A Very British Witch Boxed Set

by Isobella Crowley

  Bicester Vintners was a popular spot in the market square where the locals shopped. The wine shop catered to all tastes, but specialized in local wines from Oxfordshire vineyards.

  A cheery Oxford girl was trying to haggle over their lowest-priced chardonnay. “What if I buy three at once? Like three for the price of two?”

  We don’t sell plonk, Scarlett wanted to say, but didn’t.

  “I can give you two for the price of two,” Scarlett said with a smile.

  At least my cheeks are getting a workout.

  The girl pursed her lips. “Just the one then.”

  Scarlett rang her up.

  As she broke a fresh roll of twenty pence coins into the register, she could feel the blood pooling in her feet and ankles. The soles of her feet were sore and her toes were starting to tingle. She just wanted to go and sit down. Just ten minutes would do it. Plus, her hangover wasn’t helping. She needed to be resting and drinking water.

  That’s what she needed.

  The student left with her chardonnay.

  Scarlett seized the moment. She took one quick check on the shop and slipped through to the back to get herself a glass of water. While she was there, she put some water in the kettle and put it on to boil. Her feet ached. She contemplated sitting down. Just for a moment.

  Then her eyes wandered towards the back door. It was one of those frosted glass paneled doors, like the one her nanna had. She had always guessed that residential doors were either cheaper, or once upon a time, this had been a terraced house before they converted it into a retail unit. But that wasn’t where her thoughts were right now.

  There was something not right. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Then she realized it looked like there was something just outside the door, darkening the frosting. Not a shadow. But something physically there.

  Scarlett unbolted the door and opened it. The kettle had nearly boiled, and she needed to get back out to the customers. But curiosity was getting the better of her. With another shove the door opened out onto the two chunky steps below. Perched up against the wall just to the side was a shovel.

  She looked at it more closely, feeling like she was seeing something out of place. She noticed mud caked on the business end of it and remembered the state of her shoes on her bedroom floor. Her mind swarming again she shook her head to clear her thoughts. That was… that was her shovel. From her aunt’s allotment.

  But that doesn’t make sense. Why would it be here?

  The bell over the front door tinkled, pulling her attention. She pulled the door closed. The mystery of the shovel was going to have to wait. And so was any hope of another cup of tea. At least for now.

  The kettle flicked off, just as she left the room and hurried back out onto the shop floor.

  A well-dressed Indian gentleman set a box of top-shelf Riesling on the counter. Scarlett had seen him before. He had been to the store three Fridays in a row now. He owned a restaurant in Banbury but bought his wine in Bicester.

  She gave him a smile. “Hello again, Mr. Rao.”

  “Oh, please,” he said, “you may call me Harish.”

  “And you may call me Scarlett. Fair trade?”

  “Fair trade, yes. Very fair.”

  As she rang him up, the front door opened. Karl bustled in.

  Finally.

  She gave Mr. Rao his change. “Have a nice day.”

  “You too, Scarlett,” he said, lingering at the counter. “Listen, I was wondering.”

  “Excuse me,” she said to him, by way of goodbye, then locked eyes with Karl as he approached. “Can you take over?”

  Karl said nothing, and continued into the back office.

  Scarlett clenched her jaw. It was past time for her lunch. He couldn’t keep her working without a break.

  She moved the “One Moment Please” placard to the counter, and went to the back room. Karl was seated at the desk, rubbing his eyes, not really doing anything.

  “Karl, may I take my lunch break now?”

  He didn’t look at her, but kept rubbing his eyes. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry about this morning. I’ll cover.”

  “What happened?”

  He looked at her for the first time today. There was no apology in his eyes. No understanding of what he’d put her through. “I said you could go.”

  Karl was acting strange. This wasn’t like him. And that wasn’t the only strange thing today.

  “I noticed my shovel in the back,” she said, half expecting to be corrected and told it must be one that looked like hers.

  Karl hesitated. “Yes, I borrowed it from you last week, remember? I’m returning it.”

  “You didn’t ask me.”

  “I did. You remember.”

