by Sam Short
Mrs Round was not so magnanimous, and she took the steps onto the stage with one long leap and snatched the cup from Uncle Brian’s hand, lifting it over her head with two hands and bringing it down in a sweeping arc which was aimed at Uncle Brian’s head.
The images my new found gift was presenting me with involved blood, gore, and a dead Uncle on the stage above me, but Granny had obviously not been taken into consideration when the vision had been conjured. She screamed as the heavy trophy swung nearer to Uncle Brian, who had no time to cast a spell, but instead shielded his face and head with his hands. The crackle of Granny’s spell was evident even above the shouts and screams of the crowd, and nobody warned her about her dementia — if ever there was time when any spell would suffice, this was it.
Mrs Round paused at first, the swing of the trophy slowing dramatically until it stopped with a fraction of an inch between the jagged handle and Uncle Brian’s head.
Felix Round stepped forward, his shock giving way to an anguished shout of fear as his wife transformed to stone before his eyes. The compère scurried across the stage, dropping the microphone, and the onlookers began running — putting as much space between themselves and Granny as they could manage.
My vision had shown me that Barney would be arriving at any second, and right on cue, his police car appeared through the gateway which led into the field. Seeing the panic unfolding before him, he leapt from the car and ran towards the stage, not knowing what had happened, but looking in every direction in an attempt to piece the events together.
Granny climbed onto the stage and hugged Brian as a loud throbbing hum from somewhere behind me sent the sound system into a feedback loop which produced ear piercing whistles and whines.
“What on earth!” said Boris, staring past me. “What on earth?”
The throbbing grew so loud that the ground vibrated, and the crowds of people grew even more panicked, rushing for their cars or taking cover in the tents that dotted the field.
Nobody ran for the tent behind me though, and I didn’t blame them. A dazzling sliver light filled the wide entrance, and the guide ropes strained as the striped canvas shook. Barney reached my side, and helped steady me on my feet as the portal fully opened and two figures walked through, one of them a beautiful woman in a flowing red robe, and the other a short portly man with a head of gold hair and a staff in one hand.
“What’s happening?” said Barney, his breathing strained and his face white. “Who are they, and why is everyone screaming?”
Mum smiled. “Don’t worry, Barney. The woman is Maeve, the creator of the haven” she said, “and she’s with the copper haired wizard of the west. Everything will be alright now.”
Maeve said something to the wizard, and he slammed his staff into the ground, making the ground swell and the crowds of fleeing people freeze on the spot.
“An EMP,” explained Mum, “an extremely magical pulse.”
People were frozen in time everywhere I looked. Some were frozen as they clambered into cars, and others were attempting to climb over the hedge which surrounded the field. Three particularly brave children were frozen in mid bounce on the inflatable castle, and one old man still clutched a pint of beer in his hand as he relaxed in a deck chair, unaware, or not caring that armageddon surrounded him.
Silence replaced the screaming and shouting, and Barney gazed around the field, extending his nightstick. “Should I be concerned?” he mumbled.
Mum put a hand on his shoulder. “Everybody will be okay,” said Mum. “The spell will just wipe their memories.”
“Why am I not frozen?” said Barney.
“The spell will only affect those who are not magic or don’t know about our existence,” said Mum. “You’re one of us now, Barney, like Susie is… a member of the magical community.”
A crow called somewhere in the distance, and Maeve looked out over the frozen crowd, her long blond hair framing her petite face. “This is a bit of a mess, isn’t it?” she said, making her way towards us, with the wizard close behind, his multicoloured patchwork jacket reminding me of a clown. “Quite a mess indeed.”
The wizard lifted his staff and pointed it at the stage. “Don’t you dare push her, Gladys Weaver,” he shouted. “The lawman will deal with her!”
Granny paused, and removed her hands from the petrified body of Mrs Round which teetered on the edge of the stage. “She tried to kill my son!” she shouted. “Nobody tries to kill Gladys Weaver’s son and gets away with it!”
“Who tried to kill who?” said Barney, his eyes wide. “What the hell is going on here?”
“Arthur Bell didn’t kill Gerald. Mrs Round did, and she just tried to kill Uncle Brian.” I said quickly. “So Granny turned her into stone,” I added, as Barney gazed at the statue on the stage.
