by Adele Abbott
They both gave me the same puzzled look.
“Who are you?” the head of the Nees asked.
“Sorry. My name is Jill Maxwell. I’m a witch.”
“You’re very small for a witch,” the head of the Tye commented.
“I shrank myself so that I could get a better look at the dandelions.”
“At the what?”
“These flowers. I’m sorry, but I don’t know either of your names.”
“I’m Bill.” The head of the Tye took a bow.
“And I’m Ben.” The head of the Nees did likewise.
This had to be some kind of wind up. “Where’s little weed?”
“Sorry?”
Once again, my dazzling wit had missed the mark.
“Never mind. Have you always lived here?”
“No, we came here from Small Lake,” Ben said. “Do you know it?”
“I don’t think so. Is it here in the human world?”
“No. It’s in Candlefield.”
“What about the Nees, Bill? Where do you come from?”
“The same place. The Tye and Nees have always lived side-by-side, so when Ben told me that he and his people were thinking of moving to the human world, we said we’d come along too.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Just a couple of weeks,” Bill said.
“And how are you finding it?”
“We had a few problems at first, but we seem to have overcome them now. Overall, we quite like it here.”
“What kind of problems did you encounter?”
“Mainly the weather. Back in Small Lake, we live in the shadow of the Black Mountains, which means that we don’t get too much rain. Over here, though, it always seems to be raining. We spent the first few days soaked to the skin until we found these—what did you call them again?”
“Dandelions.”
“Right. Things improved dramatically once we’d taken shelter under the dandelions.”
“But then, they started to fall apart,” Ben said. “Pieces of them blew away in the wind, leaving us exposed again.”
“Fortunately, we had the wherewithal to resolve that problem.” Bill tapped the side of his head with his finger.
“How did you do that?”
“With Tye SlowGrowth.”
“What does that do?”
“It slows down the dandelion’s growth, so it doesn’t fall apart so quickly.”
“Oh dear.” Everything was starting to become much clearer.
“What’s wrong?” Ben said.
“The thing is, when you saw the white bits floating away in the wind, the dandelion wasn’t actually falling apart. Those are its seeds, which it releases in order that new dandelions will grow.”
“We had no idea.” Ben turned to Bill. “Did we?”
“None at all. We have no desire to cause any harm.”
“I believe you. We’ll need to come up with some other solution to your problem that doesn’t involve treating the dandelions with SlowGrowth.”
“We’d be open to any suggestions,” Ben said. “What did you have in mind?”
“Nothing at the moment. I’ll need to give it some thought. Let’s say I do manage to come up with an alternative, is there anything you can do about the dandelions that you’ve already treated?”
“We have a solution which will neutralise the SlowGrowth,” Ben said.
“Great. I’ll go away and have a think, but in the meantime, please don’t treat any more dandelions with SlowGrowth.”
“We won’t.” Bill reassured me. “You have our word.”
Whenever I think I’ve encountered every kind of supernatural creature there can possibly be, I come across another. The Tye and Nees were a little on the weird side, but clearly good-natured. They’d appeared genuinely upset when they realised the harm they’d inadvertently inflicted on the dandelions. All I had to do now was to find something else for them to use as shelter from the rain, but how exactly was I supposed to do that?
Answers on a postcard, please.
***
For now, at least, the dandelion problem would have to go on the backburner because I had a cake to collect.
Hopefully Cake Pronto would make good on their promise to have the cake ready in four hours because I couldn’t bear the thought of having to explain to Harold why his wife wouldn’t be getting her birthday cake.
The same woman was behind the counter.
“Hello again.” She certainly didn’t have the look of someone who was about to deliver bad news.
“Hi. Is it ready?”
“Only just, but yes. I’ll go and get it for you.”
Phew! It made a pleasant change for something to go right for once.
When the woman reappeared, she was carrying a white box. A big white box. “There you go.” She placed it onto the counter.
Maybe they only had the one size of box, and the cake inside was much smaller? With fingers crossed, I lifted the lid. Oh bum!
“It’s too big.”
“Sorry?”
“This cake is too big.”
“It’s regular cake size.”
She reached under the counter and retrieved the copy of the photo she’d printed off. “It looks identical to me.”
She was right—it did look exactly the same as the original. The problem was that the photo gave no sense of scale.
“Is it an issue?” she said. “We can make a smaller one if you wish, but there’ll be another charge, and of course it will take some time.”
“No, it’s okay.” I picked up the box. “This one will be fine, thanks.”
There was no need to panic; everything was going to be okay. All I had to do was to shrink the cake and box so that it was the same size as the original. I found a quiet spot with no one around, and then cast the spell. Was that the right size? Almost, but maybe still a little too big. I repeated the spell. Now it looked perfect.
At least I hoped so, but the real test would be when I handed it over to Harold.
When I got back to the office, he and Winky were on the windowsill, chatting.
