A Very British Witch Boxed Set

by Isobella Crowley

  “Karl, is it okay if I take my break now?”

  Karl looked up at her from where he was sitting behind the counter, frowning at a clipboard. “Err, yes, OK then, why not? But I need you back by a quarter to one. I want a clear run at the stock take, this afternoon.”

  “Okay.”

  Closing the door behind her she let the air wash over her face. She took a moment to enjoy it before proceeding to go for her lunchtime wander through the streets of Bicester. It quickly lead her to Malaprop’s, the bookstore owned by her friend Tarquin. She decided to pop in to say hi, and found him standing by the cash register, finishing up a conversation with a delivery man.

  “Hi Tarquin!” she said with a smile.

  “Oh, hello Scarlett.” With a nod goodbye to the delivery man, he bent down to lift a box and hefted it into his arms. Then he jerked his head, beckoning her to follow him into the stockroom.

  Tarquin set the box down on a counter and took a minute to get his breath back before cutting it open. He paused over the open box, enjoying the scent of fresh print, before commencing with the cataloging.

  Scarlett came around to the other side of the table and bent over to take a look at the books. “I love the smell of new books too, Tarquin. It’s part of the attraction for me.”

  “Mmm. I know exactly what you mean.”

  “I’d almost forgotten what they smelled like.”

  “Why’s that?” He gave her a joking scowl. “You been reading them eBooks? Trying to put me out of business?”

  Scarlett grinned. “Oh, perish the thought! No, I’ve had my nose in lots of dusty old books recently. They have an entirely different smell.”

  Tarquin held a scanner to one of the books until it beeped. “Entirely different. What have you been reading that’s so old?”

  “Oh, you know,” she said. “This and that. Plus my aunt’s grimoires.”

  Tarquin glanced up at Scarlett, face suddenly bright with interest. “Your aunt’s grimoires? They’re not dusty old books.” He chuckled. “How’s that going? Have you managed to pick up a thing or two?”

  “Yes, I’d like to think so.” She smiled, casting her eyes to the floor.

  Tarquin lifted another book from the box and ran the scanner over its spine. “Such as?”

  “Oh, just a few small things, you know. The basics. But I’m improving all the time.”

  Tarquin stood up straight and looked at her for a long moment. He seemed to be deciding something. Then he said, “I have some more books through here that might be of interest to you. This way.”

  He placed the scanner beside the box and led her to a nondescript door that Scarlett had automatically assumed was a closet. However, when Tarquin pushed the door open and flipped the light switch, she realized it was another, smaller storeroom. Lining the wall was a large, wooden bookcase, packed full of books in a multitude of sizes and colors.

  “This is my, err, private collection.”

  Scarlett was astonished. “Your private collection? I had absolutely no idea.”

  “Well, it’s not something I choose to go around broadcasting. Come here, take a look.”

  As Scarlett watched, Tarquin ran his finger across several of the spines, absently pulling out what appeared to be the thickest book of all. He opened it to the middle and began flicking through the pages.

  “I was just, err—I thought there might be something you’d find useful. Something to help you better understand your aunt’s grimoires.” He continued to skim through the book all the way to the back cover, before closing it and returning it to the shelf.

  “Listen, I have to get back to my cataloging. Have a look through these why don’t you? See if there’s anything you might want to borrow to help with your studies.”

  Scarlett moved closed to the bookcase, then glanced back at Tarquin, uncertain. “Really? You don’t mind?”

  “No, not at all. I’ll just be—” he nodded his head toward the larger storeroom they’d just come from—“through there if you need anything.”

  “Okay.” Scarlett looked over her shoulder, waiting for him to sink his head back into the box of books, before turning back to run her eye over the bookcase.

  For what felt like two minutes, but was actually twenty, Scarlett scanned the books for anything that might help her in her studies. Starting with a big red book at the top left of the case, she worked her way along the shelf before moving down and back across.