“Anyway!” shouted Granny, descending the steps from the stage, with Brian behind her. “Since when does the copper haired wizard of the west give orders around here?”
“I don’t go by that moniker anymore,” said the wizard, looking at his feet. “People just call me Derek these days… or Derek The Great… if they so desire.”
“Just Derek will do,” said Maeve, winking at me.
Granny joined us, and bent down to check on Boris, who licked the last drops of beer from the bottom of the plastic cup, and burped. “This is all very exciting,” he said. “But could somebody explain what’s happening please?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Maeve’s presence demanded respect. She was every inch the formidable woman I’d been told she was in the countless stories Mum and Granny had told me over the years, and we all stood still as she studied us, with Barney on one side of me with a protective hand on my shoulder, and Willow on the other, holding my hand.
Granny stepped forward and spoke to Maeve, her glasses on the end of her nose and her face still reddened by the anger that had enveloped her when her son was attacked. “Why are you here?” she said.
Maeve laughed and the wizard smiled. “Gladys,” said Maeve. “You just turned a woman into stone with a field full of people as witnesses. You have witch dementia, and you risked seriously injuring or killing a human. You could say we’re here for damage control. Somebody’s got to clean this mess up.”
“How did you know I’d done that?” said Granny. “Are you spying on me?”
“I know whenever a spell is cast in the mortal world,” said Maeve, “but it just so happens that I knew this incident was going to occur. Fate never lies, and fate told me a long time ago that I’d be standing here today with you people before me.”
Granny put a hand on Boris. “I told you,” she said. “Fate is a powerful mistress.”
“She is indeed,” said Maeve. “And fate made sure you two would meet, and she certainly had a hand in Charleston’s transformation into a goat. In fact, everything that’s happened since the day you developed witch dementia, Gladys, has been to ensure that you found the portal clogs which belonged to Charleston’s grandmother.”
“Portal clogs?” said Granny.
Derek the wizard nodded. “The clogs you found are very powerful. They allow the wearer to pass through any witch’s portal into the haven… even a mortal can enter the haven if he or she wears the clogs. Charleston’s grandmother owned them, and when she died we never knew were they were, until now.”
“But why did fate want us to find the clogs?” I said.
Maeve smiled, and looked at Barney. “So the lawman can come to the haven,” she said. “To help us with a little problem. If he so wishes to of course.”
“Problem?” I said. “What sort of problem could Barney possibly help you with?”
“We don’t have time for explanations,” said Derek. “My EMP will only last for another two minutes or so. Just know that we have a problem in the City of Shadows that magic can’t solve. We need an old fashioned mortal lawman who can look past magic and see a crime.”
“The City of Shadows?” said Susie. “That sounds omino
us.”
“Don’t be fooled by the name,” said Maeve. “It’s a beautiful city where the sun always shines and long shadows are cast.”
“Very imaginative,” said Boris. “Why not just call it Sun City, though? It sounds a lot more friendly and welcoming.”
“Or Solar City,” offered Willow. “That sounds lovely. I’d book a holiday there.”
“Enough!” said Derek. “Please… it’s always been The City of Shadows, and that’s what it will remain known as. I think it’s a very nice name.”
Somebody in the crowd groaned and another person moved a foot.
“Quickly,” said Maeve to Derek. “We must be leaving soon. Reverse the spell Gladys cast on the stone woman and open a portal, the people here will forget what happened, and all evidence of witchcraft will be removed from any of their modern recording devices.” She looked at Barney. “Lawman, think about what I said, and let us know if you’ll help us. The clogs will allow you entry into the haven.”
“They won’t fit him,” I said. “They’re very small clogs, and Barney has huge feet.”
“Like slabs of meat,” agreed Boris, looking at Barney’s boots.
“They’re magic clogs,” said Granny. “They’ll be one size fits all, won’t they Maeve?”
Maeve frowned. “Actually, no they’re not, but he doesn’t have to wear them, he can carry them. It’s the magic they contain that’s important, not the fact that they’re on someone’s feet or not.”
“A key would have been better in that case,” said Boris.
“What?” said Derek, pointing his staff as he prepared to reverse the spell on Mrs Round.
