by H. Y. Hanna
“But Vera—what can we do? I heard that she’s staying at the Manor now, as some sort of guest.”
There were more gasps of outrage.
“That’s preposterous!”
“I can’t believe Lord Fitzroy would harbour a woman like that!”
“Where did you hear that?” Vera’s voice demanded.
“Louise, here, told me. She works up at the Manor.”
There was a pause, then a new voice spoke up. It was a younger voice, sounding more like a woman in her early twenties than one of Vera’s usual middle-aged cronies.
“Yeah, I’m one of the new waitresses in the coach house restaurant. I heard it from Hattie—she’s the other girl who works there. She said she heard Lord Fitzroy and the police inspector talkin’ in the Library... But Minerva ain’t really a guest. It’s more like house arrest, I think.”
“It’s still far better than she deserves!”
“Yes, that woman ought to be clapped in a cell and jailed for life!”
“Why haven’t the police arrested her?”
“They can’t,” Louise spoke up again. “I heard it myself. I was hangin’ around outside the Library and I heard Minerva arguin’ with the inspector. Said she’s free to practise witchcraft ’cos the Human Rights Act... something ’bout freedom of religious belief in the law—”
“Then we have to go outside the law,” came Vera’s grim voice.
There was a moment of silence, then someone asked breathlessly:
“What do you mean, Vera?”
“It’s what people used to do, back in the seventeenth century. They took matters into their own hands when they were threatened by witches. We have the right to protect our families and homes, don't we? And we know this woman is a bringer of misfortune—haven’t you noticed the things that have happened in Tillyhenge since she arrived?”
“You mean... like what happened to Rupert Shaw on the hill yesterday?”
There were several murmurs: “Oh my God, yes—has anyone heard how he is?”... “Is he out of Intensive Care?”... “Have you seen him?”
“He was lucky,” Vera’s voice cut in, her tone grudging. “The electrical current somehow passed through him without damaging any major organs. They said he might be out of hospital by the end of the week. But I wasn’t thinking of Rupert—I was thinking of other things in the village.”
“Oh! You mean like Dorothy Millbank’s brother going bankrupt?” one of the other women said.
“Yes, and Edith Picton’s mother being diagnosed with cancer and John Burke’s car being stolen... And now Jeremy’s cows have been struck down by a strange illness!” cried Vera. “Perfectly fine, they were, and then he goes out yesterday and finds several of them struggling to breathe, with horrible swellings on their faces and skin... How do you explain that? Minerva Chattox has put a hex on them, that’s what! I’m sure of it. She’s probably hoping that Jeremy will go begging to her for help and then she’ll make him pay her a lot of money just to remove the curse!”
“Can’t you report her to the police?”
“Don’t think I haven’t tried.” Vera’s voice was bitter. “Wouldn’t listen to me at all—that Inspector Walsh. Kept telling me that it was all just an unlucky coincidence and that there was no such thing as black magic. Well, I’m telling you, I was on that hill yesterday and I saw her cursing poor Rupert with my own eyes. And a few minutes later, he was struck by lightning. Don’t tell me that was a coincidence! Minerva cast a black shade on him, to mark him out for misfortune!”
There were frightened murmurs in the room.
“And I’ll tell you something else—I’m not the only one who believes Minerva Chattox is a danger that needs to be removed,” Vera continued, her voice turning smug.
“What do you mean, Vera?”
“I heard that there’s a man coming... a visitor to the area. He’s some kind of scholar, an expert in witchcraft and the occult, and he’s made it his life’s work to track down witches.” Vera’s voice lowered and she added in a dramatic whisper: “He’s a witch hunter!”
There was a stunned silence for a moment, then several of the ladies started talking at once.
“Oh my! A witch hunter?”
“Heavens!”
“But... I thought they no longer existed?”
“Yes, most of the witch trials were in the seventeenth century, weren’t they? I thought witch hunters died out—”
“Who says there can’t be modern witch hunters?” Vera’s voice cut in sharply. “And anyway, if you ask me, I think it’s high time that witch trials were brought back.”
There was a titter of nervous laughter in the room.
