Witch Dust

by Marilyn Messik

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mark had shoved me away hard and still had a hand on my shoulder, holding me as far from him and the wheel as possible. “You nearly got us all killed, are you bloody crazy?”

  “A child, boy, he was there – right in front of us.” I pointed, my hand shaking alarmingly. I used my other hand to steady it at the wrist then whipped round to the others for confirmation, “You saw him too? You did, didn’t you?”

  Neither Devorah nor Mimi answered, they were looking at me, but they weren’t seeing or saying anything. Devorah still had her arm around Mimi and they were still seat-belted into place, but where their faces should have been were two pale ivory, rotting skulls. I screamed again – and honestly that wasn’t like me, Ophie usually did the screaming, I did the calming. But these were unusual times.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Events seemed to have slipped into slow motion, so I was hyper-aware of every detail; Mark’s baffled, furious face close to mine, mouthing words I couldn’t hear; the ghastliness in the back seat; my whiplashed neck which now felt barely able to hold my head. It seemed that screaming and keeping on screaming, might well be a reasonable option under the circumstances, but I could see it wouldn’t be helpful, so I was almost glad when he grabbed me with both hands on my shoulders, and shook me hard. My teeth clamped together and I didn’t move my tongue out of the way fast enough, so tasted blood.

  “Stop that.” He said, “Shut up, shut up!” he was trembling with shock or anger, probably both. He was as white as a sheet or indeed as white as what was in the back of the car.

  “Look.” I hissed urgently. “Look at them.” He turned and said something, then turned back to me frowning. “They’re OK, they were strapped in, they’re not hurt, but they bloody well could have been. What are you playing at?”

  “The boy,” I said, “We nearly hit him, you were heading straight for him, he wouldn’t have had a chance, I had to make you stop. We have to get out and make sure he’s all right.” He shook his head,

  “There wasn’t anyone there,” he said wearily, “You imagined it.” He didn’t add, ‘You daft cow.’ But I could clearly see him thinking it. He sat back in his seat, ran his hands through what he had left of his hair and loosened his tie. “I have to see if we can get ourselves out of this, otherwise we’ll have to call for help.” He re-started the engine then paused. “Look, you’d better get in the back and hold on to Mimi, this could be bumpy.”

  “In the back?” I licked dry lips, “No, I’ll stay here, or I’ll get out and push, that would help wouldn’t it?”

  “Yeah, sure, tell you what, why don’t we put a tow rope round you and you can just pull us out. Don’t be so damn stupid.” He snapped, “For Christ’s sake, can’t you just do what you’re told for once.” I got out, didn’t have any choice, opened the back door and climbed in on the other side of Mimi and – oh thank God – the two faces that turned to me were pale and shocked, but they were faces. I let go a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and Mimi reached for my hand.

  “Not your fault, dear.” She said. “Whatever you saw, you saw.” I gaped at her and shook my head, big mistake because my neck hurt so much. She glanced at Mark, but he was fully occupied trying to reverse along our tracks, and she continued more softly. “They’re doing this because they want to frighten you.”

  “Right. Job well done then,” I snorted. “I’m flipping terrified.”

  “They want you gone,” she continued. “You’ll be fine, so long as you’re not here, with us.”

  “Well they’re thinking along exactly the same lines as me then.” I said. And then I stopped. Her warm, thin hand was holding mine, surprisingly firmly. I looked at her and at Devorah. What is it they say – you can choose your friends, but you’re stuck with family? Well, this was my family, like it or not, crazy as they were, and whatever was happening, was hitting and hurting them as much as me. After all, we’d just ended up in a ditch and, as my no-longer so friendly legal friend had pointed out, could easily have been killed. I certainly did want out of there, but I don’t take kindly to bullying. I’d set myself a task to do and I intended to see it through and I’d make my own decisions as to when and how I left.

