Witch Dust

by Marilyn Messik

  “Adam.” Said Ophelia from the top of the stairs. “What an unpleasant surprise!”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  I don’t like to blow my own trumpet, but then again, if I don’t, who will? And I must say, considering the rather complicated set of circumstances, some of which were directly my doing, others which weren’t, I think I pulled myself together as well and as quickly as could have been expected.

  Ophelia, after commanding the stage briefly from the upstairs landing and freezing everyone in their tracks, had swung decisively on her heel and headed off to her room, slamming the door behind her in a way that seemed to shake the whole building. The reverberation had the effect of setting the temporarily immobilised masses back in motion.

  Karl, swift as you like, swooped the camera back down to focus on my Father. I could see Pa was more than a bit fraught, because he was forgetting to present his left side, which he always maintained was his best, to the lens. Director Max had begun striding back and forth busily in the background, muttering frenzied notes into his phone, while Charley, powder puff in one hand and Ffion in the other, was wide-eyed and hopping from left leg to right, with palpable excitement. I could quite see how this whole thing was turning out to be beyond her wildest expectations and, like her could see the Brownie points accumulating towards her future career. Sasha had now unhanded me and was clinging tightly, two handed, to my Father’s arm. I took a step back, right onto the feet of Jonathan Harper who was far closer than he should have been, and who was also making use of his phone, taking shots of Pa and Sasha over my shoulder. That wasn’t good.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the double swing doors from the kitchen corridor open and Gladys pop her head round. I had no idea what she wanted or indeed who she might be, but felt she was more than I could deal with right now. I shook my head fiercely, jerked it back in the direction of the kitchen and mouthed “Not now”. Thankfully she withdrew, as Elizabeth looked across at me with a silent query. The couple in front of her were gathering their cases and I mouthed ‘Library.’ She nodded and started ushering them briskly down the hall.

  I turned sharply, plucked the phone from the astonished grasp of J. Harper and whilst he was still protesting, moved forward and put my other hand firmly over Karl’s lens, which had turned in my direction and was now so close, it felt he was filming up my nose.

  “No.” I said, far more authoritatively than I felt. “I expressly do not give my permission for this to be filmed or shown. Nor,” I flung over my shoulder at Jonathan Harper, “Will I allow you to publish those pictures you’ve just taken. You’re taking advantage of a private and personal situation.”

  “Actually,” he pointed out. “That’s what I do – journalist, remember? Anyway you can’t just take my phone like that.”

  “I believe I just did, and unless you agree to co-operate,” I gave them all the hard-eyed stare I’d picked up from Etty, not only will you be allowed no further access, but we will be suing for, for… ,“ I paused at a temporary loss.

  “Invasion of privacy.” Suggested the solicitor, who I’d quite forgotten was still there.

  “Precisely,” I said. “As our lawyer has just stated. Now, I suggest,” I said to Charley and Max, “That we have a brief session, so we can definitively establish what I will and will not authorise for broadcast. I strode to the door of the main lounge and flung it open, casting an apprehensive glance at the window where thankfully, no more dead cats were hanging around. I chivvied the tv team briskly in, pointedly ignoring a fraught Ffion who was muttering she wouldn’t, couldn’t possibly go back in there. Hysteria, I’ve often found is best dealt with by being ignored.

  “I’ll join you shortly.” I said firmly, shutting the door on them. “And you,” I turned to Jonathan Harper, If I hand your phone back, I want to watch you delete those photos right now”

  “I’m sorry but I absolutely refuse to do that.” He said, tossing the hair back defiantly, then he noticeably flinched and clapped a hand to his jaw. “Ouch,” he said and then, “Owww!” He’d turned a bit pale. “Bloody, tooth abscess.” He muttered. “All sorted last week, but ow, it’s started right up again.” He really did look in pain and was hopping about a bit, the way you do when you want to take your mind off something giving you grief. “Give me that phone now.” He demanded. “I’ve got to call the dentist, I’ll have to have more antibiotics.”

