by Sam Short
Millie stood up, her legs struggling to take her weight, and reached for her mother with a trembling hand. “I can’t feel you, Mum,” she said, as her hand passed through her mother’s shoulder. “You look so young.”
Her mother smiled, her cheeks radiant, and the hem of the long loose dress she wore, blowing in an invisible breeze. “I’m as the cottage remembers me, Millie,” she said. “I’m at the age I was at when I lived in the cottage.”
“When you were pregnant with me?” said Millie, instantly regretting the accusatory tone she’d used.
“Yes, Millie,” said her mother. “And I’m so sorry I never told you about your past. Henry did a good job of explaining why when he gave you the letter I wrote. I was there when you spoke to him in the cavern. I could hear you, but I couldn’t reach you.”
“Henry told me that when Sergeant Spencer and Judith moved to town you helped them adjust,” said Millie, “but when you became pregnant you also became terrified of me growing up around magic, because of what Judith had done to her real parents.”
“There was more to it than that, sweetheart,” said her mother. “But, yes. Judith had accidentally killed her parents with magic, and when I discovered I was pregnant, I worried that my own child would one day make the same terrible mistake and suffer the awful guilt that Judith was destined to suffer with. So, I left the bay, and I never told you that you were the daughter of a witch. I’m sorry, Millie.”
Millie wiped her eyes. “You look so beautiful, Mum. So healthy. Not like the last time I saw you.”
“I was very ill, sweetheart. I’m sorry you had to see me like that while you were still at such a young age. It broke my heart every time I saw you cry when you looked at me,” said her mother, her dress shimmering with a golden light.
“I’m sorry you got ill, Mum,” said Millie. “Aunty Hannah and Uncle James acted as perfect parents to me, but I missed you so much, Mum.” More tears spilt over her cheeks. “So much.”
“I know, sweetie,” said her mother. “But I’m here now, aren’t I?”
Millie looked around the room. “Why are you here, Mum? I mean here — in Spellbinder Hall. I cast the spell in the cavern under the cottage.”
Her mother’s eyes twinkled as she spoke. “There wasn’t enough magic in the cottage cauldron, Millie. You haven’t lived in the cottage long enough, nor used the cauldron often enough to provide it with the energy it requires to perform the sort of magic you asked it to last night. I almost broke through to you, but there just wasn’t enough magic to make myself visible — I blew on your cheek, but I don’t think you felt it.”
Millie put her fingers to her face. “I did feel it, Mum.”
Her mother smiled. “When you left the cavern, Esmeralda had an idea.”
“Esmeralda?” said Millie. “I don’t understand.”
“We’re all there, Millie,” said her mother, with a smile. “All the witches who’ve ever lived above the coven cavern, be it when the building above it was a bronze-age roundhouse, or the cottage you live in now. There are lots of us, Millie. Our energies manifested as the way we were in life, all of us living together in a world of sunshine, nature and happiness.”
“Heaven?” said Millie.
“As good as,” said her mother. “Anyway — Esmeralda’s idea. As she pointed out, the spell you cast is linked to you — to your heart, not to the place you cast it in, and when we heard you telling Reuben that you were coming here today, to see Henry, Esmeralda suggested I try and break through to you here — where the magic is stronger.
“The moon-pool beneath Spellbinder Hall is infinitely more powerful than your cauldron, Millie, it was easier than I thought it would be to break through to this world, and with time, I’ll be able to break through to you in Windy-dune cottage, too.”
“With time?” whispered Millie. “You mean the spell I cast can bring you here again? It doesn’t work only once?”
“You’ve built a bridge,” said her mother, placing a hand on her chest. “Between our hearts. An unbreakable bridge. I may not be able to cross the bridge as often as I’d like to, but yes, I can come back again. Over, and over again.”
Millie moved close to her mother, and placed her arms around her shape, not able to feel her form, but able to smell the faint tang of pear drops.
