Witch Is When Everything Went Crazy

by Adele Abbott

  There was a smattering of polite laughter.

  “I’d always assumed that my mother had abandoned me, but I now know that she has always been by my side—I just couldn’t see her. I feel truly blessed to have been re-united with her—even if I did have to wait until after she was dead.”

  A little more polite laughter.

  “Discovering who I was, after all of those years came as something of a shock as you can imagine. But I can honestly say that it is, without a doubt, one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I now have a whole new family who, until recently, I didn’t even know existed.”

  The twins beamed at me.

  “I’m grateful for the opportunity to be here today, to witness my mother’s joy at getting married to Alberto, her childhood sweetheart. Has there ever been a more beautiful bride?”

  Everyone cheered and clapped. Can ghosts blush? I felt sure I saw my mother’s cheeks colour.

  “Or such a dashing groom as Alberto?”

  More cheers and applause.

  “Please be upstanding and join me in a toast.”

  Everyone, even Grandma, got to their feet.

  “The bride and groom!”

  My mother took my hand, squeezed it, and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

  “I need a drink,” I joined Drake at his table.

  “Great speech.” He poured me a glass of champagne.

  “Was it okay? I had intended to prepare something.”

  The twins grabbed two chairs from an adjoining table, and squeezed in next to their respective partners.

  “It was brilliant.” Amber took a sip from William’s glass.

  “I’m glad I didn’t have to make a speech.” Pearl gave Alan a peck on the cheek.

  Thirty minutes later, the tables had been moved to the edge of the room. On the small stage, a four piece band struck up. Within moments, the dance floor was full. Amber and Pearl were really going for it.

  “Want to dance?” Drake held out his hand.

  “I’ve got two left feet.”

  “That’s okay. I have two right ones. We’ll cancel each other out.”

  The first number, which I’d never heard before, had a fast tempo. Kathy always said that I danced like a drunken windmill. Drake didn’t seem to mind.

  Three hours later, and I was really getting into the groove. Or maybe it was just the drink. Either way, I was having a great time. My only disappointment was that human music didn’t seem to have made it to Candlefield.

  “Grandma’s leaving.” Aunt Lucy tapped me on the shoulder.

  “It is getting late,” I said, trying to be heard over the sound of the band.

  “For you, maybe, young lady.”

  Grandma was behind me—I should have known.

  “This is too lame for me,” she said. “I’m going clubbing. Care to come?”

  “Err—thanks, but—I don’t think so.”

  “You youngsters. No staying power.” With that, she was gone.

  Aunt Lucy shrugged resignedly.

  Drake and I were all danced out.

  “Who exactly was the man I saw you with in Washbridge?” he said.

  Since the awkward encounter between Drake and Jack Maxwell, neither man had enquired about the other. I was beginning to think that neither of them would.

  “Maxwell. Detective Jack Maxwell.”

  “So, it was business then?”

  “Not exactly. I won a charity raffle, or at least my sister fixed it so that I won. The date with Detective Jack Maxwell was the prize.”

  “So, not a real date?”

  “Not really.”

  “Good—I mean, I see.”

  “Jill, we’re going home now.” Aunt Lucy and the twins looked dead on their feet.

  “Where are the guys?”

  “They’ve taken a cab.”

  “William is drunk.” Amber did not look happy.

  “Alan is even more drunk,” Pearl said.

  “I’m pretty sure Lester was drunker than both of them,” Aunt Lucy chimed in.

  “Men!”

  Those three men would be in for a hard time in the morning.

  “Are you coming, Jill?” Aunt Lucy said.

  “I’d better get off,” I said to Drake. “I’m ten kinds of shattered.”

  “Okay. Maybe I’ll see you again soon.”

  “Oooh!” The twins chorused.

  I shot them a look, and then turned back to Drake. “Sure. I’d like that.”

  We all went back to Aunt Lucy’s. The twins and I were going to share their old bedroom. No sleep for me then.

  “My throat feels like a mouse crawled into it and died.” Amber coughed. “Do you have anything to drink, Mum?”

  “No more alcohol for you three tonight!”

  “I meant lemonade or coke.”

  “There’s coke in the fridge.”

  “So, Jill?” Amber said, as she opened the fridge. “What about Drake?”

  “What about him?”

  “He seems—”

  A cloud of yellow smoke began to fill the kitchen.

  “What’s going on?” Aunt Lucy screamed. “Girls? Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay,” I said.

  “Me too.” Pearl coughed.

  The smoke had almost dissipated now. The fridge door was open, but there was no sign of Amber.

  “Amber?” Aunt Lucy shouted. “Where are you? Don’t mess around, this isn’t funny.”

  Pearl and I exchanged a look. Instinctively, I knew this wasn’t a joke.

  Ten minutes later, after the three of us had searched the house and garden; there was still no sign of Amber.

  “I have to get Grandma,” Aunt Lucy said. “She’ll know what to do.”

  “Wait!” I called. “There’s something I need to tell you first.”

  “It’ll have to wait, Jill. I need—”

  “There were Followers in the house.”

  Aunt Lucy stared at me with eyes full of dread. “When?”

