Trouble Brewing

by Jane Tara

  Calypso hated herself for being so weak, but knew she was teetering on the edge of a very large precipice. She spent all day, every day at the hospital. Then at night, when insomnia took hold, she’d lock herself away in her Cauldron and make infusions and decoctions and tinctures for everyone around her. But no matter how hard she worked at it, nothing brought her powers back.

  Still, she refused to lose faith. Herbs and plants hold their own powers, so she placed her fragile trust in that and continued to mix. There was nothing to be gained from any of them getting run down when Alf so obviously needed their support. She tried to not dwell on her father. There was no point worrying until his test results came back. And she did her best to block out all thoughts of Taran. He’d tried to contact her a couple of times, but she didn’t respond. She couldn’t. She simply focused on supporting her family in the best way she knew how.

  Calypso prescribed a tonic of bitter herbs for her mother. Depression often originates in the liver, so it was no coincidence that Batty was depressed. She was so connected to her husband that everything he was going through was manifesting in her as well. The tonic set about healing the organ where the condition was based. For extra support, she also mixed her a tincture of oat straw and vervain. She wished she could reach out and truly help her mother by talking to her, or making her laugh, but she couldn’t.

  Her family was famous for its unwavering and occasionally suffocating support. They were well known for their laughter and ability to bounce back from anything. So Calypso was just as surprised as everyone else that when it came to the crunch it was each redheaded woman for herself. Perhaps they’d never truly been tested as a unit before. Scott’s death had torn away her foundations, but while her family certainly grieved, they had been removed enough to offer support and stop her from completely falling. But this time they were all equally vested in the grief.

  Nell’s levelheaded calm surprised Calypso, although she knew it shouldn’t. Nell wasn’t displaying any new traits. It was just – for once – her more forceful family members weren’t overshadowing her. While her mother and sister crumbled, Nell coped by keeping busy and organizing everyone else. She had, in her own gentle way, taken charge. Calypso made Nell a tincture of astragulus to boost her immune system and advised her to also drop some in her bath water each night to help clear her energy.

  For Eleanor, who was suffering regular migraines and quite often passing them on to everyone else, Calypso made a marjoram compress and feverfew tincture. She also sent her grandmother a small bottle of brandy, infused with the healing powers of quartz and the color blue. A nip of that at bedtime would help her sleep and alleviate her worries. But Eleanor, being Eleanor, refused to take it and continued to suffer migraines, insomnia and worries, which therefore meant everyone else continued to suffer them as well.

  The one person Calypso wished she could heal, needed to heal, was her father, but that was impossible. Even if her gift were working she would be unable to change the course he was on. While her gift helped remove blockages, or guide someone onto the right path, it never cured a disease or mended a situation that was fated. It could help a person cope and alleviate stress and symptoms, but it could not alter destiny. Calypso had learned that the hard way. She had called upon the forces of the universe to save Scott as he lay dying in her arms, but the line had been heartbreakingly busy.

  Calypso knew she couldn’t change the path her father was on. Or that any of them were on. And that frightened her. She was scared of living, of losing people, and of loving people. There were moments when she despised her weakness. It was now obvious to her that despite her often bold approach to life, she wasn’t actually brave at all.

  And at night, locked in her Cauldron, that was the thing that bothered her most.

  Not the thought of her father dying, or the fact that Scott had. Not that she had sent Taran packing. The thing that troubled her most was her weakness. She was terrified of everything – and only just realizing it.

  *

  The whole family was together when the doctor gave Alf his test results. Batty and Nell sat either side of Alf, while Calypso stood near the door, wishing she could exit it and never come back.

  “It was melanoma, but it was confined to one small area.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?” Batty needed some reassurance.

  “Very good.”

  “Will I need chemo, doc?”

  “There are a number of new treatments we can discuss if it returns, but at this stage it’s not necessary.”

  “What about alternative therapies?” Calypso asked.

