by Sam Short
Sergeant Spencer spoke loudly and clearly. “No. I did not murder Trevor Giles, and I do not know who did.”
“Thank you,” said Henry. He smiled at Millie. “Go on. Read his mind, you only need to verify the truthfulness of his answer, and then I can use the stone on you.”
Millie stood directly in front of Sergeant Spencer and gathered her energy. Reading people’s minds was always an unnerving prospect, but the idea of rummaging through the mind of the man who was her father, filled her with anxiety.
She loved him. She supposed she loved him like any girl would love her father, the difference being that her love for him was unreciprocated. It could be no other way — he didn’t know he was Millie’s father.
Closing her eyes, Millie concentrated, waiting for the familiar fuzziness which clouded her mind whenever she used her ability. When the fuzziness came, she imagined a spiral of energy wending its way through the space between herself and her father, the spiral twisting and turning as it wormed its way towards her father’s head, and more importantly, what was contained within it.
She knew Sergeant Spencer would feel nothing, the person whose mind she was reading never did, but Millie waited with trepidation for the electric pulse of energy which always shocked her brain at the moment her mind connected with somebody else’s.
Willing the finger of energy to cross the gap between her mind and Sergeant Spencer’s, Millie gave a low gasp as her energy brushed the energy of her father. Electric pain forced her to screw her eyes tighter closed, and she formed fists of her hands, her long fingernails hurting her palms.
Something was different, Millie realised, as pain spread across her forehead, raking her whole head with icy fingers. A pressure built within her skull which made her wince, and her breathing became shallower. Not wanting to show her discomfort, she concentrated on taming the pain, willing her mind’s eye to ignore it — to focus instead on what was on the other end of the strand of energy, the mind of her father.
She forced more energy along the invisible conduit, but the pain blossomed in her head, making her gasp. She lifted a hand to her head and looked at Henry. “I can’t,” she said. “I can’t do it. It’s as if there’s a barrier between us.”
Henry frowned, and then a strange expression spread across his face. He turned to Edna. “Go and check on Judith, please,” he said.
“But I might be needed here,” Edna protested.
“Edna, please go and check on Judith,” Henry repeated. “And Florence, perhaps you could go and check on your new friend?”
Dropping into a shallow curtsy, Florence nodded. “Of course,” she said. “You need not ask me twice, like Edna forced you to. Perhaps you could remember that when you’re choosing the new headteacher. I’m assuming there will be a new one; now Mister Dickinson has been exposed.”
“I’ve already made a decision about that,” said Henry. “And I’ve decided it’s going to be the person who should have been given the job three decades ago. Now, would you two ladies be kind enough to leave, please?”
“Of course,” said Edna, a scowl on her face. She kept her chin high as she walked to the door, then unlocked it and slammed it behind her as she left.
Simply turning away from Henry, Florence glided slowly across the room and vanished through the wall adorned with oil portraits of people Millie didn’t know.
“Is everything alright?” asked Sergeant Spencer. “Why can’t you read my mind, Millie?” He looked at Henry. “It’s the spell, isn’t it? It’s done too much damage to my mind. Is that why you asked the others to leave — so you could break the news to me?”
“No,” said Henry. “I asked them to leave because I think Millie needs some privacy to be able to do her work. I’ll be leaving too, Sergeant. You two need some time alone.” He gave Millie a look which bored into her soul. “You know why you can’t read his mind, Miss Thorn. There is a barrier between you two that only you can bring down. I’m sure you understand me.” He put the stone of integrity in his pocket. “Come for me when you’re ready, Miss Thorn.”
When the door closed behind Henry, Sergeant Spencer stared at Millie, his eyes concerned. “What is it, Millie?” he asked.
Closing her eyes momentarily, Millie took a deep breath and looked into Sergeant Spencer’s face, painfully aware that her face was lit up with emotion.
