by Heidi Swain
‘You didn’t have a reason to live before?’ I asked, staring straight ahead.
‘I thought I had,’ he said sadly. ‘All the time I was on my final tour in the Army I thought of nothing but coming home to my wife and starting a family. I didn’t expect to arrive back early and find she was having a fling with my so-called best mate.’
‘Crikey, Mick,’ I swallowed. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Anyway,’ he shrugged, closing the conversation down, ‘that’s enough about me. How are you enjoying the week so far?’
I leant back against the edge of the trailer and warmed my hands around the mug.
‘It’s been wonderful,’ I said, because it had been. ‘To be honest, I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed my work so much, but given everything you’ve just said I’m guessing you can understand that.’
Working at Wynthorpe Hall didn’t feel like ‘work’. There was more of a commune vibe about the place, and even though Catherine and Angus were the wealthy landowners there had never been so much as a hint of the ‘them’ and ‘us’ moment that I had experienced in every other similar property I had worked in.
The hall, Dorothy had told me one afternoon while she was making dinner, had once been made available to everyone, like a rather upmarket local resource, and the local community had appreciated that and made full use of it. The WI used to hold special talks and events there and there were story-time sessions for the younger members of the local library as well as brief tea and refreshment stops for the local rambling group. When I asked why those things weren’t currently happening she became evasive and changed the subject and I hadn’t yet had the opportunity to bring it up again.
‘Almost a shame to leave then,’ said Mick with a sniff.
‘Almost,’ I agreed.
Neither Hayley nor Dorothy had asked about my aversion to Christmas or been so forthright about my determination to move on. Not that my behaviour had suggested I was particularly determined, since my decision had become common knowledge. I opened my mouth to make some kind of explanation to Mick, but a movement in the trees to my left stopped me in my tracks. I stayed quiet, initially thinking it was perhaps a deer or a fox, but it was neither.
‘What the hell,’ I whispered, plucking at Mick’s sleeve. ‘Mick, are you seeing this?’ I pointed into the middle distance with a shaking hand and wondered if I was hallucinating.
‘I am,’ he said, sounding almost amused. ‘Don’t look so worried.’
‘But,’ I spluttered, trying to keep as quiet as possible, ‘that’s a witch. Isn’t it?’
To my mind, the sweeping cloak and black hat were incontrovertible evidence, but if I really was hallucinating then perhaps Mick was seeing something completely different. I risked a glance over at him, just to make sure we were on the same wavelength, and when I looked back the figure had disappeared.
‘Come on,’ he chuckled, tapping me on the shoulder and making me shriek in shock, spilling the remains of my tea. ‘We’d best get on before it’s dark.’
He wasn’t wrong. I leapt to my feet, packed away the flask and began piling the wood in the trailer as if my life depended on it.
I didn’t have much of an appetite that evening. A fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Dorothy, who watched like a hawk as I pushed her homemade chicken and vegetable pie around my plate.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ she asked, peering from the plate to me and back again. ‘You look a bit peaky to me. Is it the pie?’
Mick didn’t give me the opportunity to say that it was absolutely nothing to do with her impeccable pie.
‘I reckon,’ he sniggered, ‘she looks as though she’s seen a ghost.’
‘Well, now,’ smiled Catherine with pride. ‘Have you seen our grey lady?’
She didn’t wait for me to answer either.
‘Lucky you, Anna,’ she went on. ‘She doesn’t show herself to everyone, you know.’
‘You should feel honoured,’ sniffed Dorothy, clearly a little put out. ‘I’ve never seen her. Not once in all the time I’ve lived here.’
Now this was a brilliant development. Not only were the surrounding woods overrun with witches, the hall was haunted as well. The sooner I found another post the better. I tried to count up on my fingers how many days I had left to secure another job. Amazingly the week I had agreed to stay on for was almost up. I was beginning to think there really was magic within the walls of Wynthorpe Hall after all, because it was certainly capable of making time disappear, if nothing else.