“I don’t have long, Millie,” murmured her mother. “Not on this first trip. I’ll be able to stay longer each time I cross our bridge.”
Her mother’s cheek next to hers, and the tingling of soft energy against her earlobe, Millie whispered the question burning a hole in her heart. “Did you love him, Mum? Did you love my father?”
“Oh, yes, Millie,” said her mother. “I loved him with everything I had. We only knew each other for a short time, but in that short time he proved what a wonderfully good man he is.”
“You told me I was the result of a meaningless fling,” said Millie. “You told me you couldn’t find my father to tell him about me.”
“I’m sorry, Millie,” said her mother, her voice trembling. “I was a coward. I was too afraid to tell you what I’d done to your father. That I’d left him without saying goodbye.”
“Why did you leave without telling him you were pregnant?” said Millie, her words heavy in her mouth.
“He had responsibilities, Millie,” she whispered in her daughter’s ear. “Huge responsibilities. Too many responsibilities for one person. I feared that another responsibility would break him, Millie, and I worried about how magic would affect you in the future, I left Spellbinder Bay without telling him. I left magic behind, and I left him behind — for his sake, and yours. Or so I thought, but really, it was for my sake. I see that now. I saw that a long time ago, before I died, but it was too late. I was selfish, Millie. I wanted you and me to be safe, and I didn’t consider how you or your father would feel. I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”
Millie licked her lips, the final question trapped in her throat, unwilling to be born into reality. She forced it from herself, pulling away from her mother and staring into her eyes. “Who is it, Mum? Who’s my father?”
Her mother’s eyes lit up, and she reached for her daughter, her hand dissolving in a shower of dim sparks as it slid over Millie’s arm. “A good man, Millie. A man you’re already very close to.”
“Just say his name, Mum,” said Millie. “Please, just say his name.”
“Okay,” said her mother. “Your father is David Spencer, and I loved him when we created you, and I believe he loved me, too.”
Millie stepped backwards and dropped into the armchair, her veins fizzing with adrenaline. “Sergeant Spencer is my father?” said Millie.
“He is,” said her mother.
“I have so many questions,” said Millie, her fingernails digging deep into her thighs. “I don’t know what to ask.”
Bending slowly, her mother got to her knees in front of Millie, placing her formless hands over her daughter’s. “Then let me try and answer the questions I’d have if I was in your position,” she said. “Beginning with why I didn’t tell him. I couldn’t, Millie. He was a young man who’d fostered a toddler. A toddler who’d killed her parents. David was thrown into a world of magic he knew nothing about, and despite what he may think he remembers, he struggled to cope. I mean really struggled to cope. I couldn’t add to his responsibilities, Millie. I couldn’t tell him I was pregnant.”
“You decided he couldn’t cope,” said Millie. “You made the decision for him.”
“I know,” said her mother. “I’m sorry, but I can’t turn back the clock. I was young. We were both young. I was frightened about bringing you into a world of magic. I did the wrong thing. I know that.”
“You met him when he moved to town,” said Millie. “Henry told me you’d met Sergeant Spencer and Judith — he said you’d helped them settle in, but it never occurred to me… that… that…”
“That we fell in love?” said her mother. “That I was there for him, and he was there for me, t
oo? That sometimes life can reach inside your head and make you forget about being sensible? That we didn’t use precautions? That I cried every day for weeks after leaving Spellbinder Bay? That I sneaked back here on numerous occasions and watched David from afar? That when you were born, I wanted nothing more than to place you in his safe hands and hear him tell me how happy I’d made him — to hear him tell me how much he loved you, and me? That I never loved another man again? That I want nothing more than to live my life over, and change every mistake I ever made?” She looked at the floor. “There are a lot of that’s, Millie? Some I regret, and some… I wouldn’t change for the world, my beautiful girl.”
The salty taste of tears on her lips, Millie looked at her Mother. “I love you, Mum.”
“I love you, too, sweetheart,” said her mother. “And when I’ve seen you and David together in your cottage, watching you from a place I couldn’t reach you from, I’ve seen him look at you sometimes, like he knows.”
