by Sam Short
"Thank you. Mother," said Mum. "That was very brave of you."
"Gladys is nothing if not brave," said Boris, staggering to the empty glass bowl and licking the base. "She's a wonderful woman," he mumbled.
"What's the news?" said Willow. "Come on, Mum."
"I went to the haven today," she said, taking a seat at the picnic bench and picking up a mini sausage roll. For a brief moment I thought she was going to eat it, but a moth flew past and she threw the pastry back onto the plate, slapping the crumbs from her hands. "Eva overheard something, Penelope," she continued.
'Tell her!" said Granny, "before I have to!"
"Eva overheard Maeve talking about you, Penelope. She found out what you did in the nursing home, you know, saving Veronica from a metal bar in the head. You remember don't you?"
I sighed. "Yes, Mum, I remember that not insignificant incident in my life from less than a week ago."
"Well Maeve is very impressed, and according to Eva, you can expect your entry spell to be made known to you in the very near future! You'll be able to visit the haven, Penelope! Isn't that exciting!"
"And all thanks to Gladys, because of her willingness to share her spell book with her granddaughters," murmured Boris, before collapsing in a heap. "She's a remarkable woman."
Chapter Twenty-Four
Willow pushed the start button and birds flew from the trees as the engine burst into life. We'd intended to leave before eight o'clock in the morning, but it was half past nine as we pushed away from the bank, with Willow in control of the boat, and me instructing her on how to negotiate the boat out of the mooring and onto the canal.
Mabel had gone chasing swans again, and I placed the left over breakfast sausages on the bank for her. Hopefully she'd get back before a lucky water rat found them.
"Wait!" came a man's voice. "Wait!"
Willow looked up. "One of us has got a secret admirer," she said.
The man running down the path moved the huge bunch of flowers from in front of his face and shouted again.
"It's Jason Danvers," I said. "What on earth does he want?"
I tossed a mooring rope onto the canal bank. "Pull us ashore," I said.
Jason took the rope in one hand, and his muscles bulged as he pulled us the few feet back to shore. He looked far better than the last time I'd seen him, but the last time I'd seen him, he'd been cowering in the corner of my shop with a goat between his legs. It was hardly a fair comparison.
He wore clothes that were obviously expensive, but beyond my limited knowledge of designer wear. Willow would have known what they were, but she was too busy trying to work to how to turn the engine off. "Turn the key," I said. "Just like a car."
Jason pulled us close to the bank and wrapped the rope loosely through the iron hoop in the ground. "I'm glad I made it in time" he panted, still trying to catch his breath. He held the flowers out towards me. "These are for you," he said.
"What are they for?" I asked. Mum had taught me never to take flowers from a man until I knew precisely what his intentions were.
"A thank you," he said, shaking them gently in front of me. "For not sending me to jail. If you hadn't dropped the charges, I'd have been eating stodgy porridge this morning instead of the fried breakfast I just had at the Coffee Pot."
I took the flowers and smelt them. Mum had also taught me that when you finally accepted the flowers, you showed your gratitude. "Thank you," I said. "They're beautiful. You didn't get them from he convenience store though. They're far too nice."
"And they're alive," added Willow.
Jason laughed. "I got them from Emily's florist."
"Emily's is open again?" I said. "I thought Sam had already sold his properties."
Jason's face dropped at the sound of Sam's name, and my throat swelled with guilt. "I'm sorry about Sam," I said. "I didn't really have the time to offer my condolences the last time we met."
Jason smiled. "Thank you," he said. "It's hard, but I can do good things for this town in his name now. I'll keep his memory burning."
"What do you mean?" said Willow, wiping oil from her hand onto the rag that hung from the roof of the boat.
"Sam left all his assets to me. Everything; his money, his properties, his cars. Not that I needed them, I've done well in life for myself."
"Wasn't he getting rid of his properties though?" I said. "Why would he have named you in a will if he was selling everything?" I stopped talking — I realised what I was doing. "Tell me to shut up if I'm being nosy," I added.
"You're not," he said. "You helped the police find out I was innocent, you have every right to know what went on. When he received all those threats and found out his wife was sniffing around his lawyer, he went to a different lawyer in Covenhill and drafted a will with me named as the beneficiary." He paused and tugged at his t-shirt. "He didn't expect to die though, it was just a symbolic dig at his wife and father more than anything else."
"I can understand him wanting to cut his cheating wife out of the will," said Willow, "but why his father?"
"His father was old fashioned," said Jason. "I forced Sam to tell his dad that he was in love with a man. I think it was your grandmother that witnessed the argument I had with him about it? Outside the lawyer's office."
"Yes, that was Granny," Willow said.
'I threatened not to go to Spain with Sam if he didn't tell his father about us. I feel awful, but I just wanted everything to be honest, you know?" Jason dropped his eyes. "Sam had really helped me change in the months I knew him, and the honesty he taught me in my business affairs spilled over into my personal life. I should have let him do it his way."
"Sam's dad didn't take it well, and that's why he cut him out of the will?" I said.
Jason nodded. "He was really horrible to Sam, but I understand why. He's from a different generation. He's suffering now though. He's devastated about the things he said to his son, but I'll make sure he's okay. Financially anyway, I can't help with his conscience."
