by Sam Short
“No,” answered Pepper, defensively. “I wear the same clothes and hairstyle that I wore as a teenager in nineteen-eighty-nine.”
“That’s what I meant,” said Jas, taking long strides towards the cottage’s front door on even longer legs. “Anyway, I was teasing you. I kind of like your hair. Chill out. Now, are you going to invite me in, or not? I’m parched. I could murder a coffee.”
“Would you like to look round the back garden first?” asked Pepper. “It’s beautiful. The last owners had let it grow a little wild, but it didn’t take much work to get it in order.”
“You mean it only took a few spells to get it in order?” asked Jas, trying the door handle, and stepping aside as Pepper retrieved a keyring from her pocket. “You make it sound like you actually did some physical work.”
Pepper pushed the key into the keyhole. “Unlike some people, I enjoy physical work. I didn’t use magic for every job, only the jobs that required it. I like getting my hands dirty.”
“Yes,” said Jas. “I know. You’re a glutton for punishment. You always have been. You’re like Dad. Compost before conjuring, as he likes to say.” She laughed. “I’m more like Mum — magic before muck shovelling. Anyway, we both make our living thanks to our green fingers. We both use magic to make money.”
The lock clicking as she turned the key, Pepper opened the door and stepped inside the cottage, followed by her sister. The calming scents of the lavender sachets she had placed tactically throughout the cottage greeted her, and she became immediately aware of the blanket of calm that the smell always managed to drape across her shoulders. “Judging by the car parked outside my home, I don’t think I need to ask if magic is still making you enough money,” she said.
“It turns out that people are still as lazy as ever,” said Jas. “They’ll spend good money on maintenance free potted plants. Especially orchids. I guarantee them for five years if the owner remembers to water them once a month.”
“So not quite maintenance free,” observed Pepper.
Jas laughed. “Considering the spell I cast over them allows them to live without light, allows them to thrive without all the feeds and fertilisers normal orchids require, keeps pests away, ensures they flower permanently and look amazing at all times — then I’d say adding a little water once a month is pretty much maintenance free.”
“I suppose,” Pepper relented. “It just amazes me that people don’t like to get to know their plants. There’s nothing more fulfilling than bringing a plant back to full health by providing it with nourishment, the right amount of light, and a little love.”
“That sounds idyllic, Pepper,” said Jas, gazing at her surroundings. “But not everyone has the time to provide their plants with that sort of attention. Some people don’t have the time to give their spouses or kids the attention they deserve, let alone a wilting plant on a kitchen windowsill or a coffee table. Would you prefer it if those sorts of people didn’t have plants to cheer them up? I wouldn’t. That’s where my maintenance free plants come in. And don’t get me started on business premises. Most big offices are full of struggling plants. The plants I sell are happy, hardy, and hard to kill. It’s a win-win scenario, for the plants and their owners.”
“When you put it like that, I find it hard to disagree,” admitted Pepper. She placed both hands palm up and looked around the hallway. “Anyway — what do you think of Meadow View Cottage? Do you like it?”
“I think it’s beautiful,” said Jas. “Honestly. And if I ever move away from the city, I think this is just the sort of place I’d like to live in. How about you give me the full tour?”
Pepper did the tour quickly and gladly. She showed her sister the three bedrooms with the low ceilings and visible timbers in the walls. She showed her the bathroom with the sizeable free-standing bathtub next to a window low enough to offer Pepper a view of the meadow while she was taking a soak.
Then she took her downstairs, proud to show her the comfortable living room with plush furniture, and a wood burner in the large fireplace which would have once housed a roaring fire. She showed her the dining room with the real oak floor and the hand-crafted table and chairs, and then she showed Jas along the hallway, to her favourite room in the whole of the cottage. The kitchen.
As the sisters entered the colourful room, the black ball of fur in the basket placed near a radiator raised its head, studied the two witches, and yawned.
“Does Ziggy like it here, too?” asked Jas, opening one of the oak wall-cupboards and inspecting the contents. She closed the door gently and moved onto the refrigerator, making a sound of satisfaction as she found the small compartment brimming with local cheeses. “I’ll have a cheese and chutney sandwich with my coffee,” she announced. “If you don’t mind?”