  “No, actually, I don’t remember.” Scarlett felt incredibly confused. She wondered for a moment if this was all some kind of hazing. A bad joke. Maybe he was going to laugh, and tell her that Amanda was in on it and they just wanted to play a prank on her.

  That was just silly.

  What did Karl want with a shovel anyway? He didn’t have an allotment or garden at home, and even if he did, he’d just hire some help. She couldn’t imagine him doing manual labor. Not by choice, and not with those big rings he always wore. Especially that big red gemstone ring. She’d never seen him without it.

  Karl was looking at her coldly. “Well, you should remember. I asked you last week and you said yes and I’ll bring it back tomorrow. Which I did, and told you about it. But it looks like you forgot and left it there all week.”

  He was lying. She knew he was lying. What she didn’t know was why. “You never asked me.”

  Karl stood up and gave her a curious look. He sat on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms, as if reappraising her. “How much did you drink last night, young lady?”

  None of your business, she wanted to fire back.

  Karl was using his boss voice now. “Young lady.” He made it sound like a reprimand. And maybe a warning.

  Scarlett felt a tightness in her chest. She didn’t like confrontations. Not like this. And especially not with her boss. She needed this job. Which meant she needed to get out of the room.

  Her phone vibrated. A text from Amanda. “I’m done. You ready? Karl back?” They had plans for lunch.

  Saved by the bell.

  “I’ll be back in an hour,” she said to Karl, forgetting to smile, and walked out.

  Once she was outside, she took some deep breaths and started to calm down. It was good to be outside in the fresh air, away from the customers. And her boss.

  The argument over the shovel was such a little thing, she didn't know why she was so upset. But Karl had lied to her, and she couldn't figure out why. It probably had nothing to do with the shovel at all. Maybe he felt guilty for leaving her here to deal with the customers by herself. But he sure hadn't handled it very well when he returned.

  She was tired of thinking about it. It was sapping her energy, and after this morning she had little enough of that as it was.

  What she really needed was to talk to somebody who would be on her side. Her best friend Amanda worked across the square.

  She texted Amanda back. “Heading over now.”

  Grabbing her bag and jacket she wafted out of the back office, and made a beeline for the front door, careful not to make eye contact with any customers so she wouldn’t be delayed. Out on the street the fresh air hit her. It was pleasant… but made her dizzy.

  There were a lot of feet on the pavement–tourists and travelers, shoppers and idlers. She braced herself to get over to Amanda without bumping into anyone.

  +++

  Costa Coffee, Bicester, England

  As Scarlett crossed the street, she saw Amanda step out of the bakery to meet her.

  "This is late for you to take a break. What happened?" Amanda asked.

  "Karl."

  Amanda exhaled deliberately. "Enough said." Amanda had a knack for reading her mind. She took Scarlett by the arm
and guided her through the traffic of pedestrians. "We're going to Costa."

  "Okay." She didn't care, as long as she could sit down.

  "Feels like I haven't seen you in ages," Amanda said.

  "We're roomies. We see each other all the time." Scarlett was having a difficult time keeping up with Amanda, who walked rapidly, pulling on Scarlett's arm. Scarlett was hungry too, but she didn't have the energy to sprint for her meal.

  Amanda said, "We don't see each other all the time. I stayed at Ronnie's last night. Didn't you miss me?"

  "Of course I did," Scarlett retorted. “I especially missed the wakeup call on your way out. I was late this morning.”

  Amanda glanced at her sympathetically. "Oh no. Everything alright?”

  Scarlett shrugged. “Yeah. It was fine. Karl has only just shown up.”

  Amanda frown. “Not like him.”

  Scarlett grunted in agreement as they pushed their way through the sea of coffee lovers to the counter.

  Costa Coffee was busy today. Scarlett and Amanda ordered their usual lattes and paninis. Scarlett’s was ham and cheese. Her friend got the mozzarella and tomato. Scarlett went to claim a table while Amanda waited in the pick-up line.

  When Amanda joined her at the table with their food trays, before she’d even sat down, she said, "I want you to tell me everything.”

