by Mona Marple
“Enough about me, how are you, dear?” Helen asked.
Violet gave a small smile and shifted in her seat. “There’s really nothing to tell. I’m much more interested in hearing about the Academy plans.”
Helen’s expression clouded for a moment, then she let out a short, harsh laugh. “You’d have to ask Mr Snipe about that, Violet, you know what these men are like.”
“You’re not on board?” Violet asked.
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t say I’m not on board,” Helen said, although her tone had turned hard as metal. “I’d say I’ve given my opinion and so has everyone else, and now I continue as I always have. I’d do anything for this school, you know.”
“Winifred’s…” Violet murmured.
Helen looked at her closely. “The school will emerge, victorious, as it always has.”
“Where is Sid?” Violet asked. “It’s unlike him not to be out here… with you.”
Helen’s cheeks flushed. “He must be finalising his speech.”
“Ah,” Violet said. She turned to me. “Helen, you’ll remember these young beauties. Ellie Bean and Crystal Zee.”
“Of course, of course,” Helen said, but she was distracted. She’d only come over to see Violet, the star attraction, and it was obvious that she had no interest in the two of us.
“Your dress is amazing,” Crystal gushed.
“Just a rag, my dear!” Helen repeated, her expression stiff. “I must be going. These events are wonderful but it’s impossible to speak to everyone. I do believe I’m needed elsewhere!”
“God, the woman’s intolerable,” Violet said as soon as Helen was out of earshot.
“Did she mean Gianni Versace?” Crystal asked as she leaned back in towards Violet.
“Who knows,” Violet said, disinterested. “I’m not sure you can believe a word she says anyway.”
“Why not?” I asked with a blink.
“Sid Snipe’s never practiced a speech in his life. It’s a personal point of pride with him. He just stands up and says whatever feels right. Always has.”
“Do you think she’s got him locked in the cellar or something?” Crystal teased.
Violet let out a laugh. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m pretty sure she’s dead set against this Academy nonsense. She’s furious he’s gone against her wishes.”
“Well, my mother says the school’s been haemorrhaging money for decades,” Crystal said with glee, happy to have information to share.
“Your mother’s right no doubt,” Violet said. As she spoke, she looked up at the rafters of the building. The roof had been repaired recently, at great cost, largely paid for by generous donations from alumni. “The investment needed to keep this place running is massive.”
“Surely there are some wealthy parents ready to chip in?” Crystal asked, her brow furrowed. Her own parents were among the wealthiest, enjoying a level of riches that I could barely imagine. It was unthinkable to Crystal that anyone, anywhere, would go without. And not just go without the basics, but go without champagne at lunch and a new designer wardrobe for every season, without trips to St Barts in the summer and Aspen in the winter, without a new car every year and without the completely safe knowledge that such privilege would last forever.
“The school can only ask so often,” Violet said.
“Well, yes, but that just means they have to ask for more each time they ask,” Crystal said. She was familiar with the rules and regulations around this, and the answer was simple. If the school knew they would need an extra $3 million each year, they should just ask for $5 million and be done with it. It couldn’t be more straightforward in her privileged little head.
7
Violet
The blond woman is nice, in a privileged way. Something about her sincerity stops her ignorance being as annoying as it could be. And it’s clear she has a good heart.
I’d like her to be quiet a little to allow Ellie to talk.
The girl has fascinated me since I first saw her behind the counter of the coffee house. I knew, of course, right away that she was a witch. A common garden witch, I imagined, and they don’t generally find their way to Winifred’s.
I’d like to quiz her a little, but she seems happy to sit quietly and let her friend dominate the conversation.
“He’s late,” I said with a glance at my watch.
“These things never run smoothly,” Crystal said. “I was at a charity ball last month and they didn’t bring out the appetisers until almost 11pm!”
Ellie frowned at her. “Which ball?”
Crystal rolled her eyes. “I invited you. You said you were washing your hair, and then watching paint dry. I took that as a pretty clear no.”
“Oh, yeah,” Ellie said, as a light flush crossed her cheeks.
“You don’t care for nights like this?” I asked.
“Not really,” Ellie admitted. “I’m quite happy curled up on the settee at home, to be honest with you.”
“Well, you do work hard in the coffee shop, I’m not surprised.”
“I enjoy it,” Ellie said.
“I love nights like this,” Crystal gushed.
“Looking for future husbands?” I teased.
“Well, that too,” Crystal said with a laugh. She was far too attractive to be single. Not as naturally pretty as Ellie, but more well-presented in that obvious way that men enjoyed. She should have been snapped up at least once.
“Ah, something’s happening,” I murmured.
Helen Sculley took the stage and stood, in silence, until the room noticed her and grew silent. Someone wolf-whistled, a former jock who had grown middle-aged and saw the night as his chance to relive the pinnacle of his life.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” Helen said, her voice a little shaky. “It’s a blessing for me to stand here and welcome you to Winifred’s School of Witchcraft and Magick. I’ve been with this school since it opened its doors, and my work here has been my life’s greatest achievement.”
“Did I misread the invitation? Is it an evening with Helen Sculley?” Crystal joked.