  The doctor turned to Calypso. “Meaning?”

  “I’m a healer and would like to work on my father.” Calypso braced herself for the ridicule that usually followed when she admitted this.

  It didn’t come.

  “What type of healing?”

  “Herbs … medicinal drinks.”

  “I don’t see a problem with that.” The doctor looked down at his notes. “All I ask is that you consult me on what medication your father is on, as we don’t want any adverse reactions.”

  “Of course.”

  Alf asked the big question that had been haunting everyone. “Can I still drink?”

  The doctor chuckled. “Once your liver has regenerated, then absolutely. As long as you take it easy, there’s nothing like a medicinal wine or beer.”

  Alf’s face lit up. “Ya hear that Callie?”

  Calypso winked at her father. She was liking his doctor more and more.

  Batty gave Alf’s hand a squeeze. “What now?”

  “His prognosis looks good, Mrs Shakespeare. I’m extremely optimistic and I think you should be too.

  “I googled and—”

  The doctor cut Batty of with a kind smile. “Google can be the most frightening place on earth. The fact is, surgical resection can and does achieve long-term survival in many patients. If he reaches the five-year mark without a reoccurrence, then his chances are excellent.”

  “Five years?” It sounded like a thousand to Calypso. “What do we do until then?”

  “My advice would be to enjoy life.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Alf said.

  The Shakespeare women nodded. The doctor turned to leave, but Batty stopped him. “One more question. When can I take my husband home?”

  “He’ll need another week to recover.”

  “Very good, thank you.”

  The doctor disappeared out the door and the family looked at each other.

  Alf was the first to speak. “It’s a good outcome.”

  Calypso plonked herself into the chair. She had no intention of entering into this.

  “Five years, Alf!”

  “Listen, misery guts, I could be hit by a bus before this bloody cancer gets me, right? I say we just get on with it.”

  Nell gave her father a hug. “I agree, Dad.” She grabbed her phone from her bag and headed for the door. “I’ll call Gran and let her know.”

  “You do that, Nell,” Alf called after her. “At least someone will be happy for me.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Horse chestnut alleviates arthritic pain

  “Man, she’s got big balls,” Taran said as he watched Megan confront a drunken heckler.

  “Only a very brave, or incredibly stupid, man would take her on.” Simon was obviously proud of his girlfriend.

  The C Spot was a small, shabby club that still smelt of cigarette smoke, despite a ban. Megan wore black jeans, a vintage Sex Pistols T-shirt and a black flat cap. She owned the stage, legs slightly apart, hands on her hips, and a scowl on her pretty face. Simon knew she’d cut back on her performance schedule while she was running the pub, and was in no mood to have her precious stand-up time interrupted by a sexist drunk.

  “Are you gonna strip for us or what?” yelled the drunk.

  Simon wanted to crack a stool over the guy’s head, but knew the knight in shining armor routine wouldn’t go down well with
Megan.

  “Listen Richard-face,” Megan snapped back, “have some respect. This is my job. I don’t go into KFC and yell at you while you’re working.”

  “Tell us a frigging joke.”

  “Oh great! An alcoholic who won’t remain anonymous.”

  A number of people in the audience laughed uncomfortably, unsure how the slip of a girl onstage would handle the large drunk.

  “You’ve got no tits and look like a boy,” the drunk slurred.

  Megan just nodded sympathetically and in a voice dripping with disdain said, “You’ve got no manners and look like a cockhead. Difference between us is that I can buy boobs and put on a dress. What the fuck can you do?”

  She was rewarded with a huge cheer from the audience and continued her set uninterrupted.

  Simon gave Taran a wink. The woman was a complete pocket rocket and he adored her. She was the smartest, sweetest, funniest creature ever born. Her short hair, piercings and tattoos only emphasized her femininity and beauty as far as he was concerned. There had not been one single moment where he’d regretted choosing Megan over his family, despite the furor it had caused.

