by Sam Short
“Slow down,” said Willow. “Someone will get hurt!”
Granny swung the Range Rover into Church Street. “My Boris is probably undergoing all sorts of hideous experiments and tests as we speak. I can’t afford to slow down. I need to get to my goat. He needs me!”
“The famous talking goat?” said Uncle Brian, holding on tight as the car rolled to the right. “I’m yet to meet him, but I’m more than ready to help him in his hour of need! Who’s kidnapped him, Mother? And for what manner of nefarious reason?”
“You’re such a good boy, Brian,” said Granny, slamming the brakes on as a lollipop woman stepped into the highway to allow a gaggle of chocolate and candy eating children to cross the road. “Nobody would guess you were so terribly oppressed. You have such a kind heart! Boris will be thrilled to meet you if we can ever rescue him.”
Willow rolled her eyes as Granny gave the engine a burst of revs and pulled away with a squeal of rubber on tarmac. “Who’s taken Boris, Granny?” she said.
“Those bastards from the animal welfare department,” said Granny. “I got home with the new wheels and found a note on my door. They say they have reason to believe he was the goat present at the quarry fire, and they say he’s been mistreated. They’ve taken him to Applehill veterinary centre for tests! I pray to all that is holy and sacred that they don’t still take an animal’s temperature by sticking a thermometer up the jacksy! Can you imagine Boris allowing anybody to do that? He’s such a proud fellow — he wouldn’t let anybody near that private spot, let alone a total stranger who kidnapped him!”
Granny made a right turn onto Applehill and gunned the engine with a heavy foot. The Range Rover lurched forward and accelerated quickly up the steep hill towards the red brick building which sat at the peak.
The car park was nearly empty, and Granny brought the car to a halt outside the veterinary centre doors. “Quickly,” she said, opening her door and sliding out. “We’ve no time to waste, and as matriarch of the Weaver family, I grant each of you permission to use magic during operation free Boris. He must be rescued no matter what! I’m willing to rack up fatalities if need be — we’ll call it collateral damage.”
“No one’s getting hurt,” I said, as Brian rolled up his sleeves and flexed his fingers. “Calm down. We’ll just go inside and find out what’s happening. I’m sure Boris is fine, and we’ll have him home in no time. Everything will be okay. It always is.”
Granny led the way along the short path and pushed through the doors into the building. The reception desk was devoid of staff, and three upturned chairs in the waiting room were the first clue that maybe everything wasn’t fine after all.
A raised voice came from the corridor to our left, and Granny followed it with the eagerness of a dog on the scent of a fox. Uncle Brian followed her as far as the large animal weighing scales, and took a moment out of his busy schedule to stand on them. “Good gracious me!” he said. “No wonder my boxers are pinching my man eggs! I’ve put on six pounds since I last weighed!”
“Well, I think you look truly wonderful, my darling,” said Granny. “I always said you carried your weight better than that sister of yours. A few extra pounds make you look mayoral and healthy. Maggie just balloons into a big wrinkly mess when she goes over two-hundred-and-fifty.”
Another raised voice came from behind a door further along the corridor. “This way!” said Granny.
A woman’s scream increased the urgency of the situation, and I quickened my pace as Granny reached the door and swung it open with a push. “What the devil?” she shouted. “What’s happening in here? Boris, my gentle goat, are you okay?”
Willow rushed into the room behind Granny, and Uncle Brian and I entered together, jut as a woman screamed again. “Please make it stop!” she begged. “I don’t know what’s happening. I’m scared!”
The scene in the room was one of complete madness. Pain blossomed in my bottom lip as I bit into it, and even Uncle Brian seemed shocked. He took a step backwards and lowered himself into a plastic chair, loosening his cravat and taking deep breaths as he fanned himself with his hat.
A group of people stood huddled together in the furthest corner from the door. Some held animal crates, and others held onto leashes with terrified dogs at the ends of them. Two of the people wore white coats, and one of them, a woman with a stethoscope around her neck, was crying uncontrollably.
