by Sam Short
"Not him, silly!" said Mum. "Good riddance to him! That's why you two carry my maiden name along with me. I want no memory of him at all. No, I was in love with Lionel Richie. Those eyes, that voice. The way he caressed his microphone. Of course, he's far too old for me now, but when I was a teenager he was my older man fantasy. I miss listening to him. That's why I wanted a computer."
I placed my hand on Mum's. "Get one then, I'll help you find all the music you want."
"Maybe in the future" she said. She slid her hand away from mine and picked up a crumpet. "Come on, let's finish breakfast, then the three of us are going to visit my mother. I want to know what she's up to."
I glanced at Willow, who shrugged her reply. She was right, we couldn't help Granny keep her secret forever, Mum was eventually going to find out what she'd done to Boris, however hard we tried to keep it from her.
I excused myself from the table and went upstairs, pulling my phone from my pocket. I could at least give Granny a heads up that Mum was calling to see her.
Granny didn't answer after thirty seconds, so I went into Mum's pristinely tidy bedroom. The colourful quilt she'd taken almost a year to make by hand was laid neatly on her bed, and photographs of family members decorated the large oak chest of drawers, with old pictures of me and Willow taking prime position at the front. I stood by the large window and gazed out over the woods and Wickford beyond them. The canal twinkled in the distance, and I could just make out the roof of the Poacher's Pocket hotel. Mum's huge telescope was pointing directly at Granny's cottage which was perched on the peak of the hill on the opposite side of the valley, and I closed my left eye as I looked through the viewfinder with my right.
I made sense of what I was seeing through the telescope, and grabbed my phone from my pocket. I rang Granny again, silently urging her to answer. Granny continued what she was doing in the garden, oblivious to her land line ringing inside her cottage. I tried once more and gave up with a sigh.
Oh well, I'd done my best. It would be up to Granny to explain to Mum why she was sharing cocktails in her garden, with a goat, at ten o'clock in the morning.
Chapter Nineteen
Granny obviously hadn't heard the car pulling up outside her home. Music floated over the roof of her cottage, and I winced when I heard the laughing voice of Boris.
"What in the name of all that is moral!" gasped Mum, slamming her car door shut and shoving the three Tupperware boxes at my chest. "Is she entertaining a man in her garden?"
Mum didn't wait for an answer from either me or Willow. She stomped alongside Granny's cottage, following the path past the lean-to which hid another of Granny's secrets, heading determinedly towards the back garden. Her hips swayed and her hair bounced, and Willow and I followed in her wake, casting nervous glances at each other, both resolved to the fact there was nothing we could do to keep Granny's secret any longer.
Mum rounded the corner of the cottage a few metres ahead of us, and her shriek made Willow jump.
I turned the corner just in time to see Mum holding a hand to her chest and staggering backwards, finding support from the trunk of a young peach tree which groaned under her weight. "What on earth?" she gasped. "What in the name of the goddess is going on?" She clutched my arm tight as I dropped the boxes and helped her stand up straight. "Tell me I haven't gone mad, Penelope," she mumbled. "Tell me that Boris is smoking a cigar and drinking what looks like a mojito. Tell me I'm not hallucinating."
Mum hadn't gone mad, and neither Granny or Boris had spotted us, or heard Mum's shriek. They continued what they were doing, oblivious to their audience. Granny was sitting in a deck chair at the bottom of the garden with a white sun hat on, clutching a glass in her lap. At her feet was a large glass jug, the mint leaves spilling from the top giving away the nature of the cocktail it contained.
Mum's gaze of horror was firmly fixed on Boris though. He lay on a tartan picnic rug with a glass beside him, from which protruded one of the curly straws Granny had bought for me and Willow when we were younger. To the front of him was my grandfather's vice which he'd used to tie his fishing flies. In place of a fishing lure, though, was a large cigar, on which Boris took a long drag and blew a cloud of smoke into the air, creating three perfect rings which Granny broke apart with a finger.
