by Adele Abbott
We’d arranged to meet at eight, and it was now five-past. Surely he wasn’t going to stand me up.
“Jill!” He suddenly appeared, out of breath. “I’m really sorry. Have you been waiting long?”
“No, I’ve only just arrived.”
“I took Chief for a walk in the park, and he wouldn’t come back when I called him.”
“Oh dear.” I laughed. “Now you know how it feels.”
“It’s just not like him. He’s normally such an obedient dog.”
“Yeah well. Dogs—they’re unpredictable. Mine’s depressed at the moment.”
“Why’s that?”
“His hamster won’t talk to him. He’s otherwise occupied.”
“Let me guess.” Drake grinned. “Book club?”
“How did you know?”
“It’s the same at my place. Chief wanted a hamster. I wasn’t sure, but I went along with it. Then he started complaining because The Bard spent all of his time reading.”
“The Bard?”
“That’s the hamster’s name. Don’t ask. Anyway, The Bard has even started a book club.”
“That’s unbelievable. So has Hamlet.”
“Hamlet?”
“Barry’s hamster.”
We both realised the absurdity of the conversation, and laughed.
“Have you been here before?” I asked.
“Yeah, a few times.”
“I’m a little confused. Everything is red.”
“The colour scheme works though; don’t you think?”
“Yeah, but the name?”
“Blue? That’s because they play blues here.”
“Why didn’t they call it ‘blues’ instead of ‘blue’?”
“They did. The ‘S’ fell off. That seems to happen a lot in Candlefield. People just got used to calling it Blue, and the name stuck.”
The food was excellent, and so was the service. The music? Whilst I was never going to be a big blues fan—it was okay. The restaurant wasn’t too busy, so we had managed to get a quiet table. It was good to spend some time with Drake.
“How’s the house hunting going?” I felt I should ask, although I hoped he might have changed his mind about finding a place in Washbridge.
“Not very well. I haven’t made much progress so far.”
“Oh dear, that’s a shame.” What do you mean: hypocrite?
“But, I have a feeling my luck might be about to change.”
“Why’s that?”
“I was in Cuppy C the other day, and the twins asked about my house-hunting. I told them I was on the point of giving up, and your grandmother happened to overhear.”
“Grandma?”
“She was there with friends. She said she might be able to help.”
Oh no.
“Help how?”
“Apparently, she’s expanded her business. It’s a wool shop, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, Ever A Wool Moment.”
“She said she’d expanded into the empty shop next door. Apparently, there’s a flat above the shop which she’s had renovated, and is looking to let. That’s great, isn’t it?”
“Great!” I tried to sound enthusiastic.
Grandma must somehow have known that I didn’t want Drake to live in Washbridge. She was messing with my head again.
“I’m going around there tomorrow to take a look at it. Would you like to come with me?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. It’s election day in Candlefield.”
“Oh yes. I remember now. Your grandmother did say she wouldn’t be at the flat, but that someone called Kathy would show me around.”
Oh great! So, not only was Drake going to be living in Washbridge, but my sister, who knew nothing about him, was going to be showing him around the flat. It just got better and better!
“Kathy’s my sister.” I knew I had to tell him—it was going to come out anyway.
“Really?”
“Well my adoptive sister actually.”
“Your grandmother never mentioned that.”
“She’s forgetful like that.”
Chapter 19
When I left for work the next morning, Mr Ivers was sitting on the wall outside our flats.
“Morning, Jill,” he said, barely looking up.
“Are you okay, Mr Ivers?”
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
“Are you sure? You don’t sound okay.”
“Well, seeing as you asked—”
When would I ever learn?
“I’m feeling a bit down at the moment.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’ve probably noticed that I don’t have a girlfriend.”
There had been a short spell when Mr Ivers had been transformed into ‘Ivy’, the playboy, who’d had several girlfriends within the space of a week. But magic had been involved, and as soon as the spell had been reversed, he’d reverted to the pathetic creature now sitting in front of me. Poor old Mr Ivers; he wasn’t what you’d call a looker, although the makeover the twins had given him had certainly improved his appearance. He had no charisma, and his get up and go had long since got up and gone. In short, he had absolutely nothing going for him.
“I’m sure there’s someone out there for you somewhere.”
“But where? I’ve tried everything. I’ve joined countless clubs and societies to try and meet someone. I’ve even tried online dating.”
“How did that work out?”
“I went on a couple of dates, but they never contacted me again.”
“What sort of things did you talk about on your dates?”
“Movies, mainly.”
“That could be the problem. Not everyone is as keen on movies as you are.”
“What about you, Jill?” he said. His eyes brightened for a moment. Oh no! Alarm bells were ringing. “I’ve always felt like you and I would make a good match. And, you don’t seem to have a boyfriend. I thought maybe—”
“No. I—err—there is someone.”
“I haven’t seen you with anyone.”
“No. They—he—sometimes works away—a lot—often.”
