Being a Witch, and Other Things I Didn't Ask For

by Sara Pascoe

  ‘Excuse me, sirs, but this is where my family lives – lived. Do you know where they are? Are they inside?’ she asked in Turkish, thinking it more likely they might know a bit, rather than English. The first guard sighed, as though a scared girl was the last thing he needed. The second guard said something to him, pointed inside, then trotted off. The first guard gestured for her to wait and she did, watching the flow of soldiers and supplies going in and out.

  The second guard returned with one of Macide and Abbas’s groundsman. Raya burst into tears upon seeing him. He spoke rapidly to the guards in their language and then to her in Turkish. His eyes were kind but frightened. He hugged her tight, even though they had never as much as shook hands before.

  ‘They’re all right, Rachel. They’re upstairs gathering their things. They bribed the Venetian soldiers to let them escape. Every piece of gold and silver they had. The soldiers had already taken over the han – we couldn’t stop them,’ the groundsman shook his head. ‘They’re all up there gathering as much as they can before they leave. Go – go now!’ He turned and hurried off to whatever his next assignment was. She didn’t have time to thank him, or say goodbye. She raced across the courtyard, a few soldiers looking at the unusual sight of a girl amongst them. She took the stairs two at a time and thundered down the balcony flinging the door open to Macide’s apartment. Everything was strewn everywhere.

  Macide, Abbas and Bryony turned from their frenzied packing to look up. Bryony and Macide burst into tears. Abbas came towards her with an enormous grin, eyes brimming, ‘Rachel! You’re alive!’

  Kâtip Çelebi, dear Uncle Musta came through the door from her old room. ‘Did I hear you say “Rachel”?’

  He gasped upon seeing her. ‘It’s God’s will – you’re alive!’

  After hurried hugs and more tears, the adults returned to flinging things into sacks while explaining what had happened.

  ‘Now that Turhan Sultana got the Grand Vizier she wanted, history’s changed, and it’s crashed into the present,’ Bryony explained and she stuffed things into a canvas bag. Her spoken Turkish had come on, and from the nods from the others, it seems that time travel was no longer a secret.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ Raya said as she tried to help, but mostly got in the way.

  ‘Are these the saucepans you wanted?’ Kâtip asked Macide before stuffing them into a sack, then continued, ‘It’s like when two tectonic plates crash into each other and cause an earthquake. But with this, it’s time and possible histories crashing into each other instead.’

  That was Kâtip Çelebi down to the bone, always interested in things, regardless of the circumstances.

  ‘But the mother-in-law, Kösem, she’s alive!’ Raya protested. This isn’t my fault!’ Bryony gave her the briefest look – it was more, ‘you don’t understand’ rather than a telling off.

  ‘What?’ Raya said.

  Abbas tried this time. ‘We know. She’s come out of hiding, but it’s too late. She couldn’t stop her daughter-in-law Turhan who’s off in Europe overseeing the invasions. Last we heard about Kösem, she’d gone to try to broker a treaty with the Habsburgs.’ Abbas shook his head and sighed before continuing. ‘But she was hidden away long enough for Turhan to make HER man Grand Vizier, instead of that idiotic yes-man Kösem had in there. And Turhan’s man more than lived up to her expectations – they call him Amansiz Pasha, “General Ruthless”. He did what she wanted, increased the fighting on all fronts, bringing the Ottoman Empire into the rest of Europe.’

  Raya nodded. She remembered the Sultana saying all this. ‘That was fast!’

  Kâtip gave a rueful laugh, ‘Turhan promised they would be speaking Turkish in England before the year ends.’

  ‘But’s it’s just been a few days,’ Raya objected, while piling folded clothes into a sack for Macide.

  ‘But now, it’s as though history WAS rewritten, with Amansiz waging horrendous attacks for the last seven months on all the Ottoman fronts – Transylvania, the Venetian and Habsburg empires,’ Kâtip Çelebi said.

  ‘So it’s like history gets redone?’ Raya stood still, uncomprehending, a pillow dangled from her fingers. Abbas snatched it away and tossed it back on the couch. That’s when she noticed Oscar huddled into the corner of the sofa.