She dropped her eyes as Sergeant Spencer stared back at her, her heart pounding against her chest wall, drumming out an urgent beat which added to the rising fear which clawed at her insides. She knew what Henry had said was right. Her mind wouldn’t connect with Sergeant Spencer’s until he knew the secret which acted as an impenetrable wall between them. She’d known her power had its limitations, and now she was confronted with the largest of them.
She couldn’t read Sergeant Spencer’s mind unless he knew she was his daughter. Maybe it was because she was being so dishonest with him, or perhaps it was Millie herself jeopardising her own ability, forcing herself into having to tell him the truth. Whatever the reason, be it magical or personal, Millie knew that the only key that fitted the lock of the door which kept Sergeant Spencer’s thoughts safe, was honesty. She took a deep breath, her legs like jelly, and then she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.
The policeman rose quickly from the edge of the bed, a fierce look of concern on his face. “What’s wrong?” he said. “I’ve never seen you look like that! You didn’t even look that scared on the night I picked you up when you were running away from Spellbinder Hall. Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”
Millie vividly remembered the night he was talking about. She’d just discovered she was a witch, and the way the news had been broken had terrified her. She’d burst from Henry’s study and ran from the hall as fast and as far as she could, until Sergeant Spencer had found her in a country lane and made her feel safe again.
That night had been scary, but the feelings of fear she’d known all those months ago paled into insignificance when compared to how she felt right now.
She shook her head, the words catching in her throat as she spoke, her chest muscles tight. “No,” she said. “I don’t need to sit down, but I’d like you to sit down again.”
“Millie,” said Sergeant Spencer, still standing. “What is it? What’s wrong? Tell me. Did something happen when you tried to read my mind? Were you lying when you said that you couldn’t read my thoughts?” He tapped his head with a big finger. “Did you find something bad? Something awful in my head? A thought that scared you? Is that what happened?”
Her legs unsteady below her, Millie gripped the hem of her shirt. “No,” she said. “I was telling the truth — I couldn’t read your mind. There was a wall between us, a wall that my powers couldn’t penetrate.”
Sitting down and leaning forward on the edge of the bed, Sergeant Spencer gave Millie a kind smile. “Is that what you’re scared of?” he asked, “the fact that you couldn’t read my mind? Are you scared because you think you’re losing your mind-reading powers? Are you scared that you’re losing your ability?”
“No, that’s not it,” said Millie. She gulped, the very atoms that held her body together feeling as if they were coming apart, giving her the uneasy sensation of floating above her own body. She took a deep breath through her nose and gripped her hem tighter. She looked at the man on the bed. Her father. She repeated it in her mind. Her father. A tear bulged in her eye before winding a warm route down her cheek, quickly followed by another, and then another.
“Millie!” said Sergeant Spencer, springing to his feet. “Are you okay? What is it? Please tell me.”
Millie took a stumbling step backwards, her breath leaving her in ragged gasps as she sobbed. “I didn’t think it would be this hard!” she said. “I thought it would be easy to tell you! I even began to think you’d be happy, but then I heard what you told George, and I couldn’t tell you. Then you were put into stasis by the spell, and I promised myself that I’d tell you as soon as you woke up, but I
can’t! I don’t know what words to say!”
“Millie,” said Sergeant Spencer. “Let me help you. Tell me what’s wrong!”
Not used to losing control, Millie took another step backwards as Sergeant Spencer stood up and approached her. She put a hand up. “No,” she said. “Please don’t come any closer. Please sit down again.”
Sergeant Spencer gave a deep sigh and stepped away from Millie. He lowered himself onto the bed, his face a muddled mix of bewilderment and deep concern. “What is it?” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “Please tell me. What is it you want to tell me? What did I say to George? Tell me, Millie — please.”
Millie wiped the back of a hand across her face, smearing tears across her lips. She tasted salt, and then she sobbed again. She felt degraded, as if she had no control, as if she was one of the weak women portrayed in films — the type of woman who couldn’t control her emotions. She knew nothing could be further from the truth, but she couldn’t prevent herself from emitting another long, ragged gasp as fresh tears replaced the ones she’d wiped away.
