Jane Hetherington's Adventures In Detection

by Nina Jon

  “Who?” Maria asked.

  Everyone in the room leaned forward.

  “Hayley Payne.”

  Jane told the others in the room of her earlier encounter with Hayley, and the animosity expressed towards her cousin, Jess.

  “Jess Payne? The girl whose wine bar I helped advertise?” Johnny said, “The Fig Leaf?”

  “One and the same,” Jane said.

  “Hayley asked me for all the flyers I was giving out – I just thought she was greedy and pushing her luck ’cause of being Jess’s cousin.”

  “Hayley’s been jealous of Jess since they were children. I found the play-dough just down the lane from where you were the day Jess stopped and offered you work. Jess and Adam live just down that lane. I suspect they and the upside-down horseshoe were intended to bring bad fortune to the relationship, and the items found in the churchyard, to the business. She may even have stolen the Fig Leaf’s sandwich board, for whatever purpose.”

  “We passed Hayley on the way to Dabney Farm standing in a field waving her arms about and spinning around and around, until she fell over. We just thought she’d eaten one too many magic mushrooms,” Johnny said.

  “Probably had,” both Maria and Charity said simultaneously.

  “She was casting a spell,” Lena said.

  “The guy what owns the farm said she’d asked him for one of his chickens – he thought she’d wanted to set them free, but maybe she wanted to use its blood in some potion?” Johnny suggested.

  “When I wouldn’t help her try and ruin her cousin’s happiness, she must have decided to go down another route,” Jane said. “I don’t think the liquid Felix found bubbling in the churchyard was left by any junkie, I think it was some witch’s brew concocted by young Hayley to bring some ill to her cousin. Felix’s son didn’t hear a name spoken that evening, what he heard was the end of Hayley saying, ‘So Mote It Be!’”

  “Crikey!” Charity said again. “The things people get up to. Wait a minute? Didn’t you say Jess gave you a slice of an apple pie Hayley had baked her as a warming present? Can evil be baked in a pie?” she asked Lena.

  Everyone, apart from Jane, looked horrified. Lena put her hand over her mouth and said, rather melodramatically Jane thought, “It can. Kitchen black witchery is one of the most dangerous kinds.”

  Johnny jumped to his feet and clutched his stomach. Charity ran to one side and grabbed his arm and Maria the other. “What’s going to happen?” Maria asked.

  “Will it be quick?” Charity said.

  “Am I going to have bad luck for the rest of my life?” Johnny wanted to know.

  Unseen by the others, all of whom were focused on Johnny, Jane rolled her eyes.

  “The dark powers contained in that food will not harm you. You are dealing with a professional,” Lena said. “One whose black magic is targeted.”

  “I think our dark witch is less professional sorceress, more inadequate young woman getting spells out of a library book. Nothing more sinister,” Jane said.

  “It’s even worse when amateurs get involved,” Lena said, despairingly. “They don’t understand what they’re doing. They start conjuring up the spirits of evil. They bring bad karma on themselves.” Lena started to chant:

  ‘An ye harm none, do what ye will.

  What ye send forth comes back to Thee,

  So ever mind the Rule of Three!’

  “I must stop her, before it’s too late. There’s nothing more poisonous than bad karma!” Lena said. “Do you know where I might find her?”

  Whilst Jane still thought Hayley more silly than dangerous, she knew what it was like to have an annoying pest in one’s life, and for Jess and Adam’s sake wanted to put a stop to it. “As a matter of fact I do, and it’s somewhere I need to visit anyway.”

  III

  Johnny returned a few minutes after Jane had shown everyone out.

  “In all the excitement, I forgot to give you this,” he said, handing her the Mosquito, although Jane wasn’t sure why. “If the mouse is resistant to white magick, this’ll do the trick,” he explained. “Animals have very sensitive hearing – like kids. I tried it out on Jack on the way over here: ‘Make it stop! Make it stop!’” he said, mimicking Jack. “If it’s still there, this thing shrieking all day and all night will get rid of it. You can leave it in the summerhouse all year, if needs be – we can’t hear it.” “Won’t Jack have to move?” she said, taking it nonetheless. She placed the ringing Mosquito on the bookshelf of her summerhouse and left its door open.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Saffron and Silk

  Jane knew where Hayley Payne could be found because she’d seen her a few days earlier working on a stall on Failsham market. Jane hadn’t been surprised to see her there. Jane knew the stall’s owner, Annette Gray, very well. As she’d explained to the others,

  “Annette’s most likely given Hayley a job despite others warning her not to, because that’s her nature.”

