A Spell in the Country

by Heide Goody

  “Oh, yeah. Sometimes when I’m wearing a low cut top, blokes can’t stop staring at my winning personality.”

  “I see you quit waitressing.”

  “Been spying on me.”

  “Dropped into the café a couple of times. My boss, Kevin, his office is just round the corner so…”

  “You’re still doing … whatever it is you’re still doing?”

  Bowman grunted. “I am.”

  There was a hiss of steam from the coffee machine. George looked at Caroline and gave a simple mime to ask if she wanted a coffee now he’d finished cleaning the machine. Caroline nodded and gave a more complex mime she hoped conveyed the concept of a skinny latte with sugar.

  “Last time we spoke, you suggested there might be an opening in your company,” Caroline said to Bowman.

  “I thought you weren’t interested,”

  “I was distracted.”

  “I recall there was a naked man in your hallway.”

  “The whole naked man thing,” she said. “Yeah, I confess I’ll always get distracted by that sort of thing. I’m not distracted now and, yeah, I’m interested if there’s still a job on offer.”

  “There might be. You available to meet up?”

  “I suppose so,”

  “Lunchtime today?”

  Caroline looked at the clock. Birmingham was three hours away by car, if she could get hold of a car. “I’m a little busy right now. I could be in Birmingham by, what, three-ish?”

  Bowman hummed it over. “I’ve got a dinner thing tonight.”

  “A date?”

  “God, no. A bunch of old biddies. A work thing. No, I can do three o’clock. The scene of the crime?”

  Caroline laughed. “Our great bust? For old time’s sake. Three o’clock.”

  She hung up as George brought over what appeared to be – miracle of miracles – a skinny latte with sugar. Caroline looked at her spell and counter-spell challenge papers. She had until three o’clock to cast a sleeping spell on Jenny Knott, avoid whatever spell one of the other witches had lined up for her, acquire some wheels and get to Cannon Hill park in Birmingham.

  “Looking thoughtful,” said George.

  “A lot to do,” said Caroline.

  “Anything I can help you with?”

  Caroline smiled. “Do you know, I think there is.”

  Jenny sat on a garden bench trying to absorb the challenge Effie had given her. She had drawn Kay’s name and the Victim to do everything a chicken might do.

  “We’re talkin’ peckin’ corn, cluckin’ a lot and crappin’ all over the yard,” said Jizzimus helpfully.

  Despite the weeks of training, Jenny wasn’t confident in casting any kind of spell that didn’t involve blasting things with green witchfire. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she said.

  “Course you can, guv. It’s all about mind over matter.”

  “But spells and counter spells and…” She threw up her arms. “Maybe I need something to help me focus. Like Dee and her songs.”

  “If you’re gunna start doing the hits from The Lion King, I’m outta here.”

  “Maybe just a simple song,” she said.

  “Easy, go for a classic,” said Jizzimus, who was ripping apart the flowers in a nearby pot. “Who let the dogs out!”

  “No, I wanted something a bit more tuneful,” said Jenny. Her protest was lost as he launched into a strident round of shouty barking noises. Jenny sighed and realised if she went for the same song as Jizzimus then she might just be able to tune him out for a few vital moments. She tried to hum the song, but quickly found that it sounded more like a coughing fit.

  “You all right?”

  She jumped at the sound of George’s voice, wondering how long he’d been listening to her tuneless grunting. “Er, yes thanks. Throat’s a bit dry, that’s all.”

  George sat down beside her and reached into a pocket. “Terrible shame the way we parted company the other day,” he said.

  “Hmm?”

  “You know: you and me…”

  “…Running butt naked in the moonlight?

  He smiled shyly. “Yes. That. Did you get a lot of teasing for that?”

  Jenny looked at him. “No more than I’d expect. It wasn’t my finest hour.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You were pretty fine.”

  “But not the ideal ending to an evening.”

  Jizzimus stood in front of the bench, rolling his eyes at Jenny. “Yer on form wiv the witty repartee boss. Jeez. Look, ’e’s gunna ask fer an action replay now. Practise sounding like a sex kitten and not a … a sex hippo will ya?”

