WITCH CHOCOLATE FUDGE

by HANNA, H. Y.

  She was also beginning to wonder how the Fitzroy family had ever learned their way around the place. Just as she was about to give up and look for a member of the staff to ask directions, she found herself in a quieter wing of the house and, a moment later, wandered into the beautiful attached Victorian conservatory. It was a light, bright, airy space with panelled French windows and slanted glass ceilings, furnished with comfortable wicker sofas overflowing with floral cushions, as well as potted ferns, miniature orange trees, and climbing bougainvillea.

  The sound of female giggles led Caitlyn to the far side of the conservatory where the glazed double doors were thrown open to let in the warmth of the June evening. She found Pomona curled up in a wicker chaise longue next to the doors, her head tilted flirtatiously as she laughed and talked with a young man standing in the open doorway.

  Caitlyn smiled inwardly: so much for being worried about Pomona’s state of mind. It looked like her cousin was fully recovered and back to her favourite hobby: flirting with any handsome male in the vicinity! She looked curiously at the young man talking to her cousin. He was dressed in faded jeans tucked into Wellington boots, and an old cotton shirt rolled up at the sleeves to show muscular forearms. He had the kind of striking good looks, coupled with jet black hair and bright blue eyes, which hinted at a Celtic ancestry, and this was confirmed when Caitlyn heard the Irish lilt in his voice.

  “Caitlyn!” Pomona looked up in delight. “I thought you weren’t gonna get over here today. Have you met Matt? He’s one of the gardeners here at the estate.”

  “Hi…” Matt grinned and held up soil-stained hands. “Excuse me for not shaking. So you must be Pomona’s cousin. I’ve been hearing a lot about you,” he said with a knowing smile.

  “I hope you don’t believe everything you hear,” said Caitlyn, laughing.

  “Well, I must have got something wrong because I thought you lived in L.A. like Pomona here… but I don’t hear much of an American accent,” said Matt, cocking his head to one side.

  “My… um… my mother was American, but we never lived in the States much. We travelled a lot,” Caitlyn explained.

  “It wasn’t just that—it’s ’cos Caitlyn had a British nanny who brought her up and taught her to talk funny,” said Pomona with a wink to Matt. “I was always terrified whenever I visited them ’cos Nanny Rosemary would be like…” She put a hand on her waist and adopted an exaggerated British accent. “…‘Miss Pomona, I expect young ladies to enunciate their words properly. Please make sure you say “want to” instead of “wanna”. The latter shows a deplorable carelessness and laziness in pronunciation.’” She giggled.

  “I’d hate to think what she’d say about my Irish lingo, then,” said Matt with a chuckle. He looked back at Caitlyn. “So how come you travelled so much?”

  “My mother was a singer, so we were often on tour or going to music festivals and things. Also, she was a real gypsy at heart. She had itchy feet and didn’t like staying in one place.”

  “Aunt Barbara used to say it helped her write her songs better if she kept moving to new places,” added Pomona. She glanced at her cousin. “But it did mean that poor Caitlyn never got the chance to make friends much or feel like she belonged anywhere.”

  “Barbara? Oh, of course, Barbara Le Fey!” Matt snapped his fingers. “I should have made the connection with your last name. I’ve got a couple of her albums. Good stuff.” He paused, then added, “Sorry to hear about her recent death.”

  “Thanks,” Caitlyn said awkwardly. She was still uncomfortable that she didn’t feel more grief at the loss of her adoptive mother. She and Barbara had never been close and when it was revealed to her, after the funeral, that she was adopted, it had almost been a relief. Still, she couldn’t help feeling guilty—it had felt slightly like a betrayal to come to England so quickly after the funeral and search for her real family. And even now, although she had traced her roots to Tillyhenge, she felt uncertain about staying on…

  “You’re staying with that old witch in the village chocolate shop, aren’t you?” Matt said. He laughed as he saw Caitlyn’s expression. “Don’t worry—I know most of the village is terrified of the Widow Mags but I’m not one of them. Hey, I’m Irish; we grow up with bedtime stories of monsters and faerie-folk. Besides, Mags has been good to me—she gave me a dock leaf salve that was grand. Cleared up my nettle rash in no time. Worked better than anything I bought at the chemist’s.” He winked. “Maybe she is a witch after all.”

