by Adele Abbott
Witch Is Where
Rainbows End
Published by Implode Publishing Ltd
© Implode Publishing Ltd 2021
The right of Adele Abbott to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved, worldwide. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 1
“Penny for them,” Jack said.
It was Sunday, and Jack and I were having lunch in the village pub, The Middle. Florence had been at Wendy’s house most of the morning.
“I was just wondering where to start my search for the first of the guardians.”
“I thought Martin had given you her name.”
“He did, yeah: Madam Rodenia, but she could be anywhere.”
“Have you tried the Candlefield phone book?”
“She won’t be in the phone book.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s one of the compass stone guardians.”
“I still think it’s worth a shot.”
“Have you decided what you’d like to eat yet?” Arthur Spraggs, the landlord, had appeared at our table.
“I’ll have the Sunday roast, please, Arthur,” I said.
“Which meat?”
“Beef, please.”
“Same for me,” Jack said. “But with chicken, please.”
“Two Sunday roasts it is. I assume you’ve heard that the police have charged her brother with Marcy Drinkwater’s murder?”
“Hmm.” I was trying to forget about that fiasco.
“He sounds like a nasty piece of work,” Arthur said. “I wonder what’s going to happen to the tea room now.”
“When I spoke to the Peeps, it sounded like they’d still be interested in buying it.”
“I hope someone does. It would be a shame for it to close. I’ll take your order through to the kitchen.”
“So?” Jack said.
“What?”
“Are you going to check if Madam Rodenia is in the phone book?”
“Okay, but only to get you off my case.” I took out my phone and called Aunt Lucy.
“Jill, have you called about the lido?”
“The lido?”
“I take it Grandma hasn’t spoken to you yet?”
“No, I haven’t seen her today. What’s all this about the lido?”
“I think I’d better let her tell you that.”
“Fair enough. Do you happen to have the Candlefield phone book handy?”
“Yes, it’s right here.”
“Would you check to see if there’s an entry for someone with the surname Rodenia, please?”
“How are you spelling that?”
“R-O-D-E-N-I-A.”
“Just a sec, I’ll see. P, Q, R. Roberts, Robins. No, It doesn’t look—oh, hang on, yes. There’s only the one, though: A. Rodenia. Do you want the number?”
“Yes, please. And the address, too.”
When I came off the call, Jack was smirking. “Was I right? Or was I right?”
“It’s probably not her.”
“Are you going to call the number?”
“It won’t be her.”
“You won’t know if you don’t give it a try.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll call her.” The number rang out. “No answer. It’s probably not her.”
“It might be.”
“I’ll go to the address after we’ve finished lunch.”
“Thanks, Jack, you’re so clever,” he said to himself. “Don’t mention it, Jill.”
“I’m telling you; it won’t be her.”
***
By the time we’d finished our meals, it was almost time to collect Florence from Wendy’s house.
“You can head home if you like, Jack. I want to tell Donna about the unicorns.”
“Okay. Oscar said he might pop over later, so I ought to show willing and stick at least a few stamps in my album.”
Donna must have been looking through the window because she’d opened the door before I’d even had a chance to knock.
“I was hoping you’d be the one who came over, Jill.”
“Is everything okay? Is Florence alright?”
“Yes, the two of them are upstairs playing with Bob.”
“Who’s Bob?”
“My father’s brother. He’s staying with us for a couple of days. He’s great with kids.”
“Hang on. Are you saying that your father’s brother is called Bob?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“That means Bob’s your uncle,” I laughed.
“I know he is. I just said so.”
“But I mean, Bob’s your uncle.”
“Yeah. So?”
“Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Has Florence behaved herself?”
“She’s been as good as gold, as always. There is one thing, though, Jill—”
“Yeah?”
“She said something to Wendy about the two of them going to see a unicorn. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. I assumed Florence was joking.”
“Actually, it’s true. I recently did some work for the queen of the unicorns. When I’d finished on the case, I asked Ursula, that’s the queen, if it would be possible for Florence to pay her a visit. She agreed, and even said that Florence could take a friend with her.”
“That’s fantastic. When is this?”
“I didn’t mention it before because I’m waiting for a call back from Ursula, to confirm that next Sunday will be okay. Will you be around then?”
“We’ll make sure we are. Wendy won’t want to miss the opportunity to meet a real unicorn. Do you want to come in for a cuppa?”
“I’d love to, but I have stuff I need to do.”