  “I was thinking,” said George, “that it might be nice to try and start over.”

  “Start over?”

  “Get things off on a better footing. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” said Jenny. “I’ve got a few things I need to concentrate on at the moment. I could do without the distraction.”

  “Well how about this: I’ll be here on this bench with a bottle of wine and two glasses in an hour. You can come and share a drink with me or you can leave me to drink the lot on my own.”

  “Drinking in the daytime. How decadent.”

  “It’s your choice.” George stood, ready to leave. “Although I urge you to think of the hangover I might give myself.” He headed off towards the witches’ huts at the end of the garden.

  “Boss, you losing yer marbles? Gunna need a search party for your mojo, seriously! That lad wants to get it on wiv you!”

  Jenny wasn’t listening. Her attention was drawn to two figures about twenty yards away. One of them was Caroline, who seemed to be weirdly fascinated by her own breasts. Her hands were inside her shirt and she lifted the collar so that she could peer down at them. Jenny could quite clearly see her fingers working around inside her bra, exploring and tweaking. Jenny shook her head. Caroline’s behaviour didn’t shock her any more.

  “Now there’s someone who knows ’ow to make their own entertainment,” said Jizzimus with approval.

  But Caroline hadn’t noticed Shazam creeping up behind her on the lawn, brandishing a glitter and fairy lights wand that Jenny recognised from the One Stop Sorcery Shop. Caroline jumped as Shazam made contact with her back and uttered “Ut viride” in triumph. Caroline turned around and Shazam ran off, giggling. She appeared momentarily confused but gave a small shrug and went back to her delighted appraisal of her breasts.

  “’Ere, boss, she must be really liking what she sees in there. She ’asn’t even noticed her ’air’s turned green!”

  Dee side-stepped the hive and typewriter outside Norma’s hut, and tapped on the door.

  “Go away unless you have goggles,” came Norma’s voice.

  Dee chose to ignore her, and pushed the door open. Inside, Norma was wearing a full welder’s mask and protective gloves. Iron shavings covered the floor. Sparks flew in all directions, and the smell of hot metal hit Dee as she saw Norma leaning grimly over a workbench, apparently welding strips of metal together.

  The welder abruptly cut out. The sparks faded along with the loud electrical thrumming of the welder. Norma’s head came up and, obviously irritated, she banged a red button on the device by her side. She raised the face mask.

  “Damned electrics on the fritz! Can’t you see that I’m busy?” she snapped. “It takes a good deal of concentration and skill to use an arc welder.”

  “Aren’t you worried about fire?” asked Dee.

  “Frankly Dee I’ve got bigger fish to fry. If I burn this hut down, I’ll move to another.”

  “What are you making?” Dee wondered where Norma had managed to get all of her materials. It looked as though there was an old garden incinerator and an ornamental lamp standing in line to be recycled.

  “It’s an experimental approach to our current challenge,” replied Norma. “When it is finished, I shall demonstrate.”

  A bee droned in through the open door, landed on the ornamental lamp and ran a littl
e figure of eight.

  Norma huffed. “Him? Here?”

  “Who?” said Dee. Norma silenced her with a gloved finger.

  The bee did another little waggledance.

  “What? Now?” she exclaimed, annoyed.

  Dee was about to attempt another question when she heard the nearing chimes of an ice-cream van playing a slightly frenetic version of We’re Off to See the Wizard. Norma threw her gloves aside and charged out, pushing Dee before her. A battered ice-cream van had driven all the way down the lawns, gouging tyre tracks into the grass where it had drawn up by Norma’s hut. Faded and slightly misshapen cartoon characters adorned the side of the van beneath a painted heading of Lolly’s and Ice-Cream’s.

  “Do you think he got lost on the way to the seaside?” said Dee.

  “If only,” muttered Norma.

  The serving window slid open and a white-bearded man in a Grateful Dead t-shirt leaned out. “Can I tempt either of you groovy ladies to a Fab lolly?”

  “You most certainly cannot, Mr Zoffner,” said Norma. “I would prefer it if you did not turn up unannounced on private property in your ridiculous and badly punctuated vehicle.”