  Jane arranged to meet Lena at the stall. They arrived a few minutes apart as agreed. Annette greeted Jane with a warm smile, which was reciprocated. Jane noticed Hayley slouching against the far end of the stall with a foot pressed against its wall, making not the slightest attempt to be civil to customers, let alone ask if they required service.

  “Hayley, serve the other the lady, will you?” Annette said, motioning towards Lena.

  “Oh, it’s all right, I haven’t decided what I want yet,” Lena said, turning to study Hayley intently.

  “How can I help you, Jane?” Annette asked.

  “I want to bake my sister-in-law a simnel cake for Easter, but I’m out of saffron,” she explained.

  A packet of saffron strands was placed in front of her.

  “And some almond essence, if you have some.”

  This too was produced from the shelf behind the stall and handed to Jane, who paid for them.

  Although she knew something was going to happen, even Jane was surprised when Lena suddenly placed one hand on her forehead and stretched the other out in front of her, pointing directly at Hayley. Lena started moving from side to side, as though having some sort of seizure. “You!” Lena said, moving her outstretched arm around in a circle. “You’ve been casting bad spells!”

  Hayley turned white. She opened and shut her mouth.

  “You’ve been casting dark spells to make bad things happen.”

  “No I haven’t,” Hayley protested.

  “Do not lie to me. I am a white witch and I can always sense when someone is dabbling in the dark arts. You’re a bad person and a disgrace to the profession of witches.”

  “I… I…” the girl said, unable to continue.

  “You must stop. Now!” Lena commanded. “The Wiccan creed can not allow such behaviour to continue unchecked. You are awakening powers you can’t begin to understand.”

  “If I could interrupt this,” Annette said. Everyone turned to look at her, apart from Hayley who looked as though she was in a trance, unable to move. “I would appreciate it if you two would continue your barney away from my stall.”

  “I have said all that needs to be said,” Lena said, sweeping her shawl over one shoulder and her long hair over the other. She turned to leave the stall, but took only a couple of steps before pausing to dramatically spin around and point at

  Hayley, “If you dabble in the dark arts again, I will seek you out…” Lena threatened.

  “I won’t, I won’t, I promise!” Hayley said, sounding as though she was absolutely terrified.

  With these words Lena walked away leaving Hayley looking as though she couldn’t decide whether to run after Lena and beg forgiveness from Wicca, or flee to Kathmandu.

  “Get your stuff and get out,” Annette told her.

  Hayley didn’t need to be told twice. Bag and coat in hand she ran from the stall, visibly shaking.

  “What on earth was that about?” Annette asked.

  “I believe one was a white witch, and the other dark wit
ch,” Jane said, by way of explanation.

  “People warned me about her, but she seemed so nice when I interviewed her. But then you never can tell, can you?” Annette said. “Can I interest you in a nice piece of silk ribbon to tie around your cake, Jane?”

  “You know, I think you can.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Mr Jonathan

  Ever since she’d married, Jane had baked a simnel cake for Easter. Even though Hugh was no longer with her, she didn’t intend this Easter to be any different. Jane’s mother had been a keen baker, as had her grandmother, and the simnel cake recipe she followed was her grandmother’s recipe.

  It didn’t matter how many times Jane had baked the cake, she always liked to be able to refer to the recipe, if needs be. It was written on a separate sheet of paper in her grandmother’s hands. The page on which it was written, had, over the decades, become stained, and the paper ripped and repeatedly resealed by tape. Eventually Jane had taken the recipe to be laminated – making it easy to prop up against the kitchen wall – which was where it was now.

