by Adele Abbott
Under the magnifying glass, I could see them in all their glory. They really were very pretty—the pattern on each one was unique.
“I didn’t win!”
Barry made me jump so much that I almost dropped the box.
“Never mind, boy. You can’t win them all.” I closed the box, and returned the magnifying glass to the drawer.
“But I wanted a year’s supply of Barkies.”
“I know you did. Look, why don’t I take you to the park?”
“Now? I love the park.”
“I know.”
“I love to go for a walk. Can we go now? Can we? Please!”
“Yes. Come on. Let’s go and see the ducks.”
Barry soon forgot about the competition once we arrived at the park because Dolly was there with Babs; the two dogs took it in turns to chase one another.
“Wears you out just looking at them, doesn’t it?” Dolly said.
“I don’t know where they get the energy from. How’s Dorothy doing? I take it she’s still living in Washbridge?”
“She is. She’s doing okay, but I know she misses Babs.”
“She must miss you, too?”
“I’d like to think so.” Dolly smiled. “She comes over every couple of weeks, and I go and visit her occasionally. What about you? How are you finding living out in the sticks?”
“I’d hardly call it ‘the sticks’. Smallwash is only a short drive from the city. We both like it, but I could do without the toll bridge. How is your painting coming along?”
I felt I should ask, just to be polite. I’d witnessed Dolly’s painting at first-hand. She was a dear, but an artist? Definitely not. All of her paintings looked like they’d been done by a five-year old. It wasn’t that they were abstract—they were just plain bad.
“It’s going really well, actually.” She smiled. “I’ve had a number of commissions recently.”
“That’s good.” Not so much for the subjects of the paintings, though.
“But the most exciting news is that I have an exhibition of my work tomorrow.”
“That really is exciting.” To say nothing of scary.
“It’s in your cousins’ coffee shop.”
“In Cuppy C?”
“That’s right. You must come.”
“Err—yeah. If I can make it.” I made a point of checking my watch. “Is that the time? I must be getting back. Barry! Barry! Come here!”
***
“Pearl, Amber, I need a quick word.”
The twins were moving the tables out of one section of the tea room.
“Sorry, Jill. We’ve got lots to do to prepare for tomorrow’s exhibition.” Pearl pointed to the assistant behind the counter. “Jasmine will serve you.”
“I’m not here for something to eat or drink.”
“That makes a change.” Amber laughed.
“I wanted a word about the exhibition.”
“There’s been a lot of interest.” Pearl stopped what she was doing. “You are coming, aren’t you?”
“I think you should cancel it.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Amber joined Pearl. “Why would we do that?”
“Who is the artist you’re going to be featuring?”
“Her name is Dolly.”
“That’s what I thought. Have you actually seen any of her work?”
“No, but we hear that she’s really good.”
“Who did you hear that from?”
They looked at one another.
Amber shrugged.
Pearl shook her head. “I don’t remember. Does it matter?”
“I’ve seen her work. In fact, she did a portrait of me, and one of Kathy, Peter and the kids. She’s terrible.”
“You say that,” Pearl said. “But what do you know about art? I mean, really?”
“I know when someone can’t paint for toffee.”
“People say that about some of the most famous artists. You obviously don’t have an eye for it, Jill. It’s not your fault. You’re more the practical sort.”
“It has nothing to do with having an eye for it. I love Dolly to bits, but you have to believe me when I tell you—the exhibition will be a disaster. You have to cancel it while you still have time.”
“We’re not going to cancel.” Amber scoffed at the idea. “We haven’t had as much interest in anything since the Adrenaline Boys performed here.”
“Don’t you remember what a disaster the Sweaty Boys turned out to be?”
“That was a bad fit.” Pearl conceded. “The exhibition is different. We’re targeting a more upmarket audience.”
“You mean like you did with the brochures that you had printed? Remind me again how that went?”
“They weren’t as successful as we’d hoped,” Amber said. “But this is different. This will get the more refined customers through the door.”
Oh, well. No one could say I didn’t try to warn them.
***
Timothy Troll had given me his address, and told me that he was usually home after his shift down the well finished at four pm. It was four-thirty so I was hoping to catch him.
All the houses on Troll Crescent had the same bizarre layout. Instead of having the door on the ground floor, it was in the roof. The only way to access it was via a steel staircase which ran up the side of the house.
“Hello?” He answered the door wearing PJs. “Oh, it’s you. The book hooligan.”
“I’ve apologised for that. Were you about to go to bed?”
“At this time of day? Of course not.”
“You’re wearing pyjamas.”
“They’re the most comfortable thing I own. I like to relax after I’ve finished work for the day.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly do you do down that well?”
“There are a million and one things to do, and it’s not made any easier when some people drop their rubbish down it.”
“I’ve got the starlight fairy wings you asked for.”
