by Adele Abbott
“Who was that?” I asked.
“That’s Talbot. He’s our lodger,” Pearl said.
“I thought you weren’t taking on any more tenants.”
“This is different,” Amber said. “It’s just a short-term rental. A couple of weeks at the most. He came in for a coffee, and happened to mention that he was looking for somewhere to stay. It seemed silly to turn away the cash.”
“What does he do?”
Amber shrugged.
“I don’t know,” Pearl said.
“Come on. You must know.”
“He’s some kind of salesman, I think.” Amber picked at one of her nails.
Both of them were acting very shiftily.
“I’ll go and ask him.” I started towards the stairs.
“No, wait.” Pearl grabbed my arm. “If you must know, he sells oils. Specialist oils.”
“What kind of specialist oils?”
The twins exchanged a glance. “Animal oils.”
“What kind of animal?”
“Alright!” Pearl said. “Snake oil. Satisfied?”
Priceless!
***
I was still chuckling to myself about the twins’ snake oil salesman when I stepped out of Cuppy C.
My good humour didn’t last long, though.
“Jill Gooder. Could we have a quick word?”
A TV camera was pointed at me, and a bright light was being shone in my eyes. I could barely see the woman who was holding a microphone under my nose. I recognised her voice though—it was Eclair.
“Get that camera away from me.” I tried to push it away, but the cameraman took a step back so that he was beyond my reach.
“Jill, how did you know the location of the secret passageway at CASS?”
“I don’t know. I just did.”
“Do you really expect people to believe that?”
“I don’t care what people believe. It happens to be the truth. Now, get that microphone and camera away from me.”
“And do you still insist that you didn’t even know you were a witch until you were in your twenties?”
“It’s the truth.”
“And yet, you managed to progress through the levels remarkably quickly.”
“I’ve nothing else to say. Please move out of the way.”
I might as well have been talking to a brick wall for all of the notice she took.
“Leave her alone!” Pearl was standing in the doorway.
“Yeah. Get away from here!” Amber shouted over her sister’s shoulder.
“Are you two covering up for her?” The microphone and camera were turned onto the twins.
“Get back inside!” I shouted. “I can handle this.”
The twins retreated back inside Cuppy C.
“Leave them alone,” I barked at Eclair. “I’ll answer your questions.”
“Good, okay let’s start—”
“But not here. If you want to interview me, it has to be in the studio, and I’ll need to see a list of questions in advance.”
“But what about—”
“That’s it. Take it or leave it.”
Eclair put the microphone down, and told the cameraman to stop filming.
“When can you come into the studio?” she asked.
“Let me have a list of questions, and I’ll get back to you. Now, if you don’t mind.” I pushed past her.
***
For once, I was pleased to escape from Candlefield, and return to the human world. At least there, I was just regular ‘Jill Gooder’, and I didn’t have to worry about someone pointing a TV camera at me.
The last thing I wanted to do was take part in some TV show, but it was the only way to get Eclair off my back. This whole affair had got me thinking about Imelda Barrowtop, and what she’d said to me on her deathbed. In her delusional state, she’d obviously mistaken me for Magna Mondale. But that wasn’t what was playing on my mind. I kept thinking about the spell she’d asked me about. The ‘double dark’ spell. It must have been important for her to have used her last breath to ask about it. Had it been in the book? I didn’t remember seeing it, but then I’d had only a limited amount of time to study the book before I’d been forced to cast it down the Dark Well.
For now, I had more pressing matters to attend to—like the skydiving case. I had arranged to visit the airfield later, to speak to the operator who had flown the plane from which Dale Thomas and his wife had jumped on that fateful day. But first, I was going to call in at the office to see if there was anything else which needed my attention.
Chapter 4
It was Mrs V’s day in the office, and I could hear the sound of knitting needles clicking, even before I walked in.
“Morning, Mrs V.”
Huh? The office was deserted. And yet, on her desk was a pair of needles which appeared to be knitting all by themselves. The scarf they were working on was already over two feet long.
“Mrs V? Are you there?” I said to the empty chair. Perhaps she had upset Grandma, who had retaliated by making her invisible. “Mrs V?” I applied maximum focus. If it was an invisibility spell, that should allow me to ‘break through’ it.
Nothing. Whatever this was, it wasn’t the ‘invisible’ spell. Then, without warning, the needles stopped knitting. I picked them up and studied them carefully. As far as I could make out, they were just regular knitting needles. It made no sense whatsoever.
“Jill, sorry I’m late.” A flustered Mrs V appeared in the doorway. “The bus was delayed.”
“That’s okay.”
She walked over to her desk, and picked up the knitting. “It’s coming along quite nicely, don’t you think?” Mrs V held it up for my inspection.
“Very nice. Is the scarf longer than you’d expected?”
“What do you mean?”
“I—err—was just wondering. Does it seem longer than when you left it here, last night?”
“Of course it is. I’ve knitted another four inches this morning.”