Boris stood in front of the captive people, baring his teeth and snapping at the air whenever somebody moved. A golden labrador took a tentative step towards Boris, but cowered against its owner’s legs when Boris let out a blood curling scream. “Get back in line you filthy animal!”
“Help us,” said a man holding a tiny lap dog close to his chest. “He rounded us all up like a dog rounds up sheep, and trapped us in this room. He bit me on the buttock, I’ll need a tetanus jab!”
The trembling woman next to him pointed a finger at Boris. “It speaks too,” she murmured. “The goat speaks! I only came here to get worming tablets for my cat, and now I’m trapped in a horrific nightmare.” She looked at the floor. “I took acid in the seventies, maybe it’s come back to haunt me.”
Granny dropped to her knees next to Boris. “My poor, poor Boris,” she said, wrapping an arm around his neck. “What have they done to you?”
“Gladys,” said Boris, quite calmly considering the circumstances. “I have a thermometer inserted where the sun doesn’t shine. Be so good as to remove it for me, would you? Ive tried, but I can’t quite get my mouth around that far, and I’ve been hesitant to take my eye off these people. One of them has already tried to inject me with what I can only imagine is a sedative of some description. Who knows what they’ll do to me if they get the chance.”
“I only wanted some eyedrops for my gerbil,” said a tall wiry man with thick black rimmed glasses. “I just want to go home. I won’t hurt you, Boris.”
“I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this, Nigel,” said Boris. “But I had to take you all hostage until help arrived. I knew Gladys would come for me eventually, it was only a matter of waiting long enough.”
“How do you know his name is Nigel, Boris?” said Willow.
“He did a meet and greet,” said a young girl dressed in the green uniform of an animal nurse. “He made us tell him our full names, starsigns, and our ambitions.”
Boris snapped at the leg of a man as he attempted to move towards a table with a telephone on it. “Get back, Larry,” he growled. “Or you’ll never see the Niagara Falls.”
Granny pointed at a table. “Penelope,” she said, “pass me something I can use to pull this thermometer from out of Boris. There’s barely any of it visible. It’s really gone deep, Boris. It can’t be comfortable for you.”
I rifled through a tray of medical implements and settled on a pair of forceps. Granny took them from me and held Boris still as she carefully slid the glass tube from his rear end.
Boris let out a contented moan of pleasure as the thermometer left his body, and snarled at one of the vets. “I will never forgive you,” he said. “You took my dignity from me.”
Granny stood up and stared at Boris’s prisoners. “You should be ashamed,” she said. “Stealing a goat from his own home and forcing him to endure horrific medical experiments.”
“We were worried about him,” said a woman. “We followed the footsteps of a goat that was involved in an incident in a quarry, and they led to your home. We needed to make sure he wasn’t being mistreated. The last time he was seen he was wearing a balaclava, and that’s animal cruelty.”
“As you can see, he’s perfectly fine,” said Granny. “I do not mistreat him.”
“He talks,” said a female vet. “That’s not fine. There’s something very wrong about this whole situation, and we need to get to the bottom of it, so if you’d just allow us to do our jobs, we can find out what’s wrong with the poor animal.”
Uncle Brian had recovered, and carefully placed his hat on his hea
d as he stood up. “Mother, would you like me to work a little magic?” he said, wriggling the fingers on both hands. “I think these people need to forget what they saw here today.”
Granny clapped. “Go on, son,” she said. “Give them what for! Show them who’s boss!”
Sparks crackled at Brian’s fingertips, and a woman made a break for the door, clutching a basket which contained an injured crow.
“Stop right there, Mrs Oliver!” said Boris. “It will be easier if you don’t resist.”
“Mrs Oliver?” I said. “The birdwatcher? The woman who kept complaining about Gerald Timkins?”
The woman’s face froze in an expression midway between a smile and a scowl. “Yes that’s me, and I’m still clearing up his barbaric mess. I found this young crow today with a broken wing and pellets embedded in its abdomen. I’m sorry about what happened to him, but I’m not sorry he can’t shoot at defenceless birds anymore. Who knows? Maybe he had it coming. Anyway, the police have already spoken to me about it. They had the audacity to ask if I knew anything. I told them the truth. I didn’t see anything or hear anything, and that’s the end of the matter.”
