Slow Poison

by Helen Slavin

  “Is it Wednesday?” Winn asked. Mrs Fyfe looked furious.

  “What?” She made the ‘wh’ sound like a small whip, lashing at the air.

  “It is. Ha. Mystery solved. They weren’t strangers or trespassers. It would be the Rambling club. They have permission to come through the wood on their Wednesday Wander… Ha.” Winn’s laugh echoed back into Leap Wood, knocking against the trees like a woodpecker. Of course, why hadn’t she thought of that sooner? She took one step back towards the house.

  “No. Look. There.” Mrs Fyfe pointed with some energy into the trees. Winn looked and saw nothing.

  “I don’t see anyone…” she peered; she didn’t have her glasses on so that might be a factor.

  “Look. There.” Mrs Fyfe’s finger was very pointy and commanding. Winn was torn for a few moments. If she headed off now Mrs Fyfe would only call her back later. This had to be locked down, didn’t it? Winn took a deep and resigned breath and moved a few steps into the trees. Beneath the thinning autumn canopy the rain pattered and sounded anxious. Winn tramped further into the wood, thinking that it might serve Mrs Fyfe right if she led her on a little hike. The woman was hardly dressed for it, what with the leather cape and the black dress and those funny little black boots she had, like Victorian boots, thin and useless. Winn tried to think of a good route through the woods that she would enjoy and which might tire Mrs Fyfe out. Ha. Yes. Up towards the back end of Cooper’s Pond should do it.

  “Up this way…” Winn turned to direct Mrs Fyfe. “Mrs Fyfe?” The woman had vanished. Winn stared for a moment at the spot where Mrs Fyfe had been standing. The rain pattered a little harder, a little more anxious. “Oh for Heaven’s sake.” Winn looked back towards the lawns, hoping to see a retreating figure heading towards the mostly dry shelter of the hall. There was no sign of anyone. The thunder rattled once more; it felt to Winn as if it was shaking at her shoulder, trying to get her attention.

  “How rude.” Winn licked some rain off the end of her nose and turned back to the woods. She could see Mrs Fyfe scurrying through the trees further down. “What on earth?” Winn watched her for a moment. Mrs Fyfe turned to glance back and disappeared deeper into Leap Woods.

  “Mrs Fyfe?” Winn hesitated. She was not really up for this sort of shenanigans. She took a step back towards civilisation, thinking of the dry of the Defender and of the twelve-bore in the back. Plus, there was half a packet of chocolate HobNobs in the mapbox. However, it was starting to get dark and if Mrs Fyfe came to grief it would be Winn who was sued. Winn had a vision of her tenant chewed by foxes. Bugger the woman.

  The wood was muddy and draggled but Winn found her way, surefooted. Deeper and deeper they were going, right off the usual path into the old heart of Leap Wood. Part of Winn was enjoying the hike: the rain made the earth smell particularly, well, earthy. There was nowhere really that Winn felt more at home than in Leap Woods. On and on she tramped; ahead of her twigs snapped or branches whiplashed and waved to show where Mrs Fyfe had passed before her.

  All at once she could see Mrs Fyfe ahead, still glancing back every few steps as if to make certain that Winn was sticking with her and that was the moment that Winn knew. It was such an old, old sensation, she was whizzed backwards, back to being nine. What had Mrs Walters always said? Keep to the path; and where was Winn? She’d done it again, worse than all those years ago. With a startled breath Winn reprimanded herself and turned. As she did so the bough came smashing through the air with the power of a steam piston.

  There were stars, a galaxy of them sparkling in the leaves of Leap Woods; it was very beautiful and distracting. Winn could not be distracted because now there were two or even three of Mrs Fyfe and they were all carrying a heavy bough as if it was a club. She was standing over her, the bough lifting, trying to fit itself back into the dead tree from which it had fallen and Mrs Fyfe was trying to help it, wasn’t she?

  At the last second energy pulsed through the floppy and semi-conscious Winn and rolled her out of the path of the blow. The heft behind it sank the bough six inches into the soft woodland leaf litter and its dead bark burst into the air like welding sparks.