Pepper smiled at her sister’s back. Beneath what she considered to be Jas’s fake exterior was a woman, two years away from turning fifty, who really wanted the life Pepper had, not the hectic life that she currently lived.
Jas had never said that, admittedly, but Pepper knew her sister well enough. As soon as she had stepped into Meadow View Cottage, she’d begun to relax. Stress had visibly slipped from her face, and her shoulders had dropped as she’d slung her handbag over the stairway bannister and removed her sunglasses from her head, placing them next to the vase of fresh flowers on the hallway table.
Almost as if she was taking off the uniform she wore when facing the world outside, she’d continued to soften as Pepper had given her the tour, until here she was, standing in front of an open refrigerator asking for two food groups that Pepper knew she pretended to shun when she visited the upmarket bistros of London. “Ziggy loves it here,” she answered. “There are plenty of mice in the meadow for him to terrorise, and there’s hardly any chance of him being run over by a car when he goes exploring. I think he’s a very happy cat. And yes, of course you can have a sandwich.”
As if in agreement, Ziggy stepped from his basket, yawned once more as he stretched, and then sauntered across the slate floor. He gazed up at Pepper with big emerald eyes and gave a single meow as he rubbed himself on her calf.
Reaching down to tickle the cat in the spot he loved, right behind the single white ear that looked out of place protruding from the head of the coal-black creature, Pepper smiled. “You’re hungry, too, Ziggy?” she asked. “I’ll feed you first, and then I’ll make Jas a cheese and pickle sandwich and pretend we don’t know that she tells everybody she doesn’t eat bread, and rarely eats cheese. And as for chutney… I’d imagine it’s brimming with sugar. What do you think, Ziggy?”
Jas shut the fridge and turned to face Pepper with both eyebrows raised. “At least I have people in the world I can lie to about my food intake,” she teased. “What about you, little sister? Are you going to make friends in this town, or are you going to be more friendly with the local police force than the residents, like you were when you lived in Matlock?”
Pepper tried her best to hide it, although she wasn’t entirely sure what it was about her expression that always gave her away to her sister. She pressed her tongue tight against the roof of her mouth in an attempt to prevent herself from swallowing, and she gritted her teeth to inhibit her lips from betraying her. It didn’t seem to be working, though. Her sister was aware something was wrong. Pepper could tell.
“What’s wrong, Pepper?” asked Jas, studying her sister with concern. “That face… Wait! No way! You’ve only lived here for two weeks! You’ve been in trouble with the police already, haven’t you?”
Pepper blew out a sigh. “Okay,” she admitted. “I got another warning today, but don’t you dare lecture me about it. They got my name wrong, too. I’m not Pepper Grinder. I’m Pepper Grin-der!”
“You must be used to it by now!” said Jas. “You’re forty-five, Pepper! Anyway, it’s not that bad. I get called Grinder all the time. I sometimes think I should have married Claire’s father just to take his surname. I would have eventually divorced him, of course, but it would
have saved a lot of frustration to be called Townsend instead of Grinder.”
Rolling her eyes, Pepper scoffed. “You think you’ve had it bad? You should try being called Pepper Grinder instead of Jasmine Grinder. It’s infinitely worse. What on earth were Mum and Dad thinking when they named me Pepper?”
“Come on, Pepper,” said Jas. “You know why. How many times are you going to bring it up? Either learn to live with it or change your name. They named you Pepper because Dad was into growing chillies when you were born. It was simple luck that I was born when he enjoyed growing fragrant plants. I’m glad I wasn’t born during his cactus phase.”
“Yes, well, people getting my name wrong annoys me,” said Pepper. “It always has, and it probably always will. Anyway, let’s not dwell on the pronunciation of surnames, let’s concentrate on a nice cheese sandwich. I’ve got a lump of beautifully creamy cheddar, and there’s a baker’s shop in town called Aunty Em’s — I bought a lovely loaf of seeded wholemeal from there. I’ll feed Ziggy, and then I’ll make you the best sandwich you’ve had for a long time.”
