The Doll

by Elizabeth Andrews

  Paul rubbed a weary hand over his face. ‘Damn woman,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘It will be all around the parish soon.’

  ‘It already is,’ confirmed Archie.

  Sybil who had remained quiet throughout this had been carefully studying his face. ‘Didn’t you used to be responsible for the parish records?’

  ‘Indeed I was, for many years,’ he replied looking a bit surprised. ‘Why?’

  She gave Queenie a nudge. ‘Perhaps he could help.’ She then turned to Paul. ‘You did say it would take hours for you to find the records.’

  ‘I did,’ he said slowly.

  Archie smiled confidently. ‘Anything I can do to help?’

  ‘We are looking for somebody called Nicholas Spicer,’ said Paul.

  ‘Nick? He lives in Cambridge Road,’ he replied quickly.

  ‘No, not him; the Spicer we want lived about four hundred years ago.’

  He looked startled. ‘Oh, I see.’ He then surveyed the women trying to gauge if they were serious. ‘And why do you wish to find records of this man from the seventeenth century?’

  ‘I’m sure Mrs Sheppard filled you in,’ said Paul dryly.

  ‘The doll,’ he replied instantly. ‘She said Mrs Cochrane gave it to you. She also said the woman was having a nervous breakdown after the death of her daughter and was blaming a doll for all sorts of weird things.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Archie looked at Paul in disbelief. ‘And you took her seriously?’

  ‘Not at first,’ Paul said soberly. ‘But I have seen things since that have convinced me otherwise. Now if you want to help we need to find out about this man Spicer. He is somehow involved in this matter.’ He stared at the elderly man. ‘If you still want to help with the research I would be grateful, if not, I think it would be best if you leave well alone.’ He turned to the waiting women. ‘I think it’s time we left and went to the vicarage.’ He nodded coolly to Archie then began to lead the sisters to the door.

  ‘Wait!’ the old man called, hurrying after them. ‘I didn’t say I wouldn’t help’ He looked cautiously at Queenie. ‘I have heard about you but I can’t believe it’s true, of course.’

  ‘Heard what?’ she asked.

  ‘That you’re a witch,’ he responded, a slight smile playing about his lips.

  ‘That’s right,’ she nodded to her sister, ‘and so is Sybil.’ She gave a chilly smile. ‘Still want to help?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, meeting her cold stare. ‘Of course.’

  Paul heaved a sigh of relief and took Archie’s hand giving it a vigorous shake. ‘Thank you! I desperately need help with this.’

  He didn’t notice the look of unease that crossed Queenie’s face.

  ‘Really?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, the more help the better.’ He turned back to the elderly man. ‘Come with us and we can tell you what has happened over a cup of tea.’

  ‘I would be delighted,’ he replied, pretending not to hear Queenie’s snort of disgust.

  She scowled and stamped out of the door. ‘Really!’ she muttered in her sister’s ear, ‘What is Paul doing, inviting everyman and his dog to get involved. This is going to make it harder for us, not easier!’

  ‘Don’t you like dogs?’ a voice quietly asked behind the women and she swung around to glare at the elderly man who was smiling genially at her.

  ‘No, can’t stand them,’ she snapped, turning her back on him. ‘And I don’t like their owners either!’

  He lapsed into silence as they walked slowly along the snowy path to the vicarage, Sybil couldn’t help stealing a worried look at him as they reached the back door and was relieved to see a slight smile on his face.

  A plate of sandwiches lay on the desk and Queenie eyed them hopefully.

  ‘Help yourself, Queenie, Sybil,’ Paul said, carrying in a tray of tea. ‘You must be starving.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she replied, and not needing to be asked twice she piled a plate with neatly cut ham and cheese triangles.

  Sybil moved to her side and carefully placed a couple of sandwiches on a plate. ‘These look delicious Paul. It’s very kind of Victoria to make all this for us.’

  ‘There is plenty more in the kitchen so tuck in Sybil. We have enough food for everyone so don’t worry.’

  Archie smiled. ‘Did you get caught out by the sudden snow storm?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said and reached for the tea pot. ‘Paul took pity on us, Queenie’s cupboards are bare.’