  Scarlett took a careful sip of her coffee. It was still too hot, so she set it aside, then noticed Amanda staring at her strangely.

  "I know," Scarlett said. "I look haggard. It's been a rough morning." She absently rubbed at her bruised arm, and when it hurt, thought better of it.

  "Looks like you got into a catfight with a customer."

  "What do you mean?"

  Amanda pointed to the ceiling. "Look at the fan."

  Scarlett looked up at the ceiling fan. "What about it?"

  "You have a scratch on your chin, just under your jaw."

  "What?" Scarlett touched her chin, but didn't feel anything different.

  Amanda grabbed Scarlett's hand and moved her finger to the right spot. "Right there. Can you feel that?"

  She did. "Is it bleeding?" Scarlett checked her finger and didn't see any blood.

  "No, but it looks pretty fresh. What happened?"

  "I don't know."

  "Really, you're fine. But if Ronnie did that to me, I think I’d remember." She said it with a smile and a wink.

  Scarlett chuckled. "Oh, it was nothing like that. I was alone last night." She took a bite of her toasted ham sandwich. The combination of butter, meat and bread melted in her mouth like liquid bliss. She started to feel better instantly.

  "We have to find you someone. Lots of cute guys in this café," she noted, glancing around and narrowly avoiding eye contact with an older guy in a leather jacket a few tables over.

  Scarlett glanced around, but didn't see anyone who struck her fancy. These were mostly tourists. Here today, gone tomorrow. That wasn't what she was looking for. Not that she was looking.

  Then she remembered something, and her stomach fluttered. "I did meet someone cute this morning," she blurted out.

  Amanda arched an eyebrow, planted her elbows on the table, and her chin in her hands. "Go on," she said comically, her panini forgotten in lieu of gossip.

  Scarlett laughed. "Oh, nothing that dramatic."

  "I'll take what you got."

  "I don't know what I've got. I just met him. We talked."

  "In the wine shop?"

  Scarlett nodded. "When I was opening up. Karl didn't show up this morning, so it was all on me. He did call me to tell me he'd be late, but–"

  "Enough about Karl! I don't want to hear about him. I mean, I do. You can tell me everything, you know that. But first I want to hear about this new guy."

  "Well," Scarlett said, thinking back on the exchange. "His name is Tim."

  "A name, that's good. First name, even better. Tim. He sounds like a real person already."

  "Of course he’s a real person," Scarlett said. "You think I'm making this up?"

  "I didn't say that. Sorry. Go on."

  "Well, like I said, his name's Tim. He came in to ask some questions."

  "Like, will you marry me?"

  Scarlett sniggered and wafted a hand at her friend. "Don't be daft."

  The pair giggled for a moment.

  Scarlett picked up her cup and blew on her coffee to cool it. "He was asking me if I'd seen a certain person who had gone missing."

  Amanda's eyes widened dramatically. "What? He's a cop, then?"

  "No, nothing like that."

  "Private detective?"

  "Not private. But sort of a detective, I think."

  Amanda scowled and leaned forward. "Now you're talking in riddles, you sphinx. Out with it. You think he is a detective, but not a cop, and not a private eye. What then? He’s sounding less real by the minute."

  "He's a Flight Lieutenant. I could tell that from his uniform."

  Amanda sat back. "Military! He's in the RAF? We've been talking about him all this time and now you tell me he's in the Air Force? Talk about burying the lead!"

  Scarlett shrunk sheepishly. "I guess I should've started with that."

  "You think?" Amanda took a sip of her coffee and made a face like she'd burned her tongue. "So is he cute?"

  "Uniform," Scarlett stated simply with a wry smile.

  "Right, got it. He's cute."

  "But he was very serious," Scarlett relayed. "And he seemed young for a Flight Lieutenant."

  "Ambitious, then. If you don't want him, I'll take him."

  "You're already taken, Amanda."

  "Details," Amanda chuffed dismissively, waving her hand.

  Scarlett sipped some coffee. The warmth in her throat radiated through her body, relaxing and replenishing her. Such a stressful day, but it was good to talk about it with Amanda. She was decompressing already.