"Why don't you go to Spain on your own and do the things you planned with Sam?" I said.
"No," he said. "I want to do good things here with Sam's money. I want to help. I've spent most of my life hurting and conning people. I'll spend the rest of my life making amends."
"You've let Emily open the florist's again," I said.
"Along with every other business that Sam was selling," he said. "They've all got their leases back and they're all open again. Which brings me onto the other reason I'm here. I want to do something for you, for helping me, and to make up for the ordeal I put you through on the boat."
"The flowers are enough," I said, bringing them to my nose.
“Hear me out," said Jason. "Your friend Susie did."
I frowned. "Susie?"
"She was on the boat too when that whole... incident occurred. I scared all three of you. I want to make it up to you all."
"What have you done for Susie?" said Willow.
"She's just accepted the keys to a flat above a shop in town," he said. "I overheard her talking to the owner of the Coffee Pot while I was having breakfast, she was telling her the flat she lived in was too big and expensive for her to live alone in after splitting up with..."
"Robert," I filled in.
"Yes, Robert. Anyway, I offered her a flat free of rent for as long as she needs it, and she accepted."
"Free of rent!" said Willow. "I don't blame her!"
"And that's what I want to do for you two," said Jason, smiling.
"We've got a home," Willow said, tapping the roof of the Water Witch, "and I've only just moved aboard. I'm not going anywhere."
Jason nodded. "And a beautiful home it is too" he said. "I was quite taken with how cosy it was when I was... stowed away onboard.”
"Breaking in," you mean, said Willow. She put her hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for, you've been through a lot and you're trying to do the right thing."
"It's okay," said Jason. He looked towards t
he bow of the boat where the shop was. "I couldn't help noticing how small your shop is, though," he said. "There's barely enough room to swing a cat in there."
"But enough room for a goat to swing a man," I grinned.
Jason winced, and put a hand to his thigh. "The less said about that the better," he said, "but that goat was odd, very odd. The police said it was the pain playing with my mind, but..."
"What about the size of Penny's shop?" said Willow.
The less said about Boris the better.
"That shop I told you about, below the flat Susie's moving into?"
"Yes?" I said.
"I own it now and it's going to be empty within a week, the couple who rent it are retiring. I want you two to have it. I thought maybe you could move your shop there, or start a whole new business, or keep a floating shop and a static shop. It's up to you, and it would be rent free of course."
Willow put her hand on mine. "It's a yes, isn't it, Penny?"
I wasn't sure. Granny had always said nothing in life was free.
"It's right at the top of that path into town," Jason said, pointing up the hill. "Next to that greengrocers with the strange name."
"The Firkin Gherkin," I said. "Mr and Mrs Potter run the shop next door. They're retiring?"
"They said the bottom's fallen out of the VHS rental market. They're quite old aren't they?"
"Bill's expecting a telegram from the Queen on his next birthday," I said. "They didn't just rent videos though. They cut keys too."
"That was the backbone of the business," agreed Willow.
"Well, they've thrown the towel in. They own a villa in Portugal apparently, so they'll need to leave the Queen a forwarding address."
"Come on, Penny," Willow said. "It'll be great! We can live on the boat, and keep the shop on it too. We'll have a shop in town and a shop to take on the canals."
"Can we think about it?" I said.
Jason smiled. "Of course you can. Take as long as you want."
"We'll be back in two weeks. We'll give you an answer then," I said, turning the key in the ignition and pressing the engine start button.
Jason tossed the mooring rope onto the boat, and pushed us away from the bank. "I'll be right here," he said. "I'm buying a house in town. You'll see me around."
Willow took the controls and guided the boat backwards as Jason watched from the bank. She successfully negotiated the corner and put the gearbox into forward gear.
"Hey!" shouted Jason. "That goat did speak didn't it? I have to know!"
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a message from an unknown number.
Hey, Penny. This is my new number. Check out my blog. It's live. www.goat2bekidding.com luv Boris.
I smiled. “Of course not!" I shouted at Jason. "Goats can't talk!"
The End
Copyright © 2017 by Sam Short
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
For Archie. May your life be magical.
Chapter One
My sister steered the boat through the narrow gap in the trees with the skill of somebody who’d been driving sixty-foot narrowboats for years. Nobody would have guessed it was the first time she’d attempted the tricky manoeuvre.
“Well done, Willow!” shouted Susie from the bank-side, eliciting a proud grin from my sister. “And welcome home!”
Home was a narrow dead-end channel of water which led off the canal at a tight right angle. The Poacher’s Pocket Hotel, which I leased the exclusive mooring from, was hidden by trees on the hill above us, and the aroma of the guest’s breakfasts being prepared made my stomach rumble. The early morning sun twinkled on the water, and an already warm breeze brushed my face as I prepared to help moor the Water Witch — Floating emporium of magick.
Willow put the gearbox into neutral as she steered the boat tight against the bank, and switched off the engine as I threw a rope to Susie. “Catch!” I dared.
