Broom with a View

by Gayla Twist

  “I’m excessively grateful that you were able to find my cuff links,” Mr. B told Miss Popplewell once he’d finished dressing. “I can always replace a shirtfront or a pair of trousers, but these links mean a lot to me.”

  “I’m happy to be of help,” the girl told him, and it was true.

  “Yes, well, now that everyone is decent, I think my fiancée and I shall be on our way,” Cyril said, his ideas of proper behaviour having been thoroughly taxed. “Perhaps we ought not to walk back through the village together?”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Violet began to say.

  “Please.” Cyril cut her off. “I’m thinking of your reputation as well as my own.”

  “Oh, Cyril,” Violet said with a sigh. “Haven’t you ever danced with the fairies and woken up in a state of undress?” She’d done so herself as a child and didn’t find anything wrong with it that warranted penance beyond a red face.

  “No, I can say with all honesty that I have never done such a thing,” Mr. Wilberforce informed. “And I would expect, as my future wife, that you would find that behaviour equally deplorable.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, old sport,” Sonny said, slapping Mr. Wilberforce on the back and causing his glasses to pop off. “A bit of good fun if you don’t mind a raging headache as the price you pay. Mother’s honeysuckle wine can really come back at you.”

  Chapter 19: The Importance of Change

  “I just had a note from your Aunt Vera that she’ll be joining us for a day or two,” Mrs. Popplewell told her family at breakfast a few days later.

  Sonny and Violet exchanged looks across the table. “I thought she just left,” Sonny said. “She’s barely had time to unpack, and now you tell us she’s going to turn around and head back here. I don’t see why she even bothered leaving in the first place.”

  “Don’t be cruel,” his mother scolded, shooting him a stern look. “She’s having trouble with her… um…There’s something wrong with her...” her words faded.

  Sonny rolled his eyes. “Her boiler, perhaps? Or the gnomes in her garden, which are more than likely gophers. Has the neighbour’s dog taken a decided dislike to her? Or is it the plumbing? Or maybe the roof has sprung a leak. Seriously, mother, I don’t think there’s one more thing that can go wrong with her house. Sometimes I think she’s the one breaking things just so she has an excuse to stay here while she waits for her landlord to mend whatever she imagines to be the problem.” Turning to include Cyril in the conversation, he added, “That’s the trouble with Mortal landlords. What should be solved with a quick flick of a wand or a simple incantation, they spend weeks fussing over. They take forever to do anything.”

  “That is very unkind, you wretched beastie. Your poor aunt lives all by herself,” his mother chastised him. “Did it ever occur to you that she might just be lonely and enjoy our company?”

  “I’m sorry,” Sonny said, getting to his feet and placing a kiss on top of his mother’s head. “It’s just… Well… You know how Vera is.”

  “No,” Mrs. Popplewell said, stabbing at her grapefruit with a spoon. “How is she?”

  Just then there was the sound of someone tapping quietly at the door, sparing Sonny from answering the question. “I’ll get it,” he said, grateful for the diversion.

  “That must be Vera now,” Mrs. Popplewell mused. “I suppose she caught the early train.”

  “By the way,” Sonny said as he headed out of the room. “I’ve asked Sebastian Du Monde to join us this afternoon for a bit of sport.”

  “You did what?” Cyril exclaimed.

  “Why shouldn’t I?” Sonny asked, already tiring of enduring his future brother-in-law’s frequent overreactions to every small piece of news. “Mr. B likes him, and I’m sure Professor Yog won’t raise a fuss. Plus, he’s actually a tenant of Mr. Wainbright’s. That’s got to be worth something.”

  “The house will be crowded enough as it is, if Vera’s joining us,” Violet commented, feeling her throat get a little tight.

  “I didn’t ask him to spend the night,” Sonny insisted. “I just think he’s good fun. Besides, I thought you liked him. Weren’t you all thick as thieves at that pensione of yours in X?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t exactly put it like that,” Violet mumbled, hoping no one had noticed that her face was a bit red.