  His father’s lawyers had contacted him immediately and informed him of his new status. Basically, he no longer existed. He’d been removed from the will, fired from the job and uninvited from his brother’s upcoming fortieth birthday. None of it fazed Simon. If anything, he finally felt free. He took stock of his own financial situation and knew that his cautious nature had in many ways prepared him for this. He was fine, certainly better than most. And he had Megan.

  To her credit, his mother had called and wished him luck. She acknowledged that insanity ran through both family lines and that perhaps he was displaying similar symptoms to her own Great Uncle Earnest, who had turned his back on his family and married a Greek olive farmer’s daughter. Family legend had it that Great Uncle Earnest eventually went insane and ended his days in an asylum, thinking he was a goat, but Simon had once intercepted a Christmas card from Ernie who was, at the time, still living very happily on a farm outside Athens.

  The last act of the night wound up and the lights came on. Simon and Taran finished their beers while they waited for Megan.

  “Have you decided what you’re going to do for work?”

  Simon shook his head. “I’m too busy helping run the King and Mistress at the moment. One thing I know for sure, I have no intention of going back into the corporate world.”

  “Are you sure? Perhaps with a different company—”

  “Never. I never liked it.”

  “Really? I never knew that.”

  “Nor did I.” Simon looked intently around the C Spot. It had once been the hottest comedy venue in London, but bad management had run it into the ground. He took in the character of the small club, the craftsmanship of the ceiling, the dull brass and wood details, the quirky tables and bar. “I like this place.”

  Taran nodded. “I saw Eddie Izzard perform here, years ago.”

  “They used to have all the big names play. I wonder what happened?”

  Megan bounded over to them and threw her arms around Simon. “I missed you.”

  “Next time aim better.” Simon grinned. He no longer felt like a bumbling fool. Meeting Megan and stepping back from his family had done wonders for his confidence.

  She gave Taran a peck on the cheek. “How are you?”

  “Good … really … you know.”

  “Yeah, that’s believable.”

  “Any chance someone misses me?”

  “Oh, someone misses you alright, but that doesn’t mean the stubborn cow is going to give in.”

  Taran stood and jammed his hands into his jeans pockets. “How’s Alf?”

  “He’s recovering well. It’s just they’re all so gloomy.”

  “They’ve been through a lot.”

  “True, but no more than many people,” Megan pointed out. “And they have each other. They should grab hold of that, and really appreciate it.” Her eyes glazed slightly. “I’d give anything to have my mother back for one day. They’ve been given another chance and they’re wasting it.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” Taran asked.

  Megan slipped her hand into Simon’s and they all made their way toward the exit. “I’m on it. I have a plan.” The two men waited for more information, but she simply grinned and led them outside. “Not one I’m sharing yet.”

  “You’ll keep me updated, won’t you?” Taran knew he was bordering on pathetic now, but couldn’t help himself.

  Megan gave him a friendly hug. “Of course I will.”

  Simon watched as Megan comforted Taran. It meant everything to him that his best friend and the woman he loved got on so well. He turned his head away from them, slightly emotional – God, he was a sop lately – and noticed a “For Sale” sign attached to the front of the club.

  “Is the C Spot for sale?”

  Megan shrugged. “There was some talk backstage tonight that they’ve declared bankruptcy. Can’t work out why – not like they pay any of their acts, and they have enough drunks buying booze in the audience.” Megan stalked over to the curb and flagged a cab. “What I’d give to find a club in London that pays well and isn’t the last stop of the night for London’s obnoxious.” She shook her head. “Come on, you two. Let’s go home.”

  Later, as he lay awake, safe in the arms of the best woman in the world, Simon devised a plan of his own.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Oregano oil can be used as a cough remedy

  Nell stared at the porcelain brooch in front of her and tried to muster up some enthusiasm. Normally such an exquisite piece would have her in raptures, but today she really didn’t give two hoots that Mary Sidney Herbert had worn it.

