Nine of Wands

by Mark Hayden

  After a perfunctory kiss, Rachael handed off one of the bottles of Champagne to me and said, ‘Open that, would you?’ So much for the grand reunion: she was much more interested in meeting Mina and Myfanwy. I relieved Carole of the tray of glasses and moved out of the line of fire.

  Mina pre-empted things by going for the full Namaste, and that’s one of the things I love about her – she knows when to use her otherness to put people at a disadvantage. She even followed it up by saying, ‘I’m so glad to finally meet Conrad’s sister.’

  She also tag-teams well with Myfanwy, who stuck out a hand before Rachael could respond. ‘And I’m Myfanwy.’

  While Rachael was shaking hands with Myfanwy (she didn’t have a lot of choice, did she?), Mina gave Carole a full hug. ‘So good to see you again. You must be so excited! Ellenborough Hall looks lovely on the website. I only wish that Conrad would take me there.’

  They hadn’t planned it like that. They didn’t need to. I haven’t seen my sister’s nose put so firmly out of joint since she was a teenager, and Rachael had now been firmly demoted to the category of guest. It was up to her to earn her way back up the social ladder. I popped the champagne and everyone turned to look when Scout made his presence felt.

  Carole made a huge fuss of the manic mutt, and even Rachael was forced to join in, and then it was time for them to say hello to Jules and Ben. Myfanwy completed the circle by introducing Erin, and we all sat down to a glass of the Inkwell’s finest fizz.

  ‘To the bride-to-be,’ I said. I wasn’t going to toast a man who’d done everything he could to avoid me, but Carole deserved her moment.

  Carole responded with, ‘To Clerkswell Ladies,’ and followed that up with, ‘and how are the plans? Have we interrupted vital preparations?’

  Juliet looked at the new arrivals. She would have heard that Rachael and I didn’t get on, and she wasn’t about to miss out the chance to enrol them in Team Bloxham. ‘No point,’ she said. ‘We were arguing about whether to have a nickname, like Western Storm.’

  ‘Who are they?’ said Rachael, shoving me brutally away from the end of the bench so that she could be in full view of everyone and cross her legs elegantly. Unlike the other women, Rachael’s jeans were ripped and her trainers looked like they’d come out of the box this evening.

  ‘Western Storm are the Gloucestershire women’s T20 Super League team,’ said Myfanwy. ‘We’re not up to their standard. Yet. I think we should stick to Clerkswell Ladies.’

  ‘And I still say we should re-open the vote on that and switch to Clerkswell Women. We don’t want to be defined by social stereotypes.’ That was Nell. She can be a bit right-on at times, but I wasn’t going to argue.

  Rachael shook back her hair and said, ‘Well, looking at you lot, I think the right name is the Clerkswell Coven.’

  Myfanwy and Erin buried their noses in their Champagne flutes, as did Mina. She also added a muttered comment, ‘That would seal our reputation: the Witches of Clerkswell.’

  ‘I think it’s a good idea,’ said Nell. Everyone else looked at her as if she were mad. ‘Witches were persecuted for being women. The idea of witchcraft is transgressive. It’s women asserting their solidarity. I think it’s a good name.’

  Jules looked worried. ‘Just imagine what Allington would do. Twitter would be full of old women with warts on their noses.’

  Nell whipped out her phone. She quickly found three very affirming, positive memes of witches. ‘We can put the fear of God into them.’

  ‘Oh you must go for it!’ said Rachael.

  ‘We’ll put it to the team tomorrow,’ said Jules. ‘And strictly unofficial to start with.’

  Rachael raised her glass again. ‘To the Clerkswell Coven.’

  There was no sign of it getting cooler as the sun disappeared. The heatwave had become very sticky, to the point where rain would provoke wild street parties.

  ‘Don’t you need to take Scouty for a walk?’ said Rachael. She leaned down to rub his ears. Rather too vigorously for his taste, probably because Rachael had drunk most of the second bottle herself. The ones with children, Nell and Jules, had gone first, and Carole and Ben left shortly after to talk to their parents. Myfwanwy and Erin had gone to put some supper out and leave Rachael, Mina and I to enjoy the last of the daylight.

