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

by Wendy Steele

  He bowed to Rowan. “May I have this dance?”

  Wide eyed, Rowan nodded.

  Alone beside the heater, Lizzie watched the dance of two lives enacted before her. Marsha’s was a last dance, a romantic finale to an exciting life of luxury while Rowan’s was a new beginning, taking tentative steps towards adulthood, still naïve and still learning but already knowing how unfair life could be.

  Food laden tables lined the walls of the room. Lizzie stood transfixed by the marble columns and floor and abundance of scrolls and cherubs gleaming golden in the light of the chandeliers. Jostled from behind, she stepped aside, only to be nudged back. People thronged around her, the smell of cooked meat stuck in her throat and her head began to spin. She hurried back into the hall and out the front door.

  She leaned her back on a pillar at the entrance and smiled at the four men wearing black suits and ear pieces on security. One nodded in her direction. The rest ignored her. From this vantage point, she saw the party traversing the hall or climbing the elegant stairs. She remembered what Errol said and opened her eyes. Within moments, her heart beat allegrissimo. She pressed her hand to her mouth for fear of screaming.

  “You not eating, Lizzie?”

  “I’m good, Marsha. I had some fruit from the buffet, thank you.”

  She and Marsha sat by the patio heater. Antonio was taking a break, accompanying Rowan to the beach. There was no sign of Josh or Bryony.

  “Always a good spread at these dos.”

  “I was talking to Errol. He says he works for Anita. How long have you known her?”

  “Donkeys years! We were at school together. She and Woody came here in the sixties and we came over for holidays. When Howard died I thought, why not?”

  “And you know all the other people?”

  “Most but not well. Women aren’t invited to the masonic dos, except on Ladies Night, of course. Anita’s organised most of this though. Doreen Klein is a sweet lady but no common sense, especially when she’s had a few sherries. I’m sure it suits her husband that she can’t hold two thoughts in her head!”

  Lizzie nodded. “I expect the men aren’t here to socialise. I expect business is discussed over the dinner table.”

  “Of course. This may be the annual beach party for everyone to let their hair down but money is what makes the world go round. Did you see that woman in the green and yellow? The diamonds around her neck are worth all of two million. Fancy wearing that to a beach party!”

  Lizzie glanced at the gold and pearl strings looping over Marsha’s chest.

  “These are mere baubles compared to the stones on display in there, my girl.”

  “Each woman wearing her husband’s worth like a decorated prize cow. Sorry.”

  Marsha waved her hand. “No need, I agree with you but don’t be envious.”

  “I’m not. I wouldn’t want jewellery like that.”

  “I know, but you work hard and deserve a treat now and again.”

  “And we have them!”

  “I know. Rowan told me about you cooking a special meal for her, for doing well at school.”

  Lizzie blushed. “I’m proud of her.”

  “Good.” Marsha patted Lizzie’s hand. “She’s proud of you too, you know. Where’s that drink?”

  Lizzie passed her a glass decorated with cherries, strawberries and an umbrella on a stick.

  Marsha took a long drink. “That’s lovely.” She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and winked at Lizzie. “Now then, so you know, don’t be tempted or deceived by all this, not that you would be.”

  She waved her thin frail hand towards the house. She leaned towards Lizzie. “I’d bet my last few days that most of the wealth in that house was acquired by less than honest means. I’ll not say illegal, because that’s what good lawyers are for but near the mark. I won’t be part of it whereas Joshua, it seems, is looking to raise his loan by any means.”

  “What? What’s he doing?”

  “Antonio saw him with Klein, Masters and that strange man in the funny fabric hat, going upstairs so you’re right. Business is conducted at parties.”

  The odd man Marsha referred to didn’t look oriental, yet his attire had suggestions of China. Lizzie had noticed him staring at her, his grey eyebrows twisting with puzzlement and she’d turned away. Lizzie shut her eyes, imagining Josh in a room of black suits and scarred faces, punches and kicks raining down on him as he failed to pay back his loan. Back in the moment, she wondered if she should warn him. But his own mother hadn’t. Maybe it was time for Josh to grow up and deal with his own problems.