  If only you knew, thought Caitlyn with a silent laugh. Aloud, she said, “Yes, I’m staying at Bewitched by Chocolate. There’s a spare room above the shop.”

  “That’s not a room,” said Pomona. “You should see my bedroom here—now that’s a room! I’ve stayed in some pretty fancy Hollywood mansions but this is something else. I really lucked out when James invited me to stay here to recover! I feel kinda bad that you have to sleep in that attic cupboard and I’m staying here in all this luxury.”

  “It’s not that terrible,” said Caitlyn, laughing. “Okay, so it’s a bit small and a bit basic… but the chocolate more than makes up for it!”

  Matt chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve had some of the Widow Mags’s chocolates. Everyone says they must be enchanted by dark magic to taste so good.” He smacked his lips. “Well, I say—if that’s the truth, hex me all you want!”

  “So what’s your secret?” asked Pomona, tossing back her honey blonde hair and giving him a coy smile. “How d’you eat chocolates and, like, stay in such good shape?” She eyed Matt’s biceps admiringly. “You must go to the gym to work out a lot, huh?”

  Matt flexed his arms and grinned at her. “Nope, these muscles are a hundred percent natural. Just pure flowerbed-digging and wheelbarrow-pushing. No artificial weights or punchbags.”

  Pomona giggled. “I never realised gardening could be so… healthy. Maybe I should get more into it.”

  “Well, now, I’d be delighted to show you around,” said Matt, raising a wicked eyebrow. “Especially the walled garden. You haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen my herbaceous borders…”

  How the man managed to make herbaceous borders sound sexy was a mystery. His flirting was outrageous and should never have been allowed in a member of the staff, but even Caitlyn couldn’t help responding to the twinkle in his blue eyes. Matt had charm in bucketloads and he knew how to use it. Caitlyn wondered if Pomona might have met her match at last.

  “O’Brien! What are ye doing there?” came an irate voice from outside the conservatory. “His Lordship is paying ye to tend his garden, not entertain his guests!”

  Caitlyn turned to see an old man in green overalls standing behind the rosebushes and glowering at Matt from beneath bushy eyebrows. It was Old Palmer, the Head Gardener.

  “Feck! Duty calls,” said Matt with a careless smile. He swept them an exaggerated bow, which had Pomona giggling again, then turned and strolled off, whistling jauntily.

  “Omigod—he’s so hot! That Lady Chatterley was on to something. I think I’m in love…” Pomona sighed dreamily.

  Caitlyn looked at her askance. “I thought you were in love last week?”

  “Yeah, well, that was before I found out that my date was a lizard. Like, literally.” Pomona shot her a dark look. Then she grinned and stretched out on the chaise longue. “Anyway, plenty more fish in the sea, as they say. In fact, plenty more fish right here in Huntingdon Manor! Who’d have thought there’d be, like, so many hunks in this little corner of England? Here’s this sexy-as-sin Irish gardener… and of course, there’s your handsome British lord—”

  “He’s not my lord,” said Caitlyn quickly.

  “Well, he’s not gonna be if you keep looking like that!” said Pomona, screwing up her face. “Omigod, Caitlyn, what’s with the dress? It’s, like, the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen!”

  “It’s not mine—it’s one of the maid’s uniforms. I got drenched walking over here so I had to borrow this while they’re drying my clothes.” C
aitlyn looked out through the conservatory windows and sighed. “Anyway, it wouldn’t make much difference. I’m not you, Pomie,” she said, looking back at her cousin with wistful envy.

  With her golden tan and voluptuous figure, not to mention her sparkling brown eyes and generous mouth, Pomona was striking in anyone’s book. But it was really her confidence that set her apart. Whereas Caitlyn agonized over her hips and thighs, Pomona flaunted hers in tightfitting skirts and jeans that drew every male eye in the room. No one could look away when Pomona wriggled her bottom and the last thing you thought about was its size.