‘No,’ I croaked. ‘No ghost, no grey lady.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ said Angus, mopping up his gravy with a thick slice of Dorothy’s homemade granary.
It really wasn’t, but I didn’t say as much.
‘But she has seen a witch,’ winked Mick.
‘Oh you’ve seen Molly, have you?’ beamed Angus, gravy dribbling down his chin.
‘Who?’
‘Molly,’ said Catherine again. ‘Although I’m not sure that she really is a witch.’
‘Well, whoever she is, she looked like a witch to me,’ I said. ‘Wandering about in a cloak and pointy hat, I don’t really think she could have been anything else. It’s not as if it’s even close to Halloween now. Is she a local?’
‘Yes,’ said Angus, ‘she lives in the old woodsman’s cottage at the edge of the woods.’
I gave a little shudder. This was sounding more and more like one of the Grimms’ fairy tales to me and I was pleased I hadn’t been close enough to see if she had left a trail of breadcrumbs or had a warty nose.
‘I expect she was visiting the Wishing Tree,’ Angus went on.
‘What’s the Wishing Tree?’
‘We have a hawthorn in the woods,’ Catherine explained. ‘No one really knows how old it is, but judging by its gnarly old trunk we think it’s reasonably ancient.’
‘And it’s where people go to make a wish for something they would like, or give thanks for something they’ve received,’ joined in Angus. ‘They say a few words and then tie something to the branches as an offering or little thank-you.’
‘What sort of things?’
‘Slips of paper, lengths of ribbon, all sorts of things.’
‘I’ve even seen a child’s pacifier,’ said Dorothy. ‘And a train ticket.’
I noticed she had gone a little red as she said it and wondered if she had ever tied anything to the branches.
‘And who exactly are the people thanking or asking?’ I frowned.
This was all completely new to me. I’d never seen a real live witch before or heard of a Wishing Tree. It all sounded a little strange, but in the context of the hall, I had to admit, it didn’t seem quite so fanciful.
‘The universe,’ sighed Catherine wistfully, ‘perhaps.’
‘The universe,’ I repeated.
‘Have you got something you would like to ask for, Anna?’ asked Catherine. ‘Any unfinished business in your life you wish to have resolved, or perhaps some wish you’d like to see come true?’
‘Not that I can think of,’ I said, my face flushing.
Fortunately Angus piped up again before Catherine had the opportunity to arrange an excursion under the light of the full moon that required chanting and incense.
‘You know,’ he said, pointing his fork at Mick and me, ‘I think you two seeing Molly might be a sign.’
‘A sign?’ questioned Mick.
‘Mm,’ nodded Angus. ‘I’ve been thinking about reinstating our old Solstice celebration.’
‘Now that’s a wonderful idea,’ said Catherine, thankfully diverted from my wishes and dreams, for the moment at least.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s what I thought. It always used to be so popular, didn’t it?’
‘And what is the Solstice celebration?’ I asked.
‘Well, the December Solstice is the shortest day,’ Angus explained, ‘and people used to come to the woods to search for their Yule log. As the sun set, assuming it ha
d put in an appearance of course, we would sit around a fire and listen to the story of the passing of the crown from the Holly King to the Oak King.’
‘Then everyone would come back to the hall for mulled cider and dancing,’ added Dorothy.
‘It sounds like quite a party,’ I smiled.
I had no idea who the Holly King or the Oak King were, but my professional persona had kicked in and my business brain was telling me that Angus and Catherine would need to check their public liability insurance if they were going to have locals stumbling about in the woods, in the dark, especially after a flagon of cider or two.
‘It was,’ smiled Catherine. ‘And I think starting it again is a wonderful idea, Angus.’
‘I thought you might,’ he winked at his wife and then turned to me. ‘And as it’s your birthday on the twenty-first, Anna, you can be the one to pick out our Yule log this year.’
