by Sam Short
Can’t wait to hear all about the haven.
See you soon,
Willow x
P.S. Remember it’s the pie eating competition tomorrow. I thought we could go in the boat as it’s taking place so close to the canal.
P.P.S Boris and Granny want to come with us on the boat. I said that would be lovely. (I didn’t mean it, but I wanted to be a little more like you, and show some manners.)
Chapter Nineteen
I’d got back to the boat late at night and spent an hour telling Susie and Willow all about my trip to the haven. Susie had seemed jealous that I had such a beautiful place to visit whenever I wanted to, and Willow was excited about gaining her own entry spell — promising herself, me, and Susie, that she was going to practice her magic every day in an attempt to gain her spell as soon as possible.
The next morning, Willow and I shared breakfast on the picnic bench next to the boat, tossing Mabel and Rosie scraps of bacon and sausage as they begged at our feet.
It was going to be a busy day. Barney was on his way to the boat to find out what Hilda had meant about Boris knowing something about the scarecrow man. Barney, Willow, and I were going to visit Boris ourselves to find out what he knew — Barney had been sensible enough not to tell his superiors that he was going to be interviewing a goat — he’d say the information had come from elsewhere if Boris did prove to be helpful.
With the pie eating contest in the afternoon, we had a full day lined up.
I hadn’t mentioned anything to Barney when I’d spoken to him on the phone about everything else Hilda had said. I wanted to ask him to his face if he was hiding anything from me. I knew our relationship was still young, but if there’d been a possibility that I was going to be moving away, I would have told Barney before taking the next step in our relationship. Maybe that was the traditionalist streak in me, but I thought I was well within my rights to question Barney on something he was evidently hiding from me. Something that might affect me as much as him.
Susie had told me and Willow that the police had questioned Sandra Timkins again, and she’d confirmed what Mrs Oliver had said — Gerald had had a disagreement with a man, but Sandra didn’t know who he was, or what the argument had been about — only that it concerned the new crow scaring devices Gerald had bought to take the place of his scarecrows. She’d considered it so minor an altercation that she’d forgotten about it until the police had jogged her memory.
Willow squirted ketchup onto the sausage sandwich she’d made. “I’d have thought you’d have been more excited about finding out you’re going to be a seer some day,” she said. “I know I would. Imagine the possibilities that could come from being able to see the future.”
I smiled. “If you’d seen Hilda, you’d understand. If all seers end up as batty as her I rather hope my gift doesn’t make itself known to me for a long time to come. Preferably never.”
“If she’s that batty, why do you think she’s right about Barney? Maybe she’s mixed up.”
I shook my head. “No. I believe her. I’m not saying she’s wrong about what she sees, just that she’s batty in the way she explains it to people. Imagine what Granny would be like if she could see the future and you’ll have some idea of what Hilda’s like.”
Willow bit into her sandwich and nodded towards the pathway which led from the hotel. “Barney’s here,” she said.
“Would you think it was rude if I took him aboard The Water Witch to speak to him about it?” I said.
“Of course not!” said Willow. She pointed at my plate. “Does that mean I can have your bacon?”
I stood up, laughing. “Help yourself,” I said. “I’m still full from all those cakes we ate last night.”
Willow, Susie, and I, had devoured the baked treats I’d taken back to the boat, but I’d had the presence of mind to save a few cakes for Barney. He could have them if it transpired he’d not been hiding something from me. Who was I kidding? He could have them even if he had — Aunt Eva’s baking was far too tasty to keep from anybody — even a boyfriend who’d been obtrusive with the truth.
Barney said hello to Willow as he followed me onto the boat. We entered using the bow decking doors and Barney ducked low as we stepped down into Willow’s bedroom.
Willow’s new bed was in place, and she’d begun painting the walls a calming duck egg blue. It was surprisingly upsetting to smell fresh paint as I entered the room in which the shop had once been — instead of smelling herbs and incense — but I reminded myself that not more than two hundred yards away was the shop which Willow and I owned. The grand opening was scheduled for the beginning of the forthcoming week, although grand was perhaps not a word we should have been using to describe a gathering of less people than could be counted on two hands.
Barney followed me through the boat to the living area, keeping his head low. “I thought we were going straight to your grandmother’s to speak to Boris,” he said as he took a seat at the dinette table. “It’s urgent we speak to him a soon as possible. We need to find out who the scarecrow man is.”
“Just how urgent, Barney?” I said, sitting down next to him and staring out of the window at Willow, who was overfeeding the two animals who had her wrapped around their figurative little fingers.
Barney put his hat on the table and placed his radio next to it. “There’s a murderer to be caught. I think that’s pretty urgent,” he said.
“I’ll get to the point,” I said, not wanting to waste time. Finding out who’d killed Gerald was more important than my feelings, but I needed some sort of answer before carrying on with the rest of the day. “I told you what Hilda said about Boris, but that wasn’t all she said. She also told me something about you.”
I studied his face for clues, but his expression was as friendly and open as ever. I resisted the urge to wipe the dried toothpaste from his chin and waited for him to answer.
“What about me?” he said. “Something good I hope.”