  She was in the process of rolling tiny marzipan balls in the palms of her hands with which to decorate the top of the cake, when Charity arrived on her doorstep.

  “I came to see if the mouse had left,” she said.

  Jane knew full well that with Johnny called out on an emergency over an overhanging branch, and Jack spending the afternoon with Polly, Charity was at a loose end.

  “I’ll put the kettle on,” Jane said. “The mouse has gone. I checked this morning. Not a trace. Not a dropping.”

  “So witchcraft really works, eh?”

  “Either that or the Mosquito. I couldn’t possibly say which.”

  “Very funny,” Charity said of Jane’s inadvertent wordplay. “I always thought witchcraft involved dancing naked under a waning moon, banging a tambourine and imbibing restricted substances. That was all a bit tame.”

  “You sound almost disappointed,” Jane said laughing. “I don’t know what to make of it all, but I’m thinking of getting Lena back again when the greenfly arrive. You know how much I hate chemicals.”

  The conversation turned to Johnny’s father. Charity was indignant. “He never gave his own son a second thought. What kind of man is he? Can you imagine how Johnny felt when he learnt that?”

  “I’m not trying to defend him in any way, but remember the man who left was a young and thoughtless one. The man I met was a dying, reflective one who asked for his son’s forgiveness. If you remember, we were worried what we’d do if his father wasn’t interested in having anything to do with him. At least that didn’t happen. His father may have extended the olive branch far too late, at the least he extended it.”

  “I suppose so. How do you explain the letter to Stella? Do you think the lady who sent Sue the postcard from Blackpool, wrote it?”

  “I don’t think so. She’d have no reason to send it. I think it was Sue. I rather suspect what Stella received was a note Pete once sent Sue, probably when they were still courting, and years later she forged his writing on the envelope and sent the note to Stella.”

  “Why?”

  “To see if she knew where he was. I suspect she followed Stella on the day in question, to see if she went or not, and if she did, whether she met up with him.”

  “That’s quite sad.”

  “More than quite.”

  “All this has made Johnny start asking when we’re going to get married and have our own family.”

  “Charity, that’s wonderful news,” Jane said, giving her neighbour a hug. “If you take his name, you’ll be Charity Lambert. That’s a nice name. I’ve always quite liked being Jane Hetherington, but Hugh’s poor mother became Hettie Hetherington when she married, but one just can’t anticipate these things when one names a child. My Adele is now Adele Smithson. Not bad.”

  “Hold on, let’s not get carried away,” Charity replied hurriedly. “He hasn’t got down on bended knee or anything yet, he just wants me to think about it. I don’t know if I even want to.”

  “I thought that’s what you wanted?”

  Here, Charity became unusually coy.

  “I did, but you’ve got to be careful about getting what you wish for, haven’t you?”

  Jane wasn’t sure she agreed with what Charity had just said. She and Hugh had known each other for eight months when they’d become engaged. It was exactly what she wished for at the time, and she’d never regretted it. She knew what the problem was, right enough. Charity still didn’t trust Johnny not to disappear again. This was something Jane couldn’t help with, she’d have to resolve this one herself.

  “At this rate you and Johnny will be celebrating your Ruby Wedding Anniversary without ever having made it up the aisle,” she teased.

  She returned to her cake, where she made another tiny marzipan ball in her hands. She placed the tiny ball on the cake.

  “Where’s Jack taking Polly?” she asked, thinking it better she change the subject.

  “For coffee in Southstoft. This is their second date. I’ll be buying a hat soon,” she wailed.

  “Sooner than I’ll be buying one for your wedding,” Jane joked.

  “What are you doing for Easter Sunday, Jane? We’re spending it at home. You’re welcome to join us. We’re having turkey.”

  “That’s kind, but I’m driving up to my sister-in-law’s tomorrow morning. It’s given me a nice excuse to bake. Old Charlie Moon’s being buried next week. I’ll drive from their place to the funeral – it’s closer than from here.”

  “Charlie Moon’s passed away?”

  “A couple of days ago. His grandson Dean rang – he thought I might like to pay my last respects, which I would.”