My best friend snatched the rope from the air and threaded it through one of the iron hoops embedded in the thin strip of stonework that kept water and grass separate. “I can’t wait to show you the shop!” she said, tying a knot and checking it was secure. “You’re both going to love it!”
Willow giggled. “I’m sure we are,” she said, offering me a meaningful glance.
I was happy, but my sister was at least three rungs higher than me on the excitement ladder. She’d only lived on my boat for two weeks, but the lack of her own bedroom had begun to take its toll. Willow was eighteen and needed her own space — especially when she’d run out of chocolate, and with a third of the boat’s length taken up by my witchcraft shop, space was at a premium.
My sister and I had been on a two week business trip along the canals of South England, and while moored up in the quaint village of Bentbridge, on market day, we’d made a joint decision — we were going to convert the shop area into a bedroom for Willow, and take Jason Danvers up on his generous offer.
Jason had recently been accused of murder, and when Willow, Susie, and I, had helped clear his name, he’d insisted on showing us all his appreciation. Being the wealthy owner of several properties in Wickford, and eager to turn over a new leaf, Jason had offered Susie an apartment free of rent, and Willow and I the shop premises directly below it.
The temptation of paying no rent had been hard to resist, but we’d all insisted that we would only accept his offer if he took half of the rent from us each month — a deal which Jason had reluctantly agreed to.
“Just think,” said Susie, tying the final boat rope to a hoop. “I’ll be living above your shop, and your boat is only a two minute walk away! It’s almost like living next door to each other.”
I opened my mouth to answer, but a loud barking from the tree-line interrupted me. “Mabel!” I shouted, as the white goose sprinted across the grass towards us, wagging her tail feathers and flapping her wings.
A medical condition prevented her from flying, but the fact she thought she was a dog was down to an accidental spell being cast on her. My grandmother had developed a bad case of witch dementia, and Mabel had been the first victim of Granny’s muddled up spells. She’d continue thinking she was a dog until Granny found a cure for her dementia, although it seemed the goose was perfectly happy with her canine lifestyle.
I patted and tickled the yapping goose as she leapt at my legs, and Rosie jumped off the boat to greet her with a happy mewl. The black cat had once been afraid of Mabel, but after finally sticking up for herself, she was now the dominant animal. Mabel allowed Rosie to sniff her face, and the two of them ran across the grass together, Mabel picking up a stick, and Rosie making an athletic leap in a failed attempt to swat a colourful butterfly from the sky.
“I’ve missed this,” I said, hugging Susie. “It’s good to be home.”
The peaceful vibe was rudely ruined by a bang so loud it made my stomach flip. Susie went rigid in my arms, and my sister screamed. Mabel barked, and Rosie streaked over the grass and leapt aboard the boat, disappearing down the steps into my bedroom as another bang echoed around the clearing. Crows rose from the fields beyond the hedgerow on the other side of the canal, and a man shouted, his voice barely audible above the noise of the angry birds. “Get off my crops! I’ll kill every last one of you if I have to!”
“He’s shooting!” yelled Willow, leaping ashore and crouching behind the steel hull of the Water Witch.
Another bang proved my sister correct, but it seemed the shooter’s aim was becoming less proficient as shot gun pellets snapped through the hedge and peppered the water next to the boat.
“Stop shooting!” yelled Susie, as more crows joined the circling mass of birds in the sky. “You’re going to hurt somebody!”
Susie a
nd I lowered ourselves behind one of the two picnic benches a few feet away from the waters edge, and Mabel joined us, shaking with anxiety. I placed a calming hand on her back, and she relaxed a little, lowering herself onto her tail, her orange feet stretched out in front of her in a position that would have been comical under any other circumstances.
The man shouted again. This time speaking to us and not the birds. “Hello?”
“Over here!” I yelled, “across the canal! You almost hit us!”
Cracking twigs and shaking leaves pinpointed his position as he fought his way through the hedge and stumbled onto the towpath on the opposite bank. He lifted his flat cap and shielded his eyes from the sun as he pointed the barrel of his gun safely at the ground. “Are you all okay?” he said, glancing nervously through the gap in the trees.
Willow stood up, wiping dirt from her knees and adjusting her shorts. “Yes, luckily for you,” she said, raising her voice as the crows continued to register their annoyance. “You shouldn’t be shooting so close to a public footpath, even I know that. The police will take your gun licence away if they catch you.”
“It’s Gerald Timkins,” said Susie, tightening the ponytail in her long blond hair.
I’d recognised him too. The land he’d been shooting on was his, but that was still no excuse for nearly putting holes in one of us, or my boat.
“The crows are causing havoc this year,” explained Gerald, breaking the barrel of his shotgun open and making me feel a little safer. “They’ve devastated one of my fields already.”
“Get a scarecrow,” shouted Willow. “You’ll have more than failed crops to worry about if you carry on shooting that thing so close to a public footpath.”
“I’ve got a scarecrow,” said Gerald. “In fact, I’ve got two of the buggers — fat lot of good that they do. The crows just sit on them. They’re going on the bonfire! I bought three of those electronic scarecrows last week — the ones that make bangs every few minutes, they’re being delivered today, then maybe I can get some peace. I can hear those crows in my blasted dreams!”