  Lizzie wandered up the stairs, almost springing from each tread, so thick was the underlay and carpet pile. She turned left and up as Marsha had directed her. Faced with four rooms on her right and no indication which was the bathroom, Lizzie knocked on each door and waited before turning the heavy brass ball acting as handle. The first two doors were bedrooms and she reversed out quickly. The third was a library with a vast mahogany desk topped with dark green leather. Two claw footed chairs were the only other furniture. She left the door ajar and stepped in, unable to contain her curiosity about what other people have on their book shelves. Most of the books were old and their spines unreadable so she moved nearer the fireplace behind the desk. The marble hearth and mantel were dwarfed by a complicated painting of symbols and curious shapes hanging over them. Lizzie peered at the strange pyramids and figures.

  Book shelves filled the alcoves, most with newer books but some with photos in frames. A collage of faces caught her eye; people cut out of photographs and put together in a montage with houses, trees and beaches. She stared, blinking as one and then two, impossible faces, smiled back at her.

  Both Rowan and Marsha were fighting tiredness when Josh and Bryony returned, the former smiling for the first time that evening.

  “Who needs a drink?”

  “We’ll be making a move soon.”

  “Who put you in charge, Lizzie? Mum, I’ll get you a pina colada.”

  Marsha waved a hand. “No more alcohol for me but I’d love a cup of tea.”

  “Antonio, fetch a tray of tea.” Josh sat down. “I said tea!”

  “And I have told you, Mr Martin, Mrs Martin is my employer and I do as she tells me.”

  “Antonio, be a darling and humour him. Rowan, did you want anything? Lizzie?”

  “I wouldn’t mind a hot chocolate, Nanny.”

  “I’ll come with you, Antonio. Not sure what I want.”

  On the far side of the marble room, a door led down wooden stairs to the kitchen. The first person Lizzie saw loading a tray with teacups was Rosi.

  “Hi, Lizzie!”

  “You working already?”

  “Just a bit of casual work while I look for something permanent.”

  “Who hired you?” asked Antonio, “Was it Errol Coleman?”

  Rosi nodded. “I’ll have to get on, sorry.”

  “Don’t let us hold you up. I’ll try and catch you before we leave,” said Lizzie.

  Rosi lifted the laden tray and eased past Lizzie. “Catch you later.”

  Antonio and Lizzie were shooed from the kitchen and a tray promised them if they would wait upstairs. Lizzie leaned on a pillar, the stone cooling her frightened heart and quelling her roaring pulse.

  “How do you know this waitress?”

  “We met her on the plane coming over. Rowan and I helped her with her children. She’s looking for permanent work here; if she can get it then she’ll come back here and live with her mother.”

  “And what skills she has?”

  “I don’t know. She only mentioned domestic work.”

  Antonio carried the tray through the dwindling party makers. Lizzie picked up a small pad of paper from a table. While she sipped her camomile tea, she wrote a note for Rosi.

  Josh was drinking, quickly, his whining voice harsh and loud in the still night. “You have to know people and that’s what I’m good at, see. I always know what they w
ant too. You have to show them they can trust you and you’re willing to do what it takes to make a deal or a sale or whatever.”

  Bryony fidgeted in her chair, silent and serious staring at her knees.

  “You okay, Bryony?”

  Grey frightened eyes looked up at Lizzie. Then looked to Josh.

  “Of course she’s okay! Don’t you ever stop worrying?”

  “I thought she might be worried about driving back.”

  “What are you talking about? Bryony can’t drive.”

  “I can but you…”

  “Shut up! I’m driving.”

  “Dad, you can’t. You’re drunk.”

  Joshua Martin laughed, his nose glowing red in the moonlight. “You call this drunk? I’ve only had a couple. I’m fine.”

  Rowan turned her eyes from her father and talked to her Nan, turning to Antonio to add him to the conversation. Lizzie quickly realised Marsha wasn’t well.

