by Adele Abbott
Witch Is Why
The Music Stopped
Published by Implode Publishing Ltd
© Implode Publishing Ltd 2017
The right of Adele Abbott to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved, worldwide. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 1
“You’re going in early,” Jack said, through a mouthful of toast.
“I’m not going into work yet. I had a phone call from Kathy while you were in the shower. She has something she wants to show me. Something exciting, she said.”
“What is it?”
“No idea. She wouldn’t say. It must be something pretty spectacular for her to ask me to go over at this time of the morning, though. I’ll see you tonight.”
I have to admit that I was intrigued. I’d tried my best to prise the information out of Kathy, but she’d been determined to build the suspense.
“So, what’s so exciting that you dragged me around here at this time of the morning?” I demanded when she opened the door.
“Good morning to you too. Do you want a cup of tea?”
“I want to know what this top-secret surprise of yours is.”
“Are you sure you don’t want a drink? I bought a new packet of custard creams yesterday.”
“Go on then. I’ll have tea and biscuits, but then I want to know what you’re being so secretive about.”
I waited in the lounge while Kathy made us both a cup of tea.
“These are soft,” I complained. There was nothing worse than a limp custard cream.
“They shouldn’t be; I haven’t had them twenty-four hours. They were on offer from that new shop in the precinct: ‘Cheaptastic Bargains’.”
I grabbed the packet. “I’m not surprised they were on offer. The sell-by date is three months ago.” I took a swig of tea to wash down the offending biscuit. “So, come on, why did you get me over here? This had better be good.”
“It is.” Kathy’s face lit up. “You stay there, and I’ll go and get it.”
I still had no idea what she might be up to.
Then the noise began. It sounded like—no—it couldn’t be.
But it was.
Kathy pushed the vacuum cleaner into the room, and began to vacuum the floor.
“What do you think?” she shouted.
“Is that it?”
“What?” She couldn’t hear me over the noise of the vacuum.
“Is that your big surprise?” I shouted.
“What?”
“Turn it off.” I gestured to her to throw the switch.
The silence was golden.
“You got me over here, at this time of the morning, just because you’ve got a new vacuum cleaner?”
“It’s not just any old vacuum cleaner. It’s one of those new ones. All very high-tech.”
“I went without my breakfast to come over here, and for what? A soggy custard cream and a boring vacuum cleaner?”
“It isn’t boring. I’ll have you know this is the best thing since sliced bread.”
“Why do people say that?”
“Say what?”
“That something is the best thing since sliced bread?”
“It’s just a saying.”
“It’s a daft saying. Think about it. Sliced bread has been around for over a hundred years, and yet, according to you, that vacuum cleaner is the best thing to be invented since then. What about space travel? The internet? Medical advances? Custard creams?”
“Jill!”
“What?”
“You’re doing it again. Going off on one. It’s just a saying.” She pushed the vacuum cleaner closer to me. “What do you think of it? Honestly?”
“I think it’s fantastic, and I’m ecstatic that you dragged me over here to see it.”
“I knew you’d like it.”
Sometimes, I wondered if Kathy had missed out on the sarcasm gene.
“Where are Peter and the kids, anyway?”
“The kids stayed at Pete’s Mum’s last night. He’s gone to pick them up. They haven’t seen the new vacuum cleaner yet.”
“That will be a treat for them.”
“I know. To tell you the truth, I’m a bit worried about Lizzie.”
“Why?”
“She has to write an essay for school about her best friend, and she says she’s going to write about Caroline.”
“The little ghost girl?”
“Yeah. I’m worried about what her teacher will make of it, and the other kids will probably all make fun of her. I’ve tried to persuade her to write about one of her real friends, but she insists that none of them is her best friend—Caroline is.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. The teacher will understand that kids of Lizzie’s age have a fertile imagination.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“What about Mikey? Still banging the drums, I assume.”
“I think he’s starting to get tired of them.” Kathy didn’t try to hide her delight.
“I thought he was obsessed with them?”
“He was, but that’s how it seems to go. It’s all or nothing. He hasn’t been down to Tom Tom for over a week now. We’re keeping our fingers crossed that that particular phase has passed.”
“What about all the money you’ve spent on the kit?”
“I’ll gladly give that up if it means I don’t have to listen to that row ever again. And besides, we’ll probably be able to sell them.”
“What’s he doing instead?”
“You’ll never guess.”
“Football?”
“No. He asked Pete if he’d take him fishing. Pete was gobsmacked because Mikey has never shown any interest before. They went for the first time last weekend, and from all accounts, Mikey loved it.”
