Witch Dust

by Marilyn Messik

  “I don’t think so,” I said, I didn’t fancy submitting myself to what I couldn’t imagine would be Etty’s tender care. “It’ll be fine.”

  “Here,” Bella was holding out a couple of white pills and a glass of water.

  “And these are?” I was apprehensive. She laughed at my expression.

  “Nothing I’ve made, I promise, just paracetamol. Go on, get them down, they’ll help, and then we need to get you back to bed. And drink this too.” I raised another eyebrow at the glass with amber liquid, “For God’s sake girl, talk about paranoid, it’s whisky, good for shock.” I obediently drank, choked and got my breath back.

  “What…?” I started, my eyes still watering. Roland interrupted,

  “Sweetie, I don’t know quite what happened just now, neither of us do, but whatever it was, it wasn’t anything good. Lucky Mimi and Etty were there, but this is way beyond anything I’ve ever come across.” He glanced at Bella and she nodded her confirmation. “Point is, we’re not going to find out anything more tonight. We might as well all try and get a bit of sleep. Etty’s called this get-together, first thing – which I’m not looking forward to, don’t think it’ll be a load of laughs.”

  “But what if She… It comes back?”

  “It won’t,” he said with confidence. “Etty knows what she’s doing and she’ll have set something up, around the house.”

  “Set something up?” I asked, then held up my good hand briefly, “No, skip that, I don’t want to know.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  “Do you have any idea at all, what you’ve done, girl?” Etty hadn’t raised her voice above a normal speaking tone, but the words were razor edged and slashed the air.

  We‘d all turned up early in the library, but she was there first, sitting stiffly, her back not touching the carved wood of the chair she’d chosen. Black polished shoes below a grey flannel skirt, were clamped together as tightly as her lips and one hand rested atop another on the bird-headed stick. The fire was made up, although as yet unlit and the tall, maroon velvet draped windows weren’t letting in any more light than they had to.

  Devorah and Henry didn’t seem to have been included in this family confab, but Mimi was perched on the piano seat, looking as if she wasn’t quite sure what she was doing there, a complete contrast to last night. I wondered which was the real Mimi and which the act. Ophie and Bella sat at opposite ends of the small sofa to the right of the fireplace and Roland had drawn up another heavy chair alongside them, which left me only the chair nearest to Etty’s.

  I was bleary eyed and irate. I didn’t think I’d had a wink of sleep and my shoulder was throbbing painfully, setting up a counter-rhythm to the dull ache at the base of my neck. I suspected I’d wrenched something, recoiling from whatever it was that had gone for me. I both wanted and didn’t want to hear whatever Etty had to say. This whole set-up was giving me a familiar feeling of sickly unease in my stomach, recognisable from those times in the past when I’d tried to tackle my Mother about odd happenings. I didn’t like that feeling one little bit.

  I’d slept through the alarm and when I did open my eyes, there was no sign of Ophelia, she hadn’t bothered to wake me and I had to move quickly to get myself sorted for Etty’s 8.00 o’clock – I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of pitching up late. I paused to grab a swift coffee from the kitchen, where Gladys was bustling and muttering – I didn’t stop to find out who to – and on my way out, I bumped into Elizabeth who told me Jonathan Harper had checked out first thing, not even stopping for breakfast. I wasn’t sure whether this was a sign he couldn’t wait to start writing or couldn’t wait to start running.

  ***

  Last night Roland had walked me from Bella’s room to mine, opened the door and pushed me firmly inside.

  “Get some sleep.”

  “Ma’s not here.” I said, looking across the room to where the sheets were still flung back and Ink was perched at the foot of the bed, eyeing us suspiciously.

  “I’m here,” said Ophelia arriving behind us and making us both jump.

  “Christ’s sake Ophie, don’t do that.” Roland snapped.

  “What did he say, Jonathan Harper?” I asked. Ophelia, wrapped in a black with vivid fuchsia roses, silk dressing gown, at first glance, looked her usual glamorous self. She moved past Roland and into the room,

  “Not to worry, I’ve got him sorted.”