“My mouth is watering,” said Jas. “And don’t forget the chutney.” She bent down to stroke Ziggy, her long nails making the cat purr with pleasure. Then she stood quickly upright. “Wait! I see what you just did! You almost made me forget we were speaking about you being in trouble with the police again! Tell me what happened this time, Pepper.”
“Okay,” said Pepper. “I trespassed on somebody’s property and moved a plant that was struggling. An azalea, the police said. The homeowner dropped the charges against me when the plant began thriving, but the police still gave me a warning because of my history in Matlock. That’s it, Jas. It’s nothing to worry about, so you can take that look off your face.”
“Pepper,” said Jas. “I know you’re not committing heinous crimes, but what you’re doing is still wrong. Stop doing it! Why don’t you throw yourself into your work instead of only working when you want to? That will take your mind off helping struggling plants that shouldn’t even concern you. You can’t save every plant on the planet.”
“And neither would I want to,” said Pepper. “I’m not some sort of plant saving weirdo. I eat plants for goodness’ sake. Sometimes I just like to help. Sometimes I get a vibe from a plant, and I have to save it. As for my work, I work when I want to because people pay me good money for my services, Jas. I have enough money. I only take the jobs I really want to take. Like the six jobs I did last year, the jobs that paid for this cottage.”
“Jobs which you didn’t charge enough for, in my opinion,” said Jas. “You saved a whole pine tree plantation when disease broke out, and you charged the forestry commission a pittance in the big scheme of things. Do you have any idea how much money they’ll make from selling timber over the next few decades because of what you did? You could have charged them one hundred times more than you did. A thousand, even!”
“I’m happy with the price I charged,” said Pepper. “Please allow me to concentrate on my business like I allow you to concentrate on yours.”
Jas sighed. “Okay, then stay out of trouble by making some friends. You never have friends, Pepper. It makes me sad. And you never do anything! Why don’t you do something exciting with your life instead of slowly but surely turning into a boring old spinster who won’t be able to look back on her life and say, ‘look what I did!’”
Her eyes narrowing, Pepper stared at Jas. She hated her sister being so judgemental. Just once, she’d love to throw her sister’s scorn back in her face, but Pepper was no liar. She wouldn’t make up friends just to make herself seem less secluded from society than she actually was.
Then she stared past her sister and through the window into the garden beyond, her eyes landing on her bike and the bag which was still in the basket. She remembered the purse she’d found which belonged to the rude woman who’d said she was a member of a gardening club — Agnes Mowbray. What had Agnes told the policeman? Oh yes — the club met every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday night.
Pepper smiled. The purse didn’t have to be handed in at the police station as she’d planned on doing. She could deliver it to the owner herself. There may not have been an address in the purse, but how hard could it be to find a gardening club? Pepper wouldn’t lie to her sister, but she would undoubtedly embellish the truth. “Actually,” she said. “I’m going to a gardening club tomorrow night to see Agnes and the others.”
“You are?” said Jas. “Really?”
“Really,” said Pepper, revelling in the expression of disbelief on her sister’s face. Why stop there, she thought, remembering the business card Oswald Clementine had handed her, and the offer he’d made her. “And as for looking back on my life, I think I’ll be quite happy to be able to look back and tell people that I was once in a film.”
“What?” said Jas, her expression creeping from disbelief to overt shock. “You’re going to be in a film? A film that people watch, with actors and stuff?”
Pepper nodded. “Correct. I’ve got a part in a film, and so has my cottage. Meadow View Cottage is to be the home of the male lead in the film. It’s all quite exciting.”
“Well,” said Jas, suspicion on her face, “you’ve kept all that very quiet, little sister.”
“You know me,” said Pepper. “I don’t like to broadcast my personal business, but just be assured that I’m going to a club meeting tomorrow to be with other people, and I have a very interesting life. Very interesting indeed.”
