by HANNA, H. Y.
“Here, I’ll take it over,” said Pomona, whisking the mug out of her hand and sashaying over to David, who was sitting at the window seat again.
Caitlyn watched her cousin lean against the wall next to David and start chatting and flirting with him, while the poor man hung on to her every word like an eager puppy. When Pomona finally turned to leave, he looked like he desperately wanted to ask her to join him but didn’t have the courage. Instead, his eyes lingered wistfully over Pomona’s curvy form as she sauntered back to the counter.
Caitlyn gave her cousin a mock frown and said in an undertone, “Pomie…”
“What?” Pomona giggled. “He’s sweet. I like him.”
“Yeah, and he’s no match for you. So go easy on him, okay? I know what you can be like.”
Pomona opened her eyes wide. “Me? What do you mean?”
Caitlyn gave her a stern look. “Pomie, you know I love you, but you’re a heartbreaker. You love ’em and leave ’em. That might be okay for the guys you hang out with in Hollywood—they’re used to that game—but David Allan’s different. He’s a nice guy. It would be cruel.”
“Aww, I’m only having a bit of fun,” said Pomona, pouting playfully. “Besides, how do you know? I might fall in love with him.”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “Yeah? Since when? You have a taste for ‘bad boys’. You’re the one who’s always telling me that nice guys are boring."
“Well, a girl has the right to change her mind, doesn’t she?” said Pomona airily.
They were interrupted by new voices and Caitlyn looked up to see several tourists entering the shop.
“Hey—is this the place where we can get chocolate warts?” one of them asked eagerly.
“Er… chocolate warts?” said Caitlyn nervously.
“Yeah, it’s been going around Facebook. Sounded really cool. We just had to come and check it out.”
Caitlyn’s mind raced as she wondered how to answer him. How was she going to protect the Widow Mags now? Could she hide the truth about the old woman’s witch abilities? Then to her astonishment, Pomona suddenly stepped forwards, gave the tourists a beaming smile, and opened her arms in a welcoming gesture.
“Yes! Come in! Come in! The chocolate warts were yesterday’s special but we’ve got lots of cool new things in the store.” She gave Caitlyn a wink, then turned back to the tourists and continued blithely, “Come in and take a look! You never know—you might discover today’s magical chocolate experience!”
Caitlyn stared open-mouthed at her cousin as the tourists surged into the shop, chattering and pointing excitedly, grabbing things off the shelves, admiring the truffles and chocolate bonbons on display…
Pomona hurried behind the counter and grabbed a pair of tongs. “Okay, who would like to taste some delicious chocolates?” she said with a wink.
“Me!”
“Me!”
“Me too!”
“Me!”
For the rest of the afternoon, the two girls were rushed off their feet as more and more people arrived at the store. It seemed that somehow Angela’s attempts to besmirch the Widow Mags’s reputation had backfired on her. Instead, the “chocolate warts” had gone viral and become a social media sensation, and people were flocking to Tillyhenge to check out Bewitched by Chocolate.
“Jeez, you should tell the Widow Mags she needs to start making more chocolate body parts,” said Pomona as she fielded yet another enquiry about chocolate warts. “Who knew people were so into random organs made of milk chocolate?”
Caitlyn laughed and pushed her hair back from her forehead, leaving a smear of chocolate in its place. She was doling out mugs of hot chocolate from behind the counter like a pro now, her movements slick and precise.
“Oh my Goddess, what have you girls been doing?”
Caitlyn turned to see Bertha standing in the doorway behind the counter, looking surprised and delighted as she saw all the customers in the store. Evie hovered behind her mother. They had obviously come in through the back door of the cottage.
“I finished for the day and thought I’d come and check on the chocolate shop, since I knew Mother’s been stuck with the police all day,” explained Bertha.
Caitlyn realised suddenly that it was past five o’clock and most shops would be closing. Where had the day gone?
“I hope your mother won’t mind,” she said quickly. “I was showing my cousin, Pomona, around the store and some customers arrived so we thought it would be a shame to turn them away—”
“Mind? She’ll be bloody delighted!” said Bertha, beaming. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the shop this busy!”
