by HANNA, H. Y.
She saw the girl staring at her in horror.
“Oh my Goddess… Okay, okay… Don’t worry… I can fix it—”
“Fix what?” said Caitlyn. She groped around her temples and gasped as her fingers felt something leafy growing out of her ears. “What have you done?”
“Nothing that can’t be fixed! It was just a small slip-up… must have got the words in the wrong order… But don’t worry, I’ll fix it in a jiffy! Just close your eyes again!”
She grabbed Caitlyn’s ears with both hands and yanked her head closer, then muttered some more unintelligible words under her breath. Caitlyn felt her ears go hot, then cold, and then another gust of wind envelop them. She opened her eyes to see the girl slowly opening hers too.
“GAAH!” The girl jumped backwards, clamping a hand to her mouth, her eyes on Caitlyn’s face.
“What? WHAT?” said Caitlyn, starting to feel really panicked now.
She looked frantically around and spied a mirror on the wall nearby. She rushed over to take a look, then shrieked. Her eyebrows had turned into a giant monobrow, joined in the middle like a big hairy caterpillar crawling across her forehead.
She turned back to the girl. “What have you done to me?”
“I’m so sorry!” cried the girl, wringing her hands. “But don’t worry—there’s no need to panic. I can fix it. I just need to do a spell to reverse it… Now, was it ‘Frown begone, brow unjoin’? Or was it ‘Frown begone, brow undone’? Maybe I should—”
“EVIE!”
The girl cringed as a plump, middle-aged woman dressed in a bright purple kaftan hurried up to them. Her frizzy red hair peeked out from beneath a purple turban, and her eyes were framed by purple wire-rimmed spectacles, but her eccentric appearance was belied by her kindly face. She looked at Caitlyn in horror.
“What have you done to the customer?” she demanded.
The girl stammered, “N-nothing, Mum… She… she had a headache and… well, I was trying out—”
“Evie, what did I tell you about performing spells on the customers?” the woman said severely. “If she had a headache, why didn’t you just give her the Peppermint & Lavender Soothing Head Balm? Or the Willow Bark Tea?”
“Well, magic works so much better…” Evie said sullenly.
“Not when you don’t know how to use it,” the woman snapped. “You could have shrunk her head or even blown her up!”
“Er… I’m still standing here, you know,” said Caitlyn, raising her hand.
The woman turned back to her with a bright smile. “Oh, yes! Hello, dear. I’m Bertha and this is my daughter, Evie. Welcome to Herbal Enchantments. We stock a range of products made from the finest natural ingredients, based on traditional English remedies that have been handed down through generations.”
Caitlyn stared incredulously as the woman continued beaming at her. “Uh… that’s great. But what about my eyebrows?” She looked at Bertha anxiously. “You’ll be able to fix this, right? I won’t have to go around with a monobrow for the rest of my life?”
“Hmm? Oh, oh yes, of course...” Bertha snapped her fingers. “Visago Revertus!”
Caitlyn felt a whirl of air around her and something scraped across her forehead. She rushed back to the mirror and sighed in relief. Her eyebrows were back to normal.
“Now, let me give you something for that headache,” added Bertha with a smile.
“Oh no, no, that’s okay,” said Caitlyn hastily. “Thanks all the same but I’ve got to go now—”
Somehow, a small tray had appeared on the counter next to them. Bertha lifted a teapot from the tray and poured some steaming liquid into a mug, which she handed to Caitlyn.
“Drink this.”
Caitlyn hesitated. The last thing she wanted to do was try anything else from this store. But Bertha’s kindly face and air of quiet authority invited trust. Cupping the mug in her hands, Caitlyn raised it to her lips and sipped carefully. The drink had an unusual flavour she had never tasted before but it was quite pleasant, with an earthy aroma. She took a few bigger gulps, then looked back up.
“It’s willow bark tea,” Bertha said in answer to Caitlyn’s silent question. “It’s an old traditional remedy for headaches. Feel better?”
Caitlyn started to give a fake polite answer, then stopped in surprise. Actually, she did feel better. In fact, her headache had completely lifted!
