “Good, because we wanted to share our news.”

  “About the Clownathon?”

  “No, although that was a great success. The funds raised this year broke the previous record.”

  Thanks mainly to cackling Kathy and laughing Lizzie, no doubt. “That’s great.”

  “But that’s not what we came over here to tell you,” Kimmy said. “Are you ready? This is going to blow your hat off.” She laughed. “Just like Sneezy’s.”

  That woman had an unhealthy obsession with hat’s blowing off heads.

  “Shall I tell her?” Jimmy said.

  Hopefully, one of them would get around to it before my next birthday arrived.

  “Yes, go ahead.”

  “We’re going to open a clown school. We’ve been planning it for over a year, and now it’s going to become a reality. We’ve managed to secure the funding we need, so now it’s full steam ahead.”

  “Is there really a demand for clown-based education?”

  “Absolutely. You’d be amazed at how many people harbour a desire to become a clown.”

  I’m amazed anyone does. “That sounds great. Where will your school be based?”

  “That’s the last piece of the jigsaw. We’re still looking for suitable premises, but as soon as we have that sorted out, it will be all systems go.”

  “I’m really pleased for you both.”

  “When we open, we’ll be running special offers. You should consider giving it a try.”

  “I’m quite happy working as a private investigator, thanks.”

  “You wouldn’t need to be a full-time clown. A lot of people find that it helps them to wind down after a busy day at work. I was only saying to Kimmy yesterday that you always look very stressed. Totally understandable in your line of work. Think how good it would feel to come home after a hectic day, and be able to change into your clown persona. I can see you now, with your red nose and big shoes.”

  “I don’t think so. I prefer to wind down in front of the TV with a box of chocolates.”

  “When we have our premises sorted out, we’ll let you have one of our flyers, in case you change your mind.”

  “Okay.” No chance.

  I was surp
rised to find that the hot tub repair man’s van was still parked on Mr Ivers’ drive. Hopefully, that meant that the repair was proving too difficult. Before going inside, I went around the back of the house.

  “Hello, again.” The hairy, beardy wizard greeted me with a smile.

  “I told you it was beyond repair,” I said.

  “Not at all.” He pointed at it. “See, good as new.”

  Drat. “Oh yeah.”

  “You really did a number on it, didn’t you? I’ve seen a few thunderbolt-damaged hot tubs in my time, but this was the worst by far. Are you a level six?”

  “Four, actually.”

  “Wow. That’s pretty impressive for a level four. Have you ever thought of entering one of the tournaments?”

  “I’m taking part in the Elite Competition in three weeks, as it happens.”

  “I thought that was only for—wait a minute, I recognise you. You’re Jill Gooder, aren’t you? I’ve seen your photo in The Candle.”

  “I’m actually Jill Maxwell now. I recently got married.”

  “Congratulations. Why did you turn down level seven? I’ve always wondered.”

  “It’s a long story, and much too boring to talk about.”

  “Fair enough. Are you feeling confident about the Elite?”

  “I have to win it; I have no choice. If I don’t, my grandmother will kill me, and it will be a slow and painful death.”

  He grinned. “Best of luck, then.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And if your neighbour upsets you again, feel free to attack the hot tub. I can always do with the work.”

  The nightshift at the plastics factory started at eleven, so I’d need to leave the house at about ten-fifteen. With a bit of luck, I would get a few hours’ sleep before then.

  ***

  The dragon had hooked its claws into my clothes, and lifted me high into the air.

  “Let me go! Put me down!”

  It paid me no heed, and soared even higher. Below me, the hills and fields made way for a huge lake.

  “Don’t drop me here! Take me back to land.”

  Just then, it released its grip and I spiralled down towards the water. As I got closer, I took a deep breath. Hopefully, it would be enough to see me get back to the surface.