  “Photos first.” I said. “Or you’re going nowhere.” He stared at me appalled, as did everyone else, indeed I was a little shocked at myself. But if those pictures got out, Ophie would be so beyond livid, there’d be no chance of peace being declared any time soon.

  “Sod it all.” He swore, rocking back and forward a bit more and clasping his jaw, which appeared to be getting redder and visibly more swollen by the minute. He grimaced, grabbed the phone and standing next to me, so I could see, deleted the photos. “See, all gone. Satisfied?” He said sourly. I nodded and smiled graciously.

  “Thank you so much. I appreciate that and I’m sure you understand. Family first.” He seemed to belatedly remember that there was still a great story to be had here, and nodded reluctantly.

  “OK,” he conceded, “You got me, for the moment, but I still get first dibs on the ghost, right? He started backing away, then stumbled over Mimi, nearly knocking her off her feet, she’d appeared right behind him, although he hadn’t noticed,

  “Oops, God, I’m so sorry.” He grabbed her arms to steady her,

  “Entirely my fault.” She straightened her cardigan which was, oddly enough, the right way round today. “You get along now young man, and I do hope that tooth gets sorted. So very painful these things aren’t they?” I looked at her suspiciously, she didn’t meet my eye.

  “Mark?” Next to me, the solicitor heaved a small sigh and looked up.

  “Mrs Goodkind.” He said. Etty was descending the stairs, one hand on the bannister, the other grasping the cane.

  “I was,” she said, “Expecting you a little earlier.”

  “Not his fault,” I interrupted, “He was actually here, bang on time but things got a bit… out of hand.” She sniffed, as if this was no less than she’d expect from me and turned a hooded, eagle eye on my Father from her superior position on the stairs.

  “You, I assume,” she said, “Must be the magician.” She imbued the word with a wonderful wealth of disdain. He stepped forward with an outstretched hand which she ignored, looking instead at me. “He can’t stay here, you know. We haven’t got rooms ready and Gladys is up to her eyes.”

  “No, no, of course, we wouldn’t dream of imposing, made our own arrangements, all very last minute you know.” Adam had switched on the charm which never failed to work, although it was obvious that here he was battling on stonier ground. “We’re at The Westerly Manor. Just down the road.” He couldn’t resist adding, “2 Star Michelin chef I believe.” I bit my tongue. Not, I thought, unless said Chef had returned the wife and the Dalmatian, still, that was of minor interest right now.

  “Mark,” said Etty, ignoring my Father. “We’ll go into the library.”

  “No.” I said.

  “No?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “There are people in there already.” I thought it best not to elaborate.

  “Very well,” she turned towards the living room.

  “Um, sorry people in there too.” I said. She glared at me. “Dining room?”

  “Cleaners.” I said.

  “In that case, perhaps we could find a small space for our meeting in one of the studies?” She looked at me and I nodded – I hadn’t even realised there were studies. Etty led the way to one of two closed doors further down the hallway which I hadn’t yet explored. The solicitor grabbed his case and followed smartly, throwing me a polite if distracted smile over his shoulder. I didn’t bother returning it. It also belatedly occurred to me
that I should really have introduced my Father to his Mother-in-law. I looked around for Mimi, but she’d gone again. Perhaps that was for the best.

  “Blimey,” said Murray, speaking up for the first time and rubbing his ear reflectively. “Weren’t kidding were you, when you said it was a bit of a madhouse?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  As always, Murray had summed up succinctly. In truth, by the time I’d hurriedly ushered the three of them out of the entrance hall and into the room next to the one Etty had just appropriated, I was rather losing the will to live. I was also aware the tv lot were waiting for me to draw the parameters I’d threatened, and was trying to mentally list exactly what those were.