  I grasped the hand in mine harder, not sure whether for her comfort or mine and we all ignored the range of surprisingly colourful curses drifting back from the front seat. After a couple of false starts and with some stomach-churning rocking, dipping and sliding as the wheels caught then slipped, he managed to reverse us up the slope and through the great ragged hole torn in the hedge, although not without incurring some viciously deep-sounding scratches on previously immaculate paintwork.

  “The problem is, you see,” said Mimi breathlessly, hanging on grimly to Devorah’s arm with the hand not occupied by mine. “They think you’re something you’re not. They think you’ve been brought up in the traditions, they have no idea you’ve no idea! They think you’re a greater threat than you are and yet,” she paused thoughtfully, “They don’t know how great a threat you could be – and quite frankly my dear, neither do you.” I huffed in exasperation.

  “For crying out loud Mimi, do we really have time for riddles, I mean really? Can’t you say something that’s just a little more constructive?” My patience was running out, my neck-ache running riot. Mimi shut her eyes and Devorah and I exchanged looks. Had she dropped off? Had she passed out? Was this the concussion, or was she just thinking? We waited anxiously and after a minute she opened them again.

  “There is no time to teach you all you should have been brought up knowing, it’s far too late and there’s far too much, but it would seem you’re an Instinctive, Etty knew of course, soon as she saw you.”

  “An Instinctive?” Maybe this was the concussion talking after all. I glanced at Devorah again, she shrugged and started to say something, Mimi shushed her with a look at our thoroughly cheesed off driver, who was currently tramping round the outside, blowing exasperated breaths into the frigid air and picking bits of hedge out of windscreen wipers, back and front so he could see where he was going, not to mention where he’d been.

  “I don’t know how much more plainly I can put it?” Mimi’s voice was low but urgent. “For whatever reason, you’re one of those oddities who has the ability without the knowledge. You’re a risk, to yourself and others, you have to be careful.”

  “Look,” I said. “I’ve no idea…”

  “Rubbish.” She said sharply, “You have; you just won’t admit it because you’re pig-headed, like your Mother, she’s always shut her eyes to anything she didn’t want to see too. You dealt with those birds because you felt you had to, there was no-one else to do it. You may not know how you did, but you did.” I sighed and slipped my hand out of hers. I didn’t want to hear any more. In my mind, I’d ring-fenced the birds, I didn’t want to think about them. I’d scared them off, it was as simple as that, no mumbo-jumbo involved, goodness knows, a scarecrow could have done as good a job.

  “I’ve already told you.” I said, “I’ll do what I can to help sort things out with the hotel, and if I have to get some of you to contribute some crazy daisy stuff, well so be it. But I don’t choose to be any more involved than that. How hard is it to get you to understand?

  “Hmm.” Mimi suddenly had a touch of Etty’s iciness and for the first time I saw the likeness. “I’m afraid it’s you who doesn’t understand, dear girl. You talk about choice. What makes you think you have any?”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Nobody expects their trip to A&E to be a bundle of laughs, and having a near fatal incident on the way, hadn’t enhanced ours a whole lot. At the hospital entrance, I’d tried to insist to Mark Heywood that we’d be fine on our own and could easily get a taxi back, but he obviously felt having taken on a task, however onerous, it should be seen through to its conclusion. I wasn’t particularly appreciative, mutter
ing something along the lines of him not blaming me if we had to sit there all day. He ignored me, and in retrospect I hoped he hadn’t heard, because they weren’t very busy and Mimi was called in after only twenty minutes waiting. Devorah went in with her, leaving us to cool our heels in purse-lipped silence.

  Mimi was duly checked over thoroughly and other than the nasty head cut, to which they applied a special type of glue and a small dressing, they pronounced her in full working order. The nurse who came out with her, said we could take her home, but she had to take it easy for the next few days and we should keep an eye on her, she wasn’t a young woman and such nasty experiences, didn’t go into your boots!

  ***

  When we got back to Home Hill, things hadn’t stood still, in fact it was rather a dysfunctional hive of activity, with raised voices coming from any number of directions. It took me a while to establish what was going on and who was doing what to whom. My first stop was the kitchen where, as I opened the door I narrowly avoided being hit in the chest with a large onion, hurled at speed by an irate Gladys. I bent to retrieve it from the floor and Elizabeth nipped past me, with an armful of linen.