  “I pin you.” Mrs Fyfe was spitting the words, hard, as she brought the bough down, this side, that side, each time Winn’s limp body rolled or spun out of the way. “I pin you,” but Winn would not be pinned. With a wild growl Mrs Fyfe abandoned the bough and stepping her black booted foot forward she pinned Winn’s right wrist beneath it. Mrs Fyfe’s face leaned down into Winn’s.

  “I. Pin. You.” Her other foot stamped on Winn’s left wrist, the sound of bone cracking could be heard all through Leap Woods as if every tree had snapped in two, the sound ripping and tearing through the wood, on, skimming itself over Cooper’s Pond, on, renting the air apart as it rushed onwards, forwards, rattling the ground.

  Mrs Fyfe gave a scream of agony and stumbled back. Winn, her head aching but her vision restored a little, could see only one of her now, but that one woman had an ankle that was broken so cleanly the foot was now turned the other way. Mrs Fyfe screamed but the sound could not be heard beneath the aftershock of the bone cracking.

  “YOU.” The sound from Mrs Fyfe was like the wind rattling and it blew back the hood, her face staring at Winn with fury, her skin white as snow as she reached for the bough once more. Winn lifted her arms to protect herself, but the blow did not come. When she found the courage to put her arms down, Mrs Fyfe was gone.

  36

  Aftershock

  The Witch Ways had changed out of their ballgowns and, tired and uncertain, came out onto the porch at Cob Cottage, Anna handing out coffee.

  “It seemed to go well,” she ventured. Charlie nodded, her face giving nothing away.

  “Seemed to. We just have to wait and see.” They shared an anxious glance. With an anxious gasp Emz stepped forward, her mug dropping from her hand, bouncing and cracking down the steps.

  “What’s wro...?” Charlie began and was halted as the wave hit them, a sound tearing across town, screaming across bark and along bough, rattling leaves, the surface of Pike Lake suddenly dipping deep, a concave grey mirror that swirled, the water no longer sloshing at the shore but skidding like a blade.

  Beneath them the deck creaked, and the ground rumbled, the vibration growing more intense until it became another sound, harsher, that pierced in through ears and needled into bones. Charlie gave a pained gasp as she stood up, Anna’s skin paling to a shade of green that flushed out of her and left her looking ashen, her lips blue lined.

  They looked at each other, standing in their triangle, Emz at the apex this time, standing at the front of the deck, and Charlie and Anna making up the lower corners. The sound kept travelling and, they could see, it made its way into the deep pewter bowl of the lake where in an instant, it was swallowed. The lake water settled, the trees seemed undisturbed, the ground was still.

  A quick glance to Woodcastle showed only streetlights, no panic or wakefulness or sirens wailing.

  “What the hell?” Charlie whispered.

  “Where did that come from?” Anna asked. “Did you spot which direction?” Anna glanced back into the wood at the rear of Cob Cottage. The trees there seemed undisturbed even where, a moment before, they had been echoing with the sound. “Has it left a trail d’you think?”

  Emz was already stepping off the porch.

  “Hartfield,” was all she said before she began running. “Mrs Fyfe.” She was ploughing down to the shore, swerving towards the trees. Charlie thundered after her. On the edge of Charlie’s vision, a path had winked into view. Quicksilver bright. She dragged at Anna.

  “What’s wrong?” Anna struggled to keep up.

  “Wait.” Charlie bellowed after Emz who blundered onwards. Charlie dug deep, her stride lengthening, her arm reaching to snatch at her sister’s sleeve. Emz shrugged her sister off.

  “No time. We have to get to Winn.” She was distressed, staggered forward. Charlie caught her, shoved her and Anna towards
the left.

  “This is the way.”

  The path was thin as a fox trail, the girls racing along it in single file, Charlie ahead of them never missing a step.

  As Charlie burst out of the trees at full speed Winn Hartley-Hartfield toppled backwards in surprise and landed, not heavily, on a large bank of moss that had once, about a hundred years ago, been a fallen elm. She was shaken and jolted, all the breath kicking out of her, and she thought of weaponry as she turned to see who or what had exploded at her out of the wood.

  “Emz?” Winn’s heart fluttered back into a reasonable time signature, something like a waltz as opposed to the fandango it had been embarking upon. Emz leapt into her personal space, her hands reaching for Winn as Anna and Charlie checked for the presence of Mrs Fyfe.