  “Badly punctua—?” He looked at the painted signage. “Maybe the van belongs to the lolly and ice-cream.”

  “Piffle.”

  “Or maybe it’s painted that way to provoke those with closed minds and fixed opinions and remind us that rules are there to be broken.”

  “A horrible notion.”

  This was the first time Dee had actually seen Zoffner the Astute in the flesh, and he was exactly as she had imagined him. She found it considerably harder to imagine that Norma had supposedly had a romantic dalliance with the man.

  “What are you doing here?” demanded Norma bluntly.

  “I was drawn.”

  “Like a moth to a flame, eh?”

  Yes, thought Dee. That was about right. He the delicate flappy thing and she the business end of a blowtorch.

  “I knew you needed me,” said Zoffner. “So I had to come.”

  “Ha. Dream on. Now clear off. Leave me be and go sell your ice-creams somewhere else.”

  Zoffner frowned. “What makes you think it’s an ice-cream van?”

  “It has the words Lolly’s and ice-cream’s on the side of it.”

  “So you believe everything you read, do you, foxy lady?”

  “You offered us a lolly,” said Norma.

  “And you believe everything you’re told? Perhaps this only appears to be an ice-cream van but, in reality, it’s the command centre in the global fight against dark forces.”

  “Is it?” said Norma.

  “No, it’s an ice-cream van.” From beneath the counter Zoffner produced a wafer cone topped with a fat blob of vanilla ice-cream. “For you, my dreamy lady,” he said to Dee. “I love the cardigan.”

  Dee was never one to say no to free ice-cream. As a little girl, while other children were taught to fear strangers offering them sweets or the chance to “see some puppies”, Dee always harboured a deep disappointment that such individuals never seemed to target her. She had once fashioned a sign saying, I like sweets and guinea pigs and stood with it at the side of the road; but her mum had spotted her, ripped up the sign, and given her a clip round the ear for good measure.

  As Dee reached for the ice-cream, Zoffner cast a handful of sprinkles over it. He drew squiggly lines in those which fell on the counter and contemplated their mystic meaning. “Your friend, Caroline, needs your help. You wish to cast a spell on Shazam and will find her out on the lawns feeling very pleased with herself. Go now, be swift.”

  Dee did as she was bid. She had an ice-cream and had a challenge to complete. True, she’d had no opportunity to ask Norma about Lesley-Ann Faulkner, but ice-creams came first and there was time enough for talk later.

  Jenny regarded the large protective circle she had drawn in chalk on the floor of the teaching hut. She had only created the simplest of magic circles before. Some of the mystical and esoteric symbols were a bit wobbly and scuffed. Jenny hoped that simply made them even more mystical and esoteric.

  “Now I’m safe from all offensive magic,” she said. “I think. As long as I stay in this circle.”

  “You mean you’re trapped in ’ere,” said Jizzimus.

  “I’ve got nothing better to do today,” she replied, tartly.

  “There’s a man out there who wants to jump your bones and ply you wiv booze. That’s better than sittin’ in an ’ut playin’ Jenny No Mates.”

  “I don’t need a man. Or booze.”

  “Flamin’ ’eck, boss. Never saw anyone more in need of jiggy time than you. Why yer not over there already wiv a whip, a feather and a pot of lube, I’ll never know!”

  Jenny peered at Jizzimus. “Working on the imp porn again?”

  He shook his head sadly. “All I can say is, it’s a good job I’ve got a vivid imagination. If I relied on you fer inspiration the potential imp porn world would be in a very sorry state.”

  “I might pop down and see George,” Jenny said. “But just for that drink, and then straight back to my protective circle.”

  She strolled to the garden bench, deliberately not looking at Jizzimus, who was acting out some of his imp porn fantasies in an attempt to inspire her. By the wall of the unstable stable, at the other end of the house, Jenny could see Caroline, looking more dishevelled than before. Her blouse hung open and she caressed her breasts, a faraway smile on her face. She was clearly oblivious that her recently greened hair had been joined by a pair of ram’s horns.