  “How?” I asked, with apprehension.

  “Well, he was convinced at first that you were trying to put one over on him – that dress and cap – a little obvious my darling.”

  “He was supposed to be asleep.” I pointed out resentfully.

  “Yes, well he wasn’t, was he? Anyway,” she went on, “As he said, no-one pulls the wool over his eyes and he jolly well knows the real thing when he sees it.” She paused and I saw she was, in reality, as disconcerted as the rest of us, just better at hiding it. “Luckily he didn’t see too much, I think at the height of things he backed right into his room, by the time he screwed his courage up enough to stick his head out again, he’d missed most of it. Didn’t even realise you were hurt, which is a good thing. I’d say you’ll certainly get all the publicity you wanted, my sweet, he was gagging to get going.”

  “Yes, but what exactly is he going to say?”

  “Probably more or less what you wanted him to in the first place. As far as he’s concerned, he saw poor old Polly, clear as day and he probably won’t want to mention he didn’t see her for longer because he was hiding in his room, not too macho for a hard-boiled journalist.”

  “Come on you,” said Roland, shoving me gently towards the bed again. “You’re dead on your feet, get some sleep, you too Ophie. No point in chewing over all this tonight. Bed. Now. ‘Night!” And he closed the door softly behind him.

  Ophelia dropped her dressing gown, climbed into bed and unbelievably, despite everything, within two or three minutes was sound asleep. I couldn’t settle. I still felt cold and shivery, and even lowered myself so far as to pick Ink up, on my way back from a trip to the bathroom. I thought at least she’d provide some warmth. Predictably contrary though, she wasn’t having any of it and promptly jumped off my bed and back on to Ophie’s. Honestly, in this life, you can rely on no-one can you?

  ***

  Etty now was glaring green daggers at me and I glared back.

  “Well?” She said.

  “Well what?” However angry she was, I could match her step for step, I hadn’t been dragged down here and into their mess, to be bullied.

  “I asked you a question,” she said. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” I stood abruptly, moving over to the fireplace, putting a distance between us.

  “I have no idea whatsoever, although I’ve no doubt you’re about to tell me. But before you do that, let’s get a bit of warmth in here, it’s like the Arctic.” I bent and put a match to the kindling under the logs. The first one didn’t take, nor the second; with the third I struck lucky and it caught. I straightened, taking my time because I knew it would annoy her.

  Roland appeared, this morning, to be back to his usual lazily amused, urbane self. Bella and my Mother were quieter than I’d have expected, but both had applied make up and therefore looked a lot better than last night. Mimi was humming softly under her breath as I returned to my seat.

  “May I be allowed to continue?” asked Etty, heavy on the sarcasm.

  “Please do.” I said politely.

  “Exactly how much has your Mother told you?” She asked. I laughed, I couldn’t help it. I glanced at Ophelia, who gazed disingenuously back.

  “You have to be kidding?” I said.

  “Do I look like a woman in the habit of ‘kidding’?” Etty bit off each word and spat it at me. Roland tutted reprovingly,

  “For Pete’s sake you two,
just cut the sparring can’t you? Gram get on with it and Sandra, stop with the stroppy.”

  “Well, pardon me,” I said, “But considering I only found out I had any flipping relatives, a couple of days ago, and that you lot make the Addams Family look average, I believe I’m handling everything quite well.”

  “She must have told you something about us?” Bella said reasonably.

  “Not so you’d notice.”

  “Didn’t you ever ask?” Queried Roland.

  “Well of course I did,” I snapped, “She had a whole detailed story about her background and supposed family, but it was so bloody harrowing, she could hardly bear to talk about it.”

  “She was always excellent at stories, top marks for her essays.” Mimi piped up with somewhat misplaced, not to mention mistimed, maternal pride. Everyone ignored her.