“This morning? Were you in earlier?”
“No. I just got here—you saw me.” She gave me a puzzled look. “Are you okay, Jill?”
“I’m just a little confused. You said that you knitted four inches this morning, but you’ve only just arrived.”
“I did it on the bus.”
“Oh?” Now I was even more confused. “How did you do it on the bus when the scarf was on your desk?”
“It’s your grandmother’s latest invention.”
I should have known. “I don’t think I’ve heard about that.”
“Your grandmother and I may have our differences, and I’m still not happy at the way she let me go, but there’s no denying the woman is a genius when it comes to yarn innovation.”
“What exactly is this new invention?”
“I’m trying to remember what it’s called—White Tie Needles or something like that.”
“And how does it work?”
“It’s brilliant. You have two pairs of needles. You cast the wool onto one pair, and you use the other pair to knit with.”
“I don’t get it.”
“It’s really quite simple. This morning, I had the second pair of needles with me on the bus. I used them to go through the motions of knitting, and that caused the pair of needles on my desk to copy my actions.”
“I don’t see the point in that. Why don’t you just knit in the conventional way on the bus?”
“Because then I’d have to carry the scarf back and forth between home and work. It can be difficult to manage large items of knitting in the confines of the bus. This way, all I need to carry is the needles, so there’s no scarf for people to trip over. It’s brilliant, don’t you think?”
“I guess so, but how does it work?”
“I’ve just told you.”
“I understand what it does. I just can’t see how it does it.”
“Don’t ask me, dear.” She laughed. “You know I’m not very technically minded. You s
hould ask your grandmother.”
“Oh, I intend to.”
What on earth was wrong with Grandma? Not satisfied with flaunting magic with her Everlasting Wool and One-Size Needles, she had now introduced White Tie Needles. I needed to have a serious talk with that woman.
***
“What’s that?” I pointed to the white box on my desk. Sitting next to it, and looking very pleased with himself, was Winky.
“It’s for you. Take a look.”
“Who brought it in?”
“It’s from me. A present.”
My suspicionometer was back in the red zone. “What is it?”
“Open it and find out.”
I lifted the lid, gingerly. Inside, was a beautiful iced cake.
“What’s this for?”
“Does there have to be a reason for me to bake you a cake?”
“What have you done?”
“Nothing.”
“What are you planning to do, then?”
“Look, if you must know, I feel a little guilty about the misunderstanding over the nett and gross profit thing.”
He’d tried to cheat me out of my share of the profits from his woolly jumper enterprise by manipulating the P&L report, but thanks to Luther, I’d sussed him out.
“Fair enough.” I wasn’t one to hold a grudge. “Where did you buy it?”
“I baked it myself.”
I laughed. “No, seriously, where did you buy it?”
“I really did bake it. Do you want a slice now?”
“Okay, but only if you have some first.”
“It’s your cake. You should have the first piece.”
“No. You first. I insist.”
“Do you think I’ve poisoned it or something?”
“Of course not.” I wouldn’t have put anything past him.
After I’d seen Winky eat some and survive, I decided to give it a try. And, I have to admit, it was delicious. There was way too much of it for me to eat by myself, so I gave a slice to Mrs V.
“Mmmm, that’s delicious.” She wiped the crumbs from her lips. “Who made it?”
“I did.” I could hardly tell her it was Winky, could I?
She laughed. “No, seriously, who made it? Was it that next-door neighbour of yours? Didn’t you say she often gives you cakes?”
“You got me. Yes, it was Mrs Rollo.”
It was coming to something when Mrs V was prepared to accept that Mrs Rollo, the world’s worst baker, had made the cake, but couldn’t believe that I might have made it.
***
I still had some time to kill before my appointment with the skydiving operator, so I took a walk down to Ever. On almost every lamp post between my office and the shop there were posters about Coffee Triangle’s ‘Big’ Day. Once again, there was precious little detail about what exactly would be happening, but maybe that was all part of the plan. I was now sufficiently intrigued that I intended to pay them a visit on the day.
“Are we still on for tonight?” Kathy said. She was behind the counter at Ever.
“Yeah. Jack is going bowling with one of his sad friends.”
“I hope you don’t call them that in front of Jack.”
“Of course not. You know me—diplomacy personified.”
She rolled her eyes.
“What’s with this White Tie Needles nonsense?” I asked.
“White tie?” Kathy shook her head.
“Mrs V was telling me about it. This new-fangled invention that Grandma has come up with that allows you to knit remotely.”
“Oh, you mean Wi-Fi Needles.”
“Do I?”
“It only launched a couple of days ago, but it’s selling like hot cakes.”
“How does it work?”
Kathy reached under the counter, and produced a pair of knitting needles. “Look over there.” She pointed to another pair of needles at the far end of the counter. “When I knit with these, those over there will mimic my movements.”
To demonstrate, she began to go through the motions with the needles in her hands. As she did, the needles at the other end of the counter followed suit.