  Every book she leafed through contained useful information that she eagerly read with bright, wide eyes. The biggest task she faced was limiting herself to borrowing only a few books. Eventually, she’d worked her way to the end of the third shelf. Her arm was starting to ache under the weight of three thick volumes when Tarquin crept up on her.

  “How’s it going?”

  Scarlett jumped. The books she was holding lurched forward, causing her arm to shoot out involuntarily to prevent her from falling to the floor. She held her breath, only exhaling once the books were pressed safely into her chest.

  She gave Tarquin a sheepish grin. “There’s so much of it. It’s hard to know where to begin.”

  He inspected the three books she’d selected. “You’ve made some good choices. These should serve you very well.”

  Scarlett frowned. “You don’t think—well my aunt—you don’t think she’ll get offended, do you?”

  “Why, because you’ve sought additional help?”

  Scarlett nodded. “She might think that her grimoires aren’t helpful to me, or that they’re unclear or—”

  “No, not at all.” He gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “I’ve known Tabitha a long time and she’s definitely not like that.”

  “Well, I hope you’re right.”

  “I am right Scarlett, trust me. I know her very well. Maybe too well.” He lowered his eyes and quickly turned away as if trying to conceal the guilty expression that had flashed over his face from her.

  “Tarquin? What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing,” he said, his eyes still averted.

  “It doesn’t look like nothing.” Scarlett grinned. “It looks like you’re trying to be evasive.”

  “Oh, no. No, I’m not.”

  “Whatever you say,” she teased.

  Tarquin sighed. “Well, did you see us driving through the market square the other night?”

  “No, I—who’s us?”

  “Me and—your aunt Tabitha,” he said, unable to hold back a smile.

  “Hang on. You and my aunt?!” She shrieked. “Oh my God.”

  Tarquin laughed, waving his arms in front of him. “No, no, nothing like that. We’re just good friends. We’ve—”

  “Known each other a long time. Yeah, I know.”

  Scarlett’s mind flashed back to the night they’d rescued Ronnie. The pair of them had been getting cozy in the back seat. There’d been this glazed kind of adoring look in their eyes. She remembered thinking it looked a bit odd at the time, but she’d thought she’d misread the signals.

  She fixed him with a discerning gaze. “You looked like you were getting on really well the other night, though. Like you really cared for—”

  This time, Tarquin met her eyes. “Scarlett, sometimes you can take this sleuthing thing of yours a bit too far. There’s absolutely nothing for you to go digging for.”

  Her arms started to tire under the weight of the books and she felt her face redden.

  “I’m going to get back to the cataloging now,” he continued. “Finish having a good look through the books, take anything you think might be of use.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  She observed him as he walked back to his box of books. Roughly halfway into the main storeroom, he turned to look through the window, into the bright sunshine. He squinted, raised his hand to shield his eyes, and for a split second Scarlett thought she saw a mischievous grin.

  Shaking her head, she walked back across the room to the bookcase. As soon as Tarquin’s scanner made i
ts first beep, she allowed herself to focus on the next shelf and picked up where she’d left off.

  A big yellow book with gold writing held her attention briefly, but she moved on, her thoughts elsewhere. When she pulled out the next book and found the information went completely over her head, she decided to take a minute to gather her thoughts.

  Although they’d never been close friends, Tarquin had always struck her as someone she could trust. If he and Tabitha were indeed an item, what was there to worry about? She couldn’t think of a single thing. Not one reason why Tarquin would be a bad companion for her aunt.

  Tabitha had been on her own for years and deserved to be happy. Not only did she and Tarquin get on well, but they were privy to each other’s alternative lives, thus avoiding any unwanted intrusions. It wasn’t as if either of them could sustain a long-term relationship with a normal person. It just wasn’t feasible. By all means, they were a good fit for each other.

  However, there was something lurking in the back of Scarlett’s mind. There was a wooden bench beside the bookcase and she carefully placed the books down onto it, frowning at them as she tried to figure out what made her feel uncomfortable with the idea.