Uncle Brian waved his hand in the air, trailing bright sparks behind it which mesmerised the crowd of people huddled in the corner. “What are you?” said one of them. “Who are you people, and why can that goat talk?”
Mrs Oliver made another panicked attempt at reaching the door, and Brian cast his spell. The air in the room seemed to heat up, and my eardrums popped as the people huddled in the corner sighed in unison and froze in position.
“Very good, Brian,” said Granny, getting to her knees in front of the male vet.
“What are you doing?” gasped Willow. “Pull his trousers back up and put that thermometer down!”
“I’m just repaying him,” said Granny, grasping a buttock and pulling it aside. “Let’s see how he likes a glass tube in his bottom.”
“Boris,” I whispered. “Please stop her. Nothing good can come from this!”
Boris snorted his contempt. “He deserves it.”
“I’ll buy you a bottle of brandy every week for a month,” I negotiated.
“And a packet of cigars?”
I nodded. “Deal. Just make her stop, she hasn’t even put any lube on it!”
“Gladys,” said Boris. “Stop that. He was only doing his job. Two wrongs don’t make a right.”
“But, Boris,” said Granny, taking aim. “I need my revenge. You know it’s my weakness.”
Boris stepped slowly towards Granny and placed a hoof on her shoulder. “Your revenge will be knowing you’re a better person than he is, Gladys.”
Granny hesitated, but released the buttock and withdrew the tip of the thermometer from near catastrophe. “Can I leave his trousers and underwear around his feet? That will steady my lust for revenge.”
I shrugged and Willow nodded. “Yes,” said Boris. “Leave him as he is.”
“Okay, Brian,” said Granny. “Make them all forget what happened.”
“Wait,” said Willow as Uncle Brian lifted his hand. “Can you ask Mrs Oliver if she killed Gerald Timkins? You know, the same way you asked Felix Round if he was a murderer? Let’s be sure she’s innocent while we’ve got her trapped here.”
Brain smiled. “Of course I can,” he said. He waved his right hand in front of Mrs Oliver’s face as his left hand kept the other people under control. “Did you murder a man?” he said. “Speak the truth and speak it freely!”
“No,” mumbled Mrs Oliver. “I’ve not killed a man.”
“Does she know anything about it at all?” I said.
“Tell me what you know about Gerald’s death,” said Uncle Brian.
“Nothing,” said Mrs Oliver. “But you should ask the scarecrow making man.”
“Who?” said Uncle Brian.
“The scarecrow man,” said Mrs Oliver. “He told me he was angry with Gerald.”
“Did you tell the police?” said Uncle Brian.
“No,” said Mrs Oliver. “I won’t help the police. Gerald Timkins had it coming. He shot innocent animals, and someone shot him. It’s poetic justice.”
“Who’s the scarecrow making man?” said Uncle Brian.
Mrs Oliver furrowed her brow and groaned.
“Hurry,” said Granny. “You can’t keep two spells going at the same time like this Brian, they’re beginning to weaken.”
Granny was right. The other people in the room were starting to regain some control over themselves. One woman moved her nose and another blinked. The vet with his dignity around his ankles began bending at the waist to reach for his trousers.
Uncle Brian nodded. “Sorry, girls,” he said, speaking to me and Willow. “I can’t ask her anymore questions.” He clicked his fingers and everybody fell still again, including Mrs Oliver. “You’ll all wake up in three minutes,” said Uncle Brian. “And have no memory of what’s happened here today. You’ll forget about goats and mistreatment, and everyone will think it’s perfectly normal to all be in this room together. They’ll be suspicions as to why the strange male vet has his tackle on display, but you’ll carry on with your day as if nothing’s happened.” He clicked his fingers again. “We’ve got three minutes,” he said.