  Rachael looked across the meadow to Elvenham. ‘Have you got champers in the cellar, Conrad?’

  ‘Yes, but you’d be drinking it on your own. Some of us have a game tomorrow.’

  ‘Spoilsport.’ She looked at Mina. ‘He was always telling me No when I was little.’

  ‘He spends a lot of time doing that. He means well, though.’

  Rachael drained her glass. ‘Let’s go home while he walks the dog.’

  Mina uncurled herself from the bench and waited for Rachael to stand up, moving nimbly to put her arm round her and pretend it was sisterly bonding rather than structural support. I waited until they were on their way and lit a cigarette. ‘C’mon boy. Let’s take a turn round the churchyard.’

  Rachael had done her best to win over the Clerkswell Coven by being the life and soul, and she can be great company. I’m not sure what the group made of her, really, because they could all see that she’d drunk too much and were too polite to point this out.

  I opened the gate to the churchyard and Scout made a beeline for Thomas Clarke’s grave. My eleven times great-grandfather had been haunting the family home since 1622, or thereabouts, and had only recently been laid at peace with Alice. Scout could feel the magick still lingering and to him, that plot of ground is as much Home as is Elvenham. I took him the long way round the church to the lychgate and the road to Elvenham. The solitary street light by the church flickered into life as I closed the gate behind me.

  ‘Poor woman,’ said Mina, handing me a plate before I’d got into the kitchen. It was piled high with snacks and treats. ‘She’s gone to where the tennis court was. Try to get her to eat something. She needs to soak up that alcohol. And take that water bottle from the fridge.’

  Scout looked at the table. Mina took two sausage rolls off the tray and showed them to him, then she handed them to me. He almost bit my ankles as we walked up to find Rachael.

  My sister was never going to win at Wimbledon, but for three teenage summers, she took out all of her frustration on that tennis court and in junior competitions. I still wonder whether Miss Parkes had done her a favour by getting her into that girls’ boarding school, no matter that it led to a first in maths from Oxford and a fast-track to the City of London. Rachael had gone to that school a year ahead of her peers, not that any other girl from Clerkswell had ever gone there. And now the tennis court was gone.

  The new garden, as designed by Myfanwy, was still a work in progress, and a lot of the beds had gaps in them. The hard landscaping was done, though, and I found Raitch on the three-seater wooden swing, rocking gently. It was my turn to budge her along. Away from the village, it was already nearly dark, especially by the well.

  ‘Have you brought anything to drink?’ she said.

  ‘Here. Have some water.’

  ‘Spoilsport.’ She drank, then drank again. ‘Is that food for me?’

  I tossed Scout the first of his sausage rolls. ‘Apart from his portion.’

  She grabbed a samosa and bit into it. ‘Mmm. Delicious. Did Mina make these?’

  ‘Tesco’s Finest. Mina’s are much better. Samosas were one of the few things her mother taught her to make. She hasn’t been able to face the deep fat fryer since she came back from India.’

  ‘Shit. I’d forgotten about that.’ She slapped her hands on the swing and it twisted on the long chains. ‘How bloody crass of me. She’s lost her mother, and I turn up swigging Champagne. What must she think of me?’

  ‘What do you think of her?’

  ‘Strong as steel and sharp as flint. I’m surprised she hasn’t cut you.’

  That was disturbing. I could take the questionable judgement, but they way it echoed th
e Gnome’s gift was quite peculiar. Coincidence? Had to be. I threw Scout his other sausage roll, and he turned to look at Rachael. He knew he wouldn’t get any more from me.

  Rachael took another samosa. ‘Then again, you are a bit of a rough diamond, Conrad. You don’t cut easily.’

  ‘You should see my leg. That cut easily enough.’

  ‘Always a joke, brother. Always a joke. And the biggest fucking joke of all is this garden.’ She waved the half-eaten samosa around. ‘Not that it isn’t lovely. It’s great, and so’s Myvvy.’ She took another bite while she tried to remember what her point was. ‘You didn’t have to leave home, did you? All those years in the RAF, all the girlfriends, all the secret missions. None of them mattered, did they? Your heart was always here, and you could come back to reclaim it, and when you did, you just rubbed me out like a rough sketch and inked over the top. It’s so not fucking fair that you get this and I have to find my own way.’