  ‘Here let me,’ he replied, taking the pot from her hand. ‘Milk?’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I was lucky; I had just been to the supermarket so my fridge is well stocked. Anything else I can get for you?’ Archie offered, hovering at Queenie’s elbow.

  ‘No,’ she sniffed and pointedly turned her back and went over to sit by the gas fire.

  ‘Tea? Coffee?’ he persisted.

  ‘Tea. Please,’ she added as a reluctant afterthought. ‘Milk. Three sugars.’

  He nodded and moved over to the tray, as he picked up a mug idly glanced at the pile of books on top of the desk. ‘Latin?’ he exclaimed. ‘Are you brushing up on your studies, Paul?’

  ‘Not really,’ he replied. ‘I was researching a certain phrase.’

  ‘Oh?’ he asked, looking interested.

  ‘It is not one that I am familiar with so I had to refresh my memory.’ He smiled at the old woman huddled close to the fire. ‘Queenie wished to know what it meant; I hope I translated it properly for her. It was Ego te criminis reus erit.’

  ‘I will be avenged,’ Archie said.

  ‘That’s right!’ he said in amazement. ‘You have studied Latin?’

  Archie chuckled. ‘I was a Grammar School boy. I had Latin drummed into me from an early age.’

  Paul quickly began searching through his pockets. ‘I have something else you may be able to help me with. It’s a prayer or chant I think.’ He produced a crumpled piece of paper from his trouser pocket. ‘Here,’ he said eagerly. ‘See what you make of that.’

  Archie carefully replaced the mug on the tray and held out his hand. He squinted thoughtfully at it for a second. ‘Well, the spelling is awful Paul but I can read it.’ He frowned uncertainly. ‘Well it certainly isn’t a prayer. Audi nos domine satanas, humilem serri tui,’ he paused, beginning to look uncomfortable. ‘Are you sure you want to me to read this?’

  ‘Is it that bad?’ Paul asked quietly, moving closer.

  ‘Well...’ replied Archie, raising an eyebrow. ‘The translation is ‘Hear us Lord Satan, your humble servants, release our power from this doll. Then the power of the witches will rise and we will reclaim all that’s lost and bring the devil to the fore.’

  ‘What was that? What are you saying?’ a querulous voice called from the other side of the room.

  He took the paper from Archie and hurried over to Queenie and thrust the paper under her nose.

  ‘I remembered the chant the girls were saying over the doll. Did you hear Archie’s translation?’

  ‘Yes. Why didn’t you tell me that you remembered it?’

  ‘I forgot. I was in your kitchen scribbling it down when you know who appeared at the window.’

  ‘Oh I see,’ she said, ‘and that’s when you smashed my table.’

  ‘It wasn’t my fault,’ Paul pointed out. ‘She startled me.’

  ‘Who?’ asked Archie, carrying over Queenie’s tea. ‘And what table?’

  ‘I fell onto Queenie’s kitchen table and the legs snapped,’ he confessed.

  The elderly man looked even more confused as he pulled up the chair next to Queenie and sat down.

  ‘Perhaps you had better fill me in now?’ he suggested.

  ‘I think Mrs Sheppard mentioned a doll?’ began Paul. ‘Queenie says it’s not really a doll, it’s called a poppet.’

  ‘Never heard of such a thing,’ he said, shaking his head.

  ‘They are used in many ways,’ Queenie said looking at him sober
ly, ‘but in this instance a local coven used this particular poppet to try and cast a curse on a man called Nicholas Spicer.

  ‘And for what reason?’ he asked, with a sceptical look on his face.

  ‘It was a killing spell.’

  He suddenly laughed which he tried to turn into a cough when he saw the indignant look on Queenie’s face. ‘That’s ridiculous!’

  ‘You see!’ she snapped, looking at Paul indignantly. ‘This is why you shouldn’t have involved him! I haven’t got the time to deal with somebody who is going to scoff and sneer!’

  Archie, raising an amused eyebrow, placed a conciliatory hand on her shoulder. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, my dear.’

  Holding her breath Sybil flicked a look at her sister’s furious face and inwardly quailed.

  ‘I am not your dear,’ Queenie said witheringly, pushing his hand off. ‘And if you touch me again I will turn you into a mushroom!’

