The Naked Witch (A Wendy Woo Witch Lit Novel Book 1)

by Wendy Steele

  2

  A 9am alarm was a luxury and Lizzie wiggled her toes in bliss beneath the duvet. Sleep had eluded her for many hours when she returned from the garden. Finally drifting off, she dreamed of a woman with red hair in a navy suit, strolling down office corridors in impossibly high shoes.

  Arriving at the park at 11am, Lizzie was greeted by watery sunshine and the steaming roof of the bandstand. She dropped a handful of nuts beneath the oak tree before following the muted sounds of a PA system across the park. She had volunteered to help set up the stall with Lou, selling cakes for her chosen charity, the local children’s hospice. Lou had requested all her friends and the bowling group, to bake cakes for her to sell. Other stall holders were setting up, local wildlife groups, youth projects and women’s groups, all hoping to further their personal causes under the banner of the Charity Fayre. Two men with brooms swept water from the bandstand, ready for live music from local bands to be played all afternoon.

  Louise greeted her with a hug, gratefully accepting the tins of cakes Lizzie offered. They covered the stall in red plastic table cloths and managed to fashion a small awning to go over it, though it wouldn’t withstand more than a light shower. At midday, with a small crowd gathered, the mayor opened proceedings, her heavy gold chain glinting in the ever brightening sunshine.

  “You fixed this, did you?”

  Louise pointed to the sun as they uncovered the cake stands and began to sell, popping cakes into paper bags and accepting cash with a smile.

  “Of course.”

  “You’re a weird one, no mistake, but I like you, all the same.”

  “Thanks, glad I’m not too weird for you. You’re alright. I might even buy you a cup of tea later.”

  The stall sold out in an hour. The first band struck up and Lizzie fetched the promised tea. They sat on damp stripy deckchairs until Louise had to go.

  “I promised Terry I’d join him bowling tonight. There’s a big match on…well, big for them. Top ten team coming over from Loughton. You want to join us for a drink?”

  “Thanks but I’m having a mummy and daughter night in.”

  “I thought Rowan might come today.”

  “She wasn’t up when I left. Said she was tired.”

  “Another time then. Bowling’s fun, honest. You and Rowan should go.”

  “Thanks, Lou. I might suggest it.”

  The band played on. Lizzie tried to decide the genre. It wasn’t rock but it wasn’t pop either, the words were too poetic for that. The lead singer was slim and fair, his thick hair restrained by a band at the nape of his neck. Lizzie watched his soft lips and stubbled chin as the poignant words seeped into her subconscious. The crowd grew, the beat picked up by the band until drums, bass and lead guitar filled the park with thrashing yet co-ordinated sound. The band took their bow to resounding applause, Lizzie joining in. The leaflet on the seat beside her informed her they were called Revenge is Sweet.

  In her patchwork festival trousers and shoe string vest, Lizzie made a circuit around the stalls. There were limited resources in her purse but she wanted to make her contribution. A sweet gentle breeze kept her cool, as did the soft cotton wrap she threw about her shoulders so with the sun glinting off her hair, she indulged in a spot of fun. She bought a pair of black fingerless gloves; hand knitted by the local WI and a raffle ticket from the local wildlife group to win a bird box and an eco-stall, to win a water butt.

  At the coconut shy, Lizzie took aim with the first of her three wooden balls. Uniformed scouts watched, smirking. It had been a difficult week. Rowan’s obsession with a lower sixth form boy had reached a new level. Lizzie saw the email on Rowan’s laptop as she trawled the floor and surfaces in her bedroom for dirty washing. Her ex-husband, Josh and his young girlfriend Bryony were lazing in a trendy New Zealand surfing resort. She hadn’t picked up a sketch book all week. She had worked hard at her job. She could lose her job next week.

  A satisfying crack resounded through the park and the first coconut bounced onto the grass. The crowd around her cheered. She took aim, her arm pulled back like a javelin thrower. The second coconut fell, the crowd roared and Lizzie pictured Josh’s face on the third coconut. The ball spun from her hand. The force of the contact shattered the target.

  Lizzie placed her prizes into her string bag with her new gloves.

