by H. Y. Hanna
The irony was, the chocolates weren’t enchanted—they were simply very good. In addition to being a witch, the Widow Mags was also a skilled chocolatier and her delicious truffles, bonbons, and gourmet chocolate bars were out-of-this-world. Caitlyn hoped she would have her grandmother’s talent one day; after all, working chocolate was in her blood. The witches in her family had inherited a special ability to tap into the ancient magic of cacao and Caitlyn had already seen glimpses of this in her own powers. It would be nice if I could control those powers though, she thought wryly, recalling what had happened with the children at the cinema.
“Did you hear what happened last night?” she asked the Widow Mags.
“Yes,” said the old witch grimly. “The news was all over the village this morning. Bertha came over first thing and told me.” She gave Caitlyn a sharp look. “Heard the police arrested Viktor?”
“Yes, they’ve taken him to the station for questioning—he was found lurking near the body—but there isn’t really any evidence to tie him to the murder. I spoke to the inspector this morning and I think they’ll release him tomorrow.”
“Good.” The Widow Mags gave a nod.
Pomona had been holding a wriggling Nibs in her arms. Now she set the kitten down and came towards the wooden table. “Omigod! What’s that amazing smell?” she asked, inhaling deeply.
“French chocolate soufflé,” said the Widow Mags, whisking a spatula expertly around a bowl.
“Chocolate soufflé! My favourite! Can I taste one?”
“You’ll have to make them first,” said the Widow Mags. She pointed at some ceramic ramekins sitting on the table. “You can start by lining those with butter.”
The two girls had barely sat down when the back door to the cottage opened and a lanky girl of eighteen walked in. Caitlyn broke into a smile at the sight of her English cousin, Evie. If the Widow Mags hadn’t been the grandmother of her dreams, at least her aunt, Bertha—the Widow Mags’s oldest daughter—was exactly like the warm, motherly figure she had always yearned for. And Bertha’s daughter, Evie, was like the little sister she had never had.
Despite there only being four years between them, Caitlyn felt much older and quite protective towards the younger girl. Maybe it was because she could relate to Evie’s awkwardness and lack of confidence. And she understood what it was like to be frustrated and embarrassed by your appearance. Together, she and Evie often looked wistfully at Pomona’s easy grace and glamourous good looks, whilst they each struggled with their own demons: Caitlyn with her large hips and Evie with her frizzy red hair and teenage acne.
Today, however, Caitlyn was surprised to notice that Evie’s complexion looked unusually good and the younger girl flushed with pleasure at her compliments.
“It’s a spell,” she confided in a whisper. “I found it in an old book in Mum’s bedroom and tried it this morning.”
“A spell?” said Pomona, exchanging a worried look with Caitlyn.
Evie’s spells were known for one thing: ending in disaster. Although she was born and raised in a witch family, her magical skills were sadly lacking—something Caitlyn had learned the hard way when she first arrived in Tillyhenge and Evie’s attempts to cure her headache ended in things sprouting out of her ears. She still winced at the memory of her reflection in the mirror.
Since then, she and Pomona had suffered through several of Evie’s spells gone horrendously wrong. So now they both looked at the younger girl’s clear, pink skin incredulously. Pomona leaned to one side and surreptitiously peered around Evie’s back, as if checking for strange things growing out of her head.
“You used a spell to get rid of your pimples?” Caitlyn asked. “And it worked?”
“Yes, it was easy! Well, once I figured out how to aim better. I can do it for you too, if you like!” offered Evie. She stared at Caitlyn’s forehead. “You’ve got a small zit on your temple—I can zap that and—”
“Uh… no, that’s okay. Thanks anyway,” said Caitlyn, quickly clamping a hand over her temple.
“Are you girls going to natter all day or are you going to help me with the chocolate soufflés?” asked the Widow Mags.
Hurriedly, Evie sat down at the table across from Caitlyn and Pomona, and all three girls picked up a ramekin each. Taking some fresh butter, they smeared it lightly on the inside of the small ceramic bowls. Then—following the Widow Mags’s instructions—they sprinkled some granulated sugar on top, tilting and rolling the ramekins so that the sugar coated the inside surface with a glittering lining. Next, they watched as the old witch heated equal parts fresh milk and cream in a small cauldron over the fire, stirring it until it began to boil gently.
