After a moment, he turned the car and returned the way he’d come. I watched him go, lifting my arm to wave until he was out of sight. Once he’d disappeared, my stomach twisted. I hated to think of him alone. I hated to think of anyone alone.
I recalled Roy’s face when he’d answered the door and had imagined for just a moment that I was his granddaughter come to visit him.
Not for the first time that day my eyes pricked with tears. The world can be a cruel and lonely place sometimes.
Poor Roy.
Poor George.
Gravel crunched behind me and I turned about to see Millicent walking towards me wearing her apron and not her coat. Her face was pink, probably from the steam in the kitchen. She’d been hard at it, multi-tasking I expect.
“Is everything alright?” she enquired, evidently noting my red-rimmed eyes.
I nodded, feeling miserable but not wishing to burden anyone else with it. “How about you?”
“Excellent. I think we’re making real progress. John is just boiling the ingredients up for the potion. We decided to add a little of his Effervescent Brain Salts and do you know, I think that will give us the pep we need. It should all be ready in about half an hour. In the meantime, we have the soup simmering on the fire.”
A ghost iron pot on a ghost fire boiled gently with ghost chicken broth. I swear I could smell it though. My stomach rumbled.
“Will you help us persuade Gwyn to dose the ghosts up with our potion?” Millicent asked.
“Of course, although I doubt she’ll need much persuasion. She’s probably sick to the back teeth of that rabble of sick spirits by now.”
Millicent made a move towards Dr Quikke’s cart. “I’ll give you a shout when it’s ready. Where will you be?”
I glanced down the drive. George had disappeared on his way back to Exeter, but my sadness for his new situation lingered. Added to the empathy I had for Roy’s loss; I must have made for one dour-looking witch.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Alf?” Millicent asked.
I turned back to her. “Nobody should be alone at Christmas, should they?”
She shook her head, an emphatic no, while her eyes questioned me. That was enough for me. I didn’t wait for a verbal response. “I’m going to head back into the village. And then I’ll probably swing by Mara’s too.”
“But the dinner—”
“It’s fine. I’ll take Jed’s van. I don’t think I’ll be long at all.”
I ran inside the inn to locate the van keys. Just a few days ago I’d been lamenting the fact that I’d be alone for Christmas, but the solution had been in my grasp all along.
I had no need to be alone if I simply filled the inn to the rafters with other lonely souls. I had plenty of room. We could all bunk up together.
With a new sense of purpose, I perked up. I jumped into the van, slightly concerned whether it would start in the cold, but I whispered a little start-first-time spell and stroked the dashboard and within seconds the engine had roared into life.
I turned the heater up to full and switched on the radio, my heart full of enthusiasm for the mission ahead. As the van ambled down the drive I laughed and sang out loud:
Let’s drink all the wine
And have the best time
Witching in a winter wonkyland
We’d ended up delaying Yule until it had to merge with the Christmas festivities, but that didn’t matter really. On the longest night of the year, I’d taken a candle encased in a glass lamp to protect it from the bitter breeze and made my way out to the clearing in Speckled Wood with just Mr Hoo for company. The Winter Solstice is a night for reflection and therefore at midnight I held my own ceremony. Wrapped in my thickest cloak, I knelt among the leaves for some time and gazed into the flame, remembering all that had come to pass this past twelve months.
The Psychic Fayre and my strange outing as Fabulous Fenella the Far-Sighted, thanks to the Cosmetic Alchemist, Cordelia Denby. That had been interesting.
My horrible dunking in Whittle Pond.
George’s abduction. Both of those at the hands of The Mori.
The poisoning of Speckled Wood and the surrounding forest.
The small tussles with Talbot-Lloyd and other members of the community.
The big battle with The Mori.
The body in the wall of the inn.
Time travelling with Mr Wylie. That had almost been fun, but I’d never managed to conquer my travel sickness.
Then the producers of The Great Witchy Cake Off had brought the show to Whittle Inn and that should have been a sweet treat but had mostly been a sour surprise. Florence had become a superstar of sorts, and I’d overdosed on cake.