“But it could be like this all the time!” said Pomona eagerly, coming to join them. “There’s so much potential here! Half the things aren’t even being displayed properly—and it’s, like, so dark and gloomy in the store. You need to brighten the place up and put some things in the windows and make some displays…”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Bertha, nodding emphatically. “I’ve been trying to tell my mother that until I’m blue in the face but will she listen to me?” She rolled her eyes. Then she smiled. “Maybe now that you girls have shown what can be achieved, she might be more willing to listen.”
“Oh, I’d love to give the shop a makeover!” said Pomona, her eyes sparkling. “I would repaint the walls and add some fake torches in gold sconces to the walls—you know, play up the whole Mayan-Aztec thing—and have some of those cacao pods painted in gold and stacked in the window, together with a display of truffles and chocolate bars and some chocolate sculptures… Man, the chocolates in here are so gorgeous, if people could just see them, I’m sure they’d come in!”
“Your ideas sound wonderful,” said Bertha. “I just hope you can convince my mother to let you do them.”
A familiar grumpy voice growled suddenly behind them: “Do what? What are you planning to do to my shop?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
They turned to see the Widow Mags standing in the doorway behind the counter. She too must have come in through the rear door of the cottage. And with her was James Fitzroy, who kept a solicitous hand under the old woman’s elbow as she leaned heavily on her stick and hobbled through the doorway to join them.
“I’m all right! Don’t fuss!” The Widow Mags shrugged him off irritably.
“Mother, we thought the police were holding you overnight!” said Bertha, hurrying over to her.
The old woman made a dismissive wave in James’s direction. “Lord Fitzroy spoke to that fool of an inspector—gave his word for me.”
Caitlyn glanced at James. The Widow Mags couldn’t have sounded more ungrateful, but James simply looked amused, obviously used to the old woman’s cantankerous manner.
“What are all these people doing here?” demanded the Widow Mags, gesturing to the customers in the shop as if they were intruders who had broken into her store.
“Those people are customers, Mother,” said Bertha in exasperation. “And Caitlyn and her cousin have worked a miracle! I’ve never seen the shop do such good business. They’ve got some wonderful ideas for making the shop look better—especially Pomona here.” She pushed the girl in front of her.
Pomona gulped. Now that she was suddenly face to face with a woman who looked exactly like a storybook witch, she was speechless.
“Are you saying my chocolate shop is ugly, girl?” asked the Widow Mags, glowering at Pomona.
“N-n-no, ma’am! N-no, I mean… It’s j-just that… Well…” Pomona hesitated, then she swallowed and raised her chin, looking the old woman straight in the eye. “A-actually, yes, I am.”
There was a stunned silence.
Then the Widow Mags gave a sudden cackling laugh. “So, you have spirit, eh, girl? I like that!”
Pomona stared at her, then gave a hesitant smile. Everyone relaxed.
“Tell me again what you want to do to my shop?” the Widow Mags said to Pomona.
“It’s called a makeover,” said
Pomona excitedly, and she began telling the Widow Mags all her ideas and plans. When she’d finished, the old woman was silent for a moment, then she gave a single nod.
“All right, do your ‘makeover’,” she growled. “But I warn you, if I don’t like it, I want everything put back the way it was—down to the last cobweb!”
“Yes, ma’am!” Pomona giggled and gave her a mock salute. Then she turned eagerly to Caitlyn and Evie. “Let’s start as soon as the shop closes. We can dust all the shelves and clean the…”
“Well, it looks like you ladies are going to be busy,” said James with a smile. “I’ll take my leave now. Goodnight.”
“Lord Fitzroy.”
He stopped and turned around. “Yes?”
The Widow Mags inclined her head—a slow, regal movement, as if she was a queen. “Thank you.”
“Not at all. It was my pleasure.”
He included them all again in his smile, then turned and strode out of the chocolate shop. Pomona sighed dreamily as he left.