“You’re not serious, Vera!”
“Why not? It’s only right that we should be able to prosecute those who use the dark arts against us. This village, for example, has had to put up with the likes of the Widow Mags for years—and who knows what she’s conjuring up in that chocolate shop of hers? Those chocolates taste far too good to be natural—they have to be bewitched by magic! Then there’s her daughter, Bertha, with her herbal remedies and traditional cures... well, how do we know if she’s pretending to help us just so she can poison our minds? I mean, look at Jeremy’s boy, Chris: I’ve told him dozens of times not to speak to Evie, that old witch’s granddaughter. I’ve told him to avoid Evie at school and stay away from her mother’s shop, but he just won't listen. I think he even likes her! And you can’t tell me it’s because of her looks! Have you ever seen such a skinny, clumsy girl with a face covered in spots? I'm sure she’s casting some kind of spell on Chris—”
“Yes, yes, and that new girl too. Caitlyn—the one who came from America looking for her family—she’s supposed to be the Widow Mags’s granddaughter as well, isn’t she? Everyone says that she’s bewitched Lord Fitzroy and made him fall in love with her!”
Caitlyn felt her face burning as indignation surged through her. She wanted to step into the room and protest, to deny that she had never used magic to manipulate James’s feelings, but she knew that it would be a waste of time. These women would never listen. And besides, she wasn’t sure if she wanted a confrontation that would bring up questions about her real identity. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of being a witch, but she knew that Bertha and the Widow Mags always preferred to keep a low profile in the village, never acknowledging the rumours about them, and she was inclined to follow their example.
Then she realised that the conversation in the room had moved back to Minerva:
“...this woman is even worse. At least the Widow Mags and Bertha seem to keep to themselves. But this woman, Minerva... well, she’s flaunting her powers and openly trying to corrupt the innocent.”
“Exactly. Why shouldn’t she be hunted down and tried for her crimes of witchcraft? We need to rid the village of this evil influence.” Vera paused, then her voice rang with satisfaction: “And now we might have someone who can help us do it!”
CHAPTER TEN
THE FRONT DOOR TO THE farmhouse opened suddenly and Caitlyn started guiltily. She whirled and moved away from the sitting room doorway, just as Jeremy and the vet came in. Thankfully, they were deep in discussion and didn’t pay her much attention as they came through the door.
“...you think there’s a cure, doctor?”
“Well, I have to admit to you, Jeremy, that in all my years of practice, I’ve never seen anything like it... but I’m hopeful... I’m hopeful... Let me get back to the clinic and run some tests—”
They broke off as they saw Caitlyn, and the dairy farmer gave her an apologetic smile.
“Ah, Caitlyn... sorry to have kept you waiting. You wanted to speak to me?”
Caitlyn indicated the cat carrier by her feet. “No, actually, I was hoping to speak to Dr Liddell, if he’s got a moment?”
The vet glanced down at Nibs’s little black face peeking out from between the bars. “Have you brought me a patient? My goodness, I can’t believe this is that scrawny, bedraggled littl
e thing you’d rescued from drowning. He’s put on weight and filled out nicely now, hasn’t he? Although he’s still a wee thing.”
“Yes, that’s sort of what I wanted to speak to you about,” said Caitlyn, following Jeremy and the vet as they went into the farmhouse kitchen. She repeated her concerns as she lifted Nibs out of the carrier and placed him on the large wooden table in the centre of the room. The kitten looked around with wide-eyed curiosity, wrinkling his tiny nose as he sniffed the air.
“Mew?” he said.
The vet picked the kitten up, running his hands expertly over the small furry body. “Let’s have a look at you, you little monkey... hmm... yes, well, he has good muscle coverage on his bones and none of his limbs seem to be contorted or stunted in any way... but you’re right: he does seem to be very small for his age.”
Caitlyn nodded. “You guessed that his age was around four to six weeks when we found him. It was hard to tell because he was so thin and small. You said if he was malnourished, he could have looked small for his age. But even with the minimum, he should be around sixteen weeks by now—and he definitely doesn’t look like a sixteen-week-old kitten.”