Granny laughed, her voice barely audible over the music which pumped from the radio beside her seat. The chickens in the nearby coop stared on in fascination, with one of the more intelligent ones using the diversion to peck at the pieces of corn that Granny scattered each morning. I hoped it was the chicken who'd squeezed out an ostrich egg. She deserved extra rations.
Mum took a deep breath. "Do you two girls know anything about this... this... travesty of normality?"
I looked at my feet, and Willow squeezed her thumb between the fingers of her other hand.
“I’ll take that as a yes then," glowered Mum.
Willow began to speak. "It was an accident — ”
"I want to hear it from my mother's mouth," said Mum, regaining her composure, and beginning the walk over the lawn towards the partying couple.
Granny looked up and spat liquid from her mouth. She fumbled with the radio, and the music stopped. A lone crow squawked in a nearby tree, and the chickens seemed to move forward a fraction.
"Don't speak, Boris," hissed Granny, in a voice that everybody in the garden heard. "Act dumb! I've got this."
Boris blew smoke from his nostrils and stared in terror at the approaching behemoth that was my angry mother. He coughed and spluttered and looked up at Mum as she came to a halt directly before him. "Maaaa? Baaaa?" he said.
Mum studied the goat for a second or two before turning her gaze on Granny, who sucked at her straw and smiled. "Good morning, dear. Fancy a cocktail?"
With her hands on her hips, Mum bent at the waist and looked Granny directly in the eyes. "It's not even midday, Mother. Now, I'm giving you two choices. You either tell me exactly what's going on here, or I go straight to the haven and tell everybody who respects you that you're drinking alcohol before noon with a goat which you've quite obviously enchanted."
Granny sighed. "The game's up, Boris. It was good while it lasted. Take Penny and Willow indoors and show them your study. I'll talk to Maggie."
"Study?" spluttered Mum. "Your goat's got a study!"
Boris got to his feet and cleared his throat. "Allow me to introduce myself, dear lady. I'm — ”
Mum's scowl scared even the chickens, and Boris took a stumbling step backwards. "I'll show the young ladies my study," he said in a low voice, with his head bowed.
Willow and I followed Boris across the lawn and picked up the Tupperware boxes. Mum waited until we'd opened the back door to the cottage before unloading her verbal barrage on Granny.
"Is that my father's fly tying vice with a cigar in it?" shouted Mum.
"Boris likes to smoke," said Granny. "We tried taping a cigar to his hoof, but it didn't work out so well. He fell asleep after a few drinks with the cigar still lit. It's a good job the fire brigade gave out those free smoke alarms or Boris would have had more than a few singed hairs."
Boris held up his leg and showed us the browned hairs above his hoof.
"I am about to explode!" yelled Mum.
Boris shook his head. "Poor, poor Gladys," he said. "All she's tried to do is be good to me."
I laughed. "Don't worry about her," I said. "She'll twist Mum around her little finger within ten minutes." If Granny remembered to tell Mum she'd been helping us with our magic, as Willow had suggested when we'd blackmailed her for the spell book, she'd calm Mum down within five minutes. I smiled at Boris. "Come on, let's see this study of yours."
Boris led us through the cottage, and pushed open the door to Granny's back room with his nose. Willow looked at me, and I raised my eyebrows. Neither of us had been in the back room for months, and as far as we knew, neither had anyone else.
Granny's back room overlooked the rear garden, and was her home's sho
wpiece. It was the room reserved for revered guests, or people she wanted to impress. It was an important person who was invited into the back room of Granny's cottage. It was an exceptionally lucky individual who was granted permission to convert Granny's back room into a study — especially a study that was a cross between a barn and the office of a nineteen seventies TV private eye.
An ashtray filled with cigar butts, placed next to the laptop computer on a low coffee table, masked the usual scent of expensive beeswax and furniture polish, and most of the deep pile carpet was embedded with white goat hair. A dog cushion with a goat shaped dip in it was placed in front of the table, and drinking glasses with straws in them dotted every available surface, some with an inch of amber liquid still in the base.
Willow picked one up and held it up to the light. "This is Granny's best cut crystal," she said.
"You don't put good brandy in cheap glasses, Willow," Boris said, curling up on the cushion in front of the table. "It ruins the experience. Come here, let me show you my blog."