  “Well, it doesn’t serve, whatever you think of him, because I’ve already invited him, and he’s already accepted.”

  “Don’t forget the door, dear,” Mrs. Popplewell prompted her son. She didn’t like the idea of her elderly aunt being kept standing on the front step.

  They could hear Sonny in the front hall, pulling open the door. “Hi, Aunt Vera. I thought I heard you knocking.”

  “Well, it is on the early side,” replied his aunt. “I didn’t like to ring the bell in case you weren’t all up. I’ve been waiting so long that I was convinced you were all still in your beds.”

  Ignoring her tiny bit of censure, Sonny said, “Vera, I’m sure mother’s told you more than once that you don’t need to knock or ring. You’re family, after all; you can just walk right on in.”

  “Oh, no,” his aunt protested. “I could never do that. I don’t like to impose.”

  Sonny thought it was more of an imposition to have his breakfast interrupted than to have his aunt, who practically lived there anyway, walk in without knocking first. He knew it was futile to argue with Vera on this point so instead he just said, “Well, come on in.”

  “Oh, thank you, dear boy,” Vera said, entering the hall. “My bags are just there, and do you happen to have any change for the driver?”

  “Driver?” Sonny asked, making a show of peering out the door. He was somewhat irritated to see a horse and driver waiting.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have the exact amount on me,” Vera said. “Would you mind?”

  “But why did you take a cab?” her nephew wanted to know. It seemed a waste of good money when she could have easily arrived by broom and towed her bags along behind her.

  “I’m really not comfortable flying during the daytime,” was Vera’s reply. “I don’t want to alarm the town constable, if he should happen to look up. I find this is just as convenient, and I don’t mind the expense. It’s good to treat oneself once in a while.”

  “Rather,” Sonny grumbled as he fished for the coins in his pocket. Of course, Vera didn’t mind the expense because she never had to shoulder the expense. Sonny found it remarkable how not having the exact change always prevented his aunt from paying for anything. She would fuss about it for a few days, insisting she was going to make good on her debt, but somehow it always managed to slip her mind in the end.

  Shortly thereafter, Mr. Wainbright arrived on foot bearing an enormous bouquet of flowers for the lady of the house and making himself useful in the kitchen with said lady. Cyril and the Popplewells could hear them laughing and chatting and sending the kitchen girl on unnecessary errands. As the day slipped on towards noon, Mr. B and Professor Yog made their appearance, parking their brooms in the mudroom.

  “I say, Professor Yog,” Mr. B started in a rather congenial voice as they all sat down to luncheon under the shade of a vine-covered veranda. “I don’t know how you still get around on that old bundle of twigs that you ride. I think it would serve you better as kindling for the fire.”

  “Better than that fancy modern thing you call a broom,” scoffed the old professor. “You’re not some young buck looking to impress the girls, you know. Every time I see you on it, I feel like I’m catching you in the middle of an identity crisis and you thought purchasing that broom would help.”

  “Touché,” laughed the Sorcerer. “I would hate to do battle against you, old friend.” Then, after scanning the faces gathered around the table, he said, “Aren’t we missing someone? I thought the younger Du Monde was joining us. Didn’t you tell me something like that, Sonny?”

  “He is, but not until after our meal,” Sonny informed him. “It’
s rather awkward, seeing that he doesn’t eat. At least not the same as we all do. He’d just be sitting here looking at all of us. So I told him not to come until later.”

  “You can’t mean you invited that Vampire again,” Vera said, shooting a distressed look in Violet’s direction. “I’m not sure we ladies feel quite comfortable with a member of the undead always lurking about.”

  Aunt Vera had about all the subtlety of a siren, Violet mused. She would have easily given the whole story of the ruined castle away if anyone ever bothered to pay attention to the elder Witch. As things stood, Vera was always fretting about one thing or another, so no one really paid too much attention.

  “I have to agree with your aunt,” Cyril said, feeling the need to interject. “Those Vampires really have changed the flavor of the neighbourhood.”

