by Helen Slavin
“It doesn’t matter whether we’re the Gamekeepers or Grandma, she’s got no choice so she went for it.” Anna sealed it.
“What about the car accident? Do you think she did it deliberately?” Emz asked.
Charlie shrugged. “Doubt it. That might be the reason she had a go at Kitty. Trying to claw back some of her own old magic, leftovers from last time.”
The word “leftovers” made them all shudder.
“Why pick on Aurora at random?” Emz asked.
Anna nodded. “That’s exactly it, though. Charlie’s right. I think the accident was an accident, and it just revealed Aurora to her.”
The Way sisters buzzed with thoughts and decisions.
“Nuala Whitemain is trouble,” Charlie concluded. “We need to get down to Red Hat Lane and that cottage. Like Emz said, stand our ground, make our presence felt.” She was rising from her chair, already shrugging into her jacket.
Emz stepped to the door and hesitated. “What about the bridge?” she asked. “What does that mean, do you think? Only because it sounds like…” She couldn’t continue.
Anna stilled.
Charlie was full of bustle. “There were other nights when the bridge was struck by lightning. Not just that night.” Charlie was stern.
They could not look at each other.
“We don’t know what it means.” Charlie zipped her jacket with sudden ferocity. “But what we do know is that Nuala Whitemain is dangerous, and we have to do everything we can to stop her.”
33
Red Wrangle Cottage
Despite the lateness of the hour, the cottage at Red Hat Lane was empty. At the hedge, the Ways felt the thin edge of magic, as old as the Wood but damaged, as burnt out as a storm-struck tree. It dragged at their spirits.
“Are we all feeling this?” Anna asked as she glanced at her sisters.
Charlie wiped a surreptitious tear and nodded.
“Look at the hedge.” Emz reached out. What had been a high, verdant green wall of leaves was a half-dead edifice of dried brown leaves and bare branches. The gate was swollen. Charlie pushed it hard, and the top corner of it fell away in dark, rotted dust.
The grounds were overgrown, except for a small thin path, not unlike the snickelways that foxes made. The Ways followed it. It was already obvious that no one was here.
The cottage itself, oak beamed and ancient, was weary. The thatch was an ecosystem in itself. Charlie pushed open the heavy door. It was cold and dark within. The thin whine of the end of the magic continued as they looked around. The food left on the table was scraps, mouldering supermarket bread spread with a greasy margarine.
“She’s not here,” Charlie said.
“Obviously,” Emz said.
Charlie took offence. “She might have been upstairs.”
Anna sighed. “If she was here, the magic would be here, too.” She looked around, anxious.
“We wouldn’t have got in.” Emz was certain.
Charlie glanced around at the place and shuddered. “Enough. Let’s get out.” Charlie hustled them, and the three sisters made their way back into the garden. As they stepped out, a bramble snaggled at Emz’s trousers.
“I’ve had an idea…” She looked up. It was clear from their expressions that the same thought had struck her sisters. Anna nodded and reached for a broken branch of the gnarled apple tree beside them.
“We need to Trip Trap.” Emz took a step towards a swathe of ivy, the stems strong and whippy. Charlie took out her knife and headed to a patch of brambles snarled into the boundary. The Witch Ways completed their Gamekeeping task in silence, each focused on the branches and staves. What didn’t trap you, tripped you. They made the front door into a nest of brambles and ivy. Nuala would not be able to return, would read their message clearly: she was not welcome.
For extra security, Anna had found three staves from the elder tree in the lane and used them to stake the gate as they left, in the same way that they had staked Frog Pond and Mrs Massey’s old cottage in their recent pursuit of Borrower. The moment that the final stake stabbed into the ground, under Emz’s hand, the thin, reedy, mournful sound of magic ended, and somewhere distant a bell tolled.
“Have we done the right thing?” Anna asked. “If we’ve bound her out, then she’s got nowhere to go.”
Charlie gave a grunt. “That’s the message. Get out of town,” she said. “She vanished quick enough after the maze. Let her stay wherever she is.”