“How does Peter feel about that? I thought it was his way of getting away from you lot.”
“He seems okay with it. Pete reckons Mikey is a natural. They didn’t catch many fish though.”
“I thought Peter was meant to be some kind of expert fisherman.”
“Only in his own mind. Typical man—he blamed it on the new factory that’s opened at Wash Point.”
“I didn’t know they’d built one.”
“It all seems to have been kept very quiet. There isn’t even a name on the building. According to Pete, there’s a whole section of the river that you can no longer access because it goes through land fenced off by the factory. He’s not very impressed because that was his favourite spot.”
&nb
sp; “Poor old Peter. It’s good news about the drums, anyway. I suppose I’d better get going.”
“Hey, Jill, do you follow the Washbridge Bloggers?”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s a community website where people who live in Washbridge can host their blogs for free.”
“Not really my sort of thing. I bet it’s as dull as dishwater, isn’t it?”
“Usually, yes, but not recently.”
“Why? Has there been some salacious gossip?”
“No. Everyone is glued to the Wizard’s Wife’s blog.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. At all. “Wizard?”
“Yeah. The woman who writes the blog is obviously a sandwich short of a picnic. She reckons that her husband is a wizard, and that she only found out recently.”
“Who is she?”
“No one knows. She says she can’t reveal her identity because there are people who will take her husband away if it ever comes out that he’s told her he’s a wizard. What did she call them? Rogue Retainers, I think.”
“Retrievers.”
Oh bum! Me and my big mouth!
“I thought you said you hadn’t read her blog.”
“I—err—I haven’t.”
“How come you know what they’re called, then?”
“Now I come to think about it, Jules mentioned it to me the other day. The woman who writes this blog is obviously off her head, isn’t she?”
“Probably, but wouldn’t it be cool if it was true? Fancy being married to a real wizard. Don’t you think that would be exciting?”
“About as exciting as your new vacuum cleaner.” I started for the door. “I need to get going. The next time you drag me over here, I’ll expect non-soggy custard creams that are still within their sell-by date.”
***
On my way into the office, I was still thinking about what Kathy had said. There were probably a number of human women, living in Washbridge, who were married to wizards. Not many of them would have known their husband’s secret, but I knew one who did. Jen had been struggling to keep her secret ever since Blake had revealed to her that he was a wizard. When he’d decided to come clean, I’d thought that it was a mistake, and so it had turned out. Jen was hopeless at keeping it to herself, particularly after she’d had a drink or three. I had a horrible feeling that she might be the mysterious woman behind the blog that Kathy had been reading. If so, I needed to get Blake to shut it down before the thing went viral, otherwise we’d all be in trouble.
For a moment, when I stepped into the outer office, I thought I’d developed double vision. Instead of the one reception desk, there were now two—side by side. Jules was sitting at the one closest to the door. Mrs V was seated behind the second desk.
“This isn’t fair!” Jules complained, before I’d even had a chance to ask what was going on. “This is meant to be my day.”
“It is your day,” Mrs V said.
“Then why are you here, too?” Jules turned to me. “Tell her, Jill. Tell her it isn’t fair.”
“Hold on.” I held up my hand to stop any further bickering. “Why doesn’t someone tell me what’s going on? Maybe you should start by explaining why there are two desks in here.”
“You’d better ask her.” Jules pouted.
“It’s really very simple,” Mrs V said. “I’ve handed in my notice at Wheels On Meals.”
“Wheelie?”
“Jill!” Mrs V tutted. “Do you have to do that?”
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist it one last time. What happened? I thought you liked working there?”
“I did at first, but then I realised that some of the wheelies are only in it for the adrenaline buzz.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re far more interested in setting new speed records for delivering the meals than they are about the service they provide. They were being downright reckless. When I saw poor old Mr Earnshaw’s Yorkshire pudding fall off his plate, I’d had enough. I told the manager, but he did nothing about it, so I handed in my notice.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but it still doesn’t explain the additional desk.”
“I can’t stay at home, Jill. I simply can’t. I didn’t know what to do, but then I had a brainwave.”
“Huh!” Jules rolled her eyes.
Mrs V continued. “Everyone knows that two heads are better than one, so I thought what’s to stop you having two PAs?”
“We don’t need two,” Jules interrupted. “It’s not like we have many clients, is it?”
“Thanks for that, Jules,” I said. “I still don’t understand where the second desk came from.”