“Harold was beginning to worry that you’d run off with his cake,” Winky quipped.
“I didn’t say that,” Harold said. “I know the cake is safe in Jill’s hands.”
“Thank you, Harold.” I walked over to the window and handed him the cake box.
“Thanks, Jill.”
“Don’t you want to check it?” I said.
“I’m sure that’s not necessary.”
“I’d prefer it if you did. Just to be sure.”
“Okay, then.” He lifted the lid and took a peek at it.
I held my breath while he studied the cake. Was it exactly the right size? If not, would he notice? What about the picture of the pigeons? It looked okay to me, but then I wasn’t a pigeon.
He closed the lid and nodded his approval. “It looks great. Thanks again, Jill. I’ll go and show it to Ida.”
“That was a close call.” Winky whistled. “You looked terrified.”
“Rubbish. Of course I didn’t.”
“How much did the replacement cake cost?”
“Too much, but it was worth it.”
“This is why your sister can afford to move to a new house and you’re stuck in that little matchbox of yours. She doesn’t throw away her money on birthday cakes for pigeons.”
Before I left for home, I decided to review my current cases ahead of the weekend. The Bells case continued to frustrate me. If they’d planned to disappear, why had they driven all the way home from Filey first? If they’d disturbed burglars, why hadn’t the thieves simply scarpered? Why bother to abduct the Bells?
Walter Bell’s brother, Leonard, certainly had it in for the Bells’ son. He’d as good as suggested Adam was after his parents’ money, but I’d been less than impressed by Leonard, and I wasn’t sure I should take anything he had to say at face value.
I’d learned very little from my
visit to Cliffs Caravan Park, but it had raised a question mark about the park owner. For someone with nothing to hide, he had acted very strangely.
The other case was proving to be every bit as weird. I couldn’t understand why someone would splash out such large amounts of money on a stadium for a junior football team. It would have made more sense if Royston had a kid in the team, but he didn’t, and as far as I could make out, he wasn’t even interested in football.
I wouldn’t be able to work on either case on Saturday because Jack had committed us to looking after Lizzie and Mikey while Kathy and Peter moved into their new house. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d also signed us up to go to the model railway rally. The fun just never—started.
I’d just have to try to find some time on Sunday to work on the cases.
***
When I pulled onto the drive, Britt and Kimmy were chatting. With a bit of luck, I’d be able to sneak into the house without them spotting me.
“Hiya, Jill!”
So near, and yet so far.
“Hi.” I started to edge towards the door. Maybe I could still make it inside.
“Come and look at this.” Kimmy held up what looked like a greetings card.
Resigned to my fate, I went over to join them.
“What do you think?” She handed me the card.
“Love Your Cat day?”
“I’ve got one for Lovely.” Britt handed me a similar card.
I knew there was an international cat day because Winky reminded me of it every year, but I’d never heard of Love Your Cat day.
“Is this for real?” I said.
“Of course it is.” Britt sounded surprised by the question. “You have to get a card for your cat. What’s his name again?”
“It’s Wonky, isn’t it?” Kimmy said.
“Winky, actually. I don’t believe in buying cards for animals.” Or humans, truth be told.
“But he’ll be upset if all the other cats get a card and he doesn’t.”
“He’ll get over it.”
I could tell by the look on their faces that I’d gone down in their estimation. From now on I’d probably be referred to as the heartless cat owner.
“I’d better get going, ladies.”
Kimmy wasn’t about to let me get away that easily. “Britt tells me you’re going to perform solo in the Battle of the Bands.”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that, Britt.”
“We put in the final paperwork this morning,” she said. “It’s going to be great.”
“We can’t lose with you on our team,” Kimmy said. “Go, Jill!”
“What did you want to say to me, Jill?” Britt said.
“I—err—nothing. It doesn’t matter. I’d better crack on.”
“You’ve still got time to buy a card for Winky,” Britt called after me. “It isn’t Love Your Cat day until next Wednesday.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Not. A. Chance.
***
It was my turn to make dinner, and I simply couldn’t justify ordering another takeaway. Much as I hated to admit it, Winky had a point about my spending. I wasn’t nearly careful enough with money. That would have to change if I wanted to move to a bigger house.
“Hi, beautiful.” Jack gave me a kiss. “Something smells good.”
“Dinner should be ready in about ten minutes.”
“I bumped into Britt on my way in.”
“Was she doing press-ups again?”
“No, she showed me the card she’d bought for Lovely.”
“Ridiculous, eh?”
“I think it’s a nice idea. Have you got one for Winky?”
“Of course I haven’t. I don’t have cash to burn.”
“He’ll be upset.”
“He’ll get over it, and besides, I’ve been thinking about our spending. We need to start cutting back.”
“What prompted this?”
“I just thought that if we were more careful with our money, we’d be able to buy things.”
“Such as?”
“I don’t know. A new house for example.”