“Okay, I’ll call the girls.” She went back into the house, and shouted up the stairs, “Wendy! Florence’s mum is here.”
A few seconds later, the two of them came rushing down the stairs, followed by a man.
“Jill, this is my Uncle Bob,” Donna said.
Somehow, I managed not to laugh.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Uncle Bob. I hope Florence hasn’t worn you out.”
“Not at all. I love playing with the kids. They’re lots of fun.”
“Come here.” Donna called Wendy to her side. “I’ve just been talking to Florence’s mummy and it’s true, you will be able to go and see a unicorn.”
“Yay!” Wendy did a little jig around the hall. “When?”
“We don’t know for sure yet,” I said. “But it’s probably going to be next Sunday. I’ll let your
mummy know as soon as I can.”
“I told you, Wendy, didn’t I?” Florence said. “Ursula is the queen of the unicorns, isn’t she, Mummy?”
“That’s right, and she lives in a big palace.”
“Mummy,” Florence said, much more serious now, “Wendy and her mummy have been practising their dance for next week’s competition. Why haven’t we?”
I turned to Donna. “Are you actually going to take part in that thing?”
“I don’t really have a choice.” She shrugged. “All the other mums are.”
“Will you, Mummy?” Florence pleaded. “I want to be in the competition too.”
“Err, yeah, okay. I suppose so.”
“Cool! Can we practise our dance when we get home?”
“I have to work this afternoon, so why don’t you come up with a dance for us to do? Then, when I get back, we can practise it together.”
“Okay, Mummy.”
Oscar was already at the old watermill. He and Jack were in the kitchen, looking through Jack’s stamp album.
“Hi, Oscar, Jack said you might be popping over. I know he was looking forward to showing you how his collection is taking shape.”
If looks could kill, Jack would have struck me down on the spot.
“Hi, Jill.” Oscar had what looked like toothpaste on his chin. “While I’m here, I also want to finalise the details for our trip to StampCon.”
“Jack’s talked about nothing else, have you, darling? When is it, Oscar?”
“Next month. On a Saturday.”
“You should come with us, Jill,” Jack said.
“I’d love to, but you know Florence has her dance class on Saturdays. In fact, she and I are taking part in a dance competition this week.”
“Since when?” Jack looked gobsmacked. “You said you—”
“Since always. I’m really looking forward to it.”
“Mummy says I can make up a dance for us to do,” Florence chipped in.
“Did she, pumpkin? You should make it really complicated because Mummy loves a challenge.”
“Sorry, Oscar,” I said. “We’re interrupting. You and Jack will want to make your plans for StampCon.”
“I’m really looking forward to it this year. My friend, Phil and his wife, Natalie, are going to come with us.”
Florence went upstairs to plan our dance routine, and I went through to the lounge where I stayed until I heard Oscar leave.
“Are you really going to take part in that dance competition?” Jack said. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with it?”
“Of course I do. Florence and I are bound to win.”
“Not if you fall off the stage like you did when you were dancing with Winky.”
“Thanks for the reminder. By the way, do you think Oscar made up those names?”
“Which names?”
“Phil and Natalie.”
“Why would he make them up?”
“Just think about it. What are stamp collectors called?”
“Philatelists. So?”
“And collecting stamps is called philately, right?”
“Yeah?”
“Philately.” I laughed. “Phil and Natalie. See?”
“Hmm.”
***
I’d tried calling the number for A. Rodenia several times, but there had been no answer, so I magicked myself to the address listed in the phone book. Where would you have expected a guardian to live? In a sprawling mansion? In a secret cave? In a castle in the clouds?
None of the above.
The address turned out to be a third floor flat in the seedier part of North Candlefield. This was looking more and more like a fool’s errand. Surely, the guardian of the north compass stone wouldn’t live here. Still, I’d come this far, so I figured I might as well speak to A. Rodenia, on the off chance that the guardian was one of his relatives.
“He’s not in.” The man standing in the doorway directly across the corridor was holding what smelled like a bowl of tomato soup.
“He?”
“Yeah. He’s down the bingo hall.”
“Do you happen to know his name?”
“Rhodes or something like that.”
“Could it be Rodenia?”
“Yeah, that’s it. I get post for him sometimes. The posties around here are useless. I’m still waiting for my kite catalogue. They reckon they posted it two weeks ago.”
“You don’t happen to know the guy’s first name, do you?”
“The postman?”
“No. Mr Rodenia.”
“I’ve no idea. We don’t talk.”
“But you think he might be at the bingo hall?”