“She’s buying time,” I whispered. “The head’s clearly delayed.”
“He’s here,” Ellie said, “we saw him.”
I shrugged.
“My dear husband Terrance often asks me why I work so early and so late, why I’m so dedicated to this position…”
Snickers rang out across the room. The audience had their own ideas about why she worked so early and late.
“…and I tell him that Winifred’s is a special place. The kind of place one is blessed to visit, or come across. I consider myself innately blessed to have dedicated my whole life to this place, and to you, as the alumni.”
“Get on with it!” The jock called, and Helen held her hands up and gave a throaty laugh.
“I apologise. I’m not an orator but I agreed to speak to you for a moment until your Head, Mr Snipe, was ready. It would appear that he’s a little delayed.”
A collective groan took over the room.
“Is he dead?” Someone called. Mr Snipe had been diagnosed with a heart condition at least 30 years before - all former alumni were informed, it was so serious and their generous donations were especially appreciated at such a troubling time - but had appeared to carry on his life exactly as before. A rumour had begun that he was immortal.
“I certainly hope not,” Helen said with a mild smile. “I think we all agree that I’m not cut out to replace his speaking duties. May I suggest that the food is served while the staff go to investigate?”
With that, she leaned forward slightly as if to bow, thought better of it, and began to totter off stage just as another figure approached.
“I’ll take it from here,” the blond slurred. If Helen Sculley appeared dolled up for the night, this woman, Kathi Salt, looked as if she’d been born for the role. Her ash blond hair tumbled atop her head and her make-up was impeccable. Eyes heavy with mascara, a rainbow of eyeshadows, her che
eks contoured until they had the hollowed out appearance of a waif, and blood red lips. The crowd cheered for her, although I had no idea why. She’d been an overly ambitious head of year in my time, all too happy to use her looks and charms to her advantage any way she could.
“You girls know her?” I whispered. “Who was she in your time?”
Crystal and Ellie glanced at each other, but Crystal shrugged. It was for Ellie to answer. Finally, I’d hear the red head express her own thoughts. “Head of year, I think.”
“Hmm,” I murmured. That made her tenure in that role far longer than typical.
“I heard that Ms Sculley never liked her,” Ellie said, “and that’s why she’s never been promoted any higher.”
“Oh!” Crystal exclaimed with a clap of her hands as the starters appeared. Tomato and basil soup all around. Her exclamation wasn’t for the food, though. “That’s Kathi Salt? I’d forgot who she was. Did you see her interview in MT?”
“No, I don’t subscribe,” I admitted. Magick Times was one of those low-brow tabloid newspapers, full of controversy and unfounded allegations. My mother had loved it. But then, she’d been featured in it so many times in articles that veered from the complimentary to the downright insulting. Perhaps that explained my own dislike for the rag. There was something troubling about never knowing whether your own mother’s face would be in the newspaper or not. “What did she have to say?”
“They called it an expose!” Crystal said with an eye roll. “But it was full of her own opinion, nothing more than that. All about the Academy stuff, how Sid Snipe’s ruining the place. And a few glamorous photos of her, draped all over a chaise longue in an animal fur.”
I pursed my lips. “How very professional of her.”
“Oh, my mum says she was dragged over hot coals about it,” Crystal said with a cheery shrug. “She looks okay now.”
With that, I took a delicate slurp of my soup and hoped I managed not to spill any over my dress.
“Please, ladies and gentlemen, continue with your food. I’ll say a few words of gratitude while you eat. We’re indebted as always to all of the alumni who continue to give generously to support Winifred’s. A round of applause please,” Kathi Salt instructed from the stage. A clatter as hundreds of spoons were placed back in bowls to make clapping physically possible. “Wonderful. Please, eat, enjoy. We are so fortunate to have a kitchen team who can put together such excellent food. If you’ll join me…”
And so it continued; spoons down after each mouthful of soup to allow more clapping. By the seventh time, I gave up on eating and pushed the bowl away. Kathi, clearly buying time, had just asked for a round of applause for the old boat hand - she clearly didn’t know his name.
“Hey, Miss, nice pics!”
Kathi Salt grinned at the comment as a young man - a recent graduate - held up a laptop and rotated it so everyone could see the garish image of Kathi Salt, apparently naked beneath a fur. My stomach clenched. I’d never been able to stomach such attention seeking behaviour.
“I brought the magazine, will you sign it Miss?”
“Oh, gentlemen, I’m flattered truly,” Kathi Salt said, her smile revealing bright white teeth. She had a horsey look about her and was too old to be gallivanting around in magazines naked, yet she clearly had a rather grand opinion of herself. “I didn’t plan to bring it up, but it’s relevant to this evening I suppose. You will all see great trouble in your lifetime, and it’s important that you find the courage to speak out.”
“Does she think it’s a commencement speech?” I asked nobody in particular, my voice low.
“Did you have to speak out without your clothes on?” A voice called from the back of the room. I turned to see Helen Sculley, arms folded across her chest, glare up at Kathi Salt.
“Oh, Helen, you tinker!” Kathi spat back at her. The tension between the two women filled the room.