“I might have guessed. And what cutbacks are you proposing to make?”
“For starters, I won’t be buying a Love Your Cat card.”
“You’ll have to come up with something much more radical than that if you want to make a real impact.”
“I’m willing to do that.”
“You could start by cutting out custard creams and buying budget brand plain biscuits instead.”
“Are you insane?”
***
After dinner, I spent a little time checking to see if there was anything in the house that I could sell, but I pretty much drew a blank.
When I joined Jack in the lounge, he was watching Spooky TV.
“Why are you watching that rubbish again?”
“It’s not rubbish. There are some quality movies on here.”
“Says you.”
“You’re just scared.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m not.”
“Okay, come and watch a movie with me.”
“What’s on?”
“You’ll be sorry to hear that you just missed Killer Clowns.”
“That’s very disappointing.”
“The next one up is called The House On Gravestone Hill.”
“Sounds unmissable.”
“Sit next to me.” He patted the sofa. “I have popcorn.”
“Okay, then, but if it’s as bad as it sounds, I’m going up to bed.”
Twenty minutes in, Jack stood up. “This is dire. I’m going to call it a day.”
“I might watch it for a bit longer.”
“You said you hated these movies.”
“I do usually, but this one isn’t bad.”
“I’ll never understand you, Jill.” He gave me a kiss. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
What Jack had said was true: The movie was beyond awful, but I’d spotted something that had caught my attention. Once I was sure Jack was upstairs, I made a phone call.
“Mad, it’s me.”
“Jill? You’re lucky to have caught me. I was just about to turn in.”
“Do you have that file with you? The one with the missing ghosts?”
“It’s in the kitchen. Why?”
“Could you snap a few of the mugshots and send them over to me?”
“I already have digital versions of them. I can let you have all of them if you like. What do you want them for?”
“I’d rather not say just yet. Not until I’ve had the chance to check something.”
“Okay. I’ll ping them over to you in a few minutes.”
Chapter 13
Jack had bought himself a new brand of muesli, and he was clearly excited at the prospect of his first bowlful.
“What time did you come to bed last night?” he said.
“Just before one o’clock.”
“I thought you didn’t like horror movies.”
“I don’t. I hate them.”
“And yet you stayed up to watch the worst film I’ve seen in a very long time.”
“I had my reasons.”
“You fell asleep down here, didn’t you? Go on, admit it.”
“No, I didn’t. I was helping Mad with something.”
“Doing what, exactly?”
“When I was watching that movie, I recognised one of the ghosts.”
“One of the actors, you mean?”
“That’s just it. He isn’t an actor—he’s a real ghost.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The other day, when I went over to Cakey C to check on your mother, I got talking to Mad. She mentioned that a lot of ghosts had disappeared from Ghost Town.”
“Disappearing ghosts?” He laughed. “Isn’t that what ghosts are supposed to do?”
“Hilarious. Anyway, they’ve been disappearing off the streets, and no one has any idea what�
��s happened to them. When I watched that movie last night, I saw a face I recognised. It took me a while to work out where I knew him from, but then I remembered the photos that Mad had shown me.”
“And he was one of them?”
“That’s right, so after you’d gone to bed, I gave Mad a call, and she sent over photos of all the ghosts who have gone missing. And bingo! Another four of them were in that movie.”
“Okay, so what does that mean?”
“I’m not entirely sure. Isn’t that TV station relatively new?”
“Spooky TV? Yes, it’s only been on air for a few weeks, but they already have a lot of new movies online.”
“If my hunch is correct, they’re able to produce the films much more cheaply than their competitors by using what is essentially slave labour.”
“Are you saying the ghosts are being made to take part in the films against their will?”
“It’s a definite possibility, so I need to speak to Mad to see how she wants to play this.”
As Jack popped the first spoonful of the all-new sawdust into his mouth, there was a knock at the door.
“Morning, I have a letter for you.” The man was wearing the uniform of Candlefield Special Delivery Services.
“Hello, again. Your name is on the tip of my tongue. Stream? No. Splash? No.”
“It’s Puddles.”
“Of course it is. Sorry, it’s been a while.”
“There you go.” He handed me the letter.
“Thanks. Nice to see you again, Puddles.”
“Who was that?” Jack asked when I got back into the kitchen.
“Candlefield Special Delivery. He brought this for me.” I tore open the envelope and took out the card inside. “Oh bum!”
“What is it?”
“It’s from Belinda Cartwheel. An invitation to the next WOW event.”
“I thought WOW stood for the Witches Of Washbridge?”
“It does.”
“So how come it was delivered by Candlefield Special Delivery?”
“That’s a good question. I assume Belinda must have posted it while she was in Candlefield.”
“You don’t seem very thrilled about the invitation.”
“I’m not. Grandma has been bugging me to find out what Belinda is up to, but I’ve managed to fob her off so far. I guess I’ll have to do something about it now.”