“Hmm... no, he doesn’t,” the vet agreed. “And yet he looks extremely healthy: bright eyes, beautiful glossy coat, good weight on his bones, a nicely rounded tummy... One of the most common reasons for stunted growth is worms, but typically kittens with a heavy worm burden would have poor coats, a big pot belly, diarrhoea, and be very thin... Nibs doesn’t have any of those symptoms. And in any case, I personally dewormed him when he was first rescued.” He glanced at Jeremy, who was watching proceedings, and gave a wry smile. “Another mystery, eh? Tillyhenge seems to be full of them lately. I just had a phone call this morning from a woman on the other side of the village who was freaked out because her dog seems to have grown an extra tooth.”
Caitlyn stared at him. “An extra tooth?” She wondered uneasily what Vera would make of that once she heard. She had to admit that even she found the story slightly creepy.
Liddell waved a hand. “Oh, I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation, but it did seem to be the latest in a series of strange illnesses and conditions that have suddenly popped up in the village.” He straightened and said in a brisk tone, “Right, well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to tell you the same thing I told Jeremy: I need to run some tests and scans on Nibs before I can make a diagnosis... it could be a hormonal imbalance, it could be a genetic disorder or perhaps a bone deformity—I really can’t say without more information. I do have some rudimentary equipment in the jeep, but I’d prefer to use the bigger, more sophisticated machines back at the clinic. I can take Nibs back with me now and keep him overnight, then you can come and pick him up tomorrow, if that suits you?”
Caitlyn nodded and started to reach for the cat carrier to put Nibs back in. But to her surprise, the kitten suddenly squirmed out of the vet’s grasp and scurried across the table to her.
“Mew!” he cried, staring up at her with his big yellow eyes.
"Oh, Nibs, don't worry—you’re only going away for a night. I’ll come and pick you up tomorrow.”
“Meeew!” cried Nibs again. Then he clambered into her arms and buried his face in the crook of her elbow.
“Nibs...!” said Caitlyn in surprise. She gave the vet a helpless look. “He’s never acted like this before. He’s normally the most inquisitive, confident little kitten.” She hesitated, then asked, “Would it be okay if I come to the clinic with him? It might help reassure him.”
“Sure. I was just hoping to save you a trip into town, but you’re very welcome.”
“Oh... I have to go and get my car. It’s parked by the village green,” said Caitlyn with a sigh, thinking of the long walk across the village.
“Listen, why don’t you just come with me?” the vet suggested. “I’m heading back to the clinic now. I just need to stop off at Huntingdon Manor on the way... in fact, now that I think about it—I seem to remember that James is bringing his mastiff in to the clinic for his annual check-up and vaccinations later today. That could be very handy. You could get a lift to the clinic with me, then return with James later.”
“That’s a great idea—thanks!” said Caitlyn, trying to ignore the little thrill at the thought of seeing James again.
Then she realised that a group of women had trooped into the kitchen and was standing there, watching them: Vera and her friends. The spinster stiffened as she saw Caitlyn and her mouth compressed into a thin line, but she held her tongue, perhaps because of her brother’s presence. Still, Caitlyn was glad when she was finally able to follow the vet out of the farmhouse, away from all those hostile gazes.
As she was getting into Liddell’s mud-splattered jeep, however, she was surprised to see that one of Vera’s group had followed them out. It was a young woman in her early twenties, with a superficial prettiness and a slightly nervous manner. She hurried up to the jeep and addressed the vet:
“I was wonderin’—if you wouldn’t mind, doctor—I heard you say that you were stoppin’ off at the Manor on your way back to the clinic? It’s only ’cos I work there, you see, and I was wonderin’ if you could give me a lift?”
Caitlyn recognised the voice of the woman who had spoken up earlier... Louise... yes, that was her name.
"Oh sure, the more the merrier,” said the vet with a laugh. “I just hope you and Caitlyn don’t mind sitting in the back; there’s too much junk in the front,” he said, gesturing ruefully to the front passenger seat, which seemed to be piled high with various examination instruments, stethoscopes, bottles of pills and liquids, bandages, vaccines, overalls, and even several pairs of muddy boots. “I know I really ought to keep most of this in the back but it’s just so much easier to reach when it’s next to me.”