  “You okay?” Emz spoke in a hushed voice. “What happened?” Emz did not try to make Winn stand up, rather she held onto her arm and sat beside her, her eyes tracking over her friend and employer looking for signs of damage. She looked a little greenish and there were some twigs in her hair but realistically, there were always twigs in Winn’s hair.

  Winn was struggling with the memories of the evening. There was one version that was a blurry nightmare. As she tried to pull focus on that Winn felt the small leather pouch around her neck generate a little breath of heat and she felt safe. This was Emz Way she was talking to. This was Hettie Way’s granddaughter.

  “Mrs Fyfe, that’s what happened,” although Winn could not recall details. “She… was rambling out in the garden… she…”

  Emz had noticed the bump on Winn’s forehead.

  “That’s okay. Don’t worry about it. We need to get you back home.” Emz looked at the bump on Winn’s forehead and, concerned, she reached up to examine it. She touched it delicately, her fingertips brushing at the broken and inflamed skin. As she did so she saw the bough rise in the air, saw the black boots, the white face leaning “I pin you” and then the searing shock, the twisted foot. Emz saved all this information and set it aside for a moment to concentrate on the wound, it was clean and if she just moved this and cleared at that. Winn gave a deep, relaxed sigh and her face took on a pinker hue.

  The Defender was parked at the hall and so that was where Emz and Winn headed. As they reached it, Charlie and Anna were already there looking winded and red-faced from their travels.

  “Winn? Everything okay?” Anna reached for Winn’s arm to steady her. Winn leaned into her. As she did so Anna’s mind was fluttered through with black butterflies leading a procession of images. Black boots. A bough. A cape. I pin you. She stopped herself reacting in time and Winn escaped her grasp, stepping closer to the vehicle, her hand, Anna could now see, shaking visibly.

  “Winn?” Anna was concerned. She looked to Emz for reassurance. Emz nodded. Charlie stepped in to help Winn as the key scraped along the paintwork.

  “Whoa… hang on, let me…” Charlie took the key from Winn. In the second she did so there was a rewind of memory, black boots, a bough, I pin you. She did not glance at her sisters, instead she concentrated on the vehicle. Black boots. Bough. Pin.

  Charlie held onto the keys. “We should get you inside the house, take a look at that cut,” she pointed to Winn’s temple. Winn snatched at the keys and got into the car.

  “I’m not going into Hartfield. I’m going home.” She started the engine. Anna opened the back and climbed in, Charlie following suit with Emz strapping herself into the passenger seat.

  “Good idea,” Anna said.

  “You okay to drive, Winn?” Charlie asked. Winn gunned the engine.

  “Probably not,” she said, and they shot off down the driveway.

  * * *

  It was Carrie, the vet, who was called out to check on Winn’s head injury and pronounce her fit.

  “She’s the only medic I trust,” Winn had insisted and, since Winn could be very insistent, the Way sisters were only too happy to contact Carrie. Carrie, as it turned out, was content to make a house call for her sole two-legged patient.

  “So, what happened?” Carrie asked as the Way sisters made tea and watched Carrie put a couple of stitches into Winn’s forehead. “Did the badger win?” she joked.

  “I tripped in the woods,” Winn blustered. “Bloody stupid oaf of a woman. I ought to know better. Going out in a thunderstorm for a start!” Winn gave out a withering bray. “And I hadn’t even had a snifter.”

  “What made you go out into the woods?” Anna asked. Winn looked less certain, her eyes holding Anna’s gaze as if the answer might be in her face.

  “Not sure really…”

  “The Defender was parked at the hall.” Charlie offered the information “So you must have gone there first, not just wandered into the woods from here.”

  Emz was keeping very quiet. In her mind she was flicking through the small images that had burst into her mind when she touched the bump on Winn’s head. The boots. The bough. I pin you. When she looked up Anna looked away.

  Winn’s expression crumpled into thought and she made her usual harrumphing sound. “That’s a point… Ha. Now I recall. That bloody Mrs Fyfe woman had called me out on some stupid landlord errand.” Winn clapped her hands on her thighs and reared up a little in the seat so that Carrie had to adjust her stitching a little.

  “Steady on there, Winn,” she said, reaching to snip the suture.