  The room we’d entered, was one of the two at the end of the hall, next to the swing doors and kitchen corridor. Wallpapered in dark flock, it obviously hadn’t been used for some considerable time. The armchair my Father flopped into, released a cough-inducing cloud of dust and made Sasha and Murray a lot more cautious as they too, seated themselves on a nearby small sofa. I moved across to open a window to see if I could dissipate the smell of foxed paper from the piles of books stacked every which way on shelves, across the surface of a leather-topped desk and on assorted occasional tables. This was obviously also a dumping ground for items of furniture that didn’t have a home elsewhere, and the place where mismatched and damaged table lamps came to die.

  “Nice!” Commented my Father dryly, looking around.

  “Don’t give me nice.” I said crossly. “What are you doing here Pa? Why didn’t you at least let me know you were coming. And anyway how did you find out exactly where we were?”

  “Murray called your office, we thought Sally would know.” I glared at Murray and he ostentatiously looked the other way.

  “We’ve come.” Said Sasha, smiling brightly at my Father, “To make arrangemenths.”

  “Arrangements?” I said.

  “And to talk about the divorth.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a matter to be discussed privately between my parents?” I said coldly. I was on a short fuse, but also aware it wasn’t going to get anyone anywhere, if I lost my temper.

  “Sandy’s right, course she is.” Said Murray, getting to his feet again. “Said you should’ve phoned ahead Adam, didn’t I? Can’t just arrive out the bleedin’ blue. C’mon, drive you back to the hotel, then you can fix to meet up with Ophelia later, or tomorrow. On your own.” He added pointedly. My Father nodded slowly and stood too. I heaved a small sigh of relief that just for once, he was seeing sense and not seeing red. Sasha pouted prettily, but could see she was outnumbered. I sent Murray a grateful grin.

  “Right then,” I said, opening the door, “I’ll tell Ophelia, you’ll call her, shall I?” And I led the way back down the hall and out through the double front doors. The attack, when it came was swift, violent and shocking in its unexpectedness.

  ***

  They came from nowhere. One moment the circular gravel drive surrounding the miserable mermaid on the green was empty, except for Mimi who was trotting away from the house, muttering softly to herself. And then a solitary crow swooped down from a tree.

  Slick and oily black, the afternoon sun on its feathers made it look wet. It circled slowly, catching our attention and then its wings folded backwards and it dropped like a stone, straight towards the slight figure making slightly uneven progress away from us. We heard the sound its beak made as it cracked into her head. I was already running towards her, Murray cursing, close behind me, when the other birds came. First just one or two from the trees and then suddenly, the air was full of them.

  Mimi, astonishingly hadn’t gone down with the first blow, she was still standing, but if she was screaming, I couldn’t hear it over the grating caw and rattle of the birds. They’d completely surrounded her and impossible though it seemed, looked to be taking turns in drawing back in order to dive down again, rising higher and higher to increase the impact when they did.

  I knew I was running fast, but didn’t feel it was fast enough and then from somewhere at the side of us, I felt the rush of air as he passed. A huge, loping, silver gray shape, moving more swiftly than I ever could. He left the ground in a massive leap, soaring up and then down, knocking Mimi flat and standing over her, teeth bared, snapping, snarling using jaws and claws to lash out and tear viciously at the attackers. Yet still they came.

  Straddling Mimi, and I couldn’t even tell if she was conscious or not, Rostropovich was shaking his massive head back and forth, barking and growling, snapping and grabbing. But no sooner had he disposed of one bird than others were there, zooming in, razor-sharp beaks breaking through fur to skin. The silver of his back and sides was becoming increasingly bloody, his or theirs I couldn’t tell, but he couldn’t keep this up. Somebody had to do something. I looked around, but other than Murray, next to me and as horrified as I’d ever seen him, there was no-one else. Goodness only knows what I thought I could do and the last thing I needed was a lead role in a Hitchcock production, but I couldn’t just stand there. I strode into the fray.