  “Off to turn out the rooms,” she said, “Not risking all sorts down here.”

  “Shallots, I told them, shallots.” Yelled Gladys, “What sort of effing greengrocer can’t tell a shallot from a pigging onion?”

  “Gordon Ramsay, unless I’m very much mistaken,” muttered Elizabeth, making an identification and a hasty exit, seconds in advance of another hurled onion. I sighed and put both onions on the table.

  “Everything OK Gladys?” I enquired cautiously. She glared at me,

  “That’s an effing stupid question, isn’t it?” She snarled. “Does it look as if everything’s OK? Well does it? Why don’t you get on out of here and leave me to get something done? You’ll be expecting dinner tonight and who d’you think is going to cook for the whole bloody lot of you? And how much help have I got? Sod all, that’s what.” I sighed and followed Elizabeth’s example, heading out of the kitchen to see if I could track down the next set of shouty people.

  These turned out to be Adam and Ophie who were going at it, hammer and tongs in the study we’d occupied before. I opened the door cautiously, wary of any other flying objects. They were facing off across the desk and exchanging recriminations briskly. My Father, it appeared had raised the issue of the bronze horse she’d hit him over the head with, whilst she was querying the state of his mental health when it came to believing that a girl, younger than his own daughter, was after his body and not his wallet.

  “Hey.” I said. Neither took any notice but I could clearly see, what my Father apparently couldn’t. Whilst he was fully involved in the argument, bellowing and doing a fair bit of desk thumping because he was on the defensive, her pain was palpable. She was putting on a show, giving as good as she got and normally she enjoyed a good row as much, if not more than he did, but this time her heart wasn’t in it – or maybe that was the problem, it was.

  She looked tired and her under-shadowed eyes – she must have forgotten the Touche Éclat – were bright with unshed tears. This was worrying, because tears were invariably the sure way to bring him to his knees and as far as Ophelia was concerned, a useful ploy was never to be sneezed at. But I realised, that was when she knew exactly where she was with him, when there was never any doubt as to the outcome of the argument, nor the passion of the resolution. I felt slightly sick, maybe this really was the end of the road, a new reality I might have to accept. I didn’t know what to say, so I backed out and shut the door quietly behind me.

  I assumed that where Adam was, Murray wouldn’t be far away and I found him and Sasha sitting opposite each other in the main living room, which for once had a reasonably cheerful fire going and lamps on, to combat the outside gloom. Murray, who’d had years of watching Adam and Ophelia knock chunks off each other, was taking the ructions next door in his stride, Sasha not so much. She was sobbing quietly to herself. I wasn’t sure whether this was guilt due to her own role, or concern that things might not be going the way she wanted. She obviously wasn’t getting any sympathy from Murray and when I came in, she leapt up and launched herself at me with such force, I staggered back and we both nearly lost our footing. I felt this was a bit rich, we’d never really been that friendly and I didn’t think it fell to me to be offering a listening ear and comforting arm to my Father’s extra-curricular activity. Perhaps she felt my recoil, because she didn’t stay attached for long, but flopped back down on to the sofa.

  “How long d’you think they’ll be in there?” She asked. Murray frowned at her,

  “That’s for them to know and us to find out, because it’s none of our damn business.” He said. She sniffed and started to say something, but I jerked my head towards the door,

  “Murray, a word? Sasha, would you excuse us one moment?” Murray followed me out into the reception area, from where we could clearly hear Gladys cursing comprehensively in the kitchen – Murray looked at me and I gave him a ‘don’t even ask’ look – and my parents yelling at each other from the small study. I had no idea where the tv people were right now. I could only devoutly hope it was somewhere well out of earshot.