“He’s so gorgeous, isn’t he?” said Evie. “If he wasn’t so much older than me, I’d be totally going after him.”
“I don’t think it would do much good anyway,” said Pomona with a grin. She elbowed Caitlyn. “I don’t think anyone will stand a chance while this one’s around."
“Shut up!” said Caitlyn, knowing she was blushing but unable to stop.
Evie turned wide eyes on her. “Ooh, really? You mean, Lord Fitzroy likes—”
“No, Pomona’s just making stuff up,” said Caitlyn quickly. The village gossips were bad enough already without adding more fuel to the fire. Hastily, she changed the subject. “Okay, Pomie, what did you say you wanted us to do first?”
As soon as the shop closed, Bertha and the Widow Mags retreated to the kitchen while the three girls rolled up their sleeves and got out the mops, dusters, and brooms. Silence fell in the shop as they got to work sweeping, dusting, scrubbing, and wiping.
Pomona looked up from where she was cleaning the glass counter, examined her nails, and grumbled, “Cleaning sure isn’t as fun as it looks in Disney cartoons. Look at my manicure! It’s ruined!” She sighed. “Why can’t we have, like, a bunch of forest animals or cute mice to magically clean the place for us?”
Evie put down the broom. “Hey, you know what? We can!”
“Huh?” Pomona looked at her.
“Well, not the forest animals bit—Unferal Spells are an advanced level and I haven’t done that. But I’ll bet I can enchant the brooms and mops and get them to do the work for us!”
“Really? That would be so cool!” said Pomona eagerly.
“Wait, wait,” said Caitlyn, thinking nervously of her monobrow experience in Herbal Enchantments. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, your spells don’t always… er… work out exactly the way you planned, Evie—”
“Oh, but this is easy,” said the girl carelessly. “I’ve seen Mum do it lots of times—when she thinks no one is looking. She uses magic to get the housework done. It’s so unfair! Parents are always like that—not letting you do stuff and then doing it themselves. I mean, I’m always telling her, the whole point of knowing witchcraft is to use—”
“Yes, but your mother’s… um… an experienced witch,” said Caitlyn, trying to be tactful.
“Oh, let the girl do some magic,” said Pomona irritably. “Anything’s better than having to scrub all this ourselves.”
Caitlyn watched with apprehension as Evie stepped into the centre of the room and cleared her throat importantly.
“Ahem!” she said. She waved her hands, like a conductor directing an orchestra, and chanted:
“Dust to dust;
On curtains and sashes;
Sweep it all clean;
Before my eyelashes!”
For a moment, nothing happened. Then Caitlyn saw the bristles of the broom quiver. The next moment, it sprang up like it had been electrocuted and began moving back and forth over the floor, sweeping manically. On the walls around them, the rags began busily shuffling across the shelves, wiping all the dust off, and behind them, the mop plunged into the bucket, did a little twirl, then hopped out and began dancing across the floor.
“Oh my Goddess, it worked!” whispered Evie, looking as shocked as the other two girls.
“This is soooo awesome!” cried Pomona, beaming.
Even Caitlyn had to admit that it was pretty cool watching all the cleaning equipment do the hard work for them. The three of them stood grinning and enjoying the show. Within twenty minutes, the shop was immaculate, the glass counter sparkling, the wooden floors scrubbed clean.
“Evie, you’re a genius,” said Pomona.
The teenage girl flushed with pleasure. She raised her arms again and chanted:
“Spick and span,
Now stop you can!”
The mop obediently flopped to the floor, the rags fell together into a heap, the scrubbing brushes lined up in an orderly row, and the feather duster floated to the counter. Only the broom kept on sweeping.
“Er… Evie? That one’s still going,” said Caitlyn, pointing at the broom.
Evie frowned, raised her arms, and repeated the spell. The broom just started sweeping even faster. Evie tried again. Now the broom was almost manic as it zoomed around the room.
“Okay, now this is scaring me,” said Pomona, watching wide-eyed. “Get it to stop.”