  “When I came back to get changed. They ran away as soon as I got here.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I—err—I didn’t want to spoil the day—I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

  “Never mind, I need to get Grandma.”

  The knock on the door stopped us all in our tracks. Aunt Lucy rushed over and pulled it open.

  “Amber!” Aunt Lucy threw her arms around her daughter. “Are you okay?”

  Amber didn’t look particularly okay—she looked as though she’d just woken from a deep sleep.

  “What happened?” Amber said.

  “Don’t you remember?” Pearl hugged her sister.

  Amber shook her head. “I was getting coke out of the fridge.”

  “What’s that?” I pointed to something sticking out of Amber’s pocket.

  Aunt Lucy took the envelope, tore it open, and stared at the small slip of paper.

  ‘Daughter of Darlene, be warned. I can take you or any of your family any time I please.’

  To my surprise, the twins were soon in their beds and sleeping like logs. I was too upset and angry to sleep. Aunt Lucy had found Grandma, and brought her back to the house. The three of us were now at the kitchen table.

  “We have to do something about this,” I said.

  Grandma gave me an icy stare. “We? And what exactly does a level two witch think she can do against the Dark One?”

  “I don’t know, but surely we have to try to do something.”

  “Don’t you think that others have already tried?”

  “I—err.”

  “Sups much more powerful than you have tried and failed.”

  “But we don’t even know who he is or what he is. What are the local police doing?”

  “This isn’t really their field.”

  “What do they do then?”

  “That’s a good question.”

  “What about sup sups, like Daze? Why don’t they go after the Dark One
?”

  “What makes you think they aren’t doing? You’ve only been here for five minutes. You have no idea what goes on.”

  That had put me firmly in my place. There was no arguing with Grandma while she was in this mood. I let it go, made my excuses, and crawled into the sleeping bag in the twins’ bedroom. But this was far from over. The Dark One had crossed a line tonight, and I wasn’t about to let it lie.

  The twins were still fast asleep when I got up the next morning. Grandma and Aunt Lucy were at the kitchen table. Had either of them been to bed?

  “Toast?” Aunt Lucy stood up when she saw me.

  “No thanks. I’ll just have a little cereal.”

  “Sit down.” Grandma pointed to the chair opposite to hers.

  “I thought I’d take my breakfast upstairs.”

  “Sit down!”

  “Or maybe, I’ll eat it here. That would work as well.”

  “Where did you get that smart mouth from?” Grandma was eating something that resembled frog spawn.

  Aunt Lucy put the cereal on the table, stooped, and whispered in my ear. “Take no notice of grumpy.”

  “You’re not too old to be turned into a snail,” Grandma told Aunt Lucy.

  “Cut the girl some slack.” Aunt Lucy glared at her mother. “She’s only known she was a witch for five minutes.”

  “All the more reason not to go shouting her mouth off with wild threats that she can’t back up.”

  “She’s Darlene’s daughter! Your granddaughter! What do you expect?”

  “I expect her to pack up that silly human job of hers, and move to Candlefield where we can protect her.”

  “Not happening!” I banged my spoon onto the table. “I was right here, in Candlefield, last night, but it didn’t do much good did it?”

  “What’s going on?” Amber covered a yawn.

  “What’s all the noise about?” Pearl said, and then she spotted Grandma. “Sorry.”

  “Your cousin has decided to move to Candlefield permanently,” Grandma said.

  “No I haven’t.” I stormed past the twins. Thirty minutes later, I’d showered and dressed.

  “Don’t let Grandma get to you.” Aunt Lucy put a hand on my shoulder. “She means well.”

  “I’m not leaving Washbridge,” I said.

  “I’ll tell Grandma you need more time to consider it.”

  “You can tell Grandma to go take a running jump.”

  I was still seething when I arrived back at my flat. The cheek of the woman. Telling me to leave Washbridge when she’d just set up a shop there. NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN!

  I would speak to Daze. If anyone could find out who or what the Dark One was, surely it would be the sup sups. And anyway, she owed me a favour for helping to catch Damon Black.

  “Oh, Ivy!” A woman’s voice caught my attention.

  Just what I needed. I glanced down the corridor. Mr Ivers’ latest conquest was a brunette. A little older than DeeDee, but apparently with the same MENSA rating. “You’re so naughty, Ivy!”

  Give me strength. I couldn’t take any more of Ivy and his harem. Maybe it was time I checked out what was happening at speed dating. The whole concept sounded rather weird to me. It was hard enough trying to get to know someone when you had the whole night. How were you meant to do it in five minutes? I’d spent longer than that talking to the barista while he made my coffee.

  Chapter 22

  “Morning, Jill.” Mrs V gave me the same disapproving look every time I brought in coffee.

  “Morning, Mrs V.”

  “There’s perfectly good coffee in the jar. I don’t know why you waste your money on that stuff. And what’s that behind your back?”

  How did she do that? I swear the woman had X-ray vision.

  “Just a snack.”

  “Another blueberry muffin?”

  “Only a small one.”

  Another disapproving look—I didn’t care. After the wedding and its aftermath, I deserved blueberries, and if they happened to come wrapped in a muffin, who was I to argue?