  ‘Hey, mate, missed you,’ Raya said to the cat.

  Oscar merely meowed.

  Kâtip continued, ‘After about six months of Turhan’s Amansiz Pasha in charge, all of our enemies banded together – the only way they could realistically push back the Janissaries.’ He went into the kitchen and collected some cutlery.

  ‘And push back they did,’ Abbas said, arching an eyebrow.

  Raya dropped the clothing she’d been holding, staring gape-mouthed. ‘Oh no, you were so right, Bryony. By saving you guys – I’ve DONE all this?’ She plunked down on the floor. ‘But I couldn’t… I couldn’t let you guys die…’ Sobs heaved her shoulders and her face crumpled into her hands. ‘What have I done? All these lives… the han, my wonderful Istanbul…’

  Bryony crouched by the girl and brushed her hair out of her face. ‘Oh, Raya. It was a truly impossible situation. This is Turhan’s doing – no one blames you.’

  ‘AND there’s no more kedi et,’ Oscar moaned. Bryony laughed.

  ‘So what do we do now?’ Raya asked.

  Macide stepped up to the girl. ‘We leave. That’s what we do. People are getting onto boats on the Bosphorus as fast as they can and they’re sailing out to whatever shore will let them land.’

  Raya gasped.

  ‘Oh dear girl. You can’t be shocked by this. You’ve moved before, I’ve moved before – we can do it again,’ Macide said. ‘It could be worse, eh?’ She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

  Raya felt awful, she felt layers and layers of awful. ‘Uncle Musta – what do you think we should do?’

  He stopped packing. ‘I can’t leave, dear niece. I know my advice to you was not to get too attached to any one place, but as I’ve learned, it’s much easier to give good advice than to use it.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t leave my Istanbul. I guess part of me hopes I can help somehow.’

  The sounds of men unloading and loading carts, metal clanking, and horses nickering came through the window from the courtyard below. They continued packing, all of them except Raya. She stood still, inhaled the warm air laden with the scent of sun-baked earth, animals, and warm metal. Something was growing inside her. Something infinite but weightless, enormously strong, but could be dashed by a single word – something you carried with you always, once you had it – love. Like a vine, it grew feet and yards, became her heart and veins. She felt tall and new, ancient and miniscule.

  ‘Raya, are you all right?’ Bryony asked. Raya was laughing and crying. She turned in circles, her arms outstretched looking at each of her friends’ faces, including the furry one, again and again and again, as she spun with increasing speed. And then – POP.

  Pavel called Integrator Headquarters with the news. Raya and Bryony were ordered to the Integrators’ Reintegration Unit in north London – a must for all witches after a mission, whether it included time travel or not. It was where integrators recuperated, made sense of what they’d experienced, and got treated for any diseases they might have picked up, like the bubonic plague.

  It had been quite a shock – a wonderful one, but a shock nonetheless for everyone when Raya transported them back to the Cosmic Cafe in twenty-first century London. She even did it with twenty-four hours to spare. Ian had ushered out the few gobsmacked customers with some lame excuse about ‘foreign customers mistakenly coming through the back door’, given their seventeenth century Ottoman outfits. But the biggest surprise – and complication – was that Raya had transported Macide and Abbas with them. It was just as well that they had both been told about time travel.

  Bringing someone from a different time was the greatest infraction of the Integrators’ Code, along with altering history. Although you couldn’t
really separate moving someone to a different time FROM altering history. And Raya had done both. It wasn’t clear what repercussions might await her. They couldn’t take away her Integrator Accreditation, as she’d never had it, not to mention she didn’t even know it existed. Plus she was too young. You had to be at least eighteen to be an accredited integrator, although twenty-one or -two was much more common, after you completed academy.

  They took all of this quite seriously as evidenced by the quick arrival of a bureaucrat from headquarters called Mr Bliss who sat with endless forms for them to fill out before they were allowed to leave the Cosmic Cafe for the Reintegration Unit.

  ‘But what about Macide and Abbas?’ Raya asked. ‘What happens to them?’