“I’m trying!” said Evie. She screwed up her eyes, mumbled something under her breath, then pointed at the broom and said, “So mote it be!”
The broom froze for a moment, then turned and rushed towards Pomona and began shoving itself against her.
“Hey!” cried Pomona. “It’s… it’s trying to sweep me!”
The broom shoved and pushed, hustling Pomona across the room until she was standing next to Evie, then it shot the other way and began pushing at Caitlyn. She winced as the prickly bristles scratched her bare legs. Reluctantly, she found herself being herded across the room towards the other two girls, like a wayward sheep being herded back to the flock. In fact, the broom was acting a bit like a crazy sheepdog, darting in circles around her, jabbing at her with its handle to hurry her along, then dashing over to weave around the other two girls, before returning to hustle her again. She half expected it to start barking.
“Evie, what have you done?” demanded Caitlyn.
“I don’t know!” wailed Evie as the broom nudged them all together, then swept happily around their ankles for good measure. She tried to make a run for the door but was herded unceremoniously back by the bristling broom.
“I don’t believe this. We’re being held hostage by a broom,” said Pomona.
Caitlyn didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’m going to call your mother—or your grandmother. They’ll be able to stop it,” she said to Evie, taking a deep breath to shout to the kitchen.
“No!” cried the girl. “Mum will tell me off for trying to use magic! Oh, it’s so unfair! I could have shown her that I can work spells—and now she’ll just think that I messed up again.”
“Well, you’d better come up with something quickly,” said Pomona, leaning away from the broom, which was trying to cuddle up against her. “Mr Broom here is getting way too friendly for me…”
“Wait, I have an idea,” said Caitlyn. She stretched towards the counter behind them and snagged a bag of chocolate buttons. Quickly, she opened it and shook the contents of the bag into her hand, then raised her arm and flung them as far away across the room as she could. The chocolate buttons hit the floor and scattered in several directions.
The broom froze, then turned and rushed across the room to start manically sweeping up all the chocolate buttons.
“Quick! Quick! Let’s get out of here!” cried Caitlyn, shoving the other two girls towards the rear of the cottage.
They stumbled and ran and burst through into the kitchen. The Widow Mags and Bertha looked up in surprise.
“Are you girls finished
already?” said Bertha with a smile. “That was quick.” Then her gaze sharpened and she looked at her daughter suspiciously. “You used magic, didn’t you?”
“Er… well…” Evie shifted uncomfortably, darting a look at the other girls.
Bertha walked past them and out to the front of the cottage. The three girls turned around and followed her back to the shop area, peering fearfully over her shoulder.
“My… I have to say, the place looks fabulous,” said Bertha, smiling with approval. Then she spotted the broom still sweeping in a frenzy. “Ah! You left one of them running…” She snapped her fingers and the broom quivered, then sank slowly to the ground.
The three girls breathed a huge sigh of relief. They grinned at each other behind Bertha’s back.
“It was all Evie’s doing,” said Pomona with a smile. “She’s got, like, serious witch powers, man!”
“Well done,” said Bertha, looking at her daughter proudly.
“Um… thanks. I… I had help,” mumbled Evie. “Caitlyn and Pomona were great as well.”
Bertha herded them back into the kitchen. “Well, you all deserve a treat. Come on, girls—it’s time for dinner. You must be starving!”
Caitlyn suddenly realised that she could smell the most mouth-watering aromas drifting from the kitchen. Obviously, Bertha and the Widow Mags had been busy in their own way while the girls cleaned.
They trooped into the warm, cosy kitchen and found the big wooden table in the centre laid with a smorgasbord of delicious home-cooked dishes: a plump brown chicken roasted to perfection with creamy dauphinoise potatoes and buttery parsnips, crispy pork belly with fennel, apple and minted baby peas, salty grilled sardines tart with fresh lemon and thyme, and a traditional cottage pie, the mashed potato coating fluffy on the inside and crispy golden on the outside—all accompanied by a refreshing salad of watercress, dandelion, goat’s cheese, and walnuts.