“My headache’s gone!”
“Good.” The older woman smiled, then looked at her curiously. “Are you visiting Tillyhenge?”
“Yes. I just arrived.”
“And where are you from?”
“Um… well, my… uh… my mother was American, although we hardly lived there. She was a singer and we moved around a lot, lived in different countries.”
“Really?” The other woman kept looking strangely at her until Caitlyn began to wonder if something else was growing out of her head.
“Is something the matter?” she asked at last.
“Oh no. It’s just that… well, you look a lot like… someone I used to know.” The older woman blinked and shook her head. “Perhaps it’s my imagination.”
The other woman’s staring was making Caitlyn uncomfortable and she hurried to change the subject. “Um… I don’t suppose you know of a place I could stay for the night? Is there an inn or bed and breakfast in the village?”
“No,” said Bertha regretfully. “The only place that has rooms to board is the pub but I believe both their rooms are taken. We don’t normally get many visitors to stay in Tillyhenge…”
“There’s Grandma’s place!” Evie spoke up. “She’s got that attic bedroom, remember? We were telling her she should let it for some money.”
“Hmm…” Bertha looked unsure. “Well, I suppose…”
“Does your mother have a house nearby?” Caitlyn asked.
“A shop, actually. She lives at the back of the shop herself, but she does have an empty room upstairs.”
“Oh, that’s great! Can you give me directions to her place?”
Bertha hesitated again and Caitlyn looked at her curiously. Why was she so reluctant? It was almost as if she was nervous about something.
Bertha frowned. “Maybe I ought to come with you—explain things to Mother…”
There was a bustling in the doorway of the store and two tourists came in. Evie went eagerly towards them and Bertha glanced anxiously after her.
“You’d better go and look after your customers,” said Caitlyn hastily, not wanting others to suffer the same fate she had under Evie’s hands.
Bertha hesitated again, then sighed and said quickly, “It’s the chocolate shop at the edge of the village. Take the street opposite the pub, from the village green, and follow it to the old water pump, then take a left and then a right, and you’ll find yourself on a narrow lane leading out of the village. The chocolate shop is at the end of that lane.”
“Thanks.” Caitlyn gave her a wave and left the store.
She went back to her car to retrieve her overnight bag, then followed the directions to find the chocolate shop. On the way, she mulled over what had just happened in Herbal Enchantments. How had Evie managed to make those things grow out of her ears? And fuse her eyebrows? And how had Bertha changed her eyebrows back to normal? It must have been some kind of prank, Caitlyn decided. Like an elaborate hoax. The gust of air could have been done with an electric fan. And maybe Evie had stuck something on Caitlyn’s forehead when her eyes were shut… or maybe… maybe the mirror was rigged to show a fake image… Yes, that must have been it. And all that talk of spells… well, it was probably all part of the hoax, the kind of thing you said to hook gullible tourists…
It couldn’t really have been magic… because magic didn’t exist, right?
Caitlyn realised that she had been walking around in circles for a while and still hadn’t found the chocolate shop. For a tiny village, Tillyhenge sure had a lot of winding lanes and alleys, all twisting together like a rabbit warren.
She had lost all sense of direction now and wasn’t even sure she could find her way back to the village green. Then to her relief, she saw an elderly lady coming towards her, pulling a wheelie shopping trolley behind her.
“Excuse me, can you tell me the way to the chocolate shop?”
The old woman gave her a look of fear. “You don’t want to eat anything from there!"
“Oh, no, I’m not interested in the chocolates,” Caitlyn explained. “I just need a place to—”
“I wouldn’t touch anything from the Widow Mags! Not if you paid me all the money in China!” The woman hurried off, her shopping trolley rattling behind her.
Caitlyn watched her go, bewildered. Then she spied two more figures walking towards her. They were a mother and a little girl of about six years old. The woman gave her a friendly smile as she approached.
“Excuse me, do you know the way to the chocolate shop?”
The woman’s face changed. “The chocolate shop?”
“Yes, I was told that there might be a room there. I need somewhere to stay for the night.”
The little girl tugged her mother’s hand urgently. “No, Mummy! Don’t let her go to the chocolate shop! The witch lives there!”