  “You’ve a cracking right arm, excuse the pun.”

  Lizzie looked up. “Thanks. I enjoyed your set.”

  It was the man’s turn to blush. “Thanks but it could’ve been a lot tighter. We’ve only been back playing together a few months and it shows. I was on my way for coffee. Would you like one?”

  No, run away, now, quick. “I’d love a tea.”

  “I’m Lizzie.”

  “Matt, shall we sit here?”

  Lizzie and Matt lazed beside the lake in the sunshine. Strains of music tickled their ears from the bandstand. Ducks on the lake paraded their babies. Red faced children played with balloons, buried their faces in candy floss and cried, in turn.

  “So you used to live around here?”

  “Born and brought up in Gidea Park but I moved closer to the City. An apartment in the Docklands.”

  “So what brought you back? Sorry, you don’t have to say.”

  Matt waved away her apology. “It’s no big deal. My marriage ended and even with no children, I managed to lose my flat. I’m back living in the family home. Mum’s gone to live in Spain with her boyfriend.”

  “Cool, house to yourself.”

  Matt bit his bottom lip and shook his head. “My father has business this way and has moved himself in. Cramped my style a bit.”

  “I wouldn’t live with my mother if you paid me!”

  “You live alone then?”

  “With my daughter.”

  “Matt! Matt!”

  They looked towards the bandstand to a figure in a top hat gesticulating wildly.

  “I have to go.”

  “Me too.”

  “I don’t have a card on me…” He hunted in the back pocket of his jeans. “I…can I call you, I mean, would you…”

  No! Stop now! “Yes!” Lizzie extracted a pen from her bag and Matt offered a smooth forearm. Lizzie’s knees wobbled, her fingers tingling at the feel of his soft warm skin.

  Lizzie walked from the bus stop, skipping a little. It must have been the impetus exerted by the swinging bag of coconuts. It had nothing to do with spending half an hour, drinking tea beside a lake with a handsome man. It was past five o’clock and her stomach rumbled but she’d been nourished by a good day in good company and was looking forward to her evening with Rowan. Tonight’s video choice was ‘Grease’, perfect viewing to sit in a face pack in pyjamas and sing along to. At the moment, Rowan enjoyed a musical and Lizzie hoped it would last.

  The side gate swung open in the breeze as Lizzie approached her house so she entered that way, bolting the gate behind her.

  Rowan leapt up from a man’s lap as Lizzie walked into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Mum!”

  She lay back on the chaise longue in her Sanctuary, clasping her hot water bottle to her chest. Her heart pounded in her ears while her head recapped the past five hours. All evening, she had appeared calm and composed while inside she was screaming, ‘Stay away from my daughter!’ Sam was pleasant, amiable, blond and cute and he fronted a band. She understood why Rowan liked him but what did a young man of almost eighteen see in her daughter?

  Lizzie relaxed back into the blankets, a single candle lighting the wooden cabin with a delicate peachy light. A vision of her daughter’s face fixed on the object of her adoration made Lizzie squirm. But Rowan wasn’t a baby any more. She had wanted to ban her from seeing Sam, wrap her in cotton wool and keep her safe from the big bad world but she didn’t. Instead, she’d looked Sam square in the eyes and told him she preferred to be around if they were in the house. She saw Rowan’s annoyance, frustration creasing her brow but Sam smiled and nodded and agreed. They drank tea
. Sam left and mother and daughter enjoyed their evening together.

  It had been a good day. The sun had shone, the Charity Fayre had been a success and both mother and daughter had fallen for the lead singer of a band.

  3

  Lizzie sat sipping her tea, watching her daughter eating muesli. It was Sunday and before 10am so Lizzie was intrigued. The phone rang in the hall and Rowan leapt like a gazelle and in three springs, had reached it. Lizzie smiled.

  “It’s for you.” Rowan’s eyebrows raised into her messy hair.

  Lizzie ordered her feet not to hurry to the phone.

  “Well?”

  Lizzie sat and picked up her mug. “It was someone I met at the Fayre. You should have come. The weather was glorious and you’d have enjoyed the music.”