  Mr. Wainbright, who normally wore a sunny face, was about to say something rather confrontational about the nature of a recommendation when Mr. B superseded him with, “I like the new flavor. Such charming men. And I challenge you to show me another village in all of Surrey to boast of such diversity.”

  “If you think of diversity as something that is desirable,” Professor Yog muttered.

  “And why shouldn’t it be desirable when we have neighbours like the Du Mondes at hand?” Mr. B insisted.

  “I have to agree with the professor,” Cyril said. “You don’t find us rubbing elbows with the undead in town.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” the old professor snapped. “London is full of Vampires. It’s practically infested.”

  “I hope I’m not intruding,” Sebastian Du Monde said, appearing at the edge of the veranda as if from out of thin air. “I think I might be a bit on the early side. The kitchen maid let me in.”

  “Sebastian.” Sonny gave a call of welcome. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re fine.” He got up and heartily shook the Vampire’s hand. “We’re just tucking into a bit of food. Let me pull you up a chair in the shade.”

  “How did you get in here, young man?” Professor Yog demanded, sounding a bit thunderous. “I thought your kind had to wait for an invitation and not just from some servant.”

  “I let him know he was welcome when I originally invited him,” Sonny snapped at the elderly Warlock in his guest’s defense. “And besides, no one cares about that kind of nonsense these days.”

  After Mr. Du Monde was made comfortable, the conversation flagged for a few minutes, but nothing that Mr. B couldn’t save with a few well-told anecdotes. Violet found it rather difficult to meet Sebastian’s eye. Even worse, she caught herself several times gazing at his lips. She eventually had to satisfy herself with staring a few inches to the left of his ear if she was forced to look in his direction.

  “How do you feel about a game of lawn tennis after we’re done here?” Sonny asked his guest as the meal drew to a close.

  The Vampire narrowed his eyes. “I might be persuaded. What rules?”

  “No magic, if that’s what you’re implying,” Sonny told him. “Or at least very little,” he added with a wink. “It can be Violet and me against you and Cyril. That should make things pretty even, given your natural advantages.”

  Cyril looked up from polishing his glasses, surprised that he’d been suggested as a participant for the activity. “What advantages?” he wanted to know.

  “Speed, strength, a tendency to bite his partner on the neck if he’s not playing up to snuff,” Sonny informed him.

  After Cyril turned quite pale, Sebastian assured him, “He’s only kidding. At least about the biting. But Vampires do tend to be stronger than ordinary beings like Mortals.”

  “How fascinating,” Cyril replied in a voice that conveyed he thought it was anything but. “Please count me out of your garden party rambunctiousness, though. I’m afraid that some fellows aren’t good for anything but books. And amour,” he added, patting Violet’s hand but not in the gallant way he’d intended. It was more like he might preen over a prized Pomeranian.

  “Oh, come on, Cyril. Be a sport and play,” Sonny urged him. “I was already counting you as a handicap. That’s why I put you on Sebastian’s team.”

  Cyril took offense and refused to play at anything. He spent the second half of the day pretending to read a book. But that made for a long afternoon, and he started warming a little as evening closed in, even going so far as to call out to his fiancée whenever she made a good show of herself.

  Chapter 20: The Prospect of Travelling by Coach

  At first, the Popplewells played without assistance from spell or curse, but Sebastian proved himself to be quite the sportsman returning shots that were obviously beyond reach. By the time he’d won the third game, the magic began to fly. Balls were bewitched, rackets cursed; random pieces of lawn furniture suddenly appeared on the court blocking a shot. “I thought we agreed no magic!” Sebastian called out, laughing good-naturedly each time a new glimpse of magic was used. But he still won every game.

  Finally, the skies began to darken, and the players began to tire. “What do you say we rest up a bit and then take a night flight after dinner?” Sonny suggested. Turning to Sebastian, he added, “We could show you a bit of the Surrey countryside.”

  “Yes, I think you would like that, too,” Miss Popplewell said, turning to her fiancé. “Wouldn’t you, Cyril?”