Boris spoke into the microphone next to the computer. "Wake up," he commanded. The computer flashed to life, and a smiling picture of Boris greeted us on the screen. "Granny took the photo," he said. "She really caught my good side. That's the picture I'm using for my blog!"
"You've got to be kidding!' I said. "You can't write a blog as a goat, Boris!"
"Don't worry, Penelope," said Boris. "I shall be pretending I'm a human writing as a goat. There's all sorts of things on the internet these days. People will be none the wiser. They'll think I'm a mad man."
Laughter from the garden caught my attention, and I looked through the window to see Mum and Granny walking towards the cottage, both of them smiling. "Told you, Boris," I said. "Granny's calmed Mum down already."
Mum walked into the study ahead of Granny and stared at the mess. She smiled at Boris, ignoring the chaos. "I'm Maggie. It's nice to meet you, Boris"
Boris stood up and bowed his head. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance," he said. "Gladys has told me a lot about you."
Granny stepped forward and winked at me. "I've told your mother how I've been helping you girls with your magic," she said. "I've always felt it was my duty to aid you both in furthering your skills, and as your grandmother and mentor, I'm very proud of you both. Giving you that book that meant so much to me, and showing you how to use it, was more than just an extremely generous gesture on my behalf, it was my way of letting you both know how much I love you."
Granny was really over egging the pudding, but Mum was lapping it up. "You've done a wonderful job," she said, touching Granny's arm. "Penelope even detected one of Eva's spells in a blueberry muffin this morning." She gazed at me and Willow adoringly. "These girls will get into the haven sooner than I ever expected if they carry on the way they are."
'How wonderful," said Boris. "It's lovely to see a family so close. It could bring a goat to tears."
I rolled my eyes at Willow, and she giggled.
"Boris," said Mum. "Would you mind if Gladys took me upstairs and showed me Charleston?"
"Not at all," said Boris, "but you must promise not to try and reverse Gladys's spell. I'm quite happy as I am. Happier than I've ever been in fact."
Mum crouched in front of Boris. "I promise," she said, holding the back of her hand an inch from Boris's nostrils.
"He's not a dog, Mum," I said. "He doesn't need to smell your hand!"
"I thought it would gain his trust," said Mum. "I'm sorry if I offended you, Boris. It's going to take some time to get used to you."
"No apology required," said Boris. "I'm perfectly aware of how strange this situation is."
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Susie.
The results from toxicology have come back. The police said it isn't drugs in Sam's stomach. It's oriental pine pollen.
I showed Willow the text, and her eyes widened. She'd come to the same conclusion as me.
I sent Susie a reply.
Meet us at the nursing home.
"Mum," I said. "Can I borrow your car?"
"Take mine, girls," said Granny. "I can't drive today. I don't know how many mojitos I've had, but I feel quite giddy. Are you going anywhere nice?"
"To see a woman about a potion," I said.
Chapter Twenty
"You don't think the potion had anything to do with Sam's death do you?" asked Willow as we climbed the steps to the nursing home entrance.
"Of course not," Susie said, "that's why I didn't say anything to the police. They think the pollen's from a food supplement. I thought we'd give Veronica a chance to explain why she'd given Sam a libido boosting potion before the police get involved. The least we can do is prepare her for any embarrassment coming her way."
I laughed. "Veronica and Sam? I doubt it. If you believe Jason Danvers, Sam was into men these days anyway."
"He was married to a woman," said Susie. "He obviously liked both sexes."
"Veronica's old enough to be his mother," I said, opening the door and stepping inside the home. "And she's with Ron. I very much doubt that potion was in Sam's stomach to help his little guardsman stand to attention."
The three of us laughed as we approached the reception desk, but straightened our faces as an angry man stormed from a corridor to our right. "I don't know why I pay so much to live here," he shouted, "if you can't even replace gym equipment when it goes missing!"
"We've ordered a whole new set of weights, Mr Richards," said the petite nurse rushing after him. "It's only one little bar that's been misplaced. There's plenty of other equipment you can use."