“But she’s a loose cannon,” Anna said. “Should we have done this?”
“‘Don’t do this’,” Emz quoted.
Charlie halted. “Better this than do nothing.” Her look dared them to say otherwise. Anna nodded. Emz lowered her gaze.
“Now. Let’s get out there.” Charlie strode off into the darkness at the top of Red Hat Lane. Anna and Emz, with a farewell nod, headed out to their respective territories.
Vigilant and haunted by the idea of the lightning on the Knightstone Bridge, the three sisters combed Town, Leap, Havoc, and found not a sign of Nuala Whitemain or her white hair anywhere.
Back at Half-Built House some hours later, the doorbell rang out endlessly until somewhere a fuse zapped and the sound ceased. Charlie, toast in hand, opened the door to a white-haired woman.
“Where is she?” The woman, whose long white hair was smoothed back into a slightly scruffy bun, pushed through the door, knocking into Charlie as she did so.
“Do come in,” Charlie said, wiping at a buttery smudge on her face.
The woman burst into the kitchen looking worried and harassed. “I asked you where she is? Why isn’t she at Cob Cottage?” The woman slammed her hand on the countertop. “Your grandmother would never have done this.”
“Hello, Mrs Foundling,” Anna said. “Aurora is safe here.”
“She’s just in the shower,” Emz reassured her.
Daisy Foundling calmed a little, her eyes flitting from Anna to Emz and then turning as Charlie came in from the hallway behind her. As Charlie looked down, she saw where the woman’s feet left an odd print, a velvet-brown, cat’s-paw-spotted print.
“You’re supposed to protect her.” Daisy was winding down from fury into a flustered anxiety. “Your grandmother…”
“Didn’t leave us instructions,” Charlie said. “But we’re catching up.” She pushed a plate of toast towards Daisy. “Help yourself.”
“Please don’t worry,” Emz began, and Anna poured a mug of tea. The steam from it rose and seemed to have a soothing effect on Daisy Foundling.
“That’s easy for you to say.” She flopped onto one of the tall stools as Emz offered her the jam, and Daisy put her head in her hands.
“Hello, Mum.” Aurora entered. Daisy flew from the stool and the two embraced.
“Oh… Aurora, Aurora.” She sobbed. “I have to tell you the truth. I have to.”
Anna put out mugs, scones, more toast. “The truth will wait until we’ve all had breakfast.”
They sat around the granite worktop, the plates and mugs making a cosy, everyday background to the telling of truth.
Daisy Foundling did not mince any words. As far as she was concerned, there was no more time for politeness.
“I knew this day would come.” She was on edge. “Right. Here we go.”
The room hushed a little. The light through the window dappled gold, only Anna aware of what she was doing, her mind filling with the comfort of crooked daylight, holding it particularly over Daisy Foundling, the way she had done with Kitty Boyle.
Daisy took in a deep, calming breath. “Aurora.” She looked at her daughter, reached for her hand and held it tight. “Aurora. My daughter. Except… The truth is you aren’t mine. Not biologically.” It was clear to see that this statement pained her, and she watched as Aurora’s face set like a stone.
Aurora nodded but didn’t speak.
Daisy breathed out to steady herself. “You were given to me, Aurora. You were a gift.” She was tearful. “Hettie Way
brought you. She came to the florists one night with you in a bundle of moss and feathers. You looked like a hedgehog.” She gave a teary laugh. Anna’s mind flitted to the Paper Prophets. “Hettie and that old lady from up at the Ridge.” Daisy continued.
“Mrs Massey?” Anna asked.
Daisy nodded. “Yes. And another woman, all in black. Funny blonde curls. I remember they called her Tinker.” Anna’s memory flashed once again, the woman in black shown in the Scorched Spoon.
“Was she my mother?” Aurora asked.
Daisy squeezed her hand harder and shook her head. She was quiet a moment as tears flowed. Aurora was pale as the moon. Anna noted that she held just as tight to her mother’s hand.