The vampires. How I hated the vampires. I could only hope to goodness that we would never hear from them again. The memory of scaling the walls of Castle Iuliad was still too fresh in my mind, and the terror I’d experienced was something I imagined would never fade away. Nightmares propelled me from my sleep regularly, and afterwards I would lie in the dark, gasping for breath, certain that death was imminent.
But, I scolded myself, think of the good!
I’d survived it all. I was stronger than ever both physically and mentally, and my magickal practice had improved exponentially, thanks in large part to Horace T. Silvanus.
Dark witch, mentor… and my love.
I watched the candle as it flickered and burned in front of me. Emotion bloomed in my heart, swelling until it expanded to fill my entire body. Even my skin tingled. I smiled in recognition. Silvan had lit a fire inside me that burned with quiet stoicism and kept me warm. I would never be alone if I held him in my heart.
After an hour of quiet meditation, I sensed that my soul had renewed. I let go of my sorrows and bid farewell to a year of darkness. Then I turned my face to the east and hailed a hearty hello to light and grace and a year of hope and magick.
What has been, is done. What will be, must be.
Late on Christmas afternoon, after I’d darted among my guests with yet another magnum of Champagne, and taken more orders for brandy, rum and whisky to be dispensed by the bar, I leaned against the fireplace for a moment to take stock.
As expected, I had an inn full of guests, but all my other available beds had been filled up with my friends. Rather than see Roy Lear alone over the holiday, I’d invited him to stay. He had now taken pride of place in one of the big over-stuffed armchairs closest to the fire. He held court with Mara the Stormbringer, who knew a thing or two about grief herself. Mara cradled the faery changeling Harys in her arms and chatted animatedly about the weather and her lonely cabin deep in the forest.
As long as she was happy, I was fine with that. Certainly Roy seemed in relatively good spirits.
Speaking of spirits, all of my ghosts were back in action. Some of them still looked a little peaky—peakier than normal anyway—but Millicent and Dr Quikke had happened upon a miracle cure and within forty-eight hours most of them were up and about once more. Florence and Monsieur Emietter had worked like whirlwinds in the kitchen, slaving over the hot ovens, in order to create a festive feast everyone could enjoy. The Devonshire Fellows were regaling us with cheerful songs—although the faintest hint of squashed goose squawking and I’d have fallen down on them like a tonne of bricks—and both Zephaniah and Ned were running the bar.
Colonel Archibald Peters and Dr Quikke were swapping stories of their travels. In Colonel Peters case I’m sure some of those related to Transylvania, but both were of a time markedly different to ours, and they compared notes, while drinking some odd-looking liquor Dr Quikke had found in his ghost cart.
I didn’t ask any questions, but they certainly became merrier as the afternoon progressed.
Outside Dobbin and the reindeer appeared to have become bosom pals. I found it quite extraordinary that the reindeer, Rudie, could actually see and communicate with the horse. From the window, I’d watched as they put their noses together and harrumphed and snorted, stamping their
hooves occasionally, their breath steaming in the cold. Grizzle had spent most of the day out there with them too. He’d groomed the reindeer and fed and watered him and now I could see him cavorting around, kicking an old leather soccer ball about, the reindeer and the ghost horse trundling around after him, whinnying and grunting in turn, their eyes shining with the fun of it all.
That was one way to exercise them, I guessed.
I’d given Charity the day off, because she more than deserved it, and instead I’d been doing most of the running around in her place. I didn’t mind. It was my inn after all. Charity had elected to come to the inn for the day anyway, but she’d brought her Mum along. They had cosied up to Millicent, Jasper and Sunny, discussing—so I’d overheard—metaphysics of all things. I decided to avoid their company for a while until the conversation turned into something a little less mentally demanding.
Charity and George were sitting in the window, sipping champagne and playing dominoes. I stared at them now, heads down, happy in each other’s company; the conversation casual and friendly.
That gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling.