  “That’s crap!” said Pomona. “Honey, you could look so gorgeous if you just made a bit of effort. I mean—look at your hair! There are women who would kill to get red hair like that. And your eyes…. You’ve got, like, the perfect hazel eyes. You could make them look green or gold or brown, depending on the eye-shadow and what you’re wearing… C’mon! Lemme do a makeover! You’ll look so fantastic—”

  Caitlyn shook her head and laughed. This was a repeat of the conversation they had practically every time Pomona saw her. Her cousin had been begging her for years to let her transform her look and Caitlyn had always resisted. For one thing, she didn’t really believe it could be done, and for another… well, to be honest, Caitlyn was scared. If she did let Pomona transform her, she would have to put herself out there, deal with getting attention, face people looking at her and judging her. It seemed safer just to stay drab and unremarkable, to remain a wallflower in the shadows.

  Although… for a fleeting moment, Caitlyn wondered wistfully what it would be like to appear glamorous and beautiful for once, in front of James Fitzroy, instead of the frumpy mess she always seemed to be in. Then she pushed the thought away, chiding herself for the silly fantasy. James must have been surrounded by gorgeous society girls all the time—how did she think that she could ever compete?

  As if reading her mind, Pomona grinned and said, “You could totally wow James, you know. I mean, the guy’s already falling for you big time—you could knock his socks off.”

  Caitlyn blushed furiously. “There’s nothing between James and me.”

  Pomona made a rude noise. “Yeah right. Have you seen the way he looks at you? Seriously, the guy finds you attractive even when you walk around looking like a sack of mouldy potatoes. He’s the kind of man who can see—” Pomona lowered her voice dramatically, “—‘inner beauty’. Those men practically don’t exist! D’you know how lucky you are? He’s like… like an endangered species! But you gotta help the poor guy out. Let him see some of your ‘outer beauty’ too.”

  Caitlyn sighed and shook her head again. “Pomie, it’s not that simple. I mean… I’m not even sure if I’m staying in Tillyhenge.”

  Her cousin’s mouth dropped open. “What? You’re not seriously thinking of leaving?”

  Caitlyn shrugged. “I don’t know… I keep thinking that I can still… you know, close this chapter in my life, turn the page and move on. Go back to London, maybe even go back to the States. Like… forget it ever happened.”

  Pomona gave her a glassy stare. “You think you can really forget everything that’s happened? You’ve gotta be kidding me! You’ve seen magic, Caitlyn! You’ve used it! That’s not something you just forget—like that.” She snapped her fingers.

  “Everyone has weird things happen to them sometimes, right?” said Caitlyn desperately. “Strange coincidences, unexplained phenomena… They just shrug it off and say it’s a mystery and move on. Get back to their lives.”

  “Aww, for pity’s sake!” said Pomona in exasperation. “There’s no way you can go back to the way it was before. I mean, come on! You’re a witch! You can, like, do awesome stuff with magic. Why would you wanna turn your back on that? Jeez, if I discovered I had witch blood in my veins, I’d be all over a spell so fast, you wouldn’t have time to say ‘cauldron’!”

  Caitlyn laughed in spite of herself. That was another thing she envied about Pomona: her cousin’s easy faith and acceptance of the supernatural. It helped, of course, that Pomona had always been obsessed with the occult and had spent a lot of her spare time dabbling in everything from tarot cards to crystal healing. When she had arrived in Tillyhenge and discovered that witchcraft and magic did exist, Pomona had barely batted an eyelid. In fact, she had jumped in and embraced the new reality with great glee. Pomona was delighted that witches and magic spells were real—it was what she had been telling everybody all along!

  Still, Caitlyn had to admit that once she had got over her own disbelief and scepticism, Pomona was right. There was something wonderful, incredible, amazing about discovering that you were a witch, that you could control magic, that witchcraft didn’t just exist in fairy tales and movies…

  “And you’re not just any old witch,” Pomona continued eagerly. “I mean, it would be pretty awesome already if you could cast spells and create potions… but you can do this amazing thing with chocolate. Like, tap into all that latent magic in cacao, all the stuff that the ancient Aztecs and Mayans knew… Seriously, how cool is it to have that as your heritage?” She sighed ecstatically. “Magic and chocolate! Omigod, how can you say no to that?”