Millie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Do you think he does know? Or suspect? I do look like you.”
“Our noses may be similar, but we don’t look that alike,” said her mother. “Not to him. Not after twenty-four years.”
“It’s a good job I kept the photograph of you in my bedroom,” said Millie. “That would have freaked him out — seeing a picture of you in my living room!”
Her mother laughed, the same high pitched sing-song laughter that Millie remembered so well. “I’ve been watching David for years,” said her mother. “He took his job as a community policeman very seriously, and would visit people regularly — especially those who lived off the beaten track. When I died, and found my energy back in the cottage, I’d look forward to the days he’d visit Esmeralda, watching him age gracefully, and wondering what he’d say if he knew he had a daughter.”
A coldness gripped Millie’s insides. “But he has a daughter! A daughter he loves! I can’t tell him that he’s my father!”
“Of course you can,” said her mother.
“But Judith,” said Millie. “She’s his daughter.”
Her mother gazed into Millie’s eyes, her face beginning to fade. “Then he’ll have two daughters. Two daughters he loves.”
“Mum?” said Millie. “What’s happening? I can hardly see you.”
“The bridge is weakening,” said her mother. “I have to go now, but I’ll come back as soon as I can. Tell your father who you are, sweetheart.”
“Mum?” said Millie. She stared at the empty space before her, tears still falling, and spoke to nobody. “I have a father,” she whispered. “I have a father.”
Chapter 26
Before Millie could touch the police station door, it swung open, almost hitting her in the face. An elderly woman stepped through it, and smiled at her. “Hello, dear!” she said.
“Oh, hello, Pamela,” said Millie. “How’s Jack?”
“He’ll be out of the hospital by the end of the week, but he won’t be doing any marathons for a month or two,” said Pamela. “He’ll be glad to be out of there — especially since they dumped that terrible man in the room next door. That murderer. Jack and the boys wanted to sneak in at night and smother him, they’re disgusted at what he did to a fellow member of the metal detecting community. I told them they were hypocrites after the way they treated Tom, and that they didn’t have the balls between them to smother a man.”
“Oh,” said Millie. “Well, that’s probably for the best. We could do without another murder around here.”
“That’s exactly what I told them,” said Pamela. “Two wrongs don’t make a right, I said. Jack and the boys agreed, so they’ve come up with another way of honouring Tom Temples.”
“What have they decided to do?” said Millie.
“Pawn Shop Pete came to visit Jack, you see,” said Pamela. “And he told them about the gold he had in his safe. Tom’s gold.”
“Yes?” said Millie, wondering how she was going to tell Sergeant Spencer. Wondering how she was going to tell David. Wondering how she was going to tell her father that she was his daughter.
“Pawn Shop Pete told Jack that you and young Judith had told him not to touch that gold,” said Pamela.
“That’s right,” said Millie, wondering if her father would hug her or walk away.
“But they came up with an idea, you see, but they needed the police’s permission to be able to act on it. That’s why I’m here. I came to ask if the boys could auction off the gold and use it for a good cause. Sergeant Spencer said yes, but between me and you,” said Pamela, “I think it was the plate of biscuits I brought as a sweetener that sealed the deal. Chocolate chips and raisins are a very hard biscuit to resist. Especially for a tubby chap like the sergeant. He was straight into them, like a greedy bugger at a free buffet.”
“Right,” said Millie, wondering if she would cry or smile when she told her father who she was. “What’s the good cause, then?”
Pamela gave a proud smile. “They’re building a hall. A community hall. The Tom Temples Hobby Hall, it’s going to be named! People can use it for meetings, book clubs – whatever they like, and the boys are buying a few metal detectors, too! They’re going to take local children metal detecting! To keep them out of trouble!”
“That is a wonderful idea,” said Millie. “And I still have the gold that Jack and the others found in the sand dunes. It’s in my cottage. They can have that, too.”