Only Gwyn looked slightly out of place. She’d replaced her nurse’s uniform with an elegant crushed velvet evening dress in Christmas green and a silver tiara, but she seemed like a fish out of water. I think she’d been enjoying the nursing and having something positive to do.
“Are you alright, Grandmama?” I sidled up to her.
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” She wrinkled her nose as though I were a bad smell.
“You look a little out of sorts,” I replied. “Frau Krause is in The Snug looking for a partner for Bridge. Why don’t you join her and—”
“Really, Alfhild, there’s no need to fuss.” She rubbed her forehead. “Perhaps a little later.”
I backed off. “Alright. It’s nearly time to light the fire anyway.”
I left her to it, and alerted Ned and Zephaniah to the swiftly encroaching dusk. We intended to set Ned’s bonfire ablaze as the sun began to set, and that time was upon us. Ned nodded and headed outside while Zephaniah began to fill glasses with the finest brandy and place them onto trays that we could carry outside.
I gathered up everyone who wanted to join us and led them through the vestibule and onto the lawn, Mara and Roy leaning heavily on their respective walking aids, Millicent ushering them along. We stood in a circle around the bonfire, while Ned tried to set it aflame and Florence handed around glasses of brandy. Finbarr tethered the reindeer with Grizzle’s help, so that he wouldn’t become alarmed by the ensuing festivities and the burning of the bonfire, while the rest of us tittered and shivered together, as each of Ned’s attempts to spark a light from a match failed.
At last we had some success. Ned managed to create a spark and with the aid of a firelighter, the dry straw we’d added to the bottom of the stack of wood caught. With a whoosh, the twigs were suddenly alight, and soon the larger branches were gobbling flames in a frenzy.
Several of the guests cheered and the Devonshire Fellows launched into Good King Wenceslas. We sang along, while Ned and his lovely young milkmaid partner performed a graceful little dance that seemed to involve a lot of complicated hopping and looping around each other.
Eventually I raised my glass. “Everyone?” I called above the lute, the drum and the Crumhorn, and for now the music fell silent.
“Speech!” called Millicent, and Charity groaned.
“I don’t want to say very much. We can go back to the business of making merry very soon!”
There was a swell of appreciation at that.
I smiled and continued. “It’s been a trying year for me in many ways, but it’s ending beautifully. I just wanted to thank you all joining me today and making this a smashing Christmas. You all being here—my friends and guests who have become friends—celebrating the festivities in my wonky inn, has made this one of the best Christmases I’ve ever had. Here’s to us. Let’s raise a toast. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas” echoed back at me, from all over the grounds it seemed. People slurped their brandy, glad of the extra warmth.
“And to absent friends,” called Roy, and once again we all lifted our glasses in a salute to those who who’d come before and left ahead of us, or those still with us, but not physically present.
“To absent friends,” I repeated quietly.
I sipped my drink and stared into the bright flames. Ned had done well, collecting all the dead wood from the grounds. It would burn merrily for a few hours, a beacon of warmth.
From behind me came the sound of bells. For a moment I assumed it originated from the Devonshire Fellows and I waited for them to start up with another Christmas song, but the shaking of the bells, while rhythmic went on for slightly too long. Charity walked towards me, her mouth open in surprise. I turned about when I realised that she, and a few other guests were not staring at me, but something behind me.
“Is that who I think it is?” Charity asked, her voice rising in awe.
I gaped in astonishment. Surely it couldn’t be?
Gliding out of the sky came a sleigh the size of a railway carriage, pulled through the air by eight reindeer. A man with a big snowy beard and impressive moustache sat comfortably on the front bench seat.
With my back to the warm fire, I watched as the sleigh turned in a neat circle. As one, the team of reindeer lifted their heads and gently placed their hooves to the ground, landing effortlessly on the lawn in front of us and sliding to a neat stop. Now I could really appreciate the size of the sleigh. This late in the day it was devoid of presents, but my friends and guests and I could all have piled into the back of the sleigh and there would still have been room for every other inhabitant of Whittlecombe village.
