by Adele Abbott
“Okay, okay. I get it.” That was so wrong.
“So, when does Lizzie get to see your collection of beanies?”
“I told you, I don’t have them. Why don’t you believe me?”
“Because you’re a terrible liar. You always have been.” She turned and walked out of the bedroom. “And a horrible aunt.”
Ouch. That stung.
Once again, it seemed I was the odd one out. Everyone else appeared to be enjoying the barbecue. The smoke was making my eyes run, and I couldn’t face the charcoaled food, even though I was starving. To top it off, the council had chosen that day to cut down the tree that stood on the other side of the fence.
“Why are they cutting it down?” I shouted over the noise of the saw.
“We asked them to,” Kathy said. “It’s so old, and has grown so tall, it’s become dangerous. Every time there’s a strong wind I’m terrified it’ll come crashing down onto our house.”
“I’m going inside until they’re done.” I gestured towards the house. “That saw is giving me a migraine.”
I needed a snack, so began to rummage through the cupboards. How did they ever find anything in this house? I’d have killed for a couple of custard creams, but the only ones Kathy had were in the biscuit barrel mixed in with the digestives and wafer biscuits. Yuk. I had to make do with a packet of crisps.
I watched Kathy, Peter and the kids as they played, talked and laughed together. Even though they were my family, I still sometimes felt like an outsider. I always had. Until recently I’d put it down to having been adopted, and maybe that was a part of it. But now I knew there was something much more fundamental that divided us. Kathy and her family were human; I was a sup. Discovering that I was a witch had, for the most part, helped me to see my life more clearly, but in some ways it had made things even more complicated. For example, if I was to marry a human, I’d be forced to live a lie because I’d never be able to tell my husband that I was a witch. I could marry another sup, but I hadn’t yet come to terms with the idea of marrying a wizard, werewolf or vampire.
A cracking noise caught my attention. The road had been cordoned off so the tree could fall onto it without causing any damage to property. The workmen were screaming at one another—I could hear the panic in their voices. The tree had begun to lean, but not towards the road.
I had never cast two spells at the same time before, but I was going to need them both now. The ‘faster’ spell kicked in, and I was outside and headed towards the kids who were in the direct path of the falling tree. Kathy and Peter screamed in terror. The tree was only inches above my head and would have crushed Mikey and Lizzie before I had chance to scoop them up. Using every ounce of strength that the ‘power’ spell had given me, I raised a hand and deflected it so that it fell to one side of us.
Kathy and Peter were both in tears as they ran over and picked up Lizzie and Mikey. The workmen were as white as sheets as they surveyed the scene. The tree had crushed the fence, but had missed the house, and more importantly, hadn’t injured anyone.
Peter was tucking the kids in bed. They seemed remarkably unfazed by the incident. Kathy, who was still shaking, was clutching a glass of wine—her second.
“I’m sorry I called you a horrible aunt.”
“Don’t be daft. I am pretty useless.”
“You saved the kids. I can’t even begin to thank you.”
“Forget it. It’s lucky I spotted what was happening.”
“I don’t understand. How did you do it?”
“I got to them in time. That’s all that matters.”
“But you pushed the tree away.”
“No I didn’t. I just got the kids out of the way.”
“I saw you do it.”
“You were in shock—you must have imagined it. Who do you think I am? Superwoman?”
“You are to me.” She put the glass down and threw her arms around me. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Fortunately for me, everything had happened so quickly that no one was really sure what they’d seen. Everyone knew it would have been impossible for me to deflect the falling tree, so they all assumed their eyes had played a trick on them.
By the next morning, Mrs V was looking more like her old self.
“Notice anything?” she said, as soon as I walked through the door.
I looked around the room. The huge gold cup had pride of place on top of the filing cabinet.
“No,” I teased, but then laughed.
“What do you think?”
“I think someone has spent all night polishing it.”
I read the names engraved on the base. The competition appeared to date back to 1946.
“Only three people have ever retained the trophy,” she said. “I’m going to be the fourth.”
I for one wouldn’t have bet against her. If anyone knew their way around scarves, Mrs V was that woman. “Are you planning on taking it home?”
“No. It’s staying here where I can look at it all day long. The only time I’m at home is when I’m fast asleep in bed. You don’t mind me keeping it here, do you?”
“Of course not.” An image of Winky running his claws over it flashed through my mind.
The moment I walked through to my office, the two of them were on me. Winky was rubbing against my right leg; Blinky took my left.
“Back off! She’s mine!” Winky spat.
“We can share,” Blinky’s tone was much more conciliatory.
“Why did you have to bring this loser here?” Winky gave me the one-eyed death stare.
“Why can’t you be nice?” I said. “Take a leaf out of Blinky’s book.”
“Oh yeah—right,” Winky said. “You aren’t really buying this ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ act are you? The cat is psycho-crazy. Look what he did to my leg.”