Chapter 7
I didn’t waste my breath reminding Angus or the others that I would be long gone before my birthday dawned, because along with everyone else, at that precise moment, I couldn’t imagine how my departure was going to happen. I still didn’t want to be at the hall when Christmas was in full swing, but for the time being at least, I couldn’t find it in me to look for another job either. Perhaps I would feel differently when the family descended and the tree went up, but for now, I was content to get on with the work I was doing, which so little resembled the job description in my ‘saved’ email folder.
That evening I did fire up my laptop, but only to help Catherine set up a public liability insurance policy. Angus had been rather amused when I asked who they were insured with and insisted that no one in the past had ever come to any harm, and even if they did in the future, he was certain that they wouldn’t hold him or Catherine accountable. Catherine had been considerably quieter however and had taken my comments on board, especially when I reminded her that the Solstice celebration would include quaffing gallons of cider, in the dark, next to a roaring fire.
‘Let’s just go ahead and set something up,’ she said to me in hushed tones after dinner. ‘We won’t say anything to Angus because he’ll only make a fuss.’
‘All right,’ I agreed.
I got the impression this may have been territory she was revisiting.
‘You must think us incredibly naïve about this sort of thing,’ she had added.
‘Not at all,’ I told her, not completely untruthfully. ‘You and Angus simply see the good in people and consequently I can imagine there may be a time in the future when you decide to open the hall to the public again, in much the same way as Dorothy said you had before. Both you and Angus are incredibly generous and kind, but I don’t think there would be any harm in protecting yourselves as well as those who come to enjoy your kindness.’
I was fairly certain that it was probably some sort of legal requirement, as well as good old-fashioned common sense, but couldn’t imagine for one second that either Angus or Catherine had ever been much hampered by worrying about that sort of thing.
Once the policy was in place and Catherine had gone to bed I researched what I could about the deeper meanings of Wishing Trees and the Holly and the Oak King. I wasn’t usually into that sort of thing, but I found it all rather intriguing and vowed to make a trip back into the woods before I left, to seek out the tree and perhaps even make my own wish and leave a little gift behind to mark my time at the hall.
Friday the first of December, the day of Jamie’s homecoming, dawned bright and clear and there was much excitement when I went down to the kitchen that morning and not only because the prodigal was due to put in an appearance.
‘Oh, Angus!’ I heard Catherine laugh as I pushed open the door. ‘Where on earth did you get it?’
‘And where on earth have you been hiding it?’ gasped Hayley.
I braced myself, wondering what on earth it could be that Angus had revealed, and whether this mysterious thing was responsible for his recent disappearances and grubby returns.
‘My goodness,’ I gulped, as my eyes alighted on what it was that held everyone’s attention. ‘Angus, that’s amazing.’
‘It’s American,’ he declared, looking immensely proud. ‘Which accounts for its size, I suppose. I tracked it down online and had it shipped over. I know it’s a little over the top . . .’
‘A little,’ snorted Hayley.
‘But I think the wall should be able to bear its weight,’ he continued. ‘We’ve used some pretty hefty fixings to secure it, haven’t we, Mick?’
‘Yes,’ said Mick. ‘I don’t think it’s going to be moving anywhere.’
I stood and gazed open-mouthed at the ginormous, brightly painted wooden Advent calendar which was now adorning the wall above Floss’s bed. Even the little dog was looking up at it, but whether in bewildered awe or more in concern that it might fall on her head, I couldn’t be sure.
The calendar, which was decorated with various traditional Christmas-associated themes such as wreaths, nutcrackers and trees, had twenty-four drawers, each, I guessed, hiding a considerably larger treat than a chunk of chocolate. Along with every other marketing ploy connected to the season, I didn’t hold any truck with Advent calendars, but this magnificent creation couldn’t fail to raise an eyebrow and draw attention.
‘There are treats for everyone,’ Angus confirmed, ‘and in some cases two. It’s taken me a while to track some things down, but I think everyone will like what I’ve found.’
‘So, is this what you’ve been up to all week?’ asked Catherine. I could tell she was feeling relieved.
‘It is,’ he beamed, ‘I’ve been looking for just the right present for each person, but there’s to be absolutely no peeking.’
