by HANNA, H. Y.
“I don’t feel cold. Just because you do, doesn’t mean that I will too,” said the Widow Mags. She pushed the shawl off her shoulders. “Anyway, I would rather wear my own cardigan. I just need to remember where I put it—”
“I’ll help you look for it, Grandma,” Evie offered and left the kitchen with the old woman.
As soon as they were alone, Caitlyn glanced quickly around, then sidled up to Bertha and said:
“Bertha—have you got a moment? I need to ask you something.”
Bertha looked at her in surprise. “Yes, dear?”
Caitlyn reached under the collar of her T-shirt and pulled out her runestone. “Last week, when I was asking you about this, you started to tell me about your own runestone—”
“Caitlyn…” Bertha looked uncomfortable. “I can’t talk about this.”
“Why? Please, Bertha—this is really important to me! I need to know. Why do you have the same runestone that I have?”
Bertha shifted uncomfortably, looking torn. “Do you know where yours came from?” she asked at last, evading the question.
Caitlyn shook her head. “I only know that it was around my neck when I was found as a baby—very near Tillyhenge actually. My adoptive mother found me; she was being driven to some country house party and they were forced to go on a detour down a country lane for some reason, and that’s when she found me. I was only a few hours old, so I must have been born in this area.” Caitlyn leaned forwards and looked at the other woman earnestly. “That’s the reason I came to Tillyhenge, you know. I think my mother—my family—might have come from around here.”
Bertha hesitated for a long moment. She touched a hand to her throat, where her own runestone hung on a length of ribbon, and sighed. Then she said, “I was given this runestone as a little girl… well, it’s actually half of a runestone. My sister had the other half.”
“Your sister? You have a sister?”
Bertha nodded slowly and a dreamy look came into her eyes. “Yes, she was ten years younger than me and so beautiful… You could tell, even when she was a toddler, that she was going to be a great witch someday. She just had that innate gift, that special quality…” She trailed off sadly.
“What happened to her?” Caitlyn was almost afraid to ask.
Bertha hesitated again. “She—” She broke off as they heard footsteps coming back towards the kitchen. “Ah great, you’re ready!” she said brightly as the Widow Mags and Evie came back into the room. “Well, we’d better dash now! See you later, girls—be good!”
Looking almost relieved, Bertha hustled the Widow Mags out of the back door and slammed it behind them. Caitlyn heaved a sigh of frustration. Why couldn’t she ever get answers from Bertha? Then her eyes fell on Evie and she felt a surge of hope. Maybe if the mother couldn’t tell her, the daughter would…
“Hey, Evie,” she said casually. “Do you have a big family?”
The girl shook her head and smiled. “No, just Mum and me.”
“Oh.” Caitlyn wondered if Bertha was a single mother and felt too embarrassed to ask for more details. “So… um… you don’t have any aunts or uncles?”
Evie shook her head again.
“Your mother was an only child too?”
Evie frowned. “I guess so. She never talks about a brother or sister—and neither does Grandma.”
“So no cousins at all?”
“No,” said Evie wistfully. She gave Caitlyn a smile. “I wish I had a cousin like Pomona.”
“What about any other family?” asked Caitlyn desperately.
Evie shrugged. “I guess we must have other family but Mum never talks about them. In fact, now that you mention it, it is a bit weird that Mum and Grandma never talk about that kind of stuff. You’re making me curious now… Hey, I know! Maybe there would be pictures in Grandma’s photo album.”
“Photo album?”
Evie nodded. “She has a big, old-fashioned one. I remember seeing it when I was younger. She keeps it somewhere in her bedroom. Come on, let’s go and look—” She hurried from the kitchen.
Caitlyn followed her and hovered uncertainly in the doorway of the Widow Mags’s bedroom. “Um… are you sure we should be doing this? I mean, your grandmother’s not going to be happy that we’re snooping in her bedroom.”