His face lit up. “Where are they?”
“First things, first. I’d like to see the book.”
“It might take me a few minutes to put my hand on it.”
“I can wait.”
He sighed. “Okay.”
I’d expected him to ask me inside, but instead, he closed the door in my face.
Ten minutes later, there was still no sign of him, and I was about to knock again when the door opened. “I’ve found it,” he said. “It was under the sledge.”
“Someone threw a sledge down your well?”
“I told you. It’s a very dangerous job.”
I held out my hand for the book.
“Not so fast. The fairy wings, first.”
I passed him the box. “Be careful. They’re fragile.”
“Please! I’m a collector. I think I know how to handle them.”
“Sorry.”
He took a jeweller’s eye-glass out of his pocket, had a quick peek inside the box, and then nodded his approval. “Excellent. Here’s your book. Please be more careful with it in future.”
***
Now that I had Magna Mondale’s book, I would be able to claim the journal that Imelda Barrowtop had left to me in her Will. I called her solicitor, but he was unable to see me for a couple of days. That journal had better contain something interesting, after all the trouble I’d had to go to in order to claim it.
There was another reason I’d wanted to get Magna’s book back. On her deathbed, Imelda Barrowtop had mistaken me for Magna Mondale, and had asked if I’d completed the ‘double dark’ spell. To placate her, I’d told her that I had, but I was now curious to find out what that spell was all about. Although I’d studied the book during the short period of time it had been in my possession, I didn’t recall seeing that particular spell. I wasn’t sure if I’d just missed it the first time around, or if it wasn’t actually in the book. Jack wouldn’t be back from his course until late, so I’d be able to study the book once I got back t
o the house.
I’d just arrived home when Megan and her boyfriend, Ryan, pulled up in his car. She looked so much better than she had the last two times I’d seen her. As soon as she spotted me, she grabbed Ryan’s hand, and led him over. I was pleased to see that she was wearing a scoop neck T-shirt, and that there were no more bruises on her neck.
“Jill!” She was back to her bubbly self. “This is Ryan.”
Ryan and I exchanged a conspiratorial smile.
“Nice to meet you, Ryan.” I shook his hand.
“I’m making dinner for him,” she said. “I’ve told him not to expect too much.”
“I’m sure it will be great. I’m eating alone tonight because Jack is away on a course.”
“You can join us if you like, Jill. Can’t she, Ryan?”
“Sure. The more the merrier.”
“That’s very kind of you both, but I have things I need to do. You two have a great evening.”
When I turned back to watch them go into her house, Ryan gave me a quick thumb’s up.
***
As soon as I’d grabbed a snack, I began to study Magna’s book. The spells, although very advanced, no longer left me in awe. I had Magna to thank for my initial advancement, but I now felt I’d taken my skills to an even higher level.
After an hour with no success, I was beginning to think there was no such thing as the ‘double dark’ spell. Imelda Barrowtop had been delirious when she’d asked me about it—maybe it had been a figment of her imagination? But then I spotted a spell at the very back of the book. I’d missed it the first time I’d looked through the book because there were several blank pages in front of it. The title of the spell simply read: DD.
That had to be it.
I spent the next twenty minutes studying it, but was no wiser when I’d finished. It was by far and away the most complicated and advanced spell I’d ever come across. I was usually able to analyse any spell in order to work out what it did, but I had no clue what this one was supposed to do. It was so frustrating. What good was finding the spell if I didn’t know what it did? My only option was to cast the spell, to see what happened, but that was fraught with danger. It could do absolutely anything.
I put the book to one side, and switched on the TV. Maybe that would take my mind off it.
Thirty minutes later, I switched it off again. It was no good—I couldn’t put the ‘double dark’ spell out of my mind. I was going to risk it—I was going to cast the spell. After a quick refresher, I focussed as hard as I could, and then went for it.
Nothing happened. At least nothing I could see, but I did feel an incredible energy flow through my body. It wasn’t painful, but it sure was weird. In the end, I came to the conclusion that the ‘double dark’ spell must have been a work-in-progress. It was beginning to look like I’d never know what Magna had intended the spell to do.
Jack would be home soon, so I took the book out to the car and put it in the boot.
“How was your course?” I asked when he arrived, just after eight o’ clock.
“On a scale of nought to boring, it was tedious beyond belief.”
“Can I expect you to be more assertive towards me now?”
“Would you like me to be?”
“I don’t know. It might be fun.”
“You’ll have to wait a while to find out. I need something to eat first. I’m starving.”
“You old romantic, you.”
“Did you have any problems with ‘The Worm’ last night?”
“None at all.”
“My talk with him obviously did the trick.”
“Obviously. In fact, we won’t be getting any more problems from next door from now on.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“The Worm has moved out.”
“How come? He’s only just moved in.”
“You must have scared him to death.”
