Witch is How The Tables Turned

by Adele Abbott

  “I know, and I’m sorry I was a whole half minute late.”

  “You know what they say about sarcasm, don’t you?”

  “That people who aren’t intelligent enough to deploy it effectively, try to denigrate those who do?”

  Today’s pep talk lasted for over an hour, and by the end of it, I was once again mentally exhausted. Bring on the Elite Competition. Win or lose, I didn’t care—I just wanted it over and done with.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me?” Grandma said, as I headed for the door.

  “Ask you what?”

  “About the promotions I have planned for Ever and Ever A Wool Moment.”

  “Okay. What do you have planned?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say. It’s top secret.”

  “Good to not know. Anyway, you’re not the only one on the high street who has something big planned. Betty Longbottom’s new marine centre is opening tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure? It didn’t happen the last time.”

  “Positive, and this time she has mermaids.”

  “Mermaids? Has the woman lost her mind?”

  “Obviously, they aren’t real mermaids because there’s no such thing. It’s a troupe of synchronised swimmers.”

  “Who says there are no such things as mermaids?”

  “Are there?”

  “Mermaids are just witches.”

  “Really? I had no idea.”

  “Their coven broke away from the more conventional covens many centuries ago, but they still retain some of their magical powers.”

  “What about their—err, I mean how do they—err?”

  “It’s just as well the Elite Competition doesn’t include a test of articulation, otherwise you might as well throw in the towel right now.”

  “I was wondering how the mermaids can move around on land with their tails?”

  “By using magic, obviously. They’re able to change their tails into legs, but only for short periods of time. If you’re really interested in mermaids, you should talk to Lucy.”

  “Aunt Lucy? Why?”

  “When she was at college, she did her dissertation on mermaids.”

  Who knew?

  ***

  “So, when do I start?” Winky said.

  “Start what?”

  “My new job as your office manager?”

  “Don’t you already have enough on your plate, making those silly cat clocks?”

  “First, there is nothing silly about these clocks. I’ll have you know they’re selling like hot cakes. And second, one of the prerequisite skills for an office manager is that they’re able to multitask. So, when do I start?”

  “It isn’t that simple. I’m required to advertise all vacancies, so you’ll have to apply and be interviewed along with all the other candidates.”

  “Why bother with all that rubbish when I’m ready and able to get started right now?”

  “What can I do? I’m a slave to the red tape.”

  “Where’s the form?”

  “What form?”

  “The application form?”

  “Mrs V is going to type it up today. I’ll let you have it later.”

  “Okay. I suppose that’ll give me time to knock out a few more clocks.”

  While Winky was busying himself with his clocks, I went online and placed a vacancy ad on two of the major job recruitment websites; the headline read:

  Office Manager required for thriving private investigation agency.

  What? Of course it was thriving. I had two paying cases already that week. Think how much work I’d be able to handle with an office manager to take care of everything else. This was possibly one of the best ideas I’d ever had.

  “Jill.” Mrs V stepped into my office. “Madeline’s mother is here; she seems a little upset. Can you spare her a few minutes?”

  “Of course. Bring her through, would you?”

  Deli certainly didn’t look her usual happy-go-lucky self.

  “What’s wrong, Deli?”

  “I’m probably being silly.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m worried about Madeline. We don’t speak on the phone very often, but she usually sends me a message every few days, to send her love and say she’s okay. It’s been ages since I’ve heard from her. I’ve messaged her a few times and I’ve tried to call her, but I haven’t been able to get hold of her.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be okay. Mad can look after herself.”

  “I know, but you hear all these horror stories about big cities. I was wondering if there was anything you could do? Just to put a silly mother’s mind at ease?”

  “Sure, I’ll see if I have any luck getting hold of her.”

  “Would you, Jill? I’d be ever so grateful.” She fished around in her pocket and pulled out a handful of vouchers. “Here, take these. They’re for a free spray tan, anytime you want it.”

  “Err, thanks.”

  I didn’t mention it to Deli because I’d promised Mad I wouldn’t, but I actually had the address of the flat where Mad was living in London. I’d try to contact her by phone myself first because it was possible that Mad was screening out her mother’s calls. If I couldn’t get hold of her within a day or so, I’d take a magical trip down to the capital city, to see what was going on.

  ***

  My phone rang; it was Kathy.

  “I was just thinking about you. I’ve got a bunch of vouchers for free spray tans at Deli’s salon if you’re interested.”

  “Ha, ha. Very funny. I’ve only just got rid of the orange sheen from my last visit.”

  “I thought orange suited you.”

  “I’m not in the mood, Jill. I’ve had some bad news.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “Mr Macabre telephoned a few minutes ago. I assumed he was calling to tell me when I could go in and sign the lease, but he says there’s a problem.”

  “What kind of problem?”

  “He wouldn’t say. Just that he’d let me know in a few days’ time if I’d be able to take the shop or not. I reckon he must have someone else interested.”