Winky turned to one side so I could see the gash on the top of his leg. Had Blinky really done that? It didn’t seem possible—he was so laid back—so placid.
“You’ll just have to learn to get on together. Now who’s hungry?”
If in doubt, play the food card. Just to be safe, I placed their bowls on opposite sides of the room.
I called Milly Brown’s lawyer to check on developments. It wasn’t good news. The police seemed intent on building a case against his client. They didn’t appear to be interested in looking for other possible suspects. The lawyer gave me the name and phone number of Brian Hargreaves, who he thought I should talk to. When I called him, he seemed eager to meet with me, and said I could go straight over.
“So you were the understudy?” I said.
“No. I was the understudy’s understudy. Kind of a second reserve.” Hargreaves had a nervous twitch, which I tried my best to ignore—it wasn’t easy. “Harrison Scott was the understudy to Bruce Digby. I was Harrison’s understudy.”
“Right. Got it.” I was surprised an amateur production could run to one understudy, let alone two.
“Have you been second reserve before?”
“Yes, this is my third time.”
To me, that sounded like a ploy to keep him interested, but off the stage at all costs. I was too kind to point that out. See? I can be tactful when I try.
“Milly Brown’s lawyer suggested you may have information that could help her.”
“Harrison Scott murdered Digby,” he said.
“That’s quite an accusation.”
“He thought he should be cast as the male lead because it was his script.”
So, it was Scott who was responsible for the fabulous ‘Just So’ script.
“It’s hardly a motive for murder.”
“I heard him say that he wanted to kill Digby.”
“A lot of people say things they don’t mean.”
“Oh, he meant it. And, he’s been in prison before.”
Maybe this wasn’t the wild goose chase it had appeared to be.
“What for? Any violence involved?”
“Parking tickets.”
The geese were back, wilder than ever, and the chase was well and truly on.
“No one goes to prison for parking tickets.”
“They do if they refuse to pay, end up with a county court order, and then insult the judge.”
“Contempt of court then? It’s still a long way from that to murder.”
“He’s your man. Trust me on this one.”
Kathy phoned to get an update on the Milly Brown case. I had to tell her that, so far, things weren’t looking good. Milly was still the prime suspect. In fact, as far as the police were concerned, it appeared she was the only suspect. I told Kathy I was hoping to set up meetings with Digby’s widow and with Harrison Scott, the understudy and serial non-payer of parking tickets.
“That was quite some witchcraft you pulled off yesterday.” My mother had appeared in the bedroom just as I was getting changed.
“Mum!” I held the tee-shirt in front of me.
She laughed. “I’ve seen you naked a thousand times before.”
“Maybe so, but I didn’t know you were there then.”
“Would you like me to wait in the next room?”
“Please.”
She sighed, as she drifted straight through the closed door. Neat trick!
“As I was saying before you came over all embarrassed,” my mother said. “You did well yesterday. Those kids would be dead if it wasn’t for you.”
A shiver ran down my spine. I didn’t like to think what might have happened if I’d cried off the barbecue.
“I just acted instinctively—I didn’t have time to think about it.”
“To combine two spells so quickly. Very few new witches could have pulled that off.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“Do you see now why it would be better for you to move to Candlefield? Hiding your powers here in Washbridge is going to be very difficult.”
“If I’d been in Candlefield, the kids would be dead. I won’t leave my family behind.”
Chapter 6
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” My mother seemed a little nervous all of a sudden.
“Would that someone be Welsh by any chance?”
“He would indeed.” She turned to one side and shouted, “Alberto!”
I wasn’t sure I was ready for this. No child looks forward to meeting their mother’s new love interest, and especially not when that person is a Welsh, Italian ghost.
His smile was dazzling. He was a stunningly handsome man.
“You must be Jill. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
The lilt caught me off-guard even though I’d known he was Welsh.
“Pleased to meet you,” I said.
“You’re as beautiful as your mother.”
“Thank you.” I blushed.
“There’s something we have to tell you,” my mother said, almost sheepishly.
“Yes?” I wasn’t sure I could take any more crazy.
“Alberto has asked me to marry him, and I have said ‘yes’.” They looked into each other’s eyes, and kissed a long lingering kiss.
Too much. Way too much. Please stop.
“You can’t get married.”
They both stared at me.
“Why not?” my mother said. “I know we’ve only just got back together, but we’ve known each other since we were your age.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just—”
“What?”
“You’re—err—dead. Ghosts can’t marry, can they?”
“Of course they can. It happens all the time.”
Stupid me. Obviously it does.
“I would love for you to give me away.”
“What about Aunt Lucy? Won’t she be expecting to do that?”
“I would have asked her, but she won’t even get an invitation to the wedding unless she changes her attitude.” My mother’s face was red with anger.
“Now Darlene.” Alberto took her hand. “She’s your sister. She has to be there.”
My mother shrugged. “Say you’ll do it, Jill, please. It means a lot to me.”