  “Okay, okay, you’ve made your point,” said Caitlyn with a chuckle. “I’m not saying it would be easy to turn my back on it all. I just… I don’t know… Everything’s been a bit overwhelming since the funeral and finding out I’m adopted… and then arriving in Tillyhenge… and this whole ‘witch’ thing…” She trailed off helplessly.

  “Hey…” said Pomona softly, her brown eyes turning serious. She reached out and squeezed Caitlyn’s hand. “I understand. It must have been a horrible shock for you, especially the adoption thing.”

  “Finding out that my whole life was a lie, you mean.”

  “Not all of it!” Pomona protested. “I mean, we might not be related by blood, but you’ll always be my cousin. My family.”

  Caitlyn smiled, feeling a rush of love for the other girl. Though they hadn’t lived in the same city, Pomona had often come out during her school vacations and joined Barbara Le Fey’s travelling entourage, so the two girls had spent a lot of time together growing up. Pomona was more than just her cousin—she was her best friend.

  “Thanks, Pomie. You know I feel the same about you,” she said, squeezing the other girl’s hand in return.

  “As long as you remember that when you find your real family,” Pomona said jokingly.

  “Actually, speaking of that…” Caitlyn hesitated.

  Pomona pounced on her. “What? Have you found something new?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Caitlyn reached beneath the collar of her dress and pulled out a runestone attached to a ribbon. She had worn it around her neck ever since she could remember—in fact, ever since she had been found as a baby.

  She held the runestone up to Pomona. “You know I showed this to Bertha and the Widow Mags—”

  “Yeah, I remember—you said they both freaked out, and then refused to talk about it.”

  “Yes, but I got the impression that Bertha would have said more, if her mother hadn’t been there.”

  “Well, the Widow Mags can be pretty scary, you know. I mean, I wouldn’t even blink if she told me not to.”

  Caitlyn gave her cousin a playful shove. “Don’t give me that! You’re not scared of her—I saw the way you stood up to her when you wanted to give the chocolate shop a makeover.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t see my knees shaking!” said Pomona, grinning. “I kept waiting for her to zap me and turn me into a toad.”

  Caitlyn laughed. “Actually, I think you won her over with your sass. It’s probably refreshing to have someone talk back to her for once.”

  “So what’s this got to do with your real family?”

  “Well, the night after we found you—when you were still in the hospital—I was back at the chocolate shop and I got Bertha alone for a moment, so I asked her about it again.” Caitlyn paused significantly. “And she showed
me a runestone around her own neck, just like mine!”

  “Holy cow!” Pomona sat up. “Do you mean… Bertha and the Widow Mags are—”

  “I don’t know. We got interrupted. The Widow Mags came out and basically told Bertha to keep her mouth shut. She said: ‘There are things that should stay in the past’.”

  “What did she mean by that?”

  Caitlyn heaved a sigh of frustration. “I don’t know! That’s all she would say. And then Bertha clammed up after that.”

  “So ask her again!”

  “I haven’t really had a chance to speak to her without the Widow Mags being around.”

  “I know!” said Pomona. “Go to Herbal Enchantments—Bertha’s store—and talk to her there. Then the Widow Mags wouldn’t know about it.”

  “Don’t count on it,” said Caitlyn darkly. “She always seems to know everything.” Then she brightened. “But that’s a good idea, Pomie. I’ll try to do that.”

  “Imagine… the Widow Mags could be your grandmother! She’d be the right age for it. And Bertha could be—” Pomona gasped. “Do you think she could be your mother?”

  Slowly, Caitlyn shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I can’t really explain it but I feel like… well, if she was my mother, I’d know. I’d feel it—in here.” She pressed her hand to her heart. “And anyway, wouldn’t she say something if she was? I can’t believe that she would just keep quiet about it…”

  “Okay, well, maybe she could be your aunt! That would make Evie your cousin. Your sweet English cousin,” Pomona added, grinning. She leaned back and fluffed her hair. “As opposed to your sexy American cousin.”

  Caitlyn laughed. “You’re one of a kind, Pomona, whatever country you’re from.”