  Amanda asked, "So, what was he investigating, your Flight Lieutenant?"

  "He's not my Flight Lieutenant."

  "Not yet." Amanda gave her a wink.

  Scarlett ignored it. "He was asking about a guy who disappeared. Some kind of journalist. He told me the name, but I forgot. He showed me a picture, but it didn't ring a bell. He was going door-to-door, to see if anybody recognized him."

  Talking about it now, she felt a sense of apprehension, and didn't know why.

  "I had a strange nightmare last night, too," she continued. “I guess it must have thrown me.”

  Amanda looked up from her meal. "Oh?"

  Scarlett nodded, hesitating a moment before carrying on. "At first it was just a sound. And then I saw teeth, gnashing. They were coming towards me, and there was a face too. And then I saw this body on the ground. I couldn't really see the face very well, of the guy on the ground. But when the detective, the military guy–"

  "Tim."

  Scarlett nodded. "Right, Tim."

  Amanda grinned. "If you're going to marry the guy, you might want to call him by his name."

  Scarlett ignored the teasing, distracted. "Anyway, when Tim showed me the picture of the missing person, I realized it was the same guy I saw in my dream. Not the one with the teeth coming at me, but the guy on the ground."

  Amanda narrowed her eyes. "But you said you didn't see the guy's face. You said it was a dream. You said it happened last night, before you even met Detective Handsome.” She paused and put on serious face. “Clearly, you're bonkers," she deadpanned. She continued to eat her sandwich.

  "You're probably right," Scarlett agreed.

  Amanda nodded, chewing with a look of vindication.

  "But something else is bothering me.”

  Amanda, mouth full, gestured for her friend to go on.

  "I think something may have happened last night, and I just don't remember."

  Amanda swallowed. “Like what?”

  Scarlett shrugged.

  "You're losing it, hon," Amanda confirmed.

  "Maybe. But Karl didn't c
ome in this morning, and he sounded strange on the phone."

  "Strange how?"

  "Well," Scarlett said, her panini once again abandoned in front of her, "he asked how I was. And if I was okay. But… he never does. I'm lucky if I get a grunt out of him most days."

  Amanda said, "Maybe he just felt bad about letting you open up on your own."

  "Maybe."

  For the remainder of their late, caffeinated lunch, Amanda took her turn telling about her night with her boyfriend and her day at the bakery. Scarlett half-listened, nodding in all the right places, and maintaining friendly eye contact.

  But her mind was elsewhere–on the dream, and the missing man, and the strange behavior of her boss.

  Scarlett checked her watch. “Shit. I’ve got to get back,” she said, her heart leaping in her chest.

  “Righty-ho.”

  “Yeah, some of us still have to work till the end of the day,” Scarlett teased.

  “Some of us didn’t have to get up at five am to be at work for six thirty!” Amanda shot back playfully.

  Scarlett was already standing up and clearing away their panini plates and cutlery. “True that,” she sighed despondently. “But you don’t get the pleasure of Mr. Crankey-pants all afternoon!”

  Amanda smiled sympathetically. “He gives you any trouble you send him to me.”

  The time seemed to fly whenever she and Amanda met for lunch. Waiting in line at Costa probably hadn’t helped. Scarlett found herself wishing they could meet every day like this though. She also envied the fact that Amanda’s workday was over, but the thought of having to be up before sunrise was enough to stop her from even contemplating changing jobs.

  Before they left, Scarlett ordered an Americano to go. She was going to need its silky caffeinated comfort to get through the rest of the day. Sometimes PG Tips just didn’t cut it.

  She walked with Amanda back to the bakery, where she’s presumably left her work gear, and hugged her goodbye-for-now.

  Crossing the street from the bakery side of the square to the road with the wine shop on it, she carried her coffee, absorbed in her thoughts, and oblivious to the flow of pedestrians around her. Suddenly she felt a sharp jolt as she collided with a man walking perpendicular to her. She felt the coffee cup slip in her hand.