“Barney, are you hiding something from me? Something about you really needing to solve this crime — like, if you don’t solve it, you’ll have to go and live in Wales. That sort of thing.”
Barney’s eyes narrowed. “Wow. Hilda knew about that? She really is talented.”
“So?” I said. “It’s true? Don’t you think you should have told me before I let you kiss me in the restaurant? I wouldn’t have been so keen to start a relationship with you if I knew you might be moving away from here. I’m not sold on the whole idea of long distance relationships.”
“I didn’t know then,” said Barney. “I only found out yesterday morning. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you worrying about me, and anyway, Hilda’s not entirely correct — I won’t be going to live in Wales whatever happens. It was just an option, and it’s not just me who’s being pressured to solve the crime — it’s all of the Wickford police.”
“Tell me,” I said. “I don’t understand.”
Barney sighed. “Wickford’s a small town. It hardly needs a police station of its own — a larger one in Covenhill could cover most of the county, and that’s what the moneymen want, but they need us to mess up before they can get their way. They want us to fail at solving Gerald Timkins’s murder so they can make us admit failure and accept outside help.”
“They want to prove the Wickford police are not fit for purpose?” I said.
“Something like that,” said Barney. “They want everything centralised these days, but they need a good reason to implement their plans. A failed murder investigation is the perfect excuse.”
“But where does Wales fit into this? Why would you need to move away?”
“If they close down the station in Wickford, those of us who still have years left to serve could either resign from the police or agree to being posted elsewhere. They can’t just sack us.”
I understood. “So they’ll tell you to either accept a position in Wales or resign?”
Barney nodded. “Yup,” he said, “but I
won’t move away whatever the outcome. I love my job, but I’m loving getting to know you even more, and your family — mad as they might be. I couldn’t imagine having to go and live hundreds of miles away from you.”
“You’d leave your job for me?” I said, taking his hand in mine. “That’s a lovely thing to say, but I’d never want you to do that. You enjoy being a policeman too much. I couldn’t live with the knowledge that you gave it up for me.”
Barney put his hat on and grabbed his radio. “So what are we waiting for? I’ve got a crime to solve. I need to show that the Wickford police are worth keeping — come on, I’ve got a goat to interview, and I need your help.”
I followed Barney through the boat and climbed ashore with him. Willow joined us as we headed up the footpath to the hotel where Barney had parked the car, and Rosie and Mabel wandered off to bully a family of brave swans who’d made the mistake of considering the patch of grass next to the boat as being a good place to relax.
We could still hear Mabel barking as we got into the police car, and a scrap of paper on the dashboard reminded me of the note Willow had left for me at Mum’s cottage. The note had said that the forensics department had discovered something on Gerald Timkins’s shotgun, but with all the excited questions coming from my sister and Susie about my trip to the haven, it had slipped my mind the night before.
“They found a microscopic piece of dried paint,” explained Barney when I asked. He took a right onto Church street, and an immediate left into the lane which would take us to Ashwood cottage. “Green paint, on the trigger guard, but it’s so small it will take them some time to work out exactly what paint it is. Mrs Timkins said Gerald was always painting too, and his tractor’s green — so there’s a good chance it came off that. It’s something and nothing, but it needs to be investigated.”
Barney took the right turn onto Granny’s property and parked next to the lean-to. He looked at the cottage and gave a little shudder as he laughed.
“What’s so funny?” said Willow.
Barney looked up at the guest bedroom window. “I’m remembering the last time I was here, thanks to the memories Penny gave back to me. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that there’s a man’s body in the bedroom who’s mind is in a goat. It’s like a dream, and to think that for all the years I’ve known your family… you’ve been witches. It’s hard to get my head around.”
I’d tried to put myself in Barney’s position. I thought I could empathise with him, but I’d never truly know what it would feel like to discover that magic and witches existed after spending my whole life thinking they were mere fantasy. Magic had always been a part of my life. My earliest memory was of Mum opening a portal in the kitchen doorway, and some of my best memories involved magic of some kind. Barney was doing really well to take it all in his stride so easily.
“Come on,” I said, opening the car door. “This time it’ll be easier. There’s no secrets anymore.”
“Where are they?” said Willow. “We told Granny we were coming, but the Range Rover’s not here.”
The roar of an engine from the woodland behind the cottage gave us a clue, and I took my phone from my pocket. Granny answered on the third ring, and after boasting she was speaking to me using the cars bluetooth technology, as if it were more special than magic, she told me where she was and that she’d be back at the cottage promptly.
“They’re off-roading,” I explained, slipping the phone into my pocket. “I could hear Boris screaming, so I don’t think Granny’s very good at it.”
“Or too good,” suggested Willow.
The sound of the engine grew louder until the Range Rover appeared at the end of one of the narrow trails which led into the woodland that spread for miles behind Granny’s cottage. It’s black paintwork was splattered with mud, although the private registration plate was still visible. It read B1TC HY, and never had a registration plate been more fitting for the person who drove the vehicle.
Barney and Willow jumped backwards as Granny skidded to a halt in front of us, and I held a hand up to protect my face from the gravel which the tyres spat at us.