"I need both dumbbells," protested the man. "Or I'll have one arm bigger than the other."
"Can't you do one arm at a time?" asked the flustered nurse.
The man turned on the spot. "I pay more money a month to live here than you earn in a month, young lady. I shouldn't have to put up with this nonsense. Just make sure those weights get delivered soon!"
The nurse sighed as Mr Richards stomped off, his lycra clad belly bouncing as he flounced around the corner. "I'm sorry you had to witness that," she said. "Mr Richards has got a short fuse. How can I help you?"
"We're here to visit Veronica Potter," I said.
She smiled. "Oh good, the poor woman needs cheering up."
"Is she okay?" asked Willow.
The nurse winked. "Man trouble," she giggled. "Do you three know Veronica well?"
"Well enough," I smiled.
"So you know about her relationship with Ronald?"
Willow nodded. "Oh yes, we know all about that."
"It seems they're having a few problems," said the nurse. "They've been arguing a lot and Veronica's quite upset. She's probably in her room, go on through, she'll be happy to see you." She walked back the way she'd come, muttering to herself about selfish old rich people.
Willow, susie, and I made our way through the lounge and along the corridor which led to Veronica's room. Her door was closed, and the sound of loud sobbing came from the other side. Willow knocked, and Veronica stopped crying and cleared her throat. "Come in!" she called.
Willow opened the door and the three of us entered together. Veronica was on her bed with an open book on her chest and scrunched up tissues surrounding her. Her face was devoid of make-up and she looked twenty years older. "Oh, it's you three," she said. "I thought it might be nurse with a sedative."
"Are you alright, Veronica?" I said, sitting on the bed and taking her trembling hand in mine. "What's happened?"
"Oh, Penelope," she said. "It was awful. Ron lost his temper because I went for a walk around the grounds with Wally. Wally picked a flower and Ron saw him giving it to me. He called me terrible names and said I was a cheat."
Willow sat on the other side of the bed, and Susie perched near Veronica's feet.
"That's horrible," said Willow. "I hope you gave as good as you got."
"I tried," sobbed Veronica, "but he teased me about my make-up. He said I looked
like a painted sex clown!" She took a fresh tissue from the box beside her and blew her nose. "It's over now. I'm a free woman again." She managed a small smile. "Don't you girls worry about me. It won't take me long to find a new breakfast companion. I'll soon bounce back with lovely young ladies like you visiting me."
"What a nasty man," I said. "I've got a good mind to go and tell him what I think of him."
Veronica squeezed my hand. "He's in no mood for visitors, dear. He's hardly left his room in a week. As far as I'm concerned he can rot in there!" Veronica released my hand and dragged herself into a seated position. "Enough about my woes," she said. "You know what they say, misery loves company."
I smiled at her. "That's exactly what they say."
Veronica managed another smile. "So, girls, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? No one knew about mine and Ron's problems outside of the home, so you didn't come here to console me."
I glanced at Susie and Willow. Susie looked away, and Willow gave me a gentle nod of encouragement.
"It's a sensitive matter, Veronica," I said. "It's about that potion I made for you."
Veronica's face whitened. "What about it?" she said, clutching a tissue to her chin.
"Is it possible that Sam Hedgewick could have drank any of it, Veronica?" I asked with care.
Veronica's body shook, and she broke into gasping sobs that rocked the bed. "I knew it would come back to haunt me," she wailed. "I don't know why I thought I could get away with it! I should have told the police when I had the chance. They were sure to find out with all their fancy modern equipment. It's not like in the old days! I don't know why I thought I'd get away with it! I'm in a lot of trouble, aren't I?"
Willow stared at Veronica slack jawed, and Susie sat upright.
"What are you saying, Veronica?" I said. "Did you hurt Sam?"
Veronica gasped. "No! Of course not, but I'm guilty as charged of administering a substance to an unwitting recipient! I only wanted to stop him driving under the influence of alcohol! Are the police coming for me? Will I go to jail? I don't think I could take jail. Your grandmother only spent three hours in a police cell, and it broke her, Penelope."