  “So, Ophelia, let me get this straight in my mind. The girl,” Etty inclined her head toward me, “Has no idea about anything, anything at all?” Ophelia was defiant,

  “She knows a bit. Enough.”

  “No I don’t.” I said.

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No.” I said, and then I stopped. Whose fault was that exactly? Disregarding Ophelia’s deceit about her family – although now I’d met them, I could see why she’d preferred to keep them under wraps – it was true, I’d never ever wanted to delve too deeply into the ‘funny stuff’. Always wanted to distance myself as far and fast as I could. I’d opted for ostrich but was now, belatedly perhaps, wondering whether hiding your head in the sand isn’t simply inviting a kick up the bottom.

  “Well?” Said Etty and if the room had warmed up a little with the fire, she hadn’t.

  “OK,” I said. “I suppose I have seen things. So yes, I probably do know a bit.” Ophelia abruptly rose from the sofa,

  “If you don’t mind, I’m really not feeling all that good. Think I’ll just pop back upstairs and lie down for a bit, until… ”

  “Sit down.” Said Etty.

  “But… ”

  “Ophelia,” Etty lifted the cane slightly and rapped it back sharply on the ground for emphasis. “All your life, you’ve turned tail and run from anything that didn’t suit you. She’s your responsibility as much as mine – more so. You chose to bring her here, and now, see what you’ve set in motion. You’ll stay and be a part of this until I say otherwise.” Ophelia sat. I’d never seen her headed off so neatly at the pass, nevertheless I didn’t think she should be spoken to in that way, not in front of everyone. I was starting to think Etty had as much of an overdeveloped sense of histrionics as her granddaughter. I was also starting to think that this whole thing was turning far too serious for its own good and my liking. There was a part of me convinced Etty might prove to be the craziest of the whole crazy lot, but there was another part, equally worried she might not.

  “Spit it out then.” I said, partly because I wanted this session over and also because I didn’t doubt that particular phrase would get right up her patrician nose.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  “So, you do know something of what your Mother can do?” Etty asked. I nodded slowly, “And you’ve seen things since you’ve been here?” I nodded again.

  “Filia matrem,” She said.

  “And that is?”

  “It’s what we do; the passing of knowledge from Mother to daughter.”

  “Isn’t that what everyone does?” I said dryly, “Isn’t that just called bringing up children?”

  “Don’t be more obtuse than you need. What we pass down, has evolved through centuries. Generations of women, using what they are and what they’ve been taught, refining, re-shaping and re-defining.”

  “Right, and… ?”

  “Such women, were known originally as the Illustratum. It means,” she said, “The Enlightened.”

  “Well that’s not what I’m feeling right now.” I said. She ignored me.

  “Over the years, we’ve been called many things: witches; magicians; sorcerers; seers and other names, far less flattering – because those who don’t have something, fear those who do…” I interrupted again,

  “Hang on one minute here – are we talking spells, incantations, that sort of thing?” I grinned broadly and bit back an additional barb on broomsticks, I didn’t figure Etty’s sense of humour was her strongest asset. Roland stretched impatiently in his chair,

  “Sandra, can’t you just shut up for one bloody minute and listen?” He said. Etty re-adjusted her hands carefully on the head of the stick before continuing evenly, as if neither of us had spoken.

  “People put labels on things they don’t understand, and therefore can’t comprehend.” She said. “Things that scare them. Ignorance calls it magic, but what I’m talking about is energy, resonance and focus; infinitely powerful when used correctly.”

  I humphed, I thought I did it quietly to myself but it came out louder than I intended. She carried on ignoring me.

  “You’re aware of what happens if you concentrate the sun’s rays through a magnifying glass, aren’t you? You’re utilising the sun’s energy and the focus of the glass to achieve a flame. Knowing where and how to harness all manner of things is instinctive, it’s a part of us – part of you too. You could choose to learn all your Mother has chosen not to teach you.”