  “What’s that you’re knitting?” Notice the subtle change of subject? A master at work.

  “It’s a scarf.”

  “I thought you’d moved on to socks.”

  “I have, but I’m taking part in the scarf-a-thon. I thought you’d have heard about it.”

  “I’m not really up on yarn news and events.”

  “Your grandmother organised it.”

  “She never mentioned it. What is it exactly?”

  “Everyone who takes part has twenty four hours to knit a scarf that must be one hundred stitches wide. The sponsors pay so much for every inch of the finished scarf. All proceeds go to charity.”

  “That sounds like a great idea. How long are you hoping for?”

  “I’m not sure, but don’t worry, it won’t bankrupt you.”

  “Me?”

  “Your grandmother put you down as a sponsor.”

  “That was kind of her.”

  “I told her I thought two pounds an inch was too much, but she insisted you’d want to pledge at least that amount.”

  “That’s great.” I took a bite of muffin. “Just great.”

  “Where’s mine?” Winky asked, one-eyeing my muffin.

  “Cats don’t eat muffins.”

  “This one doesn’t—apparently. Because someone is too mean to buy him one.”

  “I feed you. You should be grateful.”

  “How would you like it, if you had to eat cat food for breakfast, lunch and dinner?”

  “I’m not a cat.”

  “Are you really going to eat all of that by yourself?”

  “It’s only a small one.” I stuffed the rest into my mouth.

  “Animal cruelty—I have a good mind to report you.”

  My phone rang.

  “Jill?”

  My mouth was otherwise engaged with blueberry muffin.

  “Jill? Are you there?”

  If I choked to death, it would be Kathy’s fault. Cause of death—blueberry muffin asphyxia.

  “Jill?”

  “I’m here. Sorry, I was—”

  “Stuffing your face by the sound of it. Are you back on the muffins?”

  “It was only a small one. You sound rough.”

  “No kidding. My head feels like it’s about to explode. What did I drink yesterday?”

  “What didn’t you drink?”

  “What about you? How do you feel this morning? Pete said you seemed sober when you brought me home.”

  “Sober? He must be joking. I’m feeling pretty rough too. That’s why I had the muffin—best cure ever for a hangover.”

  “I must have been really out of it.” Kathy coughed, and sounded for a moment like she might throw up. “I can’t remember very much at all, but I keep getting this image of you wearing a pink dress. Like a bridesmaid.”

  “Pink dress? Me? You must have been hallucinating.”

  “So you weren’t wearing a pink dress?”

  “Course not. Sounds like you should go back to bed.”

  “I’m going to, but I need a favour.”

  When didn’t she?

  “I’ve got a dentist appointment this afternoon. Pete’s at work. Is there any chance you could collect the kids from school, and stay with them at my place until I get home?”

  “Sure, no problem.” It was the least I could do after wrecking her birthday. “Are you sure you can face the dentist with that hangover?”

  “Not really. Hopefully I can sleep it off before then. I’m going back to bed. See you later.”

  “Later.”

  I should have felt guilty about casting a ‘sleep’ spell on my sister, and then lying to her. I should have, but I didn’t. It was payback for stealing my beanies, and for all those terrible blind dates she’d set me up on. Revenge was sweet—sweet as a blueberry muffin.

  I spent the next two hours catching up on paperwork, and ignoring Winky’s jibes. If he wanted a muffin, he�
��d have to bake his own.

  I heard the outer door open.

  “Who’s that?” I wondered aloud. I knew I didn’t have any appointments scheduled.

  “Maybe it’s the muffin man,” Winky said.

  It wasn’t.

  “Detective Maxwell is here,” Mrs V said, with a silly grin on her face. “Shall I show him in?”

  “Only if he has muffins,” Winky meowed.

  “Yes, please.” I turned to Winky. “You! Behave or else.”

  “Do I get a muffin if I do?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Chocolate chip?”

  “Jill,” Maxwell had had his hair cropped short.

  “Morning. Nice haircut.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “The convict look suits you. Grab a seat.”

  “Your receptionist didn’t try to give me a scarf today.”

  “That’s good.”

  “She got me to sponsor her instead.”

  “Oh. Sorry about that.”

  “It’s for a good cause, I guess. I said I’d match whatever you were sponsoring her.”

  “Are you sure? Two pounds?”

  “Why not? Two pounds a foot—how much can it cost me?”

  “An inch.”

  “What?”

  “It’s two pounds an inch.” I laughed.

  “Whoops. Oh well, there goes my beer money for the month.”

  Probably for the year. “What brings you here?”

  “I was passing, and I wanted to give you an update on the Vicars case before the press get a hold of it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No charges are going to be brought against Doctor Mills. The CPS decided it wasn’t in the public interest, and to be honest, I agree with them. His only crime was trying to persuade Mrs Vicars she shouldn’t discriminate against his dog. There’s no evidence he actually threatened her—although she obviously felt afraid, which is why she rushed out of the house, and into the path of the car.”

  “He tried to bribe her.”

  “Maybe, but that’s an issue for the organisers of the dog show. They may decide to strip him of his title, but it isn’t a police matter.”