  “Someone?”

  “Yes and the sun is out again and I’m going for a walk. Do you want to come?”

  “Nah, you’re alright.”

  Lizzie gathered tissues and keys into her bag. “I meant what I said last night.”

  “I know! Why do you have to go on?” Rowan slammed her mug on the kitchen table, hot chocolate spattering the surface.

  Lizzie brought a cloth. “I’m sorry but be patient with me, Rowan. Last time I looked, you loved Little Ponies and wore your hair in bunches!”

  Rowan tried not to smile. “I get it but you can trust me.”

  “I know.” She wanted to believe it. She really did.

  She’d promised herself she would take things slowly but less than half way round the lake, she clung to Matt’s arm, relishing the relaxed company. She met his blue eyes and smiled. Beneath her favourite oak, they ate the crusty rolls, goats’ cheese and apples she had brought and sipped old fashioned ginger beer. They laughed about flared trousers. Matt was two years older than her and they reminisced about kids’ television programmes and the rise of celebrities.

  As the sun passed its zenith, Matt asked her who she worked for. It may have been her lack of sleep or the kindness of his words but in seconds, Lizzie was sobbing into his shoulder.

  She grabbed for her bag and a tissue. “I’m so sorry. What must you think of me?” She blew her nose loudly.

  “There’s obviously a problem. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

  “We’ve only just met and now you know what a soggy mess I am.” Did I really say that out loud? Idiot.

  “Come here.” Matt drew her to him and she breathed in expensive aftershave and warm man.

  Lizzie told him about the arrival of Edward Brown.

  “But you’re bound to pass the interview. You’ve never had a warning or any disciplinary action?”

  “No, of course not but Edward Brown said he wanted ‘the best’. I don’t know if I am the best.” Oh, you pathetic puppy.

  “Of course you are but what about the other staff? Any of them likely to go?”

  “You’re right! I’ve been so selfish! Suzanne is recently engaged and Tania’s a big mortgage to pay.”

  “I meant had anyone been warned, you know, for not adhering to their contract?”

  Lizzie stared, red eyed at Matt’s intense face. “How would I know?”

  “No, well, sorry, I was trying to make you feel your job was perhaps safer than others which is mean, sorry.”

  She watched his soft lips, tripping over his words and her shoulders relaxed. She blew her nose again. “There’s no point me worrying anyway. I’ll have my interview and the firm will decide. Nothing I can do.”

  Matt put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her arm. “Sorry, all the waiting must be grim. Do you want to walk?”

  “Thanks but I should get home. I’ve a mound of laundry and I usually batch cook meals for the week.” And now he knows what an exciting life you lead!

  She arrived home with nuts in her pocket. She hadn’t seen the squirrels all day.

  Lizzie walked into the lounge to find Rowan behind the ironing board and a film blaring out from Netflix. She clung to the back of the sofa in surprise.

  “Hi, Mum! Thought I’d make a start before it got too dry! How was your walk?”

  Lizzie grabbed the remote control and paused the film.

  “Good. You know I like to walk and think. Thanks for this.”

  “No worries and so you know, Sam came round.”

  Lizzie held her breath.

  “I told him you were out and he was going to go but I hope it was okay to have a drink in the garden, Mum. He’d cycled from Emerson Park. He went straight after.”

  Lizzie breathed. “Of course it was okay, love. I would have done the same myself.”

  She busied in the kitchen, checking the soaked beans and putting them on to boil. “So where does his band play?”

  Rowan stood iron in hand, her usually tanned face pale and her rich brown eyes staring. “You’re not going to watch him play?”

  4

  “We raised almost a hundred and fifty and the event total was close to two thousand!”

  “That’s great news, Lou. I had a fun day.”

  Lizzie told her about the coconuts.

  “You have to come bowling!”

  “I think it’s a slightly different technique.” Lizzie smiled. “But Lou, your job’s safe, isn’t it?”

  Louise face was puzzled. “I don’t know any different, why?”

  “Oh, nothing, shake-up at my firm. Glad it doesn’t affect you.”