“So you and I couldn’t—”
“No. I’m sorry. I’m spoken for.”
“Oh.” He looked downcast again. I felt like I’d just told a young child there was no Santa Claus.
“I do have a suggestion, though.”
“What’s that?” He looked at me, hopefully.
“I happen to know of an exclusive dating agency which might be able to help you.”
“I’ve tried dating agencies before.”
“You won’t have tried this one, and the owners just happen to be friends of mine.” I felt in my pocket and took out the Love Spell card. “Here, take this. Give them a call, and tell them Jill Gooder recommended that you contact them. I’m sure you’ll get the VIP treatment.”
He looked at the card. “Do you really think they might be able to help?”
“I’m sure they will. What do you have to lose?”
“Okay, I will. Thank you.”
As I drove to the office, I began to have second thoughts. What had I done? Milly, Lily, Tilly and Hilary had told me about their stringent vetting procedure. I wasn’t sure Mr Ivers would get through any vetting procedure, particularly if there was a boredom threshold built into the test.
***
The Scoots were waiting for me when I arrived at the office. I hadn’t been expecting them, and I could tell by their demeanour that something was wrong. Mrs Scoot looked as white as a ghost—if you’ll pardon the pun. Mrs V had apparently given each of them a scarf, but that didn’t appear to have helped.
“I know we don’t have an appointment,” Mr Scoot said. “But we hoped you might have time to see us.”
“Yes, of course. Please come through.” I led them into my office.
Winky was on at me as soon as I walked in.
“You’ll have to wait for your food,” I said under my breath.
He scow
led, but I ignored him.
“Take a seat,” I said. “Would you like a drink?”
They declined the offer.
“What’s happened?”
“It’s getting worse,” Mr Scoot said. “We can’t stay in that house another night.”
“I won’t go back there,” Mrs Scoot said.
“Can you tell me what happened? Did you see something?”
“Objects were moving around, there were strange noises, doors opening and closing by themselves—”
“But you didn’t actually see a ghost?”
“I don’t know,” Mrs Scoot said. “I was upstairs in the bedroom, looking in the mirror, when I thought I saw something behind me. But when I turned around, there was nothing there.”
“The same thing happened to me when I was shaving,” Mr Scoot said. “I bent over to rinse my face, and when I looked up, there was someone or something looking over my shoulder. But when I turned around, there was nothing there. We can’t both be imagining things, can we?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Why don’t I stay there tonight, and see what I find? Something about this situation doesn’t sit right with me. The best thing you can do is go and stay with someone. Do you have relatives close by?”
“My mother lives nearby,” Mrs Scoot said. “We could stay with her for a while.”
“In that case, why don’t you go home and pack?”
“I can’t go back there!” Mrs Scoot sounded panic-stricken.
“I’ll go and get us a few things,” Mr Scoot offered. “And then we’ll go to your mother’s.”
I felt really sorry for the Scoots. They clearly loved that house, but were now too afraid to spend another night there.
I’d never liked scary movies; they always made me jump. Kathy absolutely loved them, and often used to drag me along with her. I think she enjoyed seeing me with my hands over my eyes during the scary bits. And, even though I now regularly talked to a ghost, I was still worried about spending the night at the Scoots’ house. Maybe I should have a talk with my mother first. If anyone should have the lowdown on hauntings, she should.
“You called?” My mother appeared at the other side of my desk.
“How do you do that?”
“I’m your mother. When you call, I come running—well more like floating, I suppose.”
“But I was only thinking about calling you.”
“Same thing in my book. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
I quickly brought her up to speed with the Scoots’ case.
“Do you think it could be a ghost?” I said.
“It’s possible, but I share your concerns. It sounds more like some sort of scam. I don’t understand why so many houses on the same street would suddenly experience a haunting. Also, the fact that the vacated properties have been bought by an anonymous buyer is very suspicious.”
“What would you suggest I do?”
“I think your idea to spend the night there is the right approach.”
“But what if there is a ghost?”
“There’s no reason for you to be afraid. You’re a level three witch and more than a match for any ghost.”
“I suppose so.” I tried to appear confident, but deep down inside, I was terrified.
“Hey, you!” Winky said, after my mother had disappeared. “A cat could die of starvation in this office.”
“You have enough fat reserves to keep you going for weeks.”
“Cheek! You can talk.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve noticed you’re putting on the pounds. It must be all of those custard creams and blueberry muffins.”
***
Not only was I facing the prospect of a night in a haunted house, but first I had an even scarier day in front of me. Today was election day in Candlefield, and I’d arranged to meet Grandma, Aunt Lucy and the twins at the Town Hall. If the result went against Grandma, my life would be a misery. Recent polls had shown Grandma was running neck and neck with Lance Boyle; it was too close to call.
“So you decided to come then?” Grandma said, when I arrived at the Town Hall steps.
“It’s only just after eleven.”
“Some of us have been up since six o’clock,” she said, tapping her watch.