“Hush!” the woman admonished. She looked back up at Caitlyn with an embarrassed smile. “Er… perhaps it would be better for you to find another place to stay. I don’t think the chocolate shop is the most… er… hospitable.”
“Oh. Well, is there anywhere else in the village you can recommend? I was told the pub is fully booked.”
The woman gave her a regretful look. “Sorry. Yes, you’re right—the only other option is the pub and the reporter and that South African gentleman are staying there. I suppose you’d have to go to the next village?”
Caitlyn bit her lip. She was tired and didn’t want to drive anywhere else that day. Besides, after all the trouble she’d taken to find Tillyhenge, she was loathe to leave again so soon.
She gave the woman a determined smile. “I’m sure the chocolate shop will be fine for one night. Can you please tell me how to get there?”
Reluctantly, the woman turned and pointed down the street, giving Caitlyn directions.
“What’s the shop called?” asked Caitlyn.
The woman hesitated, then said, “Bewitched by Chocolate.”
“Oh!” Caitlyn smiled. “That’s a lovely name.”
“Er, yes…” The woman looked uncomfortable.
“Have you tried any of the chocolates?”
“Once.” The woman looked scared. “They… they taste amazing. Almost too good to be real. You wonder what the Widow Mags puts in them.”
Grabbing her child’s hand, she turned and hurried away. Caitlyn stared after her. In her mind’s eye, she suddenly saw Pomona again, sitting across the table from her back at the tearoom in Meadowford… and her cousin eagerly reading the tea leaves and telling her that there would be “chocolate” in her future… Her spine tingled. Then, brushing the memory away, she began making her way to the chocolate shop at the edge of the village.
CHAPTER FOUR
Caitlyn looked up at the shop in front of her. Bewitched by Chocolate was housed in a traditional Cotswold cottage, but unlike the cottages usually seen in postcards and travel guides, with their glowing honey-coloured stone walls and pretty thatched roofs, the walls on this one were crumbling, with a greyish-green tinge, and the thatched roof looked ragged and sagging. The windows were dark and covered with cobwebs, and the front doorway yawned like an open mouth, dark and foreboding.
Caitlyn shivered, rubbing her arms. She hadn’t seen a place look less inviting. Did she really want to spend a night here? Wasn’t she better to drive on and find a B&B in another village?
Just as she was about to turn away, something wafted out of the doorway of the shop. Caitlyn froze in her tracks as the wonderful rich aroma of chocolate filled her senses. Dark, sweet, and heavenly, Caitlyn could almost taste the creamy confection melting on her tongue. Her mouth started watering. Almost against her will, she stepped through the darkened doorway and walked inside.
Slowly her eyes grew accustomed to the darkened interior and she looked around in wonder. The place was like Aladdin’s cave—if Aladdin’s cave had been filled with gourmet chocolates and cocoa delights, instead of gold and jewels. Boxes of crunchy, chocolate-coated nougat and soft, buttery caramels filled the alcoves in the walls, next to smooth, creamy fudges and jars of rich chocolate sauce. Solid chocolate bars in milk, dark and white chocolate decorated the shelves, their smooth surfaces topped with crispy cocoa nibs, whole almonds, zesty orange peels, and crunchy toffee pieces.
On the counter that ran along the back wall were various bowls of cocoa-dusted coffee beans and succulent chocolate-dipped apricots and strawberries. And beneath the counter, just visible under the dusty glass pane, was an array of chocolate truffles and luscious bonbons, gleaming and oozing with delectable flavours.
The shop seemed empty, however. Caitlyn frowned as she approached the counter, wondering where the Widow Mags was. There was a small alcove behind the counter—what was obviously the original fireplace—and Caitlyn was surprised to see a cast-iron cauldron hanging over an open fire, filled with a dark molten liquid that was bubbling away merrily. Chocolate. Caitlyn inhaled deeply. Yes, the whole shop smelled amazing but that cauldron was the source of the most incredible aroma of rich, dark chocolate.