The servants filed out from the kitchen and delicate plates of food danced their way out across the room. Swordfish and venison, octopus and pumpkin ravioli, squid ink stew and five bird roasts.
“Has anyone found dear Sid?” Kathi called across the room to Helen.
Helen gave a slight, imperceptible shake of her head. Kathi sighed.
“Please forgive me, it appears we’re dealing with a case of stage fright. Nothing to worry about. If the band can begin, please. Excuse me.” Kathi said. She gestured towards the skeletons on stage - The Brothers Bone, a bluegrass band that had been performing at the school’s functions for as long as I could remember.
8
Ellie
It began as a whisper of a headache, a tap on my temple that dared me to ignore it. I rummaged in my handbag for tablets but found none.
Kathi Salt had taken the stage and the food had made its appearance. My squid ink stew sat untouched in front of me.
Suddenly, my vision blurred and I closed my eyes for a moment, just in time for me to be pulled out of my body until I floated high above the sky. A storm raged on and I watched as Rex secured the boat on the mainland as the waves crashed against him and the winds blew his coat clean off him. He finished his work quickly and then, without a glance towards Winifred’s, retreated into his home.
The waves grew higher, like black mountains rising up from the water, each one pummelling the land it reached. The dim beam of a lighthouse in the distance offered the only light other than the school.
Thick, black clouds blanketed the sky and I felt myself tossed around in the wind. I forced my breathing to remain calm and turned my attention back to Winifred’s.
The building was grand and gothic and every window hinted at a secret best kept hidden.
An awful caw disturbed my thoughts and I watched as the vultures swept in, their sheer blackness like something from a nightmare. Once, twice, three times they circled before settling on the roof, hopping from one foot to another.
I shook my head and forced myself back to reality, back down to my body, where I landed with a gasp.
“Are you ok, dear?” Violet asked, peering at me over extravagant eye glasses. Crystal had turned to face the man seated on her other side and was at Stage 3 of flirting - Stage 1, smile; Stage 2, laugh; Stage 3, play with hair. Soon, if she liked him, she’d reach across and touch his arm to see if there was an electric response. No electric chemistry, no Stage 5 - which was to allow him to take her phone number. It had never happened yet.
“We have to go,” I urged. I tugged on Crystal’s arm and she turned to me, shot me a wide grin but a steely glare.
“Ellie, honey, I’m just speaking to Todd here,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Just touch him and be done with it,” I said.
“Ellie, whatever’s wrong? You look pale,” Violet said. She reached out a wrinkled hand and placed it on my forehead. “Oh, you’re a little hot. Are you ill?”
“Oh, no,” I groaned. Rex had the boat on the mainland. The storm was fierce. “We can’t get out.”
“Ellie, you’re not making sense,” Violet said. “The door’s right over there. We can leave at any time. Are you ill? Should I call someone?”
“We have to go,” I said, aware that I was talking in riddles.
“Crystal,” Violet called, “Crystal, sorry to interrupt.”
With a sigh, Crystal returned her attention to us. “What’s going on?”
“I had a premonition,” I managed.
Violet raised her eyebrows. “You have premonitions?”
“She’s had them since she was a kid,” Crystal said, flippant. “They wipe her out a little but she just needs to rest. Drink some water.”
“Listen to me!” I exclaimed through gritted teeth. I didn’t want everyone to hear. “We have to leave right now. Will you just trust me?”
Crystal eyed me. “What did you see?”
I closed my eyes, the vision still fresh in my mind. “Vultures.”
“Vultures?” Violet asked. From the way she shivered, I’d say someone had
just walked over her grave. “What kind?”
I looked at her, saw the understanding in her eyes. She knew the significance. I swallowed. “Black.”
“You’re sure? Absolutely sure?”
I nodded.
Violet placed a hand on the back of her chair and rose to her feet, then looked sharply at me and Crystal. “What are you waiting for? Come on!”
We weaved our way across the room as quickly as we could, considering the restrictions of our tight fitting outfits and the mingling crowds that filled every space of the room. Finally, we made it to the edge of the grand dining hall and escaped out into the labyrinthine corridors.
“What’s this about?” Crystal asked once we were alone.
“Vultures mean death,” Violet said, an urgency in her tone. “You knew that, Ellie?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Your premonitions are…” Violet searched for the right word. “They’re reliable?”
“Yes,” I said.
“You’ve seen vultures before?”
I swallowed, then nodded.
Violet stopped for a moment and met my gaze. “I knew you were special. There’s an energy around you. You have great powers, Ellie.”
“Oh, no,” I said with a scoff. “I’m pretty much the most average witch you can imagine.”
“Average witches aren’t gifted with death premonitions,” Violet scolded, then picked up the pace. “We have to get out of here.”
“The storm’s awful out there,” I explained, “and Rex is on the mainland.”
“The boat?”
“Over there too. The waters are too rough to risk it anyway. I think we’re trapped here.”
“We can call the Magick Squad,” Crystal said.
“They won’t come out for a premonition,” Violet said with a curl of her lip. An organisation had never been less deserving of their title than the Magick Squad was. They were the embodiment of a 9-5 office job culture, and they managed to find an excuse not to respond to the majority of calls they received.