  “You should go in the car with your mother, Josh. I’ll drive your car back with Bryony and Rowan.”

  Lizzie stood up and held her hand out.

  Josh stood, defiantly looking down on her. “You are not going to tell me what to do!”

  “Joshua!”

  Marsha pronounced the three syllables with force and they all turned to her. Her voice was barely audible this time. “Do as Lizzie says.”

  Lizzie hurried through the couples on the dance floor, swaying awkwardly as they clung to each other. She saw Errol standing by the staircase, talking to a group of admiring women. Lizzie touched his arm. She ignored the furious glares and pulled him out of ear shot.

  “I can’t stop. Marsha, Mrs Martin isn’t feeling well. I came to…”

  Errol smiled and bowed. “Your thanks for a wonderful party are not necessary but I will pass them on to Mr Klein. I enjoyed our visit to the beach. I hope you saw everything you wanted.”

  “I saw…did you know about the photograph?”

  Errol looked puzzled.

  “What photograph?”

  “Never mind.”

  He held out his hand and bowed over it. His parting words were barely audible. “Go home, Lizzie Martin. It’s not safe for you here.”

  They drove behind Antonio, making Lizzie’s brave offer much easier.

  “I can drive but I don’t have a car of my own. Josh says I don’t need one because I don’t need to drive anywhere without him.”

  “Depends where you live. Mum and I get the bus but a car would be handy. I’d like to learn to drive.”

  “You know it comes down to money, little flower. It’s not about buying the car but running it and having the money to fix it if something goes wrong.”

  “I know. Will Nanny Martin be okay?”

  “She’s tired, that’s all. It’s been a long evening. It must be past midnight.”

  “It’s gone two in the morning, Mum.”

  “Well, there you are. I’m looking forward to my bed.”

  “I’ve woken up again. Sure you don’t want to sit in bed and watch a movie?”

  “Not tonight, maybe tomorrow.”

  “I’m wide awake too, Rowan. Would you mind if I…could I…”

  “We can have a sleepover in my room! What do you like to watch, Bryony?”

  Lizzie lay awake, the whirr of the fan merely moving warm air around her. Through the open window trickled the action of a movie and Bryony and Rowan’s chatter. She wanted to be jealous, annoyed her daughter was sitting up all night watching films with her father’s girlfriend but she wasn’t. Something happened tonight and Bryony wanted to be apart from Josh. She would never refuse another woman comfort if she needed it.

  The note she’d written for Rosi sat undelivered on her bedside table. She was glad. Asking her to go into the library was unacceptable, let alone snap a phone picture of the photograph. If Rosi were caught, it would be a black mark against her and she didn’t need that while looking for permanent work. Maybe she was wrong about the photo. It must have been a trick of the light but her mother’s words resonated in her head. ‘They said to go to Spain, not long after your father died. Do me good, they said. Help you put things in perspective, they said. Manipulators and conmen the lot of them!’

  21

  Lizzie knocked on Marsha’s door late the next morning and found her dozing on a chaise longue by the open French windows. She roused as Lizzie approached and managed a half smile.

  “Pushed that one a bit far, didn’t I? But I do love a party.”

  Lizzie patted her hand. “Rowan was worried.”

  “I know, I’m sorry.”

  “Marsha, you have told Josh, haven’t you?”

  “Antonio, my dear, would you fetch us lemonade please?”

  “Of course, Mrs Martin.”

  “I haven’t told him because he doesn’t care.”

  “Of course he does! You have to tell him!”

  “Lizzie, we both know Joshua only cares about himself. He’s like his father.”

  “But he’s half you! Half of him is a caring person!”

  “Okay then, how would Joshua behave if I told him?”

  “Well, hopefully you’d see more of him over the next few months and…”

  “Weeks, Lizzie. There are no more months left.”

  “Okay, weeks and he’d spend time with you and…”

  “Pretend he cares. I don’t want that.”

  “But Marsha…”

  “Tell me something.”

  “Sure.”

  “What did you think when I told you?”