  ‘Would it make you happy if I gave you the key and walked away? You could pay me by bank transfer and never have to see Mina, Myvvy or me again unless you sent us an invitation.’

  ‘Would you do that for me?’

  ‘You haven’t answered my question.’

  ‘What question? You just made made me an offer.’

  ‘I asked you a question: would it make you happy if I gave you the key?’

  She didn’t answer. She put some motion into the swing for a second. ‘Will I ever grow up, do you think? I’d love to know.’

  Scout gave up watching Rachael and went to sniff round the well. He goes there all the time, drawn by the latent magick.

  ‘Maybe you have. Maybe you just haven’t noticed.’

  ‘Maybe. This swing’s making me feel sick. Take me home.’

  We paused by the stables. ‘Basket, Scout. Good boy.’

  He trotted off to his bed, and Rachael said, ‘Why do you make the poor thing sleep out there?’

  ‘He’s a working dog. Like me. We know our place. You don’t need to grow up, Rachael, you just need to find your place.’

  ‘Woof woof! Find my place? Why should I have a place I have to fit into? You’ll be joining the Tory party next.’

  ‘I am not joining any party that would have Stephen Bloxham as a member. Ditto the Freemasons.’

  We arrived at the house. ‘You’d better show me to my room. I don’t want to disturb anyone by staggering about.’

  I kissed Mina outside the pavilion and handed over her cricket bag.

  ‘Wish me luck,’ she said.

  ‘You’ll be fine. You’re a good wicket keeper.’

  ‘I know that. I’m talking about getting changed. It’s time they saw my mark, and not just the one on my arm.’

  ‘What are you going to say? I can’t think of any rational explanation for having a huge swastika tattoo on your chest.’

  ‘I shall say nothing. Nell will ask Myvvy, and Myvvy will say that she thinks it was something to do with being a widow at my mother’s funeral. Nell will then tell everyone else. Everyone else will then Google it and see that it really is a Hindu holy sign. They will then politely try to ignore it.’

  I shook my head in admiration. ‘Good luck.’

  Ben had already kissed Myfanwy, and we wandered out to check the state of the wicket, both for the Ladies’ match and the Men’s game later. ‘How’s Rachael?’ said Ben. ‘She looked a bit the worse for wear last night.’

  ‘Rachael has been in hiding since she got up to go to the bathroom at two o’clock.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘She went into her old room and climbed in to bed with Erin.’

  ‘Oooh. I thought Myfanwy’s room used to be Rachael’s.’

  ‘It is. Erin was on the camp bed. I’m sure Myfanwy will give you the gory details when she’s not focused on being vice-captain.’

  We stared at the wicket for the Ladies’ game. It was dry as concrete and hadn’t been watered nearly as much as the others. ‘Good luck to them on that,’ said Ben dubiously.

  Our game was a proper league match of 40 overs. The women were only playing 12 overs for their first outing, and the rules had been bent to allow batsmen to retire at will and resume their innings later. And before you say anything, the team had made their own decision to say “batsman” rather than “batter” or (Odin forbid) “batswoman”. Jules had already won the toss and elected to bat first.

  Today’s opposition was from Bishop’s Cleeve. Their first team was over-subscribed, and they jumped at the chance to have a knock-about for some of their reserve players. We returned to the pavilion and waited with a couple of dozen friends and family for the teams to emerge, .

  ‘Here they come.’

  The opposition came out to a smattering of polite applause, followed by a big roar from Ben when he saw Myfanwy. Juliet Bloxham led the team, of course, and Stephen cheered her, too, until she gave her husband a filthy look and he calmed down. As she passed, Myvvy gave Ben a big grin. ‘Let’s hear it for the Witches,’ she said. ‘It was unanimous: the Clerkswell Coven are here.’