  ‘Queenie, stop!’ she pleaded. ‘I’m sure he didn’t mean any disrespect.’

  ‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘It’s just that it’s rather farfetched.’ He smiled around the small group. ‘Or is it just me who is finding all this rather ridiculous?’

  ‘Archie,’ reproved Paul. ‘You are going to need an open mind if you want to help.’

  ‘Hmpf,’ snorted Queenie. ‘I think you are wasting your time with this one, Paul.’

  Archie gazed at their troubled expressions and slowly nodded. ‘Okay,’ he said, doing his best to sound reasonable. ‘I shall reserve judgement until I have heard all the facts. However,’ he added holding up a finger, ‘if I think this is all nonsense then I will say so.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Paul agreed and looked at Queenie who was staring into her mug of tea. ‘Queenie? Are you okay with that?’

  She nodded slowly then lifted her head. ‘Can I continue then?’ she asked, staring coldly at Archie. ‘Yes? Very well... Nicholas Spicer should have died from this curse but he didn’t because a member of the coven withdrew her power from the poppet. And to put it simply the other three witches are still stuck here because the spell wasn’t successful. They want the doll back and this chant the children were using, if completed, would have released them fully into this world.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me that,’ Paul said appalled.

  ‘Well you didn’t tell me that you had remembered it, if you had, well...’ she paused. ‘Anyway it’s bad news,’ she finished.

  ‘So what would have happened if I hadn’t interrupted my daughters?’

  ‘She is almost unstoppable now,’ muttered Sybil. ‘You wouldn’t like to see what she is capable of if she regained all her power.’

  He slumped back against the cushions and stared blankly at the ceiling. ‘Christ,’ he muttered.

  Archie sat with his mug cradled in his hands and stared in amazement at their serious faces. ‘You really believe all this!’

  ‘Yes,’ said Sybil quietly. ‘I know it’s difficult for you to get your head around but it’s all true.’

  ‘So tell me, why do you need to find records for this Nicholas Spicer?’

  ‘Because it’s the only lead we have and it may lead us to the coven members,’ said Queenie.

  ‘And then what?’ he persisted, looking thoughtfully at her pale face and noting the dark circles under her eyes.

  ‘Their names,’ she said heavily. ‘I need names, especially hers.’ Queenie raised the mug to her lips and drained it quickly. ‘It should give me some leverage over her,’ she added.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘No, I’m not!’ she muttered, ‘but it’s the only thing I can think at the moment. I even obtained a drop of her blood and I couldn’t stop her with that either!’ She stared at him pensively, ‘So now I am grasping at straws and if you can find anything relating to this man I would be grateful.’

  ‘In that case,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘I will go home and start searching through all the parish records.’

  ‘Thank you Archie,’ Paul said, handing him his thick overcoat. ‘And can you tell us as soon as you find something? No matter the time, we need to know!’

  ‘Will do,’ he smiled at the two women and followed Paul to the door where he paused in the doorway. ‘Oh Queenie? How grateful?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘How grateful would you be?’ he smiled. ‘Coffee and cake at Nappers Mite tea shop? Or can I take you to dinner at The Antelope, sort of grateful?’ He chuckled as Queenie suddenly turned crimson with embarrassment and quickly shut the door before she could answer.

  ‘What!’ she spluttered then turned to look at her sister who was sniggering quietly. ‘Shut up Sybil! Bloody nerve!’ she said, spots of pink still on her cheeks. ‘Dinner indeed!’

  ‘The Antelope is very good,’ ventured Sybil. ‘They have a new chef.’

  There was silence for a minute.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. And I have heard the steaks are superb and I know how much you like a good rib eye,’ Sybil said blandly, watching a range of emotions cross her sister’s face.

  ‘Well...’ she said thoughtfully, then caught sight of Sybil’s face. ‘Oh for goodness sake this isn’t the time or place!’ She suddenly sat up in her chair and glared across the fireplace at her sister. ‘This is all your fault!’

  ‘What did I do?’ she protested.

  ‘You stirred the bath the wrong way! I told you it was anti clockwork for cleansing!’

  ‘Oh yes... I did, didn’t I?’ she said. Sybil rested her head back against the soft cushions and closed her eyes, a faint smile playing on her lips.