Evie hesitated, then she grinned at Caitlyn over her shoulder. “But she doesn’t have to know, does she? They’ll be at least an hour at the physio—if we hurry, we’ll be able to find the album, look through it, and put it back, before they get back.”
“All right.” Caitlyn followed her into the bedroom, her reluctance and guilt about invading the Widow Mags’s private space warring with her desire to find information. “Where do we start?”
Now that they were in the room, Evie looked uncertain. “I don’t know…”
Caitlyn glanced around. It was a large room with an old oak bed dominating one side and a small sitting area on the other side, consisting of an ancient writing desk, a couple of armchairs, and a sagging couch. An enormous chest of drawers stood against one wall, with a huge old-fashioned wardrobe next to it. There was also a bookshelf on the other wall and several boxes, trunks, and chests piled in the corners of the room. Caitlyn’s heart sank. It would take them hours to go through everything.
Then her eyes alighted on the bedside table, which had a cabinet door underneath. She crossed over to it and Evie followed her eagerly.
“Do you think the album might be in there?” she asked.
Caitlyn shrugged. “People tend to keep their personal items near their bed, don’t they?”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea!”
Evie opened the cabinet door, then knelt down beside it and rummaged inside. She emerged a few minutes later triumphantly brandishing a large, leather-bound volume. Caitlyn’s heart leapt. She peered over Evie’s shoulder as the girl eagerly opened the album.
They both stared in disappointment. There were no photos inside. The pages were completely bare.
“That’s weird!” said Evie, frowning as she flipped through the yellowed pages. “I’m sure this was the album I saw before—and it was full of pictures!”
“Do you think your grandmother removed all the photos?” asked Caitlyn.
“Maybe… but then why keep the empty album?”
“Maybe she wants to use it again.”
Evie was silent for a minute, then looked up at Caitlyn excitedly. “No, I think it’s an enchanted album!”
“An enchanted album?”
Evie nodded eagerly. “There’s a spell on it. Grandma must have done it, to protect it from people snooping. The photos are all there, but you just can’t see them. But don’t worry,” she added blithely. “I know how to unlock the spell!”
“Er… are you sure?” asked Caitlyn nervously. She’d experienced some of Evie’s attempts at casting spells and they usually ended in disaster. Her hand went reflexively to her forehead and she touched her eyebrows to reassure herself that they were still normal.
“Oh yes,” said Evie loftily. “It’s a doddle.”
She held the album up in front of her and raised a hand, waving her fingers over it. Then she screwed up her eyes and muttered, “Manifesto ex privatus!”
There was a faint hum, then a sharp crackling sound, and something sparked from Evie’s fingertips. A gust of wind whooshed around them and Caitlyn felt her hair lift up around her head, then settle back down again around her shoulders.
Hastily, she touched her forehead again to make sure her eyebrows were still in place. Then she froze and looked down at herself. She blinked, wondering if she was seeing things. No, it was true. She was wearing her bra and panties on the outside of her clothes. She looked at Evie and saw that the teenage girl was also wearing her underwear over her T-shirt and jeans. The two of them looked like a pair of bizarre superheroes.
“What did you do?” she asked Evie.
“Sorry…” Evie mumbled, looking embarrassed. “It’s just a small mista
ke. I must have remembered the words wrong.” She smiled and held up her hand again. “Okay, not to worry. What I need is to show what’s underneath, not what’s private—”
“Wait, Evie,” said Caitlyn quickly. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea—”
“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing,” said Evie confidently. She waved her fingers and said, “Subtus manifesto!”
There was another whoosh of air, this time followed by a terrible cracking sound beneath their feet. Caitlyn felt the floorboards tilt beneath her and stumbled sideways, nearly falling over. She looked down and stifled a scream.
An enormous gnarled root had thrust its way up through the cracked floorboards and was flicking around, like a giant brown tentacle. All around the room, more roots were pushing up through the floorboards, bristling with soil and hairs.
Evie shrieked and stared around the room, wide-eyed. “Oh my Goddess!”