“I’m sorry it’s come out like this. I never wanted to tell you. You were mine, Aurora, always. I named you. They brought you to me and that was that. Done deal.” She foundered a little with emotion. “Hettie… Hettie said there was no need for you to know, because you weren’t from here.” Daisy folded a little.
Aurora’s other hand moved to clasp her mother’s.
“Where was I from?” Aurora’s voice was steady. “Castle Hill? Kingham?”
Daisy sobbed.
“Havoc,” Anna stated, Daisy’s sobs strengthening at the fact. “They brought you out of Havoc.”
They talked into the small hours that Grandma Hettie always said must be kept for emergencies.
“Let’s get this clear… Four women gave Aurora special gifts? At her christening?” Charlie asked. “That was at the church here? At St Brigid?”
Daisy shook her head. “Not here. No. And not women. Faeries. Not gifts either. They stashed part of their power inside her. For possible emergencies. That’s how your grandmother explained it to me after the last of them came here to reclaim what was hers. After the fight in the church.”
“When Mrs Massey died?” Emz retraced the story they had heard. She saw Mrs Massey in her mind’s eye, winking.
“That’s what Nuala discovered. The faeries’ powers. At the accident. She wants that residual power,” Anna said.
“That’s why I see them in her hair and not as her real face.” Emz reasoned “They’re not truly a part of Aurora.”
“And one of them came to take it back.” Anna considered this. “She was like Nuala, she needed her power back. Nuala is in the same boat.”
“And she’s desperate,” Charlie said. The Ways exchanged a doomed look.
“If this woman wants what Aurora has, why can’t you just take it out of her? Cut out the middleman? Destroy it.” Daisy asked.
“Did Grandma Hettie, at any point, try to take the women out of Aurora?” Anna was serious and logical.
Daisy considered and shook her head. “No, it was about protecting Aurora. Even that last night in the church when the last of them came for her.” Daisy gave a shudder at the memory. “The faerie came to take back what was hers. Greedy. You could see it in her, that she’d do anything. Everything. Scariest moment of my life that night in the kitchen when she showed up, and I still don’t know how I managed to get us to the church. I thought that would protect us. She was like a wild animal. And in the church… it took three of them, they put a sword in her and she still kept… she still… ” and a silence fell.
“Mrs Massey died. That’s how powerful this is.” Emz voiced the thoughts they were all having.
Anna was troubled. The recounting of the tale of Aurora’s childhood caused something to flicker at the edge of her memory. She couldn’t pull it forward. Her mind’s eye was filled with Mrs Massey’s kindly face, her eyes looking out with bright intelligence over the top of her reading glasses. Looking right at Anna.
“Grandma Hettie didn’t exorcise…” There was a gasp as Charlie said the word, and Emz glared at her. Charlie was forthright. “Don’t be like that. We all know the kind of stuff we are dealing with. We’re not pussyfooting around anymore. Think about what Daisy has been through…” She looked at them all, a severe expression on her face. “If Grandma could have solved it by taking the power away, she would have done it.”
Aurora stood up. “What makes you think I will let you exorcise me?” Her face had more colour. She managed a swish of her hair, which unnerved everyone, as there was a sound distinctly like whispers as she did so. “I’m serious about it. This is part of me. It’s always been part of me. If not a gift, then perhaps a curse, but still, it’s my curse.” She was clear in her thoughts. “What if exorcising it altered me in some fundamental way?”
There was no answer to this, and Aurora was having a definite moment. She was animated as she continued. “This makes so much sense to me now. This is part of why I am like I am. I’m sure of it. Warts and all. Snappy. Bitchy. Overbearing. Rude.”
Something about this list of attributes rustled Anna’s memory, a rhythm of words in her head.
“Selfish beauty, ruthless guile, thoughtless pride, a cruel heart.” The words rushed from her. The assembled women turned and gasped.
“What are you saying?” Daisy was upset. “No… no… That’s not right. No. She’s not…” Daisy was defensive.
A light switched on for Charlie as she recalled the same words sing-songing in her head at the wedding meeting.
“It was written in your teacup,” Anna said. “At The Orangery.”
“Yes. Yes.” Aurora nodded. Her voice cracked. “Yes.”