  That was a murkier area. The short answer was no one knew what might happen long-term. Ms Sonya Watts had arrived along with Mr Bliss and talked them through the possibilities. From their readings at IHQ, it looked like transport back to old Istanbul wouldn’t be safe due to the ongoing war there, and it wasn’t clear it was even possible.

  Raya felt indescribable guilt about her part in causing ‘these changes in history’, she couldn’t bring herself to think she had caused a ‘war’. But she couldn’t, and didn’t even try to hide her happiness at having brought Macide and Abbas back with her, even if it meant she would never become a fully accredited integrator.

  ‘Love can be selfish, like that,’ Oscar offered without being asked.

  Of course they would take care of Macide and Abbas, find them a place to stay, an integrator family who spoke at least modern Turkish, and they would set them up with English language lessons, and support of various sorts. But ‘time refugees’ were very rare, and there were no set protocols in place. After all, how could you possibly prepare for travellers from every past time and place?

  ‘But why can’t they stay with me?’ Raya asked.

  Bryony looked at Ms Watts who tried to answer. ‘Well, maybe eventually, but let’s just get everyone settled and see how things pan out. Plus, you’ll be in the Reintegration Unit for at least a week. Macide and Abbas can’t sit here and wait for you, now can they?’

  Raya took a few deep breaths before responding. She felt like she was being talked to like a child, in spite of all she’d been through. ‘But I can see them, right?’

  Ms Watts smiled, ‘Of course you can. We not only encourage it, we support it – train or bus fares – that sort of thing. We really ARE on your side, Raya.’

  Raya knew they were, without a doubt. She dropped the attitude.

  * * *

  The Reintegration Unit was lovely; a refurbished, rambling old mansion with a large garden at the back. There was accommodation for integrators and their familiars, mostly dogs or cats. One young woman had a rat and one man had a goat.

  Everyone had their own room and a Program Coordinator who helped them pick and choose from the array of possible groups and meetings. There were mandatory daily debrief groups. You had to choose at least one from each of the three categories: Expressive Arts and Music; Integrator History and Science; and Physical Fitness.

  There were ten people in Raya’s Debrief Group. Three of them had been on missions in the present, but in different places. One had been to Mexico, one to Syria and the other to the nation of Georgia. Missions were a type of public service always aimed at helping – humanity, animals or the planet. Jake pointed out that people ARE animals when Raya told him about it. Most missions were set in the present, because it was very tricky going back in history with the aim of improving things, but without changing the course of events.

  Raya was the youngest at the Unit, something she’d expected after all of that palaver with the forms from Mr Bliss.

  ‘Does anyone ever go to the future?’ Raya asked on her third day there.

  ‘That’s an excellent question,’ the leader said. ‘Not that we know of.’

  ‘Does anyone from the future ever show up here, in the present?’ the boy who’d been to Mexico asked.

  ‘That’s the other side of the coin, isn’t it? We’ve had a few cases where people have claimed to have travelled from the future, but so far it hasn’t been true.’

  Bryony went home on the third day. She’d been through this a number of times before. She took Oscar home with her.

  That was something else they worked out with the help of the therapists – who Oscar wanted to live with and what he wanted to do. Although a stray life on the banks of the river Thames was still on offer as promised, he’d changed his mind. He too felt more attached now and appreciated not all witches are selfish, after his first unfortunate assignment.

  Raya loved the Free Dance group, and also tried the guitar, and pottery. But mostly she talked, and asked questions.

  Raya was relieved when headquarters found a good match for Macide and Abbas – a Turkish integrator family in London, only a forty-five minute train ride from South Nutfield. Their English language classes would start next week. Meanwhile, Pavel brought them in every day to see Raya and Bryony. Everything was new and amazing to them – the cars and Tube trains seemed particularly spectacular, and the jets flying overhead.

  They asked in her debrief group why she brought them back. She started with the obvious reasons about saving their lives in a time of war, but the crooked eyebrows and knowing eyes in the room wouldn’t let her off with half-truths. She loved them too much to let them go. She realised it was actually selfish, and probably not the most mature decision, but at least she was aware of why she did it. It had been hard enough letting go of Uncle Musta, but she could see he would be too heartbroken to leave ‘his’ Istanbul.