  It didn’t take her long to realize: If Tarquin and Tabitha were, as she suspected, hiding the fact that they were together, then it was only going to be a matter of time before they made it official. And when that happened, the whole dynamic would change. She’d no longer be the young aspiring witch, she’d be the baby of the group. Tarquin might start treating her like a child; telling her to wrap up warm when she went out and to go home when she looked tired. That type of thing.

  She looked again to the bookcase. She’d done far too much digging for her own good and raised some questions that she didn’t have time to think about. Angry with herself for jumping the gun, she got to her feet and recommenced her search.

  A whole series of books stood side by side on the bottom shelf, just enough out of the way that she hadn’t noticed them at first. She was about to look upwards, focus her attention on the fourth row down where she’d left off, but something about the books hooked her. They had eye-catching names. Much darker than the rest; ominous even. They looked like the type of books that could either uncover the secret to becoming a great witch or scupper her ambitions altogether.

  Bending down, she pulled out the first volume and read the title aloud. “Space-Time Manipulation.”

  A chill crept up the back of her neck, so sudden and violent that she had to place the book on the bench so she could rub her hands over her arms in an attempt to warm up.

  With one hand on the back of her neck and the other crossing her chest to the opposite shoulder, she became aware of the sensation of eyes on her. The beeping coming from the other room had stopped.

  Scarlett turned around quickly, startled. “Tarquin!”

  Tarquin, now standing in the doorway, looked as serious as she’d ever seen him. “No, Scarlett. I’m sorry, I should have warned you about them. That shelf is strictly out of bounds.”

  Scarlett hurriedly picked up the book and slid it back into place. “Sorry, I had no idea.” She paused. “What exactly—?”

  He cut her off, his voice urgent. “They’re dangerous. Both to the witch herself and to everyone around her. That’s all you need to know.”

  “Tarquin, I’m sorry. I had no idea. I don’t want to cause any harm to—”

  His expression softened at her anxious expression. “No, it’s okay. No harm done. You, err, got everything you need?”

  She gave him a sheepish grin. “Yes.”

  It was only once she’d stooped to pick up the books she’d pulled out that she thought about work. It was with a strong sense of foreboding that she took out her phone to check the time.

  “Oh no. Thanks so much Tarquin, but I’ve got to go,” she called, running past him, through the shop.

  “No problem. Take as long as you—”

  She was out the door before she could hear the rest of his sentence. Feet pounding on the busy sidewalk, Scarlett pondered her next move. Karl had explicitly told her not to be long because he wanted to get going on a stock take this afternoon. Oh my God, she thought, I’m going to be late and I haven’t even had any lunch.

  Fortunately, the queue in the coffee shop close to Tarquin’s bookstore wasn’t all that bad. She managed to grab a coffee, that would hopefully keep her going for the rest of the afternoon.

  +++

  Bicester Vintners, Bicester, England

  Scarlett stepped into the shop, holding her coffee in front of her like it could physically protect her from Karl’s annoyed glower.

  “Hi, I’m back,” she called, voice small.

  Karl stood behind the counter, pen in hand, looking down at some kind of list. He looked up to acknowledge her, shook his head, and continued with what he was doing without making a comment.

  Well, Scarlett thought, it could have been worse. She hung her coat up in the back room and returned to the shop. “Sorry, I’m a bit late.”

  “A bit?”

  “Well, I got talking to Tarquin and the time flew by. He lent me some—”

  “Save it. I don’t want to know.”

  She grimaced. “How—how’s the stock take?”

  “Haven’t even started it yet, Scarlett. I’ve been too busy in here, serving customers.”

  “Well, I’m back now. Why don’t you go and get started?”

  He clapped his notebook shut, tucked it under his arm and marched off into the storeroom, shouting over his shoulder. “Brilliant idea, Scarlett. Just what do I pay you for?”