  “I was shocked and upset and I was devastated for you and Antonio, for Rowan and Josh. I felt sad I hadn’t seen you more often, as we always get on.”

  “And did you think about the money?”

  “What money?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Joshua is his father’s son and would only be able to think about his inheritance. I don’t want to be around my son when all he’s hoping is that I’ll pop my clogs sooner rather than later!”

  “He wouldn’t!”

  Antonio came in with a tray.

  “He would, Lizzie and deep down, you know it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “And there you go again, apologizing for my insensitive offspring. I spoke to Bryony this morning. I thought I knew what Joshua had done and I made her tell me.” Marsha sighed. “So loyal but so naïve, that girl. Anyway, I’ve made a phone call and Joshua will not be getting the money he thinks he is from those gangsters.”

  “Gangsters?”

  “What else would you call them?”

  “I…I don’t know. Is Bryony okay?”

  “She is. Says she doesn’t need checking over but my doctor is coming over later to see me. I asked him to bring Natalia, lovely nurse. She’s going to check Bryony over, do a few tests. You can never be too careful.”

  “I…sorry?”

  “She said only one of them touched her, trying to kiss her…”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  “Then open your eyes!”

  “You’re the second person who’s said that to me in twenty four hours.”

  “Errol?”

  “How did you know?”

  “His father was a vengeful man, full of spite. I only met him a few times. Errol’s mother worshipped his father, I know that. She put up with a lot then one day, she was gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Her heart just stopped, they say. Defect that had gone unnoticed. Poor lad but even all those years under his father’s influence couldn’t turn him and then his father died.”

  “But he didn’t move away?”

  “He did and Woody and Klein found him and brought him back.”

  “It is like gangsters.”

  “Yup, and ‘family’ stick together.”

  “I’ve lived such a sheltered life.”

  Marsha laughed and sipped her lemonade, smacking her lips with pleasure as the sweet sharpnes
s enlivened her mouth. “Most families have a few skeletons in the cupboard. You’d be surprised.”

  Lizzie swam lengths of the pool, allowing her mind to organise the chaos. By the eighth length, she realised what her ex-husband had done. She forced herself to keep swimming rather than confront him. Using Bryony as eye candy, or maybe more, to increase his chances of getting a loan was akin to slavery in Lizzie’s eyes and hatred simmered in her stomach.

  Shouting came through Marsha’s French doors and Lizzie let the hatred go. Knowing he had failed would hurt Josh far more than Lizzie’s contempt. She pulled herself from the water and stood beneath the shower. A car door slammed, an engine revved and the squeal of the skid reverberated around the pool. Josh’s tantrum was complete.

  Lizzie spoke to Antonio and with his blessing, she asked Marsha, Bryony and Rowan, if they wanted to join her that evening in her rooms, for a simple full moon ritual.

  “You really are a witch, aren’t you? Do we need to get naked?” laughed Marsha.

  “Yes to the former and no to the latter! I planned to call down Arianrhod, the goddess of the moon, on my own but I changed my mind. Your news…I felt I needed to connect with my spiritual side and Arianrhod helps me let go of hurt and pain at the full moon. It’ll be quiet time for us four women to be together.”

  “What a lovely idea. I’m in.”

  Bryony met Lizzie’s invitation with wide unbelieving eyes. “You’re a witch?” she whispered, checking over her shoulder for eavesdroppers.

  “I live my life with the Wheel of the Year, connect with the natural world, offer up prayers to the amazing universe we live in and meditate, allowing me to learn and travel on the astral plane so, yes, I’m a witch.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to summon demons.”

  “Bryony, did I mention demons?”

  “No but…”

  “Earth, rocks, plants, animals, the sea vibrates with energy, with life. The same life, if you like, that courses through our veins. Witchcraft gives me a spiritual connection to the world around me. Best of all, I’m never alone.”

  “I’ve never thought about the sea being alive.”

  “It depends how you look at it but one thing is certain. Women and the sea are ruled by the moon.”

  “Wow!”