Suddenly, a dark shape heaved up from behind the counter. Caitlyn caught a glimpse of a hunched back, wild grey hair and a large hooked nose. She jumped and screamed.
The old woman behind the counter yelped and jumped too, sending cocoa beans flying everywhere. They scattered across the counter and rolled onto the floor.
“What are you doing, girl? You scared me half to death!” the old woman snapped.
Caitlyn choked. “Me? Scare you?”
“Yes, what was all that screaming for?”
“You just appeared out of nowhere and I thought you were a wi—” Caitlyn bit off the word just in time. “Uh… I guess you just startled me.”
She leaned back and took a better look at the Widow Mags. She realised that the hunchback impression was due to a dowager’s hump—something a lot of older women with osteoporosis were prone to—and the wild grey hair was simply wispy ends that had come loose from the bun at the nape of the old woman’s neck. Her nose was quite large and hooked, yes, but the thing that had looked like a wart on the end was actually a blob of chocolate, dried into a funny shape.
In fact, on closer inspection, the Widow Mags looked like nothing more than an old woman with a faded shawl around her shoulders and skinny chicken legs peeking out from beneath the hem of her ragged black dress. A grumpy old woman, at that. She was scowling now as she peered at Caitlyn from beneath her wrinkled brow.
“What are you staring at?”
“Oh, n-nothing,” said Caitlyn, hastily averting her eyes.
The old woman growled, “If you want to buy some chocolates, hurry up and tell me what you want!”
Good grief. No wonder there was no one in the store. The old woman’s customer service manner seriously needed work.
“Actually, I’m not here about the chocolates. I came to ask—” Caitlyn broke off as she saw the Widow Mags stoop painfully to collect the spilled cocoa beans. The old woman fumbled as her gnarled hands—the fingers stiff with arthritis—struggled to grip the beans and pick them up.
“Here, let me help you,” said Caitlyn, dropping to the floor beside her.
“I can manage!” the old woman snarled.
Taken aback, Caitlyn was tempted to stand up and leave the cranky old biddy to her own devices. Then she felt a wave of compassion. She recognised pride when she saw it: like many senior citizens who had once been proudly independent, the Widow Mags was having a hard time now that she was getting older and could no longer do the things she used to do. She needed help but didn’t know how to ask for it—or even how to receive it graciously.
The Widow Mags hesitated, then said, “Well, fine… Make sure you don’t miss the small ones.”
Quickly, Caitlyn picked up all the spilled cocoa beans and returned them to the bowl.
The Widow Mags mumbled, “Thank you… not that I couldn’t have done it myself, mind you.”
Caitlyn stifled a laugh, wondering if anyone had ever been thanked so grudgingly.
The old woman flung an awkward hand towards the display of truffles beneath the counter. “Have a taste of my chocolates.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay. I wasn’t expecting—”
“Choose a chocolate!” snarled the old woman.
Quickly, Caitlyn grabbed a chocolate truffle and stuffed it into her mouth. Whatever negative feelings she might have felt towards the old woman disappeared as soon as the truffle melted on her tongue. She closed her eyes in ecstasy. A velvety soft ganache cream centre, blended with buttery caramel, covered with rich dark chocolate and dusted all over with pure cocoa. Heaven.
Caitlyn opened her eyes. “That… that was incredible! What did you put in it?”
“What do you mean? Are you suggesting that I spike my chocolates with something?” demanded the old woman.
“No, no, it’s just that they’re so delicious! I’ve never tasted chocolates like these—and believe me, I’ve eaten a lot of chocolates.”
The old woman’s face softened. “Harrumph… well, thank you,” she said gruffly.
Caitlyn gave her a smile. “I’d love to buy some to give my cousin—can I get a box made up?”
The old woman softened even further. “Of course. Which ones would you like?”
Caitlyn looked down helplessly at the rows and rows of gorgeous truffles and chocolate bonbons. She had no idea how to choose—they all looked delicious.
“Taste them,” the Widow Mags suggested. “That’s the best way to choose.”
“Okay,” said Caitlyn, not about to turn down an offer to have more chocolate! “But you must let me pay for the ones I taste as well,” she insisted.