Granny gave us a wave before climbing from the vehicle and rushing around to the front passenger door. “Quick! Help me get him out. The carpet in this car cost more than all the carpets in my cottage put together, and I do not want sick on it!”
Boris had obviously been using the door for support, and he thudded to the gravel as Granny opened it and he fell out of the vehicle.
“It’s all okay,” said Granny. “He wasn’t sick. Well done, Boris.”
Boris groaned and got to his feet, he took a step forward and Barney caught him before he slipped and fell again. “Careful, Boris,” he said. “Get your balance before you try again.”
“I begged you to slow down, Gladys,” murmured Boris, his eyes closed as he wobbled on his four legs. “I begged you.”
Granny slammed the door shut and took the large sunglasses from her face and replaced them with her regular purple spectacles which she took from a pocket.
“What are you wearing, Granny?” said Willow. “I think I preferred it when you wore an apron everywhere you went.”
“I told you before, sweetheart,” said Granny, sauntering past Boris, who dribbled from his mouth and took a deep breath. “I’m in a different class now. I need to look the part.”
“You look like a posh farmer,” said Willow.
Granny’s waxed jacket and expensive wellington boots over tweed trousers certainly gave the impression that she was a wealthy landowner, but the insistence in keeping her blue perm kept the top fifth of her body firmly grounded in the working class.
“Thank you, darling,” said Granny. “I appreciate the compliment.”
“Don’t worry, Gladys,” said Boris, regaining his balance. “I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me. I’ll just stand here with my stomach in knots as a result of your atrocious driving.”
“Quiet! Know your place!” snapped Granny. “Don’t you dare speak to me in such tones! Take the Range Rover away and clean it. I want to be able to see my face in it when you’ve finished, and when you’ve done that, you can water the horses and bring me my drink — a Gibson cocktail, and don’t you dare forget the onion this time or I’ll have your job, and then who’ll put food in the bellies of that fat family you insist on keeping? I’ll make sure you never work for the landed gentry again! You’ll be down the mines before you can say ‘please, Lady Weaver, I won’t do it again — I suggest you think on that.”
“Not in front of them, Gladys,” said Boris. “I told you I’d play along, but only in private.”
“Ooh. I got carried away. Sorry, Boris,” said Granny. She looked at our puzzled faces. “Boris and I like to play aristocrat and commoner,” she explained. “It’s just a little fun. We enjoy role playing.”
“Is that how you think the aristocracy speaks to their employees?” said Willow, following Granny into the cottage.
“I certainly hope they do,” said Granny. “Otherwise what’s the point of privilege? Anyway, enough of that depressing talk— you came here to speak to Jeeves, erm — I mean, Boris, didn’t you? Come on in, I’ll put the kettle on.”
Chapter Twenty
With her waxed jacket and wellington boots removed, Granny looked half normal again, and when she slipped her apron on as she served us tea, she was completely herself once more.
“How can I help?” said Boris, fully recovered from his car sickness, and with the remains of a saucerful of brandy around his lips. “Gladys says I was mentioned during your trip to the haven, Penelope?”
“A seer told me you may be able to help us find the man the police want to speak to about Gerald Timkins’s murder,” I said.
Granny sat in her favourite seat near the unlit fire, and Boris stood next to her. The paintings of family ancestors looked down at us from their places on the walls, and Barney seemed to wilt under their oil painted gazes. I didn’t blame him — some of my ances
tors looked like the type of people you wouldn’t like to meet in a well lit high street, let alone a dark alley.
Boris looked at me with interest. “Me? I may have information which will help apprehend a murderer?”
“Murder suspect,” said Barney. “At this stage he’s just a suspect, but I’d be extremely grateful for any help you could offer.”
Granny put a hand on Boris. “Hold it right there, Boris. Don’t say anything that will implicate you. I know how the police work.” She looked at Barney. “What do you want to know, fed? Are you trying to butter Boris up with your good cop act? It won’t work in this cottage. I’ve been around the block too many times to be taken in by good looks and a truncheon.”
“Granny,” said Willow. “This is Barney you’re talking to. Penelope’s boyfriend and friend of the family. Show him some respect!”
“Right now, I’m talking to the badge,” said Granny. “I only see a uniform, not the man beneath, and the uniform screams violent fed.”
Barney smiled. “This… fed, let you and your goat get away with the very serious crime of arson, Mrs Weaver. Remember?”
Granny smiled. “Call me Gladys, Barney, please. None of this Mrs Weaver — we’re practically family now, we can afford to be a little courteous to each other. More tea?”
Barney shook his head. “No thanks, Gladys. This is urgent, I need to find out what Boris knows.”
Boris gazed up at Granny. “Gladys. Could this be why fate brought me to you? Did fate want me here to right a wrong? Was I sent here to help solve the riddle of the four-and-twenty blackbirds murder?”
“The what?” said Barney.
“It’s a tongue-in-cheek name I came up with for the murder,” said Boris. “You know — from the nursery rhyme? I thought it was very fitting as your first suspect eats pies, and we found Gerald’s body beneath a flock of crows — or birds which are black, if you’ll allow me the artistic licence.”