  “Why?” I stamped my foot hard on the carpet, and then wished I hadn’t, too childish. “Why the hell would I want to? What on earth gives you the idea I want anything to do with any of this loony woo woo stuff?” She didn’t answer me directly, simply carried on reflectively.

  “Through the years, people like us have used what they have, sometimes to their own advantage, sometimes to the advantage of others, sometimes simply to take advantage. There have been doctors, scientists, midwives and healers as well as politicians, criminals, fraudsters – novelty theatre acts.” She curled a lip and glanced at Ophelia. “There have been those who want no part of their inheritance and turned their back and others who have made it their obsession; those who’ve used it powerfully, to advance themselves and those who have used their power to stay hidden. Today, there are far fewer unbroken family lines. Many families, like ours, have chosen to take a step back; mind our own business, keep a low profile. After all, history has taught us some terrible lessons, hasn’t it? Persecution, prosecution, torture, terrible deaths.” Her words, so incongruously dramatic in that setting, dropped like stones into the silence of the room. I looked round at the others. I suppose I hoped one of them would give me a bit of an eye roll, show me we were all humouring a loopy old lady, but nothing like that was forthcoming. I was on my own. Nevertheless, I hadn’t spent a lifetime defusing drama, for nothing,

  “Well, this is all extremely fascinating,” I said, “And thanks for the history lesson, much appreciated. But I’ve already made it plain, I’m not really interested in what you’re telling me. To be blunt, I don’t want to have anything to do with it, not interested, not bothered, not getting involved – not sure how I can make that any clearer.” She turned the flint, green gaze my way,

  “And last night?” She said.

  “Yes, well that was a bit of a surprise.” I admitted reluctantly,

  “Not a surprise, Serenissima, merely a direct result of you sticking your nose in where you shouldn’t have been sticking it.”

  “For goodness’ sake, I was trying,” I protested, “To improve the useless set-up you have here, and get some money coming in for you. She…” I turned an irate eye on Ophelia, who wouldn’t meet it, “Flatly refused to leave and come home until things were looking up a bit, I had to do something didn’t I?”

  “The Enlightened,” Etty, gazing ahead at the fireplace continued, seemingly at a complete tangent, “Was always a misnomer, some aren’t in the least little bit enlightened and there have always been factions, alliances, rivalries and jealousy.
As I said, we choose to keep a low profile. But now, you’ve brought us to the attention of those who think you’re here for a reason.” She paused, gesturing at the jug of water and some glasses on the table. Bella poured and handed her a drink. I found, in my frustration, I was gripping the carved wooden arms of my chair, far more firmly than was comfortable. I deliberately relaxed my hands as I spoke,

  “A reason?”

  “Look around, what do you see?” She asked. This was a tricky question, I wasn’t sure whether she wanted comment on the general air of disrepair, the dodgy décor or the assembled family members. Apparently, I didn’t answer swiftly enough and she sighed, actually it was more of a hiss.

  “Mimi is my daughter, Ophelia is Mimi’s daughter, you are Ophelia’s daughter. But that’s not all is it? Felicia is also my daughter and Bella has brought with her, her daughter and her daughter’s daughter. There are eight of us here. Have you any idea what that means?”

  “Surprise me.”

  “They think we’re gathering.” She said. I couldn’t help myself, I laughed, this was sounding more and more like the script – and a crappy one at that – from a low budget film.

  “Gathering?”

  “You find that amusing?” She said. “You think I have an overactive imagination? Come here.” I hesitated for only a second, before moving over to her. She reached up and with surprising strength, yanked down the arm of the loose t-shirt I was wearing. The cotton scraped painfully over my shoulder and I yelped. “Look.” She said. I twisted my head; the circular wound, each tooth mark clearly visible, was red raw and certainly more swollen than the night before. It had been throbbing uncomfortably in the background all morning but now, material-scraped, it was truly sore. “Looks infected to me.” She said. “Painful, right?” I pulled my t-shirt back carefully over my shoulder and glared at her,