Through blurred vision, she looked at the man on the bed, and then she understood why she had no control over herself. Sergeant Spencer was sitting right there, and yet, he was absent. He was there as the man who’d been nothing but kind to her since she’d arrived in Spellbinder Bay, but he wasn’t there as her father, and Millie was as sure as she could be, that when she told him the news, he would no longer be there as either.
It would be just like he’d explained to George. Of course he wouldn’t be able to deal with the news that he had another daughter! He already had a daughter! A daughter who may have been adopted, but meant as much as any daughter born of blood would mean to him. When Millie told him that she was his real daughter, his immediate thoughts were going to be with Judith — the person he’d known for three decades, and how she would cope with the news — not with the feelings of a woman he’d known for less than a year.
Millie had gone her whole life without a father — who was she to come barging into the life of a man and his daughter, disrupting their relationship, and expecting Sergeant Spencer to be as happy as she’d been when she discovered there was a man in the world that one day might walk her down the aisle. Of course he wasn’t going to be as happy.
“Millie,” said Sergeant Spencer, his eyes as kind as ever. “Tell me what you have to say. I can help you. Nothing is ever as bad as you imagine it’s going to be.”
Covering her eyes with a shaking hand, Millie nodded. She turned on the spot slowly, until she was facing the wall lined with oil portraits of people she didn’t know, instead of facing the man she wished she’d known for her whole life. “I can’t look at you when I tell you,” she said.
Sergeant Spencer’s voice sounded kind as he answered, and Millie wondered if he’d sound so kind when she dropped her bombshell. “That’s fine,” he said. “Just tell me what you need to say.”
Pondering the portrait of an elderly woman dressed in Victorian clothing, staring back at her from the wall, Millie licked tears from her lips. The woman’s expression was stern, but kind, and the artist had captured a fierce determination in her eyes which seemed to cross the centuries, urging Millie on. Tell him, Millie imagined the woman saying. Be courageous. Tell him.
Millie gave the portrait a smile and a curt nod. She closed her eyes so tight that she forced a flood of hot tears from them. “You’re…” she began, her hands held by her sides in tight fists, her nails digging into her palms. “I’m your…”
“What?” whispered Sergeant Spencer. “I’m what? You’re my what?”
Picturing her mother’s smiling face, Millie put her chin on her chest and took three slow breaths. She spoke slowly, her voice monotone and low. “You’re my father,” she said, the words alien to her. Words she’d never spoken before. Words she’d never had the opportunity to speak before. “You’re my father, and I’m your daughter.”
She sobbed, the total silence behind her verifying her fears. He didn’t care. She didn’t think she could force herself to turn around and face the disappointment and fear which would be scrawled across Sergeant Spencer’s face. Her father’s face. “I didn’t know how to tell —”
The hand which fell on Millie’s shoulder shocked her, and as it applied pressure to her, spinning her on the spot, the big fingers hurt her flesh. But as her father pulled her into his broad chest, his arms enveloping her and his smell filling her nostrils, all the pain left her, and her tears spilt onto the blood-stained, white police shirt he wore.
She let her emotions go, releasing everything she’d stored up so tightly for so long. Wrapping her arms around her father, she cried louder when she felt his lips on her head, kissing her.
“I see it now,” said her father, his voice spiked with emotion. “I understand everything. It all makes sense… why you look so much like her. Why she left Spellbinder Bay all those years ago without even a goodbye. You’re Josephine’s daughter. You’re mine and Josephine’s daughter.” His body suddenly tensing, her father gave a low sigh. “Oh no. Your mother’s dead. That means Josephine’s dead.”
Tilting her head, Millie gazed up at her father. “I can explain why she left without telling you. I was given a letter by Henry… from my mother. It was written on her death bed, it –”
Not allowing her to finish, her father hugged her tighter. “No. I don’t want that conversation right now. We can talk about your mother later,” he said. “If you don’t mind.”