“How splendid!” said Pamela. “The boys will be happy! Now, you get yourself inside that police station before all those biscuits have gone, you look like the type of girl who likes a good feed every now and again.”
“Erm… thank you?” said Millie.
Pamela smiled. “You’re welcome.” She lowered her voice. “You know,” she said. “The policing in this town is very unconventional, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s not in every town that you can walk into a police station and find a father and daughter having so much fun together! You wait until you see what those two in there are wearing! They had me in stitches! Bye now!”
“Goodbye, Pamela,” said Millie, waiting until the smell of cinnamon and brown sugar had dispersed before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. When she considered herself calm enough, she pulled the door open and prepared herself for the conversation she was both dreading, and anticipating with a happy glow in her stomach.
“Morning, Millie,” said Sergeant Spencer, looking up from behind the tall custody desk. “Are you alright? You sounded nervous when you phoned me and asked for a chat. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” said Millie. “I just wanted some… advice?”
Sergeant Spencer gave her a warm smile. “Of course! Come into my office, Judith won’t mind giving us some time alone.”
Judith poked her head from around the office door, her body hidden. “But not until Millie’s seen our shirts, Dad!”
“Of course not!” said Sergeant Spencer. “Our t-shirts from the zoo were delivered this morning, Millie,” he said. “You’re going to love them! Pamela did!”
“Close your eyes, Millie,” said Judith. “They work better when we’re standing next to each other.”
“Erm.. okay,” said Millie, shutting her eyes, anxiety boiling in her chest.
After a few seconds of shuffling feet and a little laughter, Judith spoke, her voice excited. “Okay, open your eyes and prepare to be dazzled by our zoo visiting outfits for next year’s father and daughter anniversary trip!”
When Millie opened her eyes, her heart sank. She forced a smile and tried to laugh. “Very good,” she said.
“It’s not the reaction I was expecting,” said Sergeant Spencer, his arm around Judith’s shoulder, his daughter’s head on his chest. “Maybe we were spoiled by Pamela’s over the top reaction. That woman couldn’t stop laughing.”
“Dad designed them,” said Judith. “He chose what to have written on them.”
Millie smiled wider, her spirits
sinking and her stomach in tight knots of hopelessness. How could she come between them? She couldn’t. She forced a giggle. “No! They’re brilliant! I love them!”
They were funny. They were cute, even, but seeing her father’s face caught in a mock scowl and superimposed over the 3D features of a grumpy orangutan’s face, with the words father to the best cheeky chimp in the zoo written below, made her realise she was trespassing. Trespassing on a father and daughter relationship forged over almost three decades. Forged from an awful tragedy, and wrapped securely in bars of the toughest steel.
Judith’s shirt, with the words daughter to the grumpiest great ape in the zoo, printed below her smiling face, superimposed over the face of a grinning chimp, made her mind up for her. She had no right to change Sergeant Spencer’s life, or the life of his adopted daughter.
“Anyway, enough of that,” said Sergeant Spencer. “I’ll make you a cup of coffee, Millie. Grab yourself a biscuit or two from the plate which Pamela left for us, and come into my office. Let’s have that chat you wanted.”
“You know what?” said Millie. “I think I’ll give it a miss.”
“Really?” said Sergeant Spencer. “Are you sure? You sounded nervous when you phoned me.”
Millie nodded. “I’m sure,” she said. “I think I was a little stressed out after the murders and the motorbike crash, you know? I just wanted some advice on how to process it all, but seeing those shirts has cheered me up. Laughter does seem to be the best medicine.”
“That’s how I deal with stressful things,” said the big man. “By not talking about them too much, and laughing. Are you sure I can’t help, Millie? There’s nothing wrong with asking for a little help now and again.”
“It’s fine,” said Millie, turning to face the door. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to take a walk along the beach. I’m keeping an eye out for Lillieth. I still haven’t had the chance to offer her the lighthouse as a home for when she’s in these parts.”