  “If that’s the case, why wouldn’t he say so?”

  “I don’t know, but I can’t think what else it could be.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “There’s nothing I can do. I’ll have to cross my fingers and wait until he calls back.”

  “I’m really sorry, Kathy. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you too.”

  “That isn’t all. Pete has heard from one of his men who spent the night at Washbridge House. Someone has taken some flowers from one of the flower beds.”

  “Did they see who did it?”

  “They say not. I reckon they must have fallen asleep. He’s on his way over there now.”

  “Poor Peter. I hope it doesn’t spoil his chances in the competition.”

  “This has not been the best start to a day I’ve ever had. Still, I suppose it can only get better.”

  ***

  Gilbert’s mother had let me have one of the flyers that he’d been given by the salmon cult. It seemed they held regular meetings every Wednesday at six o’clock in the old chapel building, which was close to the indoor market, so I decided I’d pay them a visit, to see what these fishy nutjobs were all about.

  I let Jack know I’d be late in, and that I’d get my own dinner, so after burger and fries at Burger Bay, I made my way over to the chapel.

  “Sorry, you can’t come in.” A burly witch blocked my way.

  “I’m here for the meeting.” I held up the flyer.

  “It’s for men only.”

  “It doesn’t say anything about that on this flyer.”

  “You’ll have to take my word for it.”

  “Are you a member of the cult?”

  “We’re not a cult. We’re an association.”

  “Sorry. Are you a member of the association?”

  “I am.”

  “But you’re not a man.” />
  “We recruit males and females on alternate years. This year is males only. Sorry.”

  “Could I take a quick look inside?”

  “That isn’t possible.”

  I could have used my powers to force my way into the building, but at this stage of the investigation, I didn’t think it would be helpful to make a scene. There was more than one way to skin a—whoops, sorry, Winky.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, Jack and I were sleepwalking around one another in the kitchen.

  “I think mornings should be outlawed,” I said.

  Jack gave me that special look of his—the one that said: who has stolen my wife during the night and replaced her with this lunatic? “What good would that do?”

  “It would mean we didn’t have to get up until the afternoon.”

  “But then you’d hate afternoons instead.”

  “No, I wouldn’t because I would have had more time in bed.”

  “Because you’d slept all morning?”

  “Precisely.”

  “But there would be no mornings; you’ve outlawed them.”

  “Now you’re introducing logic into the discussion. You know how I hate it when you do that.”

  “It’s bad news about Kathy’s shop.” Jack had forsaken his beloved muesli this morning in favour of toast and jam.

  “Something about that whole business doesn’t smell right to me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I wouldn’t trust Macabre as far as I could throw him. It wouldn’t surprise me if he doesn’t come back and ask for a higher rent.”

  “Can he do that?”

  “Nothing’s been signed yet, so I don’t see why not. He knows Kathy really wants the shop, so he probably figures he can squeeze a bit more out of her.”

  “Isn’t there anything she can do?”

  “If I’m right, and that’s what he’s up to, the only options she has are to agree to the higher rent or walk away. If she’s got any sense, she’ll tell him to get lost.”

  “The pair of them aren’t having much luck. I bet Peter’s furious about what happened at Washbridge House.”

  “I wouldn’t blame him. If I’d paid two of my employees to guard the place overnight, I wouldn’t be very impressed if they’d fallen asleep on the job.”

  “Talking of which, isn’t it tonight you’re doing a nightshift?”

  “Yeah. I’ll have to try and get a bit of shuteye this afternoon if I can, or I’ll be the one sleeping on duty. I thought I’d try and get away from the office early, pick up a snack, and then come home and get a few hours’ sleep before I go to Chambers Precision Plastics.”

  “I might be able to swing an early finish today.”

  “Don’t bother. I’m coming home to get some sleep, not for afternoon delight.”

  “I’m off, then.” Jack gave me a kiss. “I’ll see you later tonight or tomorrow morning.”

  “Have a good one.”

  He’d been gone for less than a minute when he came charging back through the door. “Jill, quick!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Something’s happened to Tony and Clare. I reckon someone has cast a spell on them. It wasn’t you was it? Did they say something to upset you?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What’s happened to them?”

  “They’re huge. Like three times their normal size. Come and see.”

  “Okay.” Snigger.

  I followed him out of the door.

  “Look!” He pointed to our giant neighbours who were in their front garden.

  “Morning, you two,” I shouted. “Jack thinks someone has cast a spell on you.”

  Jack shot me a have you lost your mind look.

  “Morning, Jack,” Tony shouted from inside the costume.

  “What’s going on, Jill?” Jack said, in a hushed voice. “Do you know something about this or not?”

  “Take a closer look at them.”

  “Is it safe to?”

  “Perfectly safe unless they topple over on top of you. Go and touch his leg.”

  Jack looked a little unsure, but slowly edged his way over to giant Tony.