  Ben is the batting coach, for the obvious reason that I can’t bat very well. I watched our innings and drew the equally obvious conclusion: the Clerkswell Coven weren’t going to win this match. There were some positives, though. Jules showed real sticking power and was undefeated. Myfanwy has real promise and helped provide some comedy when she struck the Witches’ only boundary – a four through the covers. That was on the other side of the ground, and there were no humans anywhere near the boundary. Scout was there, though, and he dashed round to intercept the ball. The amazing thing was that he waited until it had crossed the rope before trying to pick it up. Poor mite: his jaws aren’t big enough yet. Still, he gave it a good lick, and forced the umpire to get a new ball.

  ‘You’ll be paying for that,’ said Ben.

  ‘I know. I think there are training issues to address.’

  Mina batted okay for a few balls until the Bishops’ fast bowler came back on and she tried to duck a bouncer and backed into the stumps. Erin was out first ball, though according to Jules it was a wicked delivery.

  When the Coven took the field, Ben and I were both keeping our fingers crossed when Emily Ventress measured her run-up. If Clerkswell Ladies were going to have any hope of competing, they needed Emily to perform. Her first ball was well wide, but that wasn’t what bothered me. The umpire was having a quiet word with her and pointing to her feet. Oh dear.

  The next ball was on target, but the umpire had no choice. ‘No-ball!’ he announced. It didn’t get any better: she bowled two more no-balls, and the legal deliveries were short and slow. One of them was whacked for six. At the end of the over, I whistled loudly and waved her off the field. She was brushing tears from her eyes before she’d got to the boundary; a substitute took her place, and I drew her away for a quiet word.

  ‘You’re just too springy, Emily,’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re young, you’re growing and you bounce. Now we’re in a match, you put an extra spring into your last two steps because you want to do well.’

  She kicked the roller. ‘That’s the point. Doing well. That’s the point.’

  We only had a couple of minutes to come up with a solution, and I was getting desperate. ‘When you go back on, tell Mina to move to the right a little. When you’re running up, look into her eyes until you’re two steps from the wicket.’

  ‘Look into Mina’s eyes?’

  ‘They’re quite hypnotic, I find.’

  She pulled a face. ‘Euw. That’s gross.’

  ‘Just try it for a couple of deliveries. We can work on something else in training.’

  In the next over, Emily nearly had a hat trick, and Erin took two catches in the slips. I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  The rest of the innings was less encouraging. Mina did well, and Juliet played a good individual game, but her field placings were mystifying and the general level of fielding showed a lot of room for impr
ovement. Oh, and yes, they lost.

  They still got a big round of applause when they came off, and I was going in for a hug when Stephen Bloxham said those dreaded words.

  ‘If I could have your attention for a moment?’ As he said this, he held up a large jute bag.

  What on earth?

  ‘First of all, well done. I won’t keep you a moment longer than necessary, but as club chairman and sponsor of the Ladies’ team, I thought it would be good to start a new tradition. We’re all looking forward to the men competing for the Clarke-Briggs trophy against Allington in a fortnight, so I got in touch with the Allington women’s team, and I’m proud to announce a new trophy: the Bloxham-Hardy trophy for the women’s game.’

  With a flourish, he pulled a silver cup out of the bag. The Clarke-Briggs trophy is modest, battered and old. The Bloxham-Hardy trophy was gaudy, shiny and brand new. I couldn’t fault the idea as such, though the motives are open to question. A lot of the crowd looked at me to see what I thought, and I held my hands up to applaud and said, ‘Excellent!’

  Myfanwy was standing next to Jules, and she was the only one who heard their captain mutter, ‘Bloody stupid Stephen. May as well put Allington’s name on it now.’

  There was an hour and a half before the men’s game, and Mina wanted to go home for a shower. I waited until Juliet’s post-mortem had finished and the team started to emerge.

  ‘Well done, love. You were brilliant.’

  ‘That’s a lie and you know it.’

  ‘It was not. Until today, Clerkswell did not have a women’s cricket team. Now it does. That’s brilliant.’

  ‘Hmmph. And what were you doing making that child stare at me? Most disconcerting.’

  ‘You must admit it worked.’

  She smiled. ‘It does feel very good. Do you know what the real highlight was? I took my top off shortly after we’d voted on the nickname. Myfanwy pretended not to have seen the mark before. She pointed at me and made sure everyone could hear her when she said, “We are not having that as our logo. No way.” That definitely broke the ice.’