“Fetch me some dark chocolate from the pantry, the one with the highest cocoa content,” directed the Widow Mags.
Pomona hurried to comply and brought back several dark brown slabs of smooth, glossy chocolate, which she carefully broke into chunks and added to the simmering cauldron. They all watched as the chocolate melted into the white liquid in beautiful dark swirls while the Widow Mags continued to stir slowly. Soon, the liquid in the cauldron had turned a dark, gleaming brown. The Widow Mags added a small bowl of pure, unsweetened cocoa powder—“For a more intense chocolatey flavour,” she explained—followed by a bit of water. When the mixture was combined to her satisfaction, she took it off the heat and set it on the table to cool.
“Now for the most important part—the eggs,” said the old witch, raising a hand.
“Wait, Grandma—I can get them for you!” said Evie. “I’ve been practising the Levitation spell all week!”
The Widow Mags looked doubtful. “Evie, I don’t think—”
“No, no, I can do it!”
Before anyone could stop her, Evie stretched a hand towards the carton of eggs on the counter and chanted:
“Gravity defy,
Rise up and fly!”
The egg carton trembled, then the lid flipped open and two eggs rose shakily from their slots. They began to move jerkily through the air towards the wooden table. Caitlyn held her breath and everyone watched as the eggs floated across the room, with Evie directing them, her tongue stuck between her teeth in concentration. The eggs were almost at the table and Caitlyn was about to exhale in relief when one of them suddenly wobbled in mid-air, lurched sideways, and fell on the Widow Mags’s head.
SPLAT!
There was a horrified silence as the three girls stared at the slimy yolk that had splattered down one side of the Widow Mags’s hair.
“Oh!” Evie clamped a hand to her mouth. “Oh my Goddess! Grandma, I’m so sorry!”
The Widow Mags gave her a disgruntled look, then sighed and rose from the table. “I’m going to my room to clean up,” she muttered.
After the old witch had left the kitchen, Evie slumped down in a chair. She looked so dejected that Caitlyn gave her arm a squeeze.
“Don’t worry, Evie—it was an accident.”
“I thought I’d mastered the Levitation spell,” said Evie miserably. “I’m never going to be any good as a witch…”
“Of course, you are! You were almost there—it was just a slip at the last moment.”
“Yeah, I’m sure if you tried it again, you’d do it, no problem,” said Pomona, giving the younger girl an encouraging smile. “Maybe with something other than eggs though,” she added hastily.
Evie brightened. “Okay! I’ll try again with this.”
She reached out and picked up a ramekin, placing it on the table in front of her. Then she furrowed her brow in concentration and stretched her hand towards the little ceramic bowl. Once again, she chanted:
“Gravity defy,
Rise up and fly!”
The ramekin trembled, then tilted so that one side lifted off the table… before thumping back down again.
“Maybe try with something lighter?” Caitlyn suggested.
Evie looked around and spied the Widow Mags’s reading spectacles lying next to a mixing bowl. She stretched
a hand towards them and chanted the spell again. Everyone held their breath. The spectacles shifted slightly, then slid along the table, gathering speed until they launched themselves into the air like a miniature airplane taking off from a runway.
“Holy guacamole! You did it!” cried Pomona, looking up in wonder as the spectacles zoomed around her head.
They flew like a giant insect—a sort of dragonfly, perhaps—with the two lenses as glass wings on either side. Nibs the kitten looked up with interest, then scampered after the spectacles, running in circles around the room as they flapped above his head.
“That is so cool!” said Pomona. “I wish I could do magic. Then I’d never have to find my sunglasses again—I could just get them to, like, fly to me!”
“Maybe you’d better bring them back down now,” said Caitlyn, glancing nervously at the kitchen doorway. The Widow Mags would probably return any moment and she didn’t think the old witch would find the sight of her reading glasses zooming around the kitchen so amusing.