  Woman and wolf were surrounded by a growing carpet of torn and bloody little corpses, but there seemed to be no decrease in the blackness swirling and darting above. As I moved forward, I’d automatically folded my arms over to protect my head, but oddly enough, the birds didn’t seem to go for me, so I stopped being terrified and started being angry instead. I rarely really lose my cool, but now I could feel rage bubbling and building inside me. The single-minded savagery of what was happening wasn’t any kind of natural event, and whilst I didn’t know what I was doing, I knew fire had to be fought with fire.

  I took my arms from my head, looked up into myriad black shiny, pitiless eyes and raised my right hand high, fingers spread wide and rigid as I’d seen Mimi and Etty do the other night. Of course, they’d known what they were doing, known what to say. I didn’t. So, standing alongside Rostropovich and the fallen Mimi, I simply let the fury I was feeling, soar and speak for me. And it did.

  The effect was amazingly immediate. The numerous birds lying on the ground around us were going nowhere, but the others, the flying mass, reacted instantly. They circled once, twice, three times more, packed so tight together I could clearly hear the dry, clicker-clatter of wing against wing. And then, as one, they wheeled away and disappeared up and away over the trees.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  For a few beats, there was complete silence, then Rostropovich raised his bloodied muzzle high and howled, a sound not of triumph but of grief I thought, and I was suddenly convinced that below him, lay a lifeless body.

  I put both my arms around his massive neck – no I probably wasn’t thinking straight – and tried to haul him off her. He resisted, I’m not sure he was convinced the danger was fully past and in fact neither was I, but I threw all my weight into pulling and he started to shift over reluctantly. Then suddenly there was help, another pair of arms, longer and stronger than mine.

  “I see it’s just another quiet day at the old homestead.” Roland muttered grimly. I didn’t answer, I think we were both scared stiff of what we were going to find. Together we managed to persuade the reluctant animal to one side to reveal the ridiculously small figure he’d been shielding. She was bleeding heavily from her head and for a few tense seconds didn’t move, but then she hauled in a gasping breath and stretched out an arm to touch the huge head which had lowered to lick the side of her face.

  “Goodness, but you weigh a ton.” She said to him and then, “Roland, you’re home early dear. Good day at the office?” Roland shook his head, let out the breath he’d been holding and briefly stroked the cheek that Rostropovich wasn’t licking,

  “Come on Ma, you daft old bat, let’s get you up and in, see what the damage is.”

  Murray had moved forward and between them, he and Roland were half carrying Mimi back to the house, although she was noisily
protesting that she was fine, really she was. Murray, still a whiter shade of pale, turned his head to look at me as I followed them and widened his eyes briefly in an expression asking far too many questions – most of which I didn’t have answers for. I shrugged helplessly and absentmindedly patted Rostropovich who was trotting along next to me, Murray’s eyed widened even further.

  My Father, Sasha still clinging tightly, had retired to the haven of the hall and seemed undecided as to whether it was safe enough to venture out again. However, not surprisingly, Charley and Max were hastening towards us in a state of high excitement, and flipping Karl was making with the camera again. We really would have to have that little chat about what could and couldn’t go into the documentary.

  “O.M.G! O.M.G! O.M.G!” Charley had her hand to her chest which she was patting wildly, to indicate the double-time her heart was doing. “That was incredible, incroyable! You were so, so brave.” I wasn’t sure whether she was talking to me or the wolf so didn’t say anything, just in case.

  “What was that?” Said Max, walking backwards as we advanced, so he could talk to us. I saw he had his phone, recording in his hand. “Never seen anything like it. Was she feeding them? Was that it, was that why they swooped like that?”

  “Seen seagulls do that.” Supplied the normally taciturn Karl, also skillfully walking backwards so he could continue filming and I swallowed an impulse to knock the camera right out of his hand and give him a good slap. “Mind you,” he added reflectively, “Not so many at the same time. Got some great shots of them going for her.” He said, turning with satisfaction to Max, who cast a cautious look at my glowering frown and shook his head slightly at Karl.