  ‘I know it’s not forever,’ she said to the group.

  ‘You mean they’re going back to their time?’ the boy who’d been to Mexico had asked.

  ‘No, I mean in the whole scheme of life kind of way. They might want to move away, I might, people eventually die…’ she said and looked at her feet. She was wearing her new Doc Martens, a gift from Ian. She smiled.

  The group went on to discuss other people’s experiences in this area, but Raya’s mind was elsewhere. Like a ribbon, she felt the events in her life connect up: her grandad, nan and mum; her experiences in foster care; her adventures this summer.

  One day at the Unit, Raya said to Bryony, ‘You know, I think I’d like to visit my mum more often.’

  ‘That’s a lovely idea,’ Bryony offered, still her social worker.

  It was great seeing Pavel again, but it also made her miss Kâtip Çelebi, and boy, would they have got on great. She told Pavel all about the time she spent with Musta. He was well impressed – he was one of Pavel’s heroes. It was unbearable to think she might never see Uncle Musta again.

  Emma and Ian came in most evenings after he closed the Cosmic and Emma closed her new bakery, usually with some of Emma’s newest concoctions.

  Jake came in twice during that week, along with Angie – as he was living with her again in South Nutfield. That was the hardest reunion. At least she found out beforehand that Jake should have no permanent problems, other than setting off metal detectors with a couple of pins in his arm. She sobbed terribly when she first saw him, but Angie calmed her in time to hear Jake prattling on to Pavel about the history Raya lived through.

  Raya realised she would like to return to Angie’s if she’d have her. It was time to choose her GCSE subjects. She picked law, history and sociology. The adults were delighted. She would have been surprised herself not that many weeks ago. Bryony enrolled her in pre-academy integrator lessons – twice a week after school, which meant tutoring with Bryony or Ms Watts. Her future never looked as interesting to her before.

  Jake concentrated as he carried a plate of köfte to the table then ran back to the kitchen. Raya finished laying it, and Angie placed a flower arrangement in the middle. ‘That was nice of Ms Watts to drop this off, wasn’t it?’

  Raya nodded. She patted her hair. She had the top parts combed over the newly shaven underneath; her ne
w flexible hairstyle.

  Jake returned to the table with a huge salad and added this to the array of böreks, stuffed grape leaves, and pilaf.

  ‘This was fun, making all this, all of us together,’ Jake said and beamed. His hair completely covered his scar now. Raya smiled at him. Her happiness at seeing him was starting to outweigh her guilt. The sound of footsteps crunching gravel came through the open windows on this warm August afternoon.

  ‘They’re here,’ Angie sang out. She wiped her hands on her apron and opened the front door. Pavel, Bryony, Ian and Emma, and Macide and Abbas piled in. Macide and Abbas were all excited about their train ride from London – their first.

  There were hugs all around, gifts given, and exclamations of Happy Birthday to Raya. News was noisily shared and celebrated. Bryony was going to teach part-time at an integrator academy starting in the autumn, and hopefully move to full-time in another year or two, after she’d had time to see her social work cases through a bit further, including Raya and Jake. Her experience with Raya made her realise this was what she wanted to do as well as giving her the confidence that she did have something to offer.

  Seeing Jake through his accident and recovery, Pavel was finally able to move forward and stop punishing himself for the road traffic accident that had taken his wife and daughter five years before. He hadn’t been able to forgive himself, a fully accredited integrator, for not seeing this future before it was on them. But now, he could let himself connect to others again, and be part of the world. Raya wasn’t the only one with problems in this department. He was rejoining the Police Integrator Unit.

  Emma brought out the birthday cake in one of her new official bakery boxes. And Ian had won ‘Best Veggie Chilli of East London’ just last week. Angie had decided that in a few years, when Raya and Jake no longer needed her, she would travel around the world. This was something she was always going to do with her husband, but he died before they got the chance. And in the meantime she was going to look into being a non-witch volunteer for the integrator service.