Evie waved a hand towards the spectacles and chanted:
“Gravity obey,
To earth you must stay.”
Nothing happened. The Widow Mags’s glasses kept flying in circles above their heads.
“Gravity obey, / To earth you must stay!” said Evie, louder this time.
The spectacles soared upwards, then dived down like a swooping bird. Everyone gasped as they narrowly missed the corner of the table before swerving up again.
“Meew!” cried Nibs, leaping up in the air to try and catch them.
“Okay, I think this is getting a bit out of control,” said Pomona. “Better get them back before they break a lens.”
“I’m… I’m trying!” said Evie, an edge of panic in her voice. She stretched both hands towards the flying spectacles and shouted: “GRAVITY OBEY, / TO EARTH YOU MUST STAY!”
The spectacles zoomed past her, doing a loop in mid-air. It looked almost as if they were taunting her. Pomona made a grab but the glasses swerved and darted away.
“Oh no you don’t!” she shouted, chasing after them. “I’m going to catch you if it’s the last thing I do!”
The spectacles zigzagged right and left, then made a beeline for the open window.
“Pomie! The window!” Caitlyn gasped.
Pomona made a wild lunge but wasn’t fast enough. The spectacles swerved upwards, then soared out between the open panes.
“Nooo!” cried Evie.
She rushed to the back door and flung it open, running out into the garden behind the cottage. The other two girls followed, but it was too late. By the time they reached the back gate, the spectacles were already flitting into the forest, disappearing from sight between the trees.
“Oh nooo…. What am I going to tell Grandma?” asked Evie, clutching her face.
“Maybe they’ll come back later on their own,” suggested Caitlyn.
“No, they won’t,” moaned Evie. “They’ve gone feral now.”
“Well, maybe you should be proud,” said Pomona brightly. “Instead of a life of drudgery perched on the Widow Mags’s nose, you’ve set them free! Maybe they’ll meet their own kind in the wild and make spectacle babies.”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes and Evie didn’t look amused.
“What am I going to tell Grandma?” she asked again.
“Maybe she won’t notice,” said Pomona hopefully.
The words had barely left her mouth when a grey-haired figure with a dowager’s hump appeared in the rear cottage doorway.
“What are you girls doing out there?” demanded the Widow Mags. “And where have my reading glasses gone?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Both Caitlyn and Evie froze, their mouths hanging open and their expressions panicked.
“Reading glasses? What reading glasses?” asked Pomona brightly.
“I left my spectacles on the kitchen table. They’re gone now. One of you must have moved them—unless they’ve gone walking by themselves,” said the Widow Mags suspiciously.
Evie gulped.
The old witch fixed Caitlyn with a steely gaze. “Have you seen them?”
“I… er…” Caitlyn stammered. She knew she should just make something up but she found it hard to look her grandmother straight in the eye and lie.
Pomona, however, had no such problems. “I didn’t see any glasses on the table. Are you sure you left them there?” she asked glibly. “Maybe you left them somewhere else and forgot. I do that kinda thing all the time, you know. Like… I’d be so sure I parked my car on Level One at the mall, and actually it was on Level Five. Anyway, they’ll turn up sometime. C’mon! Let’s keep going with the soufflés. So what are we gonna do with the eggs?”
As she chattered, Pomona put an arm around the Widow Mags’s shoulders and hustled the old woman back into the cottage. Caitlyn and Evie exchanged looks of admiration and followed. A few minutes later, they were standing at the table again, cracking several eggs and separating the whites from the yolks. The Widow Mags took the yolks and mixed them slowly into the chocolate, whilst the girls followed her directions and beat the egg whites with some sugar.
“Man, don’t you have electric mixers here?” complained Pomona after several moments of vigorous beating. She dropped her whisk and flexed her bicep. “My arm is killing me!”
“I could make the whisks move by themselves using magic!” said Evie. “Do you want me to enchant them and—”
“NO!” said Caitlyn and Pomona together.
Pomona snatched up her whisk and began beating again. “You know what? On second thought, this is good exercise.”
Finally, the egg whites were whipped into light, fluffy peaks and folded carefully into the chocolate mixture, which they poured into the ramekins waiting on a baking tray.