“I guess so. I can be quite intimidating at times.”
I laughed.
“What’s so amusing?”
“The thought of you being intimidating.”
“Cheek.” He started for the stairs, but then remembered something. “Hey, have you heard about the concert?”
“You mean the ‘We’ concert? The one that I don’t have a ticket for? The one that you, Kathy and Peter are going to while I stay at home?”
“Now, I feel bad about it.”
“You mustn’t. That was never my intention.” Snigger.
“Maybe we’ll be able to pick one up for you from one of those websites where they resell tickets?”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll manage to amuse myself somehow.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Don’t worry about me sitting at home all alone. I’ll be perfectly fine.”
Chapter 20
It was the next morning, and Jack was just about to leave for work.
“I wonder who our new neighbour will be,” he said.
“Whoever it is, they can’t be any worse than Worm.”
“That’s true. By the way, I meant to mention, I saw Megan’s new boyfriend yesterday.”
“So did I. She was going to make him dinner, apparently.”
“Lucky guy.”
“Hey, I take my turn at making dinner.”
“You have a funny idea of how ‘turns’ work, Jill.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Take last week. I made dinner on Monday, Wednesday and Friday.”
“And I made it on Tuesday and Thursday.”
“Spot anything wrong there?”
“No.”
“Monday, Wednesday and Friday makes three days. Tuesday and Thursday makes two days.”
“Yeah, but what about the weekends?”
“We usually eat out at the weekend.”
“It evens itself out over a period of weeks.”
“It would do, except that at the beginning of every week you always say: It’s Monday – it’s your turn to make dinner.”
“I never say that.” I so did.
“So, you’ll make dinner next Monday, will you?”
“Sure. No big deal.”
“Okay. I’m off. See you tonight.”
That wasn’t good. Jack was catching on to all my cunning plans.
My phone rang, and it was just the person I wanted to hear from at that time of the morning. Not!
“Good morning, Grandma.”
“It certainly isn’t a good morning.”
Here we go. “What’s wrong?”
“You may well ask.”
I waited for an answer, but instead got radio silence. “Hello?”
“I’m too angry to speak.” She sounded it too.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have time to tell you right now because I have to recalibrate the Chameleon Wool. Pop around to Ever later this morning.”
“Okay, but it might help if I knew what—”
She’d hung up.
Well, that was something to look forward to.
***
I’d decided that my new keep-fit regime would start that day, so instead of going straight into the office, I went to I-Sweat. Now I had lifetime membership, I no longer had an excuse for not making regular visits to the gym.
The place was heaving. I’d assumed that early mornings would be a quiet time, but I’d got that wrong. I had to wait to get on a treadmill.
“Morning, Jill.” It was George—one of the owners. “I was beginning to wonder if we’d ever see you in here.”
“The free life membership helped to make my mind up. I didn’t think it would be this busy though.”
“A lot of people like to get in a session before work. It sets them up for the day. We stay open late two days each week: Monday and Friday. It’s a lot quieter then. Most people are too bushed after a day at work to think about going to the gym. Maybe one of those sessions would be better for you?”
“Are you trying to say that I don’t work
very hard?”
“No, that’s—err—not—”
“It’s okay. I’m only joking. I might check out those late night sessions.”
“You’re rather red in the face, Jill,” Jules greeted me.
“I’ve just been working out, next door.”
“You should take it easy.”
“If you say, ‘at your age’, you’ll be back at the black pudding factory.”
She grinned. “Annabel isn’t coming in today.”
“She’s not on the high seas again, is she?”
“No. I doubt she’ll do that again in a hurry. She rang in to say her sister was coming up.”
“Mrs G? Oh dear. That’s not good news.”
“Have you met her sister, then?”
“Oh yes. She’s a nightmare. She spends all of her time putting Mrs V down.”
“I’m surprised Annabel stands for that. She usually doesn’t take any—”
“I know, but Mrs G seems to be her Achilles heel. By the way, how is Gilbert doing in his new job?”
“He loves it, and the money is much better than he’s been used to. He must be feeling flush because he’s taken up a new hobby.” Jules pulled a face.
“I take it you don’t approve?”
“It’s just a bit weird. I’ve never heard of anyone collecting them before.”
“Collecting what?”
“Bottle tops.”
I laughed.
“See, I told you it was weird. Why can’t he collect coins or stamps like everyone else?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. There are more toppers than you might think.”
“How do you know the lingo?”
“I know far more about the mysterious world of bottle tops than I ever wanted to.”
Winky totally ignored me when I walked into the office. He was fiddling with something, and he seemed totally mesmerised by whatever it was.
“What are you up to, Winky?”
“Here, this is for you.” He handed me a paper swan.
“Origami?”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s very good.” To be fair, he’d made an excellent job of it. “I didn’t realise you were into origami.”
“You’re looking at an origami master.”