“That was courtesy of Armi.” Mrs V beamed. “He’s such a little darling. I told him what I was thinking of doing, and he said that there were plenty of desks going spare at Armitage, Armitage, Armitage and Poole. He got some of his people to bring it over here.”
“No one consulted me!” Jules was obviously more than a little put out about this new arrangement. “She’s undermining my position!”
Oh boy! Why was nothing ever simple?
“I need you two to call a truce. We’ll have to see how this thing works out. For now, whoever’s day it ‘should’ be, can sit at the desk closest to the outer door, and deal with any clients. Okay?”
“That’s fine by me.” Mrs V smiled.
“I suppose so.” Jules didn’t.
***
I hurried through to my office where I found Winky sitting on the floor, with his back to me. Before I could wish him good morning, he began to speak.
To the wall.
“Red? Me too. I hate the pink stuff. What about milk? Really? Me too. Full cream, every time.”
“Err—Winky?” I interrupted.
He turned around. “Morning. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Why were you talking to the wall?”
“To the—?” He grinned. “Of course. You can’t see Lenny, can you?”
“Who’s Lenny?”
“An old friend of mine—now sadly departed.”
“I don’t follow.”
“For someone who is so embroiled with the supernatural world, you’re pretty slow on the uptake, aren’t you? Lenny is a ghost.”
I looked over at the wall. “You’re saying there’s a ghost over there? I can’t sense it. I usually can.”
“That’s probably because you’re only tuned into human ghosts.”
“Oh? Lenny is a cat?”
“Of course he is.” Winky turned back to the wall. “Lenny, attach yourself to this two-legged, would you? What? No, it’s okay. She’s used to seeing ghosts.”
“Can you see me now?” the ghostly-looking tabby said.
“Yeah. Hi, Lenny.”
“Hi. I’m not used to speaking to two-leggeds. I used to live with humans, so I never got the chance to talk to them.”
“Have you been a ghost for long?”
“Only a week. I never saw that bus coming.”
“Ouch! Nasty! I’m sorry to hear that.”
“That’s okay. I can get around much easier now that I’m a ghost because I don’t have to worry about dogs. Only the ghost dogs, and there aren’t many of those around here. I thought I’d take the opportunity to catch up with my old mucker, Winky. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, pal?”
“Too long.” Winky turned to me. “Where are your manners? How about offering our guest some salmon?”
“I suppose you’ll be joining him?”
“Naturally. Red, not pink.”
“Obviously.”
Chapter 2
How?
That was the question I was asking myself. How did my life ever become so crazy? So far that morning: I’d had my sister drag me half way across town at the break of dawn, just to see a stupid vacuum cleaner, and I now had not one, but two PAs, sitting in my outer office. And just to top it off, there was a ghost cat eating salmon and drinking full cream milk in my office.
I needed to get out of there, to find a little oasis of sanity.
So why, oh why, did I choose to magic myself over to Cuppy C?
“You can serve her.” Amber turned her back on me. “I’m not speaking to her.”
“I’m not speaking to her either,” Pearl said.
“Come on, you two. I’m really sorry.” I hadn’t seen the twins since our weekend in London. In truth, I’d deliberately kept a low profile in the hope that things would blow over. Some chance! “How was I supposed to know that you two didn’t realise how slowly the London Eye turned?”
“You should have warned us before we had those bubble teas!” Amber turned to face me.
“And those giant cokes!” Pearl said.
“It never occurred to me.” I tried, but failed to stifle a laugh, as I remembered that day. The ride on the London Eye had been the last thing we did before we set off back home.
“I was bursting to go by the time we were half way around!” Amber said.
“I don’t know how I managed to hang on.” Pearl cringed at the memory.
“I’m really, really sorry,” I said, straight-faced. “But apart from the London Eye issue, the rest of the weekend was okay, wasn’t it?”
“Except the part when you left us behind on the tube.”
“That wasn’t intentional.”
The twins had been so overwhelmed by the London Underground that when the train arrived, they just stood back and watched. I’d assumed they had followed me onboard, and by the time I realised they were still standing on the platform, it was too late—the doors had closed and the train had started to move.
“We lost an hour because of that,” Pearl said.
“That’s only because you didn’t do what I told you to.”
“So, it was our fault, was it?” Pearl looked more than a little put out.
“When I rang you, I told you to stay put, and that I’d get on the next train back to you. But what did you do?”
“We thought you wanted us to come to you.”
The twins and I had spent the best part of an hour travelling back and forth between Covent Garden and Piccadilly Circus before we were eventually reunited.
“Okay, but apart from the London Eye issue, and the Tube, the rest of the weekend was okay, wasn’t it?”