  Finally facing Murray, with the chance to talk, I opened my mouth, only to find nothing much came out other than a cross between a sigh and a sob. Murray humphed and held out his arms. He didn’t do long cuddles, never had, wasn’t his style, but a brief hug was enough to inhale the familiar aroma of his favourite Famous Grouse, overlaid by the far stronger one of TCP antiseptic, with which he gargled religiously every morning.

  “So?” He said, dropping his arms and moving over to the two green chairs. Seated, I started to tell him what had gone on this morning, but he stopped me before I’d even got properly started, shaking his head decisively.

  “No, I don’t need to know the whole of it. I’ve seen enough to know whatever’s going on here makes no sense at all, and by my reckoning it’s not going to, whichever way up you put it. If you want my opinion, there’s no point in delving into things any deeper. In this world there’s more things we don’t know about than we do. And the deeper you dig, the less you might like what you dig up. We need to get you out of here and the quicker the better.

  “But…” and I nodded towards the door, behind which neither Ophelia or Adam had run out of steam. He shook his head again,

  “Look, don’t know what’s going to happen there, anybody’s guess. It’s not good, I’ll tell you that much, she’s…” And he jerked his head towards the living room where we’d left Sasha, “…proper got her claws into him,” He down-turned his mouth, “This is different from all those other times, when he was only too pleased to be hauled out of the mess he’d made. This time he thinks it’s ‘for real’. Point is, Sandy my girl, whatever’s going to happen between your Ma and Pa is going to happen. I know it’s tough, but it’s not as big a bloody risk to you as what’s going on here.” He shivered, a completely un-Murray like gesture, “Don’t know what it is about this place, but it’s giving me the willies, I’ve got a bad feeling about it and I don’t usually do feelings.” I nodded slowly, he was the most pragmatic person I knew.

  “But…” I started again. He interrupted sharply,

  “None of your ‘buts’. If you can’t see what’s under your nose, then you’re a fool, and I’ve never thought that about you.”

  “What if Ophelia won’t come with me?” I asked. He shrugged,

  “My guess is she will, whatever she says. You know she’ll opt for what’s going to be least trouble for her. Truth is, as much as you blame her for you not being able to get away, you and I both know it’s more likely your own pig-headedness, never could resist a challenge, could you? All your life, never met a muddle you didn’t think you could mend. And God knows,” he sighed, “This is one bugger of a muddle. But trust me, this isn’t the time for
proving how clever you are.”

  “He’s right.” The voice from the top of the stairs wasn’t raised, but it carried. We both looked up, I don’t know how long she’d been standing there listening, but as she moved down the stairs towards us, hitting each step with the bird-headed cane, I saw she was taking the measure of Murray, as he was of her. There was silence as they weighed each other up, then Etty nodded briefly at him and turned to me.

  “You,” she said, “Need for once, to listen to the voice of common sense.”

  “But…” I started again. She rapped the cane sharply on the parquet floor and gave me the green glare. I was getting a bit sick of not being allowed by anyone, to finish a sentence.

  “No.” She snapped. “No more buts, you mean well and you think you’re helping and maybe I thought you were too, at the beginning, but now it’s clear. Not only are you not helping, you’re placing yourself and all of us in the path of something that’s not going to stop, until it’s inflicted terrible damage. You’re exposing us, the family, to the sort of risk I’ve worked a lifetime to keep us away from.

  “What about the hotel?” I asked.

  “We managed before you got here, we’ll manage well enough after you’ve gone.”

  “I don’t understand what…” I said. She cut in again,

  “You don’t have to understand. But you do have to leave and while you’re at it, you need to get rid of those ridiculous documentary people, not to mention the lunatics in my library, looking for ghosts.” She turned on her heel and put her foot on the first stair. I hadn’t finished though, and to stop her moving away I put my hand over hers where it lay on the carved wooden post of the bannister. It wasn’t an affectionate gesture, far from it, more a custodial one born of frustration, but as our flesh touched, a jolt went through me, jerking my body from head to toe, it was like nothing I’d felt before and certainly nothing I ever wanted to feel again. I gasped and pulled my hand back as if I’d been burnt.