  Leaning on the counter, staring at the floor, Scarlett’s mind started to wander. Karl had good reason to be angry with her today, but he was like this most days. Not too long ago, seeing him like that when she walked in, she might have been more fearful of his ire. Now she had friends, that if push came to shove, she could rely on.

  The chime over the door sounded. As soon as a footstep clapped onto the floor, Scarlett put on a smile and waited for a customer to emerge from the aisles. “Good afternoon, —”

  A familiar face ducked around the corner. Scarlett’s heart jumped in her chest. “Good afternoon, darling.”

  “Tim!”

  He smiled widely at her, but by the time he made it to the counter, his expression had fallen into a frown.

  Scarlett narrowed her eyes. “Tim, what is it?”

  “Darling, I’ve some really bad news, sorry.”

  The look in his eyes reminded her of the sudden chill she’d felt earlier. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “I have to cancel tonight. I have no choice.” He flashed a guilty smile. “Sorry.”

  Scarlett turned her eyes to the ceiling and let out a long sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God.”

  Tim laughed. “Well, that’s not the reaction I was expecting, but—”

  “Oh, no! I didn’t mean it that way,” she said quickly. “It was just the look in your eyes when you said you had bad news, it made me think that—oh I don’t know.” She chuckled. “Am I forgiven?”

  “Darling, of course you are.”

  She smiled, though she was still a bit disappointed. She’d noticed that Tim had been a bit distant recently, despite their recent promise to keep things transparent between them. She hoped everything was okay between them, but more than that, hoped that Tim was doing all right himself.

  Tim looked at her, puzzled. “You’ve gone quiet.”

  “Have I?”

  “Yes, you have. So, are you okay with it? Can we reschedule for another night?”

  She pursed her lips, mulling over her internal dilemma: on one hand, saying it was fine to cancel was just a way to avoid addressing the larger issue. On the other hand, accusing him of keeping secrets over something like a cancelled date would look petty and childish, and she didn’t want to start that conversation on the wrong foot. She wasn’t actually angry at him, just worried. She took a deep breath and decided she had little alte
rnative but to bite her tongue.

  “Well.” She smiled. “Oh, I suppose so.”

  Tim returned her smile, clearly relieved. “You’re the best.”

  “Listen, why don’t we catch up over the weekend?”

  “Yes—I’d like that.” He leaned across the counter and planted a kiss on her cheek, expression earnest. “Goodbye then, have a nice Friday. I’ll see you soon. I promise.”

  Scarlett nodded, and gave him her best attempt at a cheery wave goodbye.

  She waited until he’d finally left the shop, door swinging shut behind him, before slumping onto her elbows.

  It was at times like these that she needed the support of her good friends. She took out her phone.

  Hi Amanda. Can we talk later? She hit the send button, laid the phone on the counter and waited.

  Amanda’s reply came quickly. Yes. What’s up?

  Scarlett: Man trouble.

  Amanda: I should have guessed. Can’t drink though. On a health kick.

  After a little bit of discussion, they eventually settled on grabbing coffee.

  Scarlett: Costa?

  Amanda: Perfect

  Scarlett: Meet you after you get off work

  Amanda: No problem

  She’d only just slipped the phone back into her pocket when the door opened again. This time it was a customer, which was, for once, a welcome distraction. She served a few more customers until Karl ended up asking her to help him with the stock take. By the time they’d finished up, it was time for her afternoon break.

  Chapter Two

  Thursday Afternoon

  Costa Coffee, Market Square, Bicester, UK

  Scarlett put on her jacket and left for her coffee date with Amanda. She’d only taken two steps along the road when her mind started drifting. It had been a strange day, all in all. Well, the morning had been okay, but from the moment she’d stepped foot into Tarquin’s, it had been full of surprises. First about his private book collection, which he’d never so much as breathed about before, and then, he’d hinted that he and Tabitha had some kind of relationship. She shook her head. If there was any truth to her suspicions that Tarquin and her aunt were an item, then there were going to be serious ramifications–in more ways than one.