“Okay, I guess so.”
Give away my mother, the ghost—why not? Nothing at all weird about that. Normally, I’d ask Kathy to help me pick out an outfit—except that I couldn’t because I wasn’t allowed to tell my own sister that I was a witch. Or that I had a ghost for a mother. Or that I had magical powers and lived, not only in Washbridge, but also in Candlefield—a place that didn’t even exist as far as humans were concerned. Or that I could talk to animals. Or that I had used my magical powers to save her children’s lives.
La, la, la, la - welcome to my crazy world!
I’d had some bad ideas in my time, but agreeing to help out in the tea room was right up there with them. First off, I’d never worked in a shop of any kind—ever. And second, I was the world’s clumsiest person.
I’d planned to go straight to the twins’ place because I didn’t want to face awkward questions from Aunt Lucy about my mother and Alberto. My car, however, had other ideas. Despite my best efforts to steer it towards the twins’ shop, it pulled up right outside of Aunt Lucy’s house.
“Jill! Lovely to see you.” Aunt Lucy held open the car door. “Come on in.”
“I’m just on my way to Cuppy C.”
“Plenty of time for that. Come and have a drink with me first. We have a lot to talk about.”
That’s what I was worried about. Did she know about the wedding? If not, should I tell her?
“Biscuit?”
She offered me the tin, which was full of assorted biscuits.
“No thanks, I’m not hungry. How are the twins doing?”
“They aren’t speaking to one another. Stupid girls!”
“What’s happened?”
“It’s a long story. Typical vampire/werewolf nonsense. They’ll no doubt fill you in. I don’t have any patience for it.”
Trying to survive my stint in the tea room was going to be difficult enough without having to play referee to the twins.
“Have you met him yet?” Aunt Lucy said.
“Who?” Play dumb—that was my strategy.
“Alberto. Who else? I bet your mother couldn’t wait to show him off.”
“They came over yesterday.”
“What did you think of him?”
“He seemed very—Welsh.”
Aunt Lucy smiled. “He’s certainly that. What did they have to say?”
What was I supposed to say now? Was the wedding meant to be a secret? My mother hadn’t said it was. Still, it wasn’t my place to broadcast the news. I decided to keep it to myself for now. “Nothing much.”
“Jill?” Aunt Lucy could see I was holding something back.
“They’re getting married,” I blurted out.
Brilliant. Well done, Jill. Very subtle.
“They’re what?”
“Getting married.”
“Over my dead body!”
She took that well.
Amber was all alone behind the cake counter when I arrived.
“Where’s Pearl?”
“Don’t mention her name to me.”
Great start.
“And what exactly did the person whose name I’m not allowed to mention do?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Fantastic. And to think I’d thought my time in Candlefield would be a relaxing break. This conversation was getting me nowhere. Maybe I’d get more sense out of Pearl. I found her in the tea room.
“Hi, Jill.” She gave me a mini-wave.
“What’s up between you and Amber?”
“Don’t mention her name to me!”
It just kept getting better.
“Do you want to tell me what’s happened between you two?”
“No.”
“Okay, where are the keys to the tea room?”
“Sorry?”
“The keys, Pearl. Where are they?”
“Here.” She fished them out of her pock
et.
“Come with me.”
“I can’t leave the tea room.”
“Come with me. NOW!”
I locked the door, and ushered her through to the cake shop.
“Who’s manning the tea room?” Amber said when she saw Pearl.
“It’s closed,” I said. “And it’s going to remain closed until you two tell me what is going on, and we get it sorted.”
“But—”
“You can’t—”
“Watch me. Now, both of you sit down there.”
“She’s worse than Grandma,” Pearl said under her breath. Her sister nodded.
At least I’d got them to agree on something, even if it was only that I was the most horrible person in Candlefield.
“We’ll be losing money,” Pearl said, without making eye contact.
“Then you’d better get this thing sorted out right now. Understand?”
“But—”
“Understand?”
They both nodded.
“Good. First things first. Tell me what’s going on.”
It took some time to get the full story because the twins continued to bicker and to dispute each other’s take on events.
“Okay.” I’d heard enough. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. Someone has stolen the Candlefield Cup.”
“The vampires,” Amber said.
“It was not! The werewolves took it,” Pearl insisted.
“Enough! Let’s just say that person or persons unknown stole it. The vampires blame the werewolves and vice versa. Do I have that right so far?”
They both nodded.
“And this cup is for an annual competition held between werewolves and vampires? Is that correct?”
They nodded again.
“What exactly is the competition?”
Another ten minutes later, and I wished I hadn’t asked. The game, BoundBall, sounded like some weird combination of rounders, football and hockey. Good luck to anyone trying to understand those rules. Apparently, the vampires and werewolves had separate leagues. The winning team from those two leagues played against each other for the Candlefield Cup.
“You two squabbling over this is just silly. I know that your boyfriends—”