“I do have a business to run in Washbridge, you know. I had some clients to see.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise your silly little P.I. business was more important than my election campaign.”
“I didn’t say it was more important—”
“That’s what it sounded like to me.”
“Mother!” Aunt Lucy said. “Jill’s doing the best she can. She’s juggling two different worlds. Give her a break.”
“Give her a break? How many times have I told her to stop messing about with the stupid human world, and to concentrate on what really matters here in Candlefield?”
That was rich coming from her, with her ever expanding wool empire based in Washbridge. I bit my tongue; I was already in enough trouble without digging myself into an even deeper hole.
“Do you like our new outfits?” Amber said.
Normally, discussing clothes with the twins would have bored me senseless, but today I was glad of the distraction.
“They’re very nice. What would you call that style exactly?”
“It’s the very latest thing,” Pearl said. “It’s ‘futuristic’.”
“So, plastic is ‘in’, is it?” I stared at their skirts. “And what are those tops made from? It looks a bit like tin foil.”
“Don’t be silly.” Amber laughed. “It’s a revolutionary new fabric. Have a feel.”
“I touched the hem of her top; it crinkled in my fingers which confirmed my suspicion that it really was made from some kind of tin foil.
“Very nice,” I lied.
“They were very expensive,” Pearl said.
“Well, I suppose Cuppy C is doing well.”
“We didn’t buy them.” Amber laughed. “We got the guys to buy them for us.”
“Where are your fellows anyway?” I said. “I haven’t seen William and Alan for ages.”
“Oh they’re around. They have to work long hours to keep us in the style we’ve become accustomed to,” Pearl said.
They both giggled.
Although they’d said it in jest, I suspected there was more than a grain of truth in their words. I rarely saw either of their fiancés these days, and they rarely went out together. Still, their relationships seemed to have lasted longer than any I’d managed so far. So, what did I know?
“I’m sorry to interrupt your ramblings.” Grandma stepped between us. “But there is an election going on here today, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Sorry, Grandma,” I said. “What would you like me to do?”
“I would have liked you to ensure I won this election, and if you’d done what I asked, and dug up dirt on Lance Boyle, then we’d be sitting pretty. But because you refused to use such tactics, we seem to be running neck and neck.”
“I told you I wouldn’t do anything underhand when you asked me to be your campaign manager.”
“I seem to remember that you also told me the other campaign manager had agreed not to either, but that didn’t pan out, did it?”
“I can’t help it if he’s a lying scum-bag.”
Just then, I spotted Dexter Long. He gave me a wave. I ignored the low-life slime ball.
It turned out to be a very long day indeed. The twins had the good sense to go shopping; with a promise to return in the evening for the result. Aunt Lucy had conveniently remembered that she’d arranged to meet Lester, but she too had promised to return later. I would have dearly loved to get away too, but there was no chance of that happening. Grandma never took her eyes off me. She insisted that I sweet-talk everyone who was on their way in to cast their vote. I’m not sure that did much good because most people had already made up their mind. Most of those I spoke to had
already decided to vote for Lance Boyle, but I didn’t tell Grandma that.
The polls closed at ten o’clock by which time I was dead on my feet. Aunt Lucy had returned along with Lester and the twins. We were all waiting for the results to be announced. The count took far less time than it would have done in the human world because magic was employed. By ten-thirty, the two candidates, together with their campaign managers, were on the stage for the announcement. I looked down and saw Aunt Lucy, Lester and the twins standing at the front. They were looking at me as one might stare at a condemned man awaiting execution.
“I, Marmaduke Matthews, the Returning Officer for Candlefield, hereby announce the results of the election to the position of town councillor: Mirabel Marigold Millbright—one hundred and twenty thousand, one hundred and twenty-one votes.”
There was applause all around the room. Surely Grandma had to win with so many votes? I glanced at her, but she was stony-faced.
“Lance Edward Boyle—” the returning officer continued. “One hundred and twenty thousand, one hundred and twenty-two votes.”
The crowd erupted. My heart sank. She’d lost by one vote! One vote out of two hundred and forty thousand. I couldn’t believe it.
The twins, Aunt Lucy and Lester joined us on stage.
“Well, Mother, you did your best. You can’t get closer than that.”
“I should have won easily,” Grandma ranted. “If this granddaughter of mine hadn’t been so holier than thou with her election tactics, I would have won by a landslide.”
“But, Mother, surely you wouldn’t have wanted to win using underhand tactics, would you?”
“Of course I would! What good is losing, to anyone? Next time I run for election, I’ll find a campaign manager who actually has a clue.” With that she stomped off into the crowd.
“I think I’m in her bad books again,” I said.
The twins laughed. “Oh well. It’s not like you’ll notice any difference.”
“And besides,” Aunt Lucy said. “It’s probably for the best. Can you imagine what it would be like if your grandmother was on the Town Council?”
“But it was so close.” I sighed. “Just one vote would have made the difference.”