Rudie grunted in excitement and pulled on his tether, intent on rushing to his friends. Grizzle clasped one hand to his mouth, his eyes filling with tears, and held tightly to Rudie’s reins; tight enough that I thought he would never let the animal go. As Finbarr stepped forward to gently untether our reindeer from Grizzle’s grasp, the old man in the sleigh rose. He leaned forward and with a virtually imperceptible wiggle of his fingers, the rope attached to Rudie’s harness slipped free and Rudie bolted towards him.
Grizzle took a step or two after him, his arms held out, then stopped, visibly deflating.
“Whoa boy!” The old man laughed as the reindeer cavorted with glee in front of the sleigh and snorted, nose to nose with the front pair of reindeer who eyed him with delight and shook their heads. With another flick of his fingers, the old man had Rudie take his place at the very front of the herd. His leather harness flapped in the air and then entangled itself with those of the reindeer behind him.
Grizzle’s head dropped, and Rudie, sensing his friend’s sadness, lifted his nose and coughed and snorted. The old man in the sleigh listened with his head cocked, then turned and beckoned Grizzle.
The faery trembled at the summons and would have darted away, but Finbarr took his arm and propelled him forwards, whereupon the faery fell to his knees and lifted his hands in supplication. “I didn’t steal him,” I heard him tell the old man. “I promise. I was only looking after him. He told me he’d gotten lost. Took a wrong turning. He ended up in the forest and I just… I just wanted a friend.”
The old man peered down at the faery, his red cheeks burning, and then he threw his head back and laughed. A great booming chuckle. “Ho ho ho!”
Startled, Grizzle stared up at the old man who towered above him from his seat in the sleigh. “You’re not angry?” he asked.
“Of course I’m not, Cleon Philbert Grizzle! You’ve done an outstanding job of looking after my reindeer. He tells me he’s mighty fond of you. In fact… ho ho ho!... I’d like to ask you to join me at the North Pole. I could do with another reindeer handler.”
Grizzle’s lower lip trembled. “Me? You want me—”
“I only want the best. Are you the best?”
“Well I… I don�
�t know.”
“He is!” Finbarr volunteered, and I nodded enthusiastically.
“What do you say?” Santa asked. “Would you like to come along with us?”
Grizzle clamped both fists to his mouth in excitement. “Would I ever!”
“Ho ho ho!” The old man rocked with hilarity. “Then jump aboard and wrap yourself up well. We’ve a long, cold journey ahead of us.”
I grinned as Grizzle leapt to his feet and with one excited wave at Rudie, clambered aboard the sleigh. He plopped himself down next to the old man and dragged a large furry blanket from the floor to curl up in. By the time he’d sorted himself out, I could just about make out his nose from within the cocoon.
The reindeers stretched and quivered with excitement, bells ringing at random, and then without further ado, Rudie jumped into the air, the others right behind him. The enormous sleigh lurched and became airborne too. We ducked as it flew over our heads, too close for comfort, wafting my fringe, and only narrowly missing the bonfire.
I spun about, watching as the sleigh doubled back towards us, a little higher now. The bearded figure saluted Finbarr and nodded at me. I thought he might have been mouthing a thank you, but above the crackling blaze of the fire, I couldn’t hear him. Grizzle waved once before tucking his arm back inside the warmth of his blanket.
Passing above the large oak trees at the end of the drive, the old man lifted his arm and dropped something the size of a football over the side. I watched the gaily coloured box spinning as it fell to earth and disappeared into the undergrowth. Then the sleigh dashed away, at lightning speed, the runners leaving a trail of sparks that shimmered and burned and dissipated. Those of us left in its wake stared after it in disbelief.
“Did that really happen?” Charity asked.
Finbarr stood beside me and lifted his hand to wave. “Ah. To be sure I’ll miss the little fella.”
I assumed he meant Rudie. Personally, I would miss the grumpy little faery. For someone who had claimed not to like Christmas he had done alright for himself.
Witching in a Winter Wonkyland: A Wonky Inn Christmas Cozy Mystery Page 14