Millie shook her head, smiling up at her father, both sad and happy that he was crying with her. “I don’t mind,” she said,
“Good,” he said. “This moment is meant for just the two of us. Father and daughter. We’ve been apart for so long, Millie.”
“Yes,” said Millie, closing her eyes. “We have.”
As Millie settled into her father’s warm hug, she heard a gentle voice from beside her. “Millie, David, do you mind if I interrupt?”
Opening her eyes to see the smiling face of her mother, Millie placed a calming hand on her father’s chest as he jumped in fright and stared in shock at the woman who stood beside Millie, smiling at him. “It’s okay,” Millie said. “Mum can travel between worlds, now.”
“Josephine,” said Millie’s dad, a tear on his cheek and a shaky hand reaching for the mother of his daughter. His hand passed straight through her formless wrist, and he sighed. “I’m sorry you died so young.”
“And I’m sorry I never told you about Millie,” answered Millie’s mother. “I’m so very sorry, David. I had my reasons.”
“Please don’t,” said Millie. “Please save this conversation for when I’m not around. This is the first time I’ve ever been in a room with both of my parents, and I don’t want it to be about regrets. I want it to be about hope.”
“Of course,” said her mother. “I understand. I came here with good news, though, Millie. Reuben is back. He’s perfectly well and is back in the body of the cockatiel. He’s with George, they seem to get on really well together.”
“Reuben is nothing if not fickle,” smiled Millie. She looked up at her father. “I’d better do it,” she said. “I’d better read your mind and report to Henry. We still need to save your memories.”
“And I need to find Judith,” said her father. “I need to explain what’s happened.” He put out a hand and cupped Millie’s face. “Everything that’s happened.”
“I can help you, David,” said Josephine. “If you like. I can tell her why I kept Millie a secret from you.”
“Yes,” said Millie’s father. “That might be a good idea.”
“Are you ready, Sergeant —” began Millie. She returned her father’s smile. “Are you ready, Dad?”
Her dad smiled. “Yes,” he said. “Read my mind.”
Chapter 43
As Millie answered Henry’s question, the orb vibrated in her hand. “I read David Spencer’s mind, and I can verify that he is telling the truth when he says he did not k
ill Trevor Giles,” she stated, confidently.
As the orb glowed blue, Henry smiled. “That’s it, Millie,” he said. “Now we wait for a moment or two. I’ll feel it if it’s worked.”
A moment or two seemed like an hour, and Millie gnawed the inside of her cheek as she studied Henry’s face. Then Henry smiled, and then he lifted his hand, offering a high five. He automatically dropped it, his face flushed, and reached for the pocket watch on the end of the chain tucked into his breast pocket. “Never tell anybody I did that, Miss Thorn,” he said. “I was relieved that Sergeant Spencer was saved. I have a soft spot for the man.”
Millie crossed her heart. “I promise I won’t say a word,” she said.
“And how did it go?” asked Henry. “I would imagine he was overjoyed to find out that he’s the father of such a wonderful young lady?”
Managing to fight back tears, Millie smiled at the kindly old man. “It’s early days yet, Henry. I had to rush off soon after telling him, so that you could perform the stone of integrity test on me.”
“Then I imagine you’ll want to get back to him,” said Henry. “Why don’t you go and tell him that it worked. Tell him his memories are saved.” He gave Millie a smile. “Both the memories he’s already made, and the wonderful ones he’s going to create.”
“No,” said Millie. “He’s explaining things to Judith. You tell him, Henry. I don’t want to interfere. It’s going to be a shock for Judith. I think they’ll need some time without me around them.”
“You’re a thoughtful young lady,” said Henry. “And, anyway, we still have work to do. Trevor Giles’s murderer is still on the loose. Why don’t you take Timothy or George and bring me the suspects you named. The stone of integrity will discover the killer if he or she is among them.”
“I don’t think the killer is among them,” said Millie. “But I think I know who the killer is, and if I’m right, it’s all been an awful tragedy.”