“Stop it, Evie! Stop it, whatever you’re doing!” cried Caitlyn
“I don’t know what I’m doing!” said Evie desperately. “I thought that was the right spell. I thought… I was getting the things underneath to rise up and show themselves…”
“Well, the wrong things are rising up and showing themselves!” said Caitlyn as she stumbled backwards away from a long brown root that was slithering its way across the floor.
“What should I do?” asked Evie shrilly.
“You’re asking me?” said Caitlyn. “You’re the one who’s the witch!”
“You’re a witch too!” Evie retorted.
“Well… most of my training so far has been about making enchanted chocolates. I haven’t got to the bit about how to control monster roots!” Caitlyn looked around frantically. More and more roots were shooting up through the floorboards and several of them were growing larger and larger, unfurling and twisting up towards the ceiling. Pretty soon, the entire room would be filled with giant roots growing upwards. She wondered what would happen when the roots encountered the ceiling—would they push through that too? And the roof? If they kept growing like this, the whole cottage could be destroyed.
“We’ve got to do something!” she said. “Isn’t there… like… an ‘UNDO’ button for magic?”
“Oh! Yes! Yes, there is!” cried Evie, her face brightening. “Grandma taught me this. She said if I ever messed up, I could always use this to reverse any spell.” She screwed up her eyes again and mumbled, “Let me see if I can remember it…”
Caitlyn held her breath, trying to resist the urge to hurry the girl. Evie opened her eyes and took a deep breath, then chanted:
What’s done cannot be undone,
But now this mess is begun;
Make it go back,
Back make it go;
Just as it was,
And no one will know!
For a moment, nothing happened, then suddenly, as if by magic—and it was!—the roots vanished. The wooden floor was back to normal again, smooth and intact, and Caitlyn and Evie were standing in the middle of the room, breathing hard and staring at each other.
“I think we should put this back now,” said Caitlyn shakily, reaching to grab the photo album. “We don’t need any more disastrous spells-gone-wrong.” She paused as she saw the crestfallen expression on Evie’s face and felt a pang of pity for the girl.
“Hey…” She reached out and patted Evie’s arm. “You gave it a good try. It was probably too hard a spell to break.”
“No, it’s not that—I’m just a rubbish witch,” said Evie in a small voice, her shoulders slumping.
“No, you’re not,” said Caitlyn quickly. “I’m sure you’re going to be a great witch! Everyone makes mistakes when they’re learning. I’m sure witchcraft is just like any other skill—like drawing or playing the piano—you have to practice to get good at it.”
“Some people don’t,” said Evie wistfully. “Some people are born just able to draw beautifully, aren’t they? Or play an instrument or sing…”
“Yeah, I guess… But I’ll bet even they have to practice. And besides, most people who look like they have amazing abilities… well, I’m sure they’ve mostly got there by hard work, not just natural talent.” Caitlyn hesitated, then, against her better judgement, said, “Do you… do you want to give it another go?”
Evie looked gratefully at her and nodded. She closed her eyes for a second, frowning in concentration, then took a deep breath, pointed at the album, and whispered, “Manifesto clandestina!”
A puff of smoke rose from the album and Caitlyn gasped, thinking that they’d set it on fire. Then, to her surprise and delight, she saw photographs start to appear on the pages.
“You did it!” she cried.
Evie opened her eyes and a wide smile spread across her face as she stared at the photos being revealed. “Oh my Goddess—it worked! I did it!”
Caitlyn leaned eagerly over the album and turned the pages. She froze almost immediately as she saw a large photograph in the centre of the album. It showed a stern-faced woman with dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, dressed in clothes that were from the late 70s or early 80s. With a shock, Caitlyn realised that it was the Widow Mags as a much younger woman.
There were two young girls standing on either side of the Widow Mags, each holding her hand. One was a teenage girl of about fourteen and the other was probably around four years old, barely more than a toddler. The older girl looked familiar—in fact, Caitlyn realised, she looked a lot like Evie. But it was the little girl who drew her eye. Caitlyn felt her heart pounding as she peered closely at the photograph.