We all laughed, wondering who was going to be first in line to open a drawer, but I wasn’t convinced that this was all Angus had been up to. Searching out presents for an Advent calendar, irrespective of its size, wouldn’t usually involve oil and soil-stained shirts. His wife might have been happy with his explanation, but I still had my sights firmly set on Angus and his antics.
‘And in view of the very sad fact that you might not be with us all that much longer, my dear,’ he said, turning to me and making me blush to my roots, ‘I thought it was only right that you should open the first drawer.’
I didn’t know what to say, especially as I still hadn’t made any effort to look for another post. Even though I had used the computer to set up the insurance policy and look up various Pagan rites and rituals, I hadn’t bothered to take even just a minute to look for a new job, but I knew I couldn’t put it off much longer. After all, Jamie was due home in just a few hours and the festive preparations would begin in earnest as soon as he was settled and I certainly didn’t want to be around then.
‘Go on,’ said Hayley, giving me a little shove of encouragement when I didn’t move. ‘We’re all dying to see what’s inside.’
I took a tentative step towards the calendar and ran my hands over the drawer marked ‘1’. It was decorated with a pair of plump robins and, much to my consternation, a painted red ribbon of silver bells.
‘The illustration might be a clue as to what’s inside,’ Angus said eagerly.
‘Don’t ruin it,’ joked Mick. ‘I thought the presents were supposed to be a surprise.’
Carefully I pulled open the drawer, which was deeper than I expected, and lifted out a gift-wrapped box, complete with a handwritten label.
‘For Anna,’ I read aloud, in a slightly shaky voice.
‘So open it then,’ Hayley urged.
Gingerly I tore through the paper and carefully opened the little cardboard box inside.
‘What is it?’ she said, rushing forward to peer over my shoulder.
‘It’s a music box,’ said Angus, when I didn’t answer her. ‘Turn the handle, Anna.’
I looked at the little silver hand crank and licked my lips, which were suddenly as dry as my throat.
‘What’s the tune?’ I croak
ed.
‘Just turn the handle and see,’ he encouraged again. ‘I think you’ll like it.’
The hall was suddenly so silent you could have heard a pin drop. Tentatively I turned the handle and the first few tinny bars of the song rang out, the song I was fully expecting to hear.
‘I think I know that tune,’ said Dorothy, her head inclined towards the sound. ‘Oh, whatever is it?’
‘Silver Bells,’ I said, tears springing to my eyes as the words caught in my throat. ‘It’s Silver Bells.’
‘Of course,’ she said.
I played it through for a second time and she and Catherine began to sing while Hayley beamed and Mick shrugged and shook his head, suggesting he didn’t recognise it.
I took little notice. My body was standing in the Wynthorpe kitchen, turning the handle, but my mind was far, far away. Decades away, watching my mother as she bustled about the kitchen, her hands covered in flour and the comforting scent of pine from the Christmas tree mingling with cinnamon, ginger and cloves as the fire crackled in the dining-room grate. How she had loved Christmas. Her voice reached me as clearly as if she was standing by my side and as she turned to bathe me in the warmth of her smile I stopped turning the handle and without a word packed the music box back into its little box.
Why that tune, I wondered, turning my gaze to Angus, and why that particular rose-patterned bedroom? Practically everything that had happened since I arrived at Wynthorpe Hall had thrown my past across the path of my present. Was it just a coincidence, or was there really some kind of magic afoot?
‘Don’t you like it?’ asked Hayley, her brows knitted together.
‘Yes,’ I said, still looking at Angus. ‘I always have.’
I excused myself from breakfast the second I felt I could get away without raising suspicion and took myself back to my room. I couldn’t linger long because there was still so much to do ahead of Jamie’s arrival, but I just needed a private moment in which to order my thoughts and at least try to make some sense of what was happening – what had been happening since the moment I flicked through the recruitment pages of The Lady magazine and my eyes fell upon the Wynthorpe Hall advertisement.