“More than likely. He works there.”
“Right. Thanks for the help.”
“I’ve got over fifty kites. Would you like to see them?”
“Thanks, but I’m in a bit of a hurry right now.”
Candle Bingo Hall looked as though it had once housed a cinema. According to the sign next to the main doors, there were sessions every afternoon and evening, so I followed the stream of punters inside.
“Card?” A young man dressed in a blue suit, yellow shirt and blue bow tie held out his hand.
“Sorry?”
“I need to see your membership card.”
“I’m not here to play. I’m just looking for someone. Do you know a man called Rodenia?”
“Yeah. He’s the caller.”
“Caller?”
The young man looked at me like I was stupid. “The guy who calls the numbers.”
“Right. Of course. I just need a word with him.”
“You still can’t come in without a membership card.”
“I’m not a member.”
“You can join over there.” He pointed to a small window.
“How much does it cost?”
“It doesn’t. It’s free.”
“Oh, okay.” I walked over to the window and gave the woman my details. A few minutes later, I was a proud member of Candle Bingo.
“How many sets do you want?” the woman asked.
“Sets of what?”
“Bingo cards.” She held up a card full of numbers.
I’d never actually played cash bingo, although I had once won some bathroom scales on the prize bingo at Blackpool. Seeing as I would have to wait until the caller had finished working, I decided I might as well give it a try.
“How many cards do I need?”
“Most people have a set of six. That way you know you have all the numbers.”
I had no idea what she meant, but I decided to take her advice anyway. “Okay. I’ll have a set of six.”
It was more expensive than I’d expected, but I figured I’d end up with a nice profit when I won.
“Have you got a dabber?” she called after me.
“Sorry?”
She held up an enormous marker pen.
“Oh, right. You’d better give me one of those too.”
Even though the bingo hall was busier than I’d expected, there were still several free tables. I’d only been seated for a few minutes when the caller, who I assumed was Mr Rodenia, walked onto the stage. In his late twenties, he was younger than I’d expected. He too was wearing a blue suit, yellow shirt, and blue bow tie. His floppy fringe was so long that it made him look like an Old English Sheepdog, which made me wonder how he managed to see the numbers.
The caller went so fast that I found it really difficult to keep pace. The two old ladies on the next table, who had three sets of six books in front of them, were obviously veterans because they had no such problem.
The first four games came and went, and I didn’t get as much as a sniff. But then, on the fifth game, I hit a lucky streak, and in no time at all, I needed only one number to win the full house.
“Come on number thirty-seven,” I said under my breath. “Come on thirty-seven.”
Just then, my phone vibrated with a text message. I took it out of my pocket, to find
that it was just stupid spam. When I looked up at the illuminated board, which was on the wall behind the caller, number thirty-seven was now lit.
“Bingo!” I held my card aloft.
The prize money was one-hundred and twenty-five pounds, which meant this little trip had proven to be worthwhile, even if I drew a blank on my search for the guardian.
Another young man, wearing an identical blue and yellow uniform, came over to my table and took my card. After studying it for a minute, he shouted to the caller, “It’s a false call.”
“What do you mean, false call?” I said. “I’ve got a full house.”
“You don’t have the last number called.”
“Yes, I do. Number thirty-seven.”
“That isn’t the last number called. Number twenty-three was called after that.”
“But I still have a full house.”
“I’m sorry, but the rules are very clear. You must have the last number called on your card.” He handed it back to me and the game continued.
Just three numbers later, the woman on the next table shouted, “Bingo!”
And won all of my money.
The rest of the games were a total washout. When the session ended, I hurried down the aisle to catch the caller as he came off the stage.
“Excuse me,” I shouted.
“If you’re about to complain about missing your call, there’s nothing I can do about it. Those are the rules.”
“It’s not that, although I do think that was very unfair.”
“What do you want, then?”
“Is your name Rodenia, by any chance?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I’m looking for someone called Madam Rodenia, and I wondered if she might be a relative of yours.”
“I don’t know anyone who goes by the name of Madam Rodenia.”
“Are you sure? You’re the only Rodenia in the phone book.”
“That’s because I’m the only one who lives around here. Since my parents died, that is.”
“I’m Jill. And you are?”
“Adam.”
“Adam? As in, rhymes with madam?” Was it possible that Martin had misheard the name?
“Yeah. What is it you want, anyway?”
“I’m looking for the guardian of the north compass stone.”
“Oh?” It was clear from his reaction that my words had caught him off guard.