The girl looked eerily like her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Caitlyn stared at the photograph, her thoughts whirling. She remembered seeing photos of herself as a young child—pictures Barbara Le Fey had taken of her at the beach, eating an ice-cream, trying to play the guitar… The little girl in this photo, with her vivid red hair, wide hazel eyes, and the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, looked incredibly similar to her at the same age.
But Caitlyn knew this wasn’t her. So who was she? And the other girl… Suddenly, Caitlyn realised that the older girl must have been Bertha as a teenager. Yes, even then, she was dressed all in purple, in a violet tie-dye dress with purple sandals.
“Is that…? Oh my Goddess, that’s Mum!” cried Evie, giggling as she looked at the picture. “Look what she’s wearing! And that must be Grandma… but who’s the little girl—?”
They both jerked their heads up as they heard the faint sound of voices outside.
“They’re back!” hissed Evie.
She slammed the album shut and shoved it back into the bedside cabinet. Then the two of them scrambled to get out of the bedroom. They managed to step out and slam the door behind them just as Bertha and the Widow Mags walked in.
“Evie? Caitlyn?” Bertha stared at them in astonishment. “What on earth have you girls been up to?”
Caitlyn followed the direction of Bertha’s gaze and looked down at herself. She groaned inwardly. They had completely forgotten about their underwear, which was still being worn on top of their clothes!
“Er… I was just showing Evie some of the latest fashion trends in Hollywood,” said Caitlyn glibly. “Innerwear as outerwear! It’s all the rage at the moment.”
Bertha looked at her doubtfully. “People wear their bras and knickers on the outside in Hollywood?”
“Innerwear as outerwear? I’ve never heard such nonsense,” the Widow Mags snapped.
Caitlyn was relieved that Bertha and Evie left soon after and she could retreat to her attic bedroom. She wanted time alone to think. She couldn’t get her mind off the photo she had seen in the album. Bertha had talked about having a younger sister… so was that little girl in the photo the Widow Mags’s other daughter? And why did she look so much like Caitlyn as a child? Pomona had suggested that Bertha was her aunt and the Widow Mags her grandmother… If that was true, then was that little girl her mother?
Caitlyn
felt a tingle of excitement. Was she making some progress at last? She had come to Tillyhenge looking for answers about her family and her past, and she had certainly found out some things she hadn’t expected—such as discovering that she was a witch!—but the questions about her real mother and her family had remained unanswered… until now. Caitlyn smiled suddenly to herself. If this was true, then it would mean that her family had been right here all along, under her very nose!
She turned over in the narrow bed, the springs creaking under her weight, and sighed. But if this was true, why hadn’t they said anything? Why hadn’t they recognised her and claimed her as family? Surely they must have seen her resemblance to her mother? Caitlyn frowned as she thought back to her first meeting with Bertha in her store, Herbal Enchantments—she remembered the older woman looking at her strangely and saying that Caitlyn reminded her of someone… The Widow Mags too, although she had never come out and said anything, had often looked at her with a speculative intensity which Caitlyn found slightly disturbing.
But why hadn’t they said anything? Why wouldn’t they talk about her mother? And where was that little girl in the photograph now?
***
When Caitlyn woke up the next morning, she was surprised to feel a warm furry bundle nestled against her neck. She shifted slightly and turned her head to look, then smiled as she saw the little black feline face with the dainty whiskers. Oh yes, of course… the kitten had spent the night with her. He stirred as she moved and opened his mouth, displaying a small pink tongue and tiny sharp teeth.
“Meew?” Nibs said sleepily, looking up at her.
Caitlyn reached over to tickle him under the chin and the little kitten began to purr loudly. Caitlyn smiled again. There was something lovely about waking up with a warm, sleeping cat curled up against you.
Better not get used to it, she thought to herself as she jumped out of bed. She would have to return Nibs to the Manor today. The kitten got up as well and arched his back in a perfect little cat stretch, then hopped off the bed and trotted over to the bedroom door.