  “Eighteenth-century penny for your thoughts,” said Julian, placing a copper cartwheel on the desk beside her.

  Nell smiled. “I thought you’d left for the day.”

  “Just going.” He ran his long fingers through his floppy hair “Hungry?”

  “Not really.”

  “Pity, I was going to take you out.” A broad grin spread across his face. “In fact, I think I’ll take you out anyway.”

  Nell began to argue that she didn’t have time, but Julian cut her off.

  “I’m your boss, so you’ve got no choice. Get your coat, or bag, or whatever you women lug around.”

  “As you said, Julian, you’re my boss. An excellent reason why I can’t go out with you.”

  Julian laughed. Nothing ever fazed him. “I’m not asking you to sleep with me, Nell. If I were, I certainly wouldn’t try it on straight after work. That’s more of a … morning tea thing, don’t you agree? Coffee, scone and a quickie in the mop closet?” He grabbed her bag for her. “Come on. A quick bite and perhaps one beer.”

  “I don’t drink.”

  “You’re about to start.”

  He took her to a Japanese restaurant nearby. It was empty, still too early for most people to be out. They were seated in a corner table and Julian immediately grabbed the menu.

  “I come here all the time, so I’ll order for both of us. If you don’t mind?”

  Normally, Nell would’ve. But today she was simply grateful that it was one less decision she had to make. And she had a feeling that’s exactly why Julian did it.

  He ordered sushi, sashimi, agedashi tofu, tempura, wakame salad and a beer each. Nell was too exhausted to argue, and when the Asahi arrived, she had a sip and was surprised to find she liked it. It was the perfect drink for such a warm evening.

  Julian watched her carefully. “Enjoying work?”

  “Very much,” Nell lied. She desperately missed Percy and the British Museum of Romance, although she liked working with Julian.

  “How’s your father?”

  Julian knew all about her father, mainly because their grandmothers were close. He’d even postponed Nell’s starting date at National Museum until after her father’s operation.

&nb
sp; “He’s doing well.” She stared up at his big brown eyes. They were so kind and genuinely concerned. She felt like she knew him well, even though she didn’t. Most of all, she trusted him. She had no idea why, but she did, and he sensed this. “It has been a dreadful few weeks,” she admitted. “Dad’s not entirely out of the woods. It might come back. But I don’t think so.”

  “It’s important to believe that.”

  “I never once thought we would lose Dad. I’m not sure if that was my intuition, or because I’m pathetically Panglossian.” Nell sipped her beer and considered this for a moment. “Probably the latter.”

  “I think it’s the best way to be, Nell. I’m an optimist. The other option isn’t that appealing to me at all.”

  “What has been really upsetting is the way everyone else handled it.”

  “Apparently Eleanor is a basket case.”

  Nell couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Eleanor is always a basket case.”

  Eleanor had been reduced to a blubbering mess at the sight of her only child after surgery. She hyperventilated so badly that the nurse had to grab the oxygen mask from Alf to help Eleanor breathe. Batty had used the opportunity to her advantage. While Eleanor was muzzled with the oxygen mask, Batty showed her Alf’s surgery wounds, mentioned the pictures of livers she’d seen on the internet, and finally checked his catheter. Once the mask was removed, Eleanor bolted and had refused to set foot back inside the hospital since – much to everyone’s relief. Nell visited her as often as she could and put a positive spin on all the doctor’s updates, which helped ease Eleanor’s stress, but only added to Nell’s. She was already juggling hospital visits, meetings with Megan and Simon and finalizing things with Percy, while starting full time at the museum.

  She took another large swig of her beer. “I’ve always been surrounded by these tough women. Eleanor can reduce a grown man to pulp with one withering look. My mother is the backbone of the family and the business. And my sister … she spends most of her life traipsing around the world, going through boyfriends like I go through Kleenex during allergy season. I’ve always been different. Nell the quiet one. Nell the shy one. Never Nell the strong one.”