“Clever, isn’t it?” she said.
“Very, but how does it work?”
“Wi-Fi.”
“There’s no internet connection in this shop.” I took out my phone to double-check.
“There must be or it wouldn’t work, would it?” Kathy shrugged.
“I suppose not. Is Grandma on the roof terrace?”
“No, she’s in her office.” Kathy leaned forward, and said in a hushed voice, “Last time I walked past the door, I could hear her snoring. She won’t thank you for waking her up.”
“I’ll risk it.”
Kathy was right. I could hear the snoring when I was still several feet from her office.
“Hi, Grandma!” I said, as I burst through the door.
She jumped so much that she almost fell out of her chair. “Do you have to come charging in here like that?”
“Sorry. If I’d realised you were asleep, I wouldn’t have disturbed you.” Snigger.
“I wasn’t asleep. What did you want?”
“To talk to you about Wi-Fi Needles.”
“My best invention to-date, wouldn’t you say? Sales are through the roof.”
“Why do you insist on calling it an invention? It’s obviously magic.”
“Says you, but then I wouldn’t expect you to understand the complexities of digital networks.”
“Do I look stupid? Don’t answer that. You know as well as I do that this has nothing to do with Wi-Fi or digital networks. It’s a blatant abuse of your magical powers.”
“Even if that was true, and I’m not saying it is, why are you getting your knickers in such a twist?”
“Because you’re going to get into trouble.”
“Who with? Department V?” She cackled. “I don’t think so.”
“You think you’re untouchable, don’t you?”
“Pretty much. Now, was there something else? I have work to attend to.”
“How did that go?” Kathy asked, on my way out.
“Don’t ask. That woman is impossible.”
Before she could say anything else, a customer approached the counter.
“Do you have those Wi-Fi Needles? My friend told me about them. They sound wonderful.”
***
I was so busy grumbling to myself about Grandma and her stupid ‘inventions’ that I didn’t spot Betty Longbottom until it was too late to avoid her.
“Hi, Jill. You look deep in thought. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just Grandma, driving me crazy as usual.”
“She scares me.”
“She scares most people. How’s Norman?”
“Don’t talk to me about that man. His bottle tops are taking over the shop. I’ve had to put half of my stock into storage.”
“Are the bottle tops selling well, then?”
“Oh yes. The shop has turned into a magnet for every bottle top anorak in a fifty mile radius.”
“That must be good for your profitability?”
“I guess so.” She sighed. “I see that you’re running a marketing campaign too. I can’t say I get it though.”
“What marketing campaign?”
“All those posters down the other end of the High Street.” She pointed. “What’s the significance of the witch’s outfit?”
“The what? What do you mean?”
“I assumed you’d had the posters put up. They’re pictures of you dressed in a witch’s outfit.”
“Sorry, Betty. I have to run.”
I had to find those posters.
It wasn’t difficult. They were pasted on every available surface. Each one had a cartoon image of a witch, with my face superimposed on it. The wording read: This Woman Is A Witch.
Who could have done this? My first thought was Ma Chivers. She had been responsible for messing with Grandma’s advertising. But this was
far worse. This threatened to blow my cover.
Don’t panic, Jill. I tried to convince myself that there was nothing to worry about. No one would take the posters literally. Like Betty, they would just assume they were some kind of obscure marketing campaign. Even so, I wanted them gone, so I set about ripping them down one by one.
It had taken the best part of an hour, but I had finally reached what appeared to be the last one.
“Isn’t that your face on the poster?” A man wearing a striped apron appeared out of the fishmonger’s shop.
I tore it down. “It was someone’s idea of a practical joke. Did you see who put them up?”
“Two young women.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t a woman and a man?” If it wasn’t Ma Chivers, I would have expected it to be Alicia and Cyril.
“Of course I am. They were very pretty. I heard one of them call the other one Flora.”
The Ice Maidens. What where they doing in Washbridge? And what was with the poster campaign? I suspected the answer to both of those questions was the same: Miles Best.
“Are you?” the fishmonger said.
“Am I what?”
“A witch?”
“Do I look like a witch?”
He studied me for a long moment. “You’ve got the nose for it.”
“And you stink of fish, but that doesn’t make you a mackerel, does it?”
That silenced him. He was obviously no match for my cutting wit.
Chapter 5
I was surprised to discover that there were two airfields in the Washbridge area: North and South. They were both small concerns, and used mainly by local skydiving clubs.
Gerry Southland was the owner of Skydiving Adventures. I found him tinkering with his plane, which was a horrible canary yellow colour.
“You must be Jill. Do come in.” He showed me into a small office, which was adjacent to the only hangar on Washbridge South Airfield. “Sorry for the mess.”
The office comprised of a desk, two chairs, and a sorry looking filing cabinet.
“Terrible business, this,” he said, as he took a seat at the desk. “I’ve done this for almost seventeen years, and not so much as a broken leg until now.”