  At that moment, Johnny appeared at the back door. His first words were, “I’ve got us a goose…”

  “A goose!” Charity squealed. “Why did you get us a goose?

  I’ve just taken the turkey out of the freezer. We’ll have to freeze it. The turkey’s already defrosting.”

  “We definitely can’t do that, my dear” Johnny said. “It would be inhumane.”

  “What on earth does that mean?” Charity demanded. She slapped her hand on her forehead. “Johnny, don’t tell me the goose is still alive?”

  “Okay, I won’t tell you.”

  “I’m not wringing its throat!”

  “I should hope not.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  “The kitchen? What about Addison? Geese are vicious creatures.”

  “Addison? Cripes I forgot about him!” Johnny said, literally rushing through the door, followed quickly by Charity, and much more sedately by Jane.

  When Jane reached her neighbour’s house she found the back door wide open and Charity and Johnny in the kitchen, staring into a shoe box held by Johnny.

  “He’s okay,” he said.

  “Who’s okay?” Jane asked, “Oh! Good heavens!” she said, looking into the shoe box, where a tiny gosling nestled next to its broken shell, cheeping furiously.

  “He’s just hatched,” Charity felt the need to explain, tears welling up in her eyes.

  “Where did you find him, Johnny?” Jane asked.

  “You know I had to rush off to Giles Marham’s place to cut down that dangerous branch over the public footpath?” Johnny said. “Well, afterwards we went round to his place to see some abandoned goose eggs that him and his missus were hatching in the Aga. When we got there this little fellow’s egg was jumping up and down. None of the others showed any signs of life – they were all stone cold – except this little guy. The Marham’s didn’t know what to do – they’re going on holiday tomorrow – so I said I’d take him. Couldn’t see him left to die could I? Not the sole survivor.”

  “Well, no, not really,” Jane said.

  “I’m going to look after him until he’s old enough to release back into the wild,” Johnny said.

  “I’m not sure you can do that with birds,
Johnny,” Charity said. “Don’t they imprint or something? Jane?”

  “Don’t ask me. I know next to nothing about geese, although if I’m going to have one as a near neighbour, I guess I’ll have to learn more about them,” she said.

  “We’ll have to keep him away from Addison till he’s old enough to stand up for himself, then we’ll have to keep Addison away from him,” Charity said, apparently having decided to keep him as a pet. She stared down on the little hatchling. “Hello newly hatched one. Would you like some wild bird seed?”

  “Jack wants us to call it Mr Jonathan Goose if it’s a boy, and Polly if it’s a girl,” Johnny told her.

  “Sweet,” Charity replied, still clucking at the tiny goose, leaving Jane unsure whether her comments referred to Jack’s suggested names or the hatchling.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Month’s End

  On her way back home, Jane’s new Smartphone peeped to tell her she had a new e-mail. Once indoors, she opened and read it. It was from Lucy Erpingham’s sister, Jodie Narbade.

  ‘Lucy confessed immediately – didn’t have much choice with that recording you sent us. She thought we were the ones who’d claimed to be the real winners.

  Her version of events is that when she found the blue envelope in the crisps, she expected to win a tenner and thought it was a joke when she read the words:

  Congratulations you’ve just won £100,000! Yes! £100,000!

  She said she ran out the door with the prize, then went back to grab the receipt. I’d bought the crisps and wine on the way back from work, and the receipt was still lying on the table. Her excuse for not saying anything is that she wanted to check it was genuine before telling us, but when the company said she really had found the winning envelope, she asked for the money to be paid into her bank account because she just couldn’t resist it. She went for the no-publicity option – obviously. When the money arrived she kept staring at her bank statement. All she could see was the noughts. It was more money than she’d ever had or was likely to have in her life. She could clear her debts and still have masses left over. Enough to buy anything she wanted. That’s what she said. Then she started spending and she couldn’t stop. She bought everyone she knew, everything they wanted. She paid for everything. Everyone wanted to be her friend. She didn’t know what to say about where she got all that money, so she avoided us. She thought if she gave up work it would be too suspicious, also she knew the money wouldn’t last forever. She said every time she thought about us, she felt guilty. I should **** think so!