Chapter 5
As the heather brown slopes of the rugged hills in the distance glowed beneath the rising sun, Pepper held her flask of coffee between arm and chest as she gripped the plate of buttered toast in one hand and used the other to push open the gate fitted in the fence at the bottom of the garden.
With dew wetting the portion of her socks which peeped from the top of her Dr Marten boots, she enjoyed the walk through the meadow, occasionally pausing to admire the silvery strands of one of the numerous spider webs spun between blades of grass and the leaves of wildflowers.
The air hanging above the meadow smelling of clean sheets and ozone, Pepper took long appreciative breaths through her nose, her smile widening each time her lungs filled. This early morning ritual had begun on the first day that Pepper had woken up in her new home and looked out of her crooked bedroom window. The ancient sentinel in the meadow had called out to her on that morning two weeks ago, and it had called out to her every morning since, its long powerful limbs reaching for the sky as it began another day in its long life.
As she approached the oak tree, Pepper could feel the life-force of the tree beneath her feet before she stepped into the long shadow cast by its sprawling canopy. The roots of the tree had spread far into the surrounding meadow over its hundreds of years of life, and the life-force energy they gave off travelled through the soil and vibrated beneath Pepper’s boots as she greeted the old monarch of the meadow. “Good morning,” she said, reaching the tree’s gnarled trunk and placing a hand on the rough bark. “Do you mind if I join you?”
Closing her eyes, Pepper sighed as the tree replied. It didn’t respond with words or thoughts - plants never did, and it wasn’t replying directly to Pepper. It was just existing, but it was the tree’s very existence that was communicating with Pepper through the vibes which travelled along her arm and throughout her body like the bubbles in lemonade fizzing through a drinking straw.
Pepper concentrated. And then she found one. Not a memory like a person would understand, but a distant thing, a thing that Pepper had to focus hard on to understand. Sensing the vibrations the tree had felt, and turning them into pictures she could appreciate, Pepper began to make sense of what she felt beneath her hand. Like being asked to explain what she saw while looking through the wrong end of a telescope in the dark, she homed in on the dull colours and shapes, willing them into becoming clearer. And then they did. Pepper concentrated on the two forms approaching the tree, one larger than the other, walking si
de by side, their heads turning left and right as if constantly checking for danger. “Oh, how wonderful,” she murmured. “I wasn’t your first visitor this morning. You had two before me, looking for acorns in the grass at your feet.”
Pepper concentrated harder, the image of the two creatures becoming a little clearer as it swirled in her mind’s eye. Like remembering a dream which was about to fade, Pepper somehow held onto the image, willing it to become clearer — just for a moment.
A smile crept over her face as she was rewarded with a brief flash of near clarity. Not even a second in length and fading into darkness almost as soon as it had appeared, the moving image was beautiful. A female fallow deer and her fawn — lowering their heads into the dew-wet grass as they searched for acorns the tree might have dropped early in the season, or that had slipped from the greedy paws of grey squirrels.
As the image faded, Pepper was sure that she’d heard the crunch of teeth crushing one of the oak tree’s fruits, and she opened her eyes; happy that at least one of the deer had found a breakfast snack. She pushed her hand harder against the broad trunk of the tree, gazing up through its thick limbs and morning sun-dappled leaves. “Thank you,” she said. “That was lovely. I hope I didn’t scare the deer away when I crossed the meadow.”
Pacing slowly around the trunk, her flask beneath her arm and toast still balanced on the plate, Pepper lowered herself into the cradle formed by two roots as they began their journey from the flared base of the trunk and into the soil.
With the tree between herself and Meadow View Cottage, Pepper poured a coffee and bit into the crunchy crust of wholemeal toast as she admired the view the Peak District offered her. Named not after peaks of mountains, but after the Anglo-Saxon tribe which had once inhabited the area, the huge National Park still offered the eye an expansive view of rugged hills and deep valleys forged hundreds of millions of years ago.
With Picklebury on the western perimeter of the park, Pepper knew that Matlock, her last home, and Bakewell — the town famous for the pudding named after it, lay somewhere to the west, nestled between hills and gorges, and built alongside the rivers Derwent and Wye.