  “Yes. That was it, a load of nonsense she was talking, and I was feeling miffed and so I thought… what did I think?” Her gaze settled on the floor this time, on the Persian rug which was worth in excess of ten thousand pounds, but which Winn used for drying the dog. “Ha. Yes. Thought I’d take a wander up to Cooper’s Pond, work off the… you know… the thing… the stress.” She waved her hand; her face had taken on a little more of its usual reddish glow. “Am I done?” she turned to Carrie who nodded. “Not going to slip me a worm tablet?” she joked as Anna handed round mugs of tea. Carrie shook her head.

  “I’ve given up trying, Winn. That and the flea collar.”

  Emz was not freaking out. That was another small side thought that nudged forwards now that she had gone over the important details. She was not freaking out because as she revisited the images in her head that she’d sifted out of Winn she saw that Winn was wearing, in the memory, Grandma Hettie’s black waxed raincoat.

  * * *

  It was an hour or more later that the Way sisters made their way swiftly and with distinct purpose back through Leap Woods to Hartfield Hall.

  “We did this.” Emz was shaken.

  “You didn’t hurt her. Mrs Fyfe did.” Charlie turned to Emz, shutting her down swiftly.

  “Mrs Fyfe was here all the time and we didn’t see.” Anna did not need to remind them. Charlie glared.

  “Yes. We’re idiots.”

  “No. We made a rookie mistake that we won’t make again,” Anna insisted. Their mistake loomed too large. “Think she’s still here?” Anna asked as they yomped up over the tumbledown drystone wall that draggled and ranged at the most distant edge of Cooper’s Pond.

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” Charlie said, and as they began to climb in earnest up through the plantation towards Hartfield they grew silent.

  They came over the boundary at the raggedy edge of Leap Woods near the back door of Hartfield Hall because, without them exchanging this information, they all remembered that this was the route Grandma Hettie always took.

  They left the heavy cover of the wood for the gone to seed tangle of the former walled garden, stepping in through the mass of moss and rot that had once been a gate, the only remnant of its past history a rusted latch and thin strip of blue paint that had been colonised by lichen.

  The walled garden was pungent and knotted with plants and shrubs left to return to the wild. The Way sisters, once again with muscle memory flexing deep inside, trod only the path already trodden by the fox so that, at a glance, no one would know that anyone had walked through there.

  At the far end of the walled garden
they would have to climb through the small gap in the tumbledown bricks by the arched black gate.

  “Listen. When Winn handed me the keys… I thought I saw a… like a flashback?” Charlie said. Anna turned.

  “The black boots and the twisted ankle?” she asked with a grimace. Charlie nodded.

  “I pin you,” Emz whispered. They all took a breath. “Mrs Fyfe,” Emz continued. “Trying to kill Winn.” The words whispered into the dark and were scrambled into the desiccated stalks of the nearby fennel.

  “We cut off her power in town,” Anna said.

  “So, she went for Winn as her nearest available backup.” Charlie was shaking her head at the thought.

  “Well, it backfired. Whatever it was she was doing.” Anna tried to sound positive but her mind was drinking in fear and darkness.

  “How do we know that?” Emz looked uncertain.

  “Her twisted foot,” Anna said. “My guess is the bone that was supposed to break was Winn’s.”

  Charlie nodded.

  “Okay. Right. So, we know what we’re up against.”

  “Do we?” Emz asked.

  There was a brief moment before Charlie blurted out.

  “No. But we’ll learn,” and was first to edge out through the gap in the wall.

  * * *

  The back door was open and the rain had come in and made itself very at home on the kitchen floor. There was, the Way sisters noted at once, a very strong scent of rotting apples. Charlie reached for the light switch. It clicked but darkness remained.

  “Power’s out.”

  Anna gave a small, scared laugh.

  “Of course! Duh!”

  “Torch.” Emz was relieved to see it hanging on a hook above the drainer. She clicked that on, a beam of white LED light illuminating the space.

  A quick tour of the house showed that no one was home, but the strong scent of apples lingered everywhere.

  “That apple pong is strong isn’t it? Think she’s left any behind?” Anna sniffed deeply. Charlie nodded. They were all three sniffing now, trying to locate where the smell was emanating from.