“No, Aurora…”
“Yes, Mum.” Aurora was definite. “I am that person. All contrasts, all scraping up against one another, jostling for space. Inside, I ask myself ‘why did I say that?’ or ‘why did I do that?’ when my nastiness trips me.” Aurora’s skin flushed. Her hair began its electrical wildness as the Way sisters watched; it was like a storm rising. For the first time, Aurora Foundling looked vulnerable.
“You get stuff done.” Charlie found a scrap of kindness. “You’re a leader. A go-getter. Look at the Dunham Park Wedding. You rescued that. None of us would have thought it was possible.”
“It was a business decision,” Aurora deflected.
Charlie shrugged. “But that couple had their wedding. If you hadn’t pounced on that opportunity…”
“Like a spoiled cat.” Aurora fenced off the positivity.
Charlie shrugged further. “I’m just saying. You pulled it off.”
Anna was struggling with threads and frays of thought. Mrs Massey was still staring at her, and the list of words was still repeating itself, whispering on and on, selfish beauty ruthless guile thoughtless pride a cruel heart.
“You’re not…” Anna began.
Aurora cut her off. “Likeable? Kind?” Aurora’s voice stabbed the words.
“You’re not a ray of sunshine, Aurora, but you aren’t Nuala Whitemain either.” Emz silenced everyone. “You’ve come from Havoc, but you aren’t a monster. Grandma Hettie would never have helped a monster.”
Aurora’s hair was swirling, the drifting highlights in it at full ember glow. “I’m going home.” She took a step towards the door.
Daisy shot up to stop her. “No. No. Stay with them. They can protect…” Daisy reached up to smooth at Aurora’s hair. She was zinged, the static crack causing her arm to jerk backwards.
Aurora gave a cry, her face paling to an ashen grey as she swayed.
Anna jumped forward to catch her. At once, it was a vivid riot of jackdaws, clattering, battering wings. Anna was overwhelmed, unable to breathe for feathers, and then her Strength took over to brush the birds into the sky. Beneath their cover was a group of women she had seen all too briefly before. One wore a gown of dead squirrels; another of cobwebs, a patina of dirt and blood; a third peered out with a blinded eye; and all of them bound hand and foot with the thin red thread. The fourth one bared cat’s teeth in a weary snarl. Anna, spooked, let go. She glanced to Charlie and Emz.
“I need to go home.” Aurora was almost at the hall.
Daisy was following on her heels, glancing back for help from the Ways. “No. You need to be here. With th
em.” She looked for reassurance and found none. “Why aren’t you doing something? Why don’t you help her?” She sounded frantic, and the Ways did not have an answer.
Aurora waded in, stern. “It isn’t about taking these women, this power that’s hidden. It’s about stopping Nuala from taking it. I can’t hide here forever. If I do that, she wins.” She looked around the room; the sisters could not look at her, except for Charlie, who nodded. Aurora was cheered by this acceptance of the truth. “Your grandma left me at Mimosa. Mimosa is safe.”
“I’m not so—” Daisy tried to interrupt.
Aurora shut her down. “No mum. Your story is different. Your story was about them coming to claim what was theirs to begin with. This is about someone stealing from me.”
Charlie nodded. “I think that’s a good point.” She looked to Anna and Emz for consensus.
The mood lifted. Aurora Foundling had taken back charge.
Back at the florist, Daisy Foundling was not, at first, convinced. Sight of the repairs to the front window at Mimosa freaked her out a little, but some reassurance that the break-in had not affected Aurora persuaded her.
As her mother headed home, Aurora Foundling looked out of the kitchen window to see that the garden was a carpet of Cordwainer cats keeping watch. She opened the fridge and took some scraps of salmon out to the stone patio. For the first time ever, as she sat on the low retaining wall of the terrace, she let the cats mill and boil about her until there was a growl. And as the lesser cats cleared a space, Velvet Joe came to take up his rightful position on her lap.
It had been an odd few days but, strange to say, Aurora Foundling felt more like herself than she had felt, possibly, all of her life.