  “A night flight?” Mr. Wilberforce asked. “What in the world is that?”

  “You know,” Violet said, unsure why she was suddenly feeling awkward. “On broomsticks.”

  “The evening air is so cool. It’s awfully refreshing after a hot day,” Sonny told him.

  “Broomsticks?” Cyril asked, a bit hesitant.

  “To be sure,” his future brother-in-law told him. “In my opinion, it’s the only way to fly.”

  “I might disagree with you there,” Sebastian said with an impish grin.

  “You don’t expect Mr. Du Monde and myself to sit perched on the back of broomsticks while you and your brother go zooming about the countryside, do you?” Cyril asked Violet, his tone incredulous as if he found the whole suggestion a bit emasculating.

  “I don’t fly by broom,” Sebastian told him.

  Cyril frowned at him, reassessing the other man. “Then how is it that you fly?”

  Adjusting his spine as if he’d been sitting for an extended period and needed to stretch his back, the Vampire unfurled a tremendous set of bat wings, midnight black and covered in a light fur that was cropped like velvet. Spreading his wings, he made a nimble leap into the air, and sped once around the garden.

  “Good Lord!” Mr. Wilberforce exclaimed, taking a startled step backwards and almost stumbling over a pot of begonias. “What in the world do you think you’re doing? Get back down here, and put those things away!”

  “They’re just wings,” Violet said, confused why her fiancé was being so prissy.

  “And quite marvellous wings, I might add,” Mr. B said as he and Professor Yog made their way from the house to the veranda. “Quite exceptional, if you don’t mind me saying so. Are you young folks thinking of taking a night flight?”

  “We definitely are,” Sonny told him. “Would you like to join us?”

  Sebastian rejoined them, leaving his wings still slightly spread. Violet noticed that while they sprouted from his back, they didn’t appear to have torn his coat. A bit of magic, she decided with satisfaction. It was something about which she’d always wondered.

  “Count me out for my share in the frivolity,” Cyril said, mincing his way around the Vampire’s wings like he was trying to avoid getting mud on his trousers and making his way into the house.

  “What was that all about?” Mr. B asked, looking after the young man.

  “I’m not sure,” Sonny said, scratching his jaw. “I think Mr. Wilberforce has never given much thought as to how Vampires actually fly.”

  “Hmmm,” Mr. B nodded, pursing his lips. “I sometimes find that Mortals have a startling lack of imagination.”

  V
iolet skirted by the wings as well, blushing and turning away as Sebastian closed them to make room for her, but accidentally brushed her cheek with one of the downy-soft appendages.

  “Cyril,” she called after her fiancé as she caught up with him in the dining room. “Is anything wrong? You seem out of sorts.”

  Mr. Wilberforce, who had been pretending to read yet another book, snapped it shut and said, “It’s that wretched Vampire. Just imagine, flapping his wings about like some horrid bat.”

  “I think you were just surprised, that’s all,” the girl said, resting her hand on his arm. “If you’d known that Vampires have wings then you wouldn’t have found it so alarming.”

  “I wasn’t alarmed,” he informed her. “I just found it a vulgar thing to do. And in mixed company. I should be ashamed if I were him.”

  They were rather splendid wings; at least Violet had thought so. She didn’t understand why seeing them had rattled Mr. Wilberforce beyond a bit of everyday incredulity. Violet had actually never been so close to a Vampire when he’d taken flight, and she found it rather thrilling.

  The proposed night flight still wasn’t settled by the dinner gong. Sebastian sat down with the family, even going to the trouble of cutting his food and moving it around his plate to appear more natural and put everyone at their ease. If he was at all regretful about spreading his wings in mixed company, he didn’t show it in the least.

  “Don’t you see,” Sonny addressed Mr. Wilberforce over the main course of mutton and roasted potatoes, unwilling to let the proposed activity for the evening fade away. “If you don’t join us, it makes it all rather awkward. We can’t exactly just leave you behind while we’re all off zooming about the skies, enjoying ourselves.”