  “No, I’m security for the whole building, all four companies but you’re not going to lose your job, are you? They need a smiling face on reception.”

  “Thanks for that but we’re all being re-interviewed.”

  “What a cheek! Look, I’m off at five today, rather than six. My boss is training up new staff for a few hours. Do you fancy a cuppa or something stronger before you head home? I missed your birthday because someone didn’t tell me!”

  “Sorry. You know, I’d like that. I’ll text Rowan and tell her I’ll be a bit late. Thanks, Lou.”

  “No problem and you might have some news by then.”

  Lizzie ignored the stares in the wine bar. In her ‘Maid Marion’ dress they probably thought she was the cabaret. She sipped eagerly on her white wine spritzer.

  “I’m glad you told me about your job, Liz. Any news on your interview”

  “Wednesday. They told me I had to be ready for Wednesday. What does that mean? Ready for what?”

  “I don’t know hun but I have to be re-interviewed too.”

  “Why?”

  “Seems the whole building is having a shake-up. Tess from Acorn Property told me.”

  “Could Edward Brown have anything to do with this?”

  “Who’s he?”

  He arrived Friday morning and since then, everything is changing.”

  “Where’s he been?”

  “I have no idea. It was announced that he was back. David didn’t say where from.”

  “But how could he be involved in the whole building changing their staff?”

  Lizzie shook her head. “It seemed a coincidence, that’s all.”

  “You and your coincidences!” Lou’s lacquered bob shimmied around her head. “Companies are always looking for ways to save money, get the most from their staff. I’m not worried. I’ve been working that building for four years with no complaints. I’m sure you’ll be fine too.”

  Lizzie sipped her drink. “I hope so, Lou. Not sure how I can keep my house otherwise.”

  Though Tuesday didn’t bring more rain, the sky remained grey all day and the temperature rose as the trapped heat built up. Tempers reared in the office, staff snapping at her as she tried to keep cheerful. Even the usual relaxed journey home was spoiled by two passengers arguing over an open window. A toddler’s grizzle became a howl at their raised voices and his incessant crying scraped at Lizzie’s nerves.

  Rowan wasn’t back from drama club so once the slow cooker was checked, Lizzie hurried to the bottom of the garden. Spell weaving on a Tuesday in the middle of a moon cycle was new
for her but the moon was waxing and Tuesday was ruled by Mars. She could do with as much strength, power and authority as she could muster.

  Once her circle of protection was cast, she sat cross legged, clasping a thumbnail sized ruby. On the altar, a white candle burned and frankincense filled the cabin. She had called the angels to her for protection, seeking their support before the following day’s ordeal.

  “Uriel above me

  Michael beneath me

  Raphael to my left

  Gabriel to my right

  By the power of these great angels

  Surround me with light.”

  She visualised the interview, she in her favourite purple skirt, sitting opposite the Brown’s and Tom and them smiling happily, shaking her hand.

  Lizzie and Rowan pushed the burned vegetable casserole around their plates. She should have turned the slow cooker off. She was tempted to heat up the emergency pizzas in the freezer but fought the urge. Would there be any money to replace them? She ate the carrots and beans and suggested Rowan did the same.

  “It’s a bit yuck.”

  “I know, sorry. The chickens will love it. How was drama?”

  Rowan used her fork like a conductor’s baton as she enthused. “It was brilliant! We’ve been improvising about the plague! Like, some of us were sick but trying not to show it, while Kelly and Lyn were mother and daughter and Kelly had to watch her die! Wicked!”

  “And this is for what? Is there going to be a performance or something?”

  “What do you mean ‘for what’? It’s about delving into people’s feelings, into lives we can’t imagine, about relationships, people and life. We don’t learn someone else’s script and recite on a stage like when you were at school!”

  Harsh, that was harsh, Rowan but how could you know how old and tired I feel right now? “I’m trying to understand. Be kind.”

  “It’s art, Mum! It isn’t all about putting on a show for other people! You used to paint, right? So you paint your feelings. We act. It’s about engaging with the subject, not planning a pretty play for other people!”

  Lizzie nodded. “I can see that but the plague? Why the plague? Isn’t that history?”