They assured him that it was fine, and soon the jeep was bumping over the muddy track that led out of the farm. As they passed the field by the farmyard, Caitlyn looked back to see Ferdinand the bull watching them, his mouth moving from side to side as he placidly chewed cud, and his dark eyes big and limpid.
“Ferdinand hasn’t got the sickness, has he?” she asked the vet worriedly.
He glanced at the bull in the rear-view mirror. “No... at least, not yet. He seems fine at the moment but I’m unsure how this illness spreads, so for the time being I’ve advised Jeremy to keep Ferdinand separate from the rest of the cows.”
Caitlyn glanced back again at the bull, growing smaller in the distance, and felt her heart constrict. She would be devastated if anything happened to Ferdinand. She had come to love the gentle bull and although he didn’t live with her, it was as if he were an honorary pet. She always looked forward to stopping by Jeremy’s farm to visit Ferdinand whenever she could, and taking him some tasty treats in the form of chopped cabbages or carrots.
“Do you have any idea what the sicknesses is, doctor?" Louise asked breathlessly. “Is it... is it likely to have a supernatural cause? There’s this woman called Minerva Chattox who calls herself a witch... and Vera says bad things have been happenin’ ever since she came to Tillyhenge last week... The others think that she’s hexed the village and... and all sorts of diseases and misfortunes are striking people down.”
The vet chuckled. “I think people have been struck down by a plague of over-active imagination more than anything else! No, I’m sure there’s nothing supernatural about this illness—”
“But you haven’t seen anythin’ like it before, have you?” insisted Louise.
Liddell hesitated, then admitted, “No, I haven’t, but that doesn’t mean anything. There are any number of rare viral infections that can sometimes take hold when your body’s defences are compromised, or auto-immune diseases which can suddenly flare up for no apparent reason. I’m not sure yet what this sickness is but I can assure you that it has a scientific cause.”
“But Vera says Minerva is a powerful witch with evil intentions and—”
“Oh, I think that woman is up
to no good, all right, but I doubt it’s of a supernatural nature. No, in fact, I think she’s nothing more than a big fraud.”
"A... a fraud?” gasped Louise.
“Yes, I’ve been hearing a lot about her around the village in the past few days, while making my rounds. If you ask me, Minerva Chattox is nothing more than a clever con artist, peddling a lot of nonsense about witchcraft and magic! After all, we all know that witches don’t really exist, don’t we?”
He glanced at Caitlyn for confirmation and she stammered, “Er... um...”
To her relief, the vet continued without waiting for her answer.
“...and we all know that there’s no such thing as magic, so all this spell-casting is simply mumbo-jumbo. She’s preying on people’s hopes and dreams, and all those special candles and witch salts and spell jars and ritual oils that she’s peddling around are just a load of junk!”
Caitlyn saw Louise flinch next to her and the woman’s hands clenched around her handbag.
“But... but don't you think there might be objects that have been... like... imbued with mystical energies, doctor?” asked Louise in a small, desperate voice. “Things... things like a crow’s claw or adder skins or toadstones—”
The vet gave a bark of laughter. “Mystical energies, my foot! There’s nothing magical about a shrivelled claw cut off from some poor crow’s foot. Those things are age-old hoaxes that do nothing other than endanger the poor animals being hunted for their body parts. If Minerva Chattox is selling that kind of junk as well, she’s a worse charlatan than I thought.” He glanced at Louise through the rear-view mirror. “You haven’t bought anything like that from her, have you?”
“Oh no... no, no of course not...” stammered Louise. She gave a nervous laugh. “I ain’t so silly.”
She lapsed into a preoccupied silence for the rest of the ride, and as soon as they arrived at the Manor, she thanked the vet and hurried away, disappearing in the direction of the coach house. Caitlyn followed David Liddell to the stable courtyard, where one of the stablehands informed them that James had gone out riding and wasn’t expected back for another half an hour at least.