  “It’s rubbery.”

  “Tony and Clare are going to GiantCon this weekend. These are their costumes.”

  “What do you think of them, Jack?” Clare shouted.

  “They’re very good. They certainly had me fooled. I thought that—”

  “Isn’t it time you were going to work?” I interrupted him before he put his foot in his mouth.

  “Yeah, I’d better get going. Great costumes, you two.”

  ***

  By the time I left for work, the giants had gone. The look on Jack’s face when he’d come charging back into the house had been priceless—he’d actually believed they were real giants. But then he had already encountered zombies this week, so it probably wasn’t so very farfetched.

  There was a van parked outside Mr Ivers’ house; on the side of it was a picture of a hot tub and the words: Hot Tub Repairs.

  Oh bum! I thought I’d seen the last of that stupid thing.

  “Morning, love!” The man who climbed out of the van had long hair and an even longer beard.

  “Morning. You’ll have your work cut out with this one. It may be beyond repair, I’m afraid.”

  As he came closer, I realised he was a wizard.

  “It looks like the result of a ‘thunderbolt’ spell to me.” He grinned. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

  I glanced around to make sure no one could overhear. “I had good reason to do it.”

  “Loud party? That’s usually when this sort of thing happens.”

  “Actually, no. It was full of zombies.”

  “Fair dues. Nasty blighters those Zs.”

  “Do you get a lot of jobs like this one?”

  “Tons of them. I’d say half of the work I do is repairing damage caused by some spell or other. These tubs are pretty tough, but they’re no match for some of the more powerful spells like the thunderbolt.”

  “I don’t suppose I could persuade you to tell my neighbour that it’s beyond repair, could I?”

  “What?” He looked at me as though I’d asked him to commit murder. “I have my professional reputation to think of. My rating at TrustTub is four-point-eight stars. I’m not about to do anything that would jeopardise that.”

  “Sorry, it was unfair of me to ask.”

  “Morning, Jill.” Mr Ivers appeared around the corner of the house. “This good man is here to repair Rubadub.”

  “Rubadub?”

  “That’s what I call the hot tub. Didn’t I tell you?”

  “I think I would have remembered that.”

  “With a bit of luck, she’ll be back in action by tonight.”

  “Great!”

  “I’m organising another tub party for the weekend. You and Jack really must join us.”

  “What night is it?”

  “Saturday.”

  “That’s a shame. We’re going out on Saturday night.”

  “No, wait a minute. Silly old me. I had planned for it to be on Saturday, but Roger and his wife couldn’t make it that day, so I changed it to Sunday. Seems like you’re in luck, Jill.”

  “Yippee.”

  That hot tub had to go. And it had to go before Sunday.

  ***

  “Any messages?” Mrs V.

  “A Mrs Cross called and asked if you were the Jill Maxwell who makes pin cushions. And a Mr Wilding called to ask if you were the—”

  “Any calls that weren’t from people confused by the sign?”

  “Yes, dear. One.”

  “Great. What was that?”

  “Mr Macabre called a few minutes ago. He said he’d be calling into the office at nine o’clock.”

  “Did he say what it was about?”

  “No, just that he wouldn’t take up much of your time.”

  “Where’s my ap
plication form?” Winky said, as soon as I walked into my office.

  Before I could reply, my phone rang.

  “Is that Jill?”

  “Speaking.”

  “It’s Marcy. Gilbert’s mother.”

  “Hi, is something wrong?”

  “Gilbert seems to be getting much worse. I’m really worried about him. Would you come and see him? He won’t talk to me, but he might open up to you.”

  “Sure. When?”

  “This morning if you can.”

  “I have my landlord coming over soon. I’ll need to wait in for him, but then I could come straight over.”

  “That’s great. Thanks, Jill. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Still waiting for the application form!” Winky was tapping his paw impatiently.

  “Wait there a moment.” I went into the outer office, jumped on Mrs V’s computer and knocked up a very basic form, which I then printed. “There you are.”

  “Is that it?” Winky looked it up and down. “Name, and why I think I could do the job?”

  “What were you expecting?”

  “What about psychometric testing?”

  “Psycho what?”

  “Never mind.” He went over to the sofa and began to complete the form.

  Meanwhile, I checked to see if I’d received any applications online. Wow! Five already.

  Mrs V popped her head around the door. “Mr Macabre is here.”

  “Okay, give me a minute and then send him in, would you, Mrs V?”

  “Winky, get behind the screen and don’t make a sound until the landlord has gone.”

  “I haven’t finished completing the form yet.”

  “I don’t care. Get behind that screen now!”

  “Fine, but I want to officially register my discontent.”

  “Noted.”

  “To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr Macabre?”

  “Can you imagine my surprise when I discovered that you and Mrs Brooks were sisters?” He sneered.

  “Kathy told me there might be a problem with her leasing the shop in West Chipping?”

  “There might be, but that depends entirely upon you.”