  The door to the study opened and Paul hurried in. ‘He’s gone.’ His voice trailed away as Queenie quickly put a finger to her lips and nodded towards Sybil who was nodding gently in the chair.

  He tiptoed across and took the chair that Archie had recently vacated, leaning forward he carefully whispered. ‘If there is anything to find, Archie will track it down.’

  ‘Good but in the meantime I would like you to keep Sybil here,’ she began slowly. ‘There is somebody I have to see and I don’t want to take my sister with me.’

  ‘Who?’

  She sighed and edged closer. ‘Her name is Tamar Humphries. She holds the Dorset Register, and if I am very lucky she might let me have a look.’

  ‘A register of what?’ he asked looking mystified.

  ‘Of witches,’ she explained. ‘It goes back hundreds of years. Witches always signed their name or made their mark to show their commitment to the craft.’

  ‘My God!’ he interrupted. ‘I have heard of that; the Devil’s Book!’

  She shook her head. ‘Not that one, Paul, this is just a harmless register. That book is another thing all together; dark witches signed that particular book to show allegiance to the Dark Lord.’

  He didn’t look convinced and continued to stare at her with a worried expression.

  ‘Tamar has the relevant volume.’ Seeing his ever increasing confusion she expanded, ‘Each county has a register. I hold the Devon book as I was born there and she holds the Dorset one.’ She stirred restlessly and glanced uneasily at her sleeping sister. ‘Sybil doesn’t want to consult her.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well...we have had a few issues in the past.’

  ‘You don’t get on in other words,’ stated Paul.

  ‘That’s right,’ she grinned. ‘Two old cats in a bag, I think was Sybil’s description.’

  ‘But will she help you?’

  ‘Probably not.’ She stared down at her wrinkled hands. ‘But I have to try. I am running out of ideas.’

  ‘You have forgotten my suggestions,’ he whispered, as Sybil stirred in the chair. ‘We could use ancient church ceremonies such as exorcism.’

  Queenie shook her head. ‘I would feel uncomfortable doing that,’ she confessed. ‘No matter what she has done, she is a fellow witch and to cast her out into eternal darkness would sit heavily on my conscience.’

  Paul stared
at her in disbelief. ‘You have a strange conscience Queenie. You seem to have forgotten what she has done, and is capable of doing.’

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ she said sharply and then guiltily glanced across at Sybil. Satisfied her sister was still asleep continued in a lower tone. ‘But there must be another way, and that’s why I am going to see her.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Now of course.’

  ‘But where does she live?’ he asked, looking perturbed.

  ‘Not far, she has a little cottage at the foot of Eggardon Hill.’

  He half laughed which he tried to stifle not wanting to disturb the sleeping woman. ‘Are you serious? In this weather? I told you the road was closed.’

  ‘I can get through,’ she said with confidence.

  ‘I doubt it,’ he replied bluntly. ‘Unless you have a four by four, even then it would be hard going to make it along that road. What do you drive?’

  ‘Primrose. My little Ford Fiesta.’

  Paul snorted. ‘Well, you can forget it then! You wouldn’t even get up the High street in that. Can’t you just call her?’

  ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I have to see her.’

  ‘And you are sure she could help?’

  ‘She will have the information. I just have to persuade her to share it with me.’

  ‘Right,’ he said reluctantly, ‘then we will go tomorrow.’

  ‘Why not now?’

  ‘Because the temperature has dropped and everything including the roads are starting to freeze. If we can get through at all it will have to be in the morning.’

  Queenie nodded reluctantly. ‘Tomorrow it is then. But Sybil stays here, out of harm’s way.’

  chapter SIX

  ‘I’m coming!’

  ‘You are not!’ stated Queenie firmly.

  ‘Yes I am. I need to come to act as referee between the pair of you!’ She glanced across at Paul who was standing to one side with a non committal look on his face.

  ‘Keep me out of this,’ he said, raising a hand then swung round as the kitchen door slowly opened. ‘Morning.’

  Victoria, still wearing pyjamas and a dressing gown, wandered into the room. ‘What’s all the noise?’ she asked, her bleary eyes trying to focus on the angry faces.