Granny rubbed her hands together in glee. “Everybody into the car,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to be a getaway driver!”
Chapter Thirteen
“I look ridiculous,” I said. “Surely I can wear shoes without heels. Barney won’t care.”
Willow seemed more excited than I was about the fact that I was going out for a meal with Barney. She’d almost forced me to borrow one of her dresses and a pair of matching shoes.
“Penny,” said Willow. “You’re below average height for a woman, and Barney is ridiculously tall — for a man or a woman. There’s nothing wrong with adding a couple of inches to your height. You don’t want to strain your back when it’s time to snog him, do you?”
Willow expertly avoided the make-up brush I threw at her. “There’ll be no kissing, thank you very much! We’re just friends. Anyway. Barney is a gentlemen. He wouldn’t expect me to kiss him on a first date.”
Susie looked up from her laptop. “So it is a date!”
“Who rattled your cage?” I laughed, sitting down to take the strain off my calves. Heels may have added a little height, but they certainly couldn’t be described as comfort wear. “I thought you were supposed to be doing some investigative journalism, not helping my sister tease me.”
Susie tapped at her keyboard. “There’s nothing about scarecrow making men,” she said. “According to google, farmers make their own scarecrows. There used to be people who made them for a living, but the art died out years ago. Maybe Mrs Oliver got muddled up.”
“Maybe,” I said. “I’ll tell Barney though. It might mean something to him.”
I tugged the hem of the black dress a little further down my thigh. I was sure it was too short, but both Susie and Willow assured me it was fine. Yes, they enjoyed teasing me, but neither of them would see me going out in a dress which looked terrible on me. I trusted them.
My hair was gathered high on my head and held in position by numerous hairpins which Willow had studiously applied, and the matching earring and necklace set which Mum had given me on my eighteenth birthday twinkled in the light as I checked my makeup in my compact mirror. Mum had insisted the diamonds had been bought from a shop in our world, but I was convinced they’d come from the haven. It seemed impossible that earthly diamonds could shine with so many colours. They even looked magical.
Wherever they were from, they only came out on very special occasions, and I classed the meal with Barney as being a very special occasion. Not only was it a chance for the two of us to share some time alone — it was also the first time I’d be seeing Barney since he’d found out I was a witch. It was a new situation for us both and things could get awkward, and I at least wanted to look nice in case Barney said something which mad
e me angry enough to storm out of the restaurant.
Willow accompanied me along the path into town to wait for the taxi. We stood outside our shop and made plans for the sign which would hang outside and make the shop official.
“Don’t be late home and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” joked Willow as the taxi appeared at the end of Bridge Street.
Barney climbed from the car and opened the door for me, much to Willow’s delight. “Aww, that’s nice of you. Barney,” she said. “And I must say — you do scrub up well. Look at you, Wickford’s very own James Bond! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit.”
Barney blushed, ignoring the compliment. We weren’t so different, me and him — neither of us dealt very well with compliments or praise. A compliment may have made Barney blush, but they made my skin crawl and my jaw tighten. Especially if I didn’t feel good about myself.
“You look really nice, Penny,” Barney said, helping me balance on my heels as I climbed into the back of the car. “Really pretty.”
Instead of the familiar awkwardness, Barney’s genuine compliment made me smile. “Thank you,” I said, as Barney climbed in beside me. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
He didn’t look in the least bit bad. In fact, he looked amazing. The suit he wore fitted him better than any other clothes I’d ever seen him wear, and he’d obviously taken time to make his hair look stylishly messy. I’d be proud to walk into a restaurant with him.
Willow stood on the pavement waving as the taxi pulled away, and Barney reached between his feet and handed me a bouquet of flowers which he’d been hiding. “I wasn’t sure when to give them to you,” he said. “Before or after the meal. I’ve never really given a woman flowers before, apart from my Mum and Nan obviously. But I think that’s different. I mean —”
Barney’s face tightened with anxiety, and I quietened him with a kiss on his cheek. “They’re really lovely, Barney,” I said. “Thank you.”