“Oooh, they smell so good…” Pomona hovered over the tray. “Do we have to bake them? Can’t we just, like, have them like this?”
She poked a finger towards the nearest ramekin but the Widow Mags slapped her hand away with mock ferocity.
“Patience, girl,” she growled. “You can taste them when they’ve risen.”
She lifted the tray and placed it in the pre-heated oven. Within minutes, a heavenly aroma began to fill the kitchen and Caitlyn became almost as impatient as Pomona to taste the finished soufflés! They took turns peering through the oven window and watching as the chocolate batter slowly rose, forming little mounds above the rims of the ramekins. Finally, the Widow Mags decided that the soufflés had baked long enough and took the tray out.
“Omigod! Omigod! The smell!” Pomona took a long, exaggerated sniff and clutched her heart. “I’m gonna die if I don’t taste some!”
The Widow Mags chuckled and held up a hand. “Wait. There is one last step.”
“What?” asked Pomona, clutching a spoon and hopping from foot to foot.
The Widow Mags took a handful of icing sugar from a special container and held it out in the palm of her hand. She blew on it gently. The powdered sugar billowed out in a sparkling white cloud, which settled on top of the chocolate soufflés like a dusting of pure white snow. Caitlyn remembered seeing her grandmother do something similar before—when the old witch had made her chocolate fudge cake masterpiece for the Fitzroy Summer Garden Party.
Pomona grabbed one of the ramekins and stuck her spoon eagerly into the top. The thin crispy crust, which had caramelised over the soufflé, cracked and molten chocolate oozed out. Pomona scooped up a generous spoonful and stuck it into her mouth.
“Ohhh…” She sighed and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. “Omigod… I think I’ve died and gone to heaven…” She scooped up another spoonful and thrust it at Caitlyn. “Man, you gotta taste this! It’s so light and fluffy—but sort of rich and soft and gooey at the same time… it’s like… pure chocolate heaven!”
Caitlyn laughed and took the spoon. As the intense flavour of the moist, rich chocolate filled her mouth, she had to admit that Pomona was right. The soufflé
was absolutely heavenly. She passed the ramekin to Evie, who also sighed with pleasure as she tasted a mouthful.
“Meew!” said Nibs as he watched from a chair next to them. He put out an inquisitive paw.
“Sorry, Nibs, you can’t have any—it’s chocolate and that’s poisonous to cats,” said Caitlyn.
“I’d better put the rest out in the shop before you girls eat them all,” growled the Widow Mags, but Caitlyn could see from the smile twitching at the corners of her mouth that she was pleased by their reactions.
“Wait… how are you gonna sell them in the shop?” asked Pomona. “I mean, don’t soufflés collapse when they cool down? I thought that was the whole thing with them—like, you have to eat them fresh as soon as they come out of the oven.”
“Ah…” The Widow Mags nodded towards the other ramekins. “That’s what the sugar was for.”
“The sugar?” Pomona glanced at the remaining soufflés, which all still looked as perfect as when they had come straight out of the oven. “But lots of soufflés have powdered sugar on top—”
“Not powdered sugar like mine,” said the Widow Mags with a smile. “It is the finest confectioners’ sugar, mixed with a little bit of… well, you can call it ‘fairy dust’. It places a charm on the soufflés, preserving them perfectly as they are—until it comes time to eat them. So they won’t sink and deflate like normal soufflés.”
She picked up the tray and led the way to the front of the cottage, where she opened up the chocolate shop for business. Caitlyn stood and looked around the store with pleasure: it was so different compared to when she had first arrived in Tillyhenge! Then, it had been dark and ominous, with peeling paint and dusty cobwebs festooning the corners. Now it was clean and freshly painted, with attractive shelving and a large window display showing an assortment of chocolate truffles and bonbons, as well as some of the intricate chocolate sculptures that the Widow Mags had created. A few tables and chairs had also been arranged in the corners of the room, so that customers could sit down and order a slice of decadent chocolate fudge cake or a mug of rich hot cocoa. (And once they had a taste, they usually bought more to take home or give to friends and family!)