  “Caroline?” Jenny called, frowning. “Are you all right?” There was no response.

  “She’s a strange one isn’t she?” said George, appearing at her side. “So glad you came!” He waggled the wine and glasses he’d brought, as promised.

  Jenny glanced at Caroline over her shoulder, then followed George to the bench. She accepted a glass of wine and settled back, thinking.

  “Here’s to stimulating company,” said George. They clinked glasses.

  “I never saw you as the wine-drinking type,” said Jenny.

  “Oh? Am I not refined enough for you?”

  Jenny held the glass up to the light.

  “It’s a fine bottle,” said George.

  “Is it?”

  “From Mrs du Plessis’s own cellar. Bottoms up.”

  Jenny didn’t take a drink. “I’d love to know more about gardening,” she said, indicating the nearby flower beds. “It must be great to know the names of plants and how to look after them. I bet it’s a really fulfilling job.”

  “It is,” agreed George. “But I can’t imagine anything more fulfilling than being a witch. You can do all sorts of amazing things. I’ve heard that Kay charms animals. I bet everyone loves her for that.”

  Jenny stood and strolled to the flower bed. She pointed to a tall spiky flower. “What’s this one called?”

  “What you playin’ at, boss,” said Jizzimus. “Stop yapping on about the flowers, ’e’s gaggin’ for it!”

  “It’s – oh, it doesn’t always matter what it’s called. I tend to go more by families and, you know, species,” said George. “Drop more wine? Oh, you haven’t even started that one.”

  Jenny shook her head in despair. “Jesus Christ, Caroline! Is there no depth you won’t plumb?”

  George looked sheepish for a moment. As he well might, Jenny thought, with Caroline inhabiting his body.

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “Who else would do it?” yelled Jenny. “You’ve only got to look at the state of the poor sod who’s occupying your body to know that something weird’s going on.”

  “Hey, that’s one happy camper! He’s having loads of fun with my body. I’ll admit I had a few minutes’ recreation with this one as well.” George-Caroline gave a little pelvic thrust, which made Jizzimus whoop in approval.

  “And what’s in this?” said Jenny, splashing wine from the glass. “What spell were y
ou to target me with?”

  “It’s a simple sleeping draught.”

  “You need to swap back now!” said Jenny. “It’s freaky and wrong and you know it! Would you actually have slept with me just to win this challenge?”

  “And to mess with your head a little,” grinned George-Caroline.

  “Before or after you’d Rohypnolled me, you gender-bending git?”

  “Hey. It’s not too late, you know. We could share a beautiful experience. I’m sort of interested to know how it feels from the other side.”

  Jenny cast around for something blunt to hit him-her with but she felt conflicted. Who would suffer, George or Caroline? “I’m going,” she Jenny.

  Jizzimus capered on the bench. “Come on boss, this situation is crying out for a hilarious breakup line. How about I’m going to find myself a real man? No, don’t work for you? Try Come back to me when you’ve found the real you then. No?”

  Jenny started off across the lawn. She stopped dead when she heard George-Caroline calling out to Caroline-George, who was engaged in acts of confused but now frantic self-love by the unstable stable.

  “Want to try something fun?” called the witch. “Bet you’re curious to see what it might be like to—”

  Jenny stormed back to where the masturbation-addled Caroline-George knelt and dragged her-him to her-his feet. “Come on. I need to take you somewhere safe until you’re back to normal. Well, as normal as possible, given that you have green hair, a pair of horns, and a tail. And of course you’re naked. And sex-starved. No wait, that last bit is normal.”

  As promised, Shazam was to be found out on the lawns, by the line of birch trees which made a bit of a pleasant suntrap in the morning. She was reclining contentedly on the grass with Mr Beetlebane curled up on her legs. Kay sat beside her, munching through a paper bag of sweets.

  “You’ve got an ice-cream,” observed Kay.

  “I have,” said Dee.

  “Was that a real ice-cream van?” Kay nodded towards the vehicle down by Norma’s hut.

  Dee gave her ice-cream a thoughtful lick. It tasted okay. “I think so. Aren’t you working on the challenge?”