“If you don’t need to wear them to enter the haven, then it seems pointless to have imbued the clogs with magic. A key would have been more symbolic,” explained Boris. “Don’t you think?”
“Enough of this nonsense,” said Derek. “Clogs, key… does it matter in the grand scheme of things?”
“Just saying,” said Boris.
Derek sighed and cast his spell. “The petrification spell will wear off in a minute, the woman won’t remember being turned into stone, but she’ll be confused.” Derek pointed his staff at the tent the portal had opened in, and the entrance shimmered with silver as the portal formed again.
Maeve slipped her hand into a long pocket in her robe. “This is for you, Gladys,” she said, handing Granny a small bottle with a cork stopper. “It will cure your witch dementia, and you’ll be able to put Charleston’s mind back into his own body and the mind of that poor goat back where it belongs.”
Granny took the bottle and slid it into her own pocket. “Thank you, Maeve.”
Derek gave a last look over his shoulder before entering the portal, and Maeve paused for a moment before following him. “Think about what I ask of you, lawman,” she said to Barney. “Your help would be greatly appreciated and fairly rewarded.”
Barney nodded. “I will,” he promised.
Maeve stepped into the light, and the portal closed after her, leaving us surrounded by people who were beginning to regain their senses and stare at each other in confusion.
“Ignore them,” said Granny. “They’ll be as right as rain soon enough. They’ll think they all got collective sunstroke or something. It’s a very hot day.”
“You need to make an arrest,” I said grabbing Barney by the wrist and leading him towards the stage where Mrs Round was standing with her head in her hands, fully transformed back into flesh and bone, and with a blank look on her face. “Come on.”
“How do you know she did it?” said Barney, following me. “What evidence do you have?”
“I saw it,” I said. “With my new gift. I also know that Arthur Bell told you he argued with Gerald because he was buying electronic crow scarers instead of paying Arthur to make scarecrows for him. He needed the money and was upset with Gerald.”
“That’s exactly what he told me,” said Barney.
“He’s telling the truth,” I said, “He didn’t hurt Gerald. His fingerprint won’t match the partial print on the gun, and I’ll bet that the green paint on Gerald’s gun is actually nail polish which matches the colour of Mrs Round’s nails perfectly. She’s the murderer, and before you got here she tried to crack Uncle Brian’s skull open with that trophy at her feet. She’s a maniac who needs locking up.”
Barney followed me onto the stage where Felix was still regaining his composure and the compère was huddled beneath the table where he’d hidden when Granny had transformed a woman to stone before his eyes.
“What’s happening?” said Felix. He looked at the trophy on the floor. “Did I win?”
“Im afraid not, Felix,” I said. “Brian won. You must have fainted. It’s very hot.”
Barney pushed past me and stood in front of Mrs Round. “Why did you kill Gerald Timkins?” he said.
Mrs Round narrowed her eyes and rubbed her head. She still looked confused, but the seriousness of the situation was beginning to show in her eyes. “I didn’t!” she said. “That’s an absurd accusation!”
Barney grabbed Mrs Round’s hand and inspected her bright green fingernails. “We found green paint on the shotgun, Mrs Round, and I’m willing to bet it’s a perfect match for the paint on your nails. We also have a partial fingerprint. I’m sure we’ll clear things up soon enough.”
“Ridiculous!” said Felix. “My wife wouldn’t kill a man… would you, darling?”
Mrs Round took a deep breath. She put a hand on Felix’s stomach and sighed. “I’m sorry, Felix,” she said.
“Why did you kill him?” said Barney, taking his handcuffs from his belt.
Mrs Round looked at me swallowed hard. She turned her gaze to Barney. “It was an accident,” she said, her voice low. “I went to see Gerald to beg him to withdraw from the pie-eating competition so Felix would win. I was so scared about Felix’s health, I wasn’t thinking straight. Gerald was in his field and his gun was on the ground, and I just picked it up. I had no idea it would go off, I just wanted to scare him.”
“But you killed him instead,” said Barney. “And left him there for his wife to find.”
Mrs Round sobbed. “It was an accident and I couldn’t allow myself to be caught — if I’d gone to prison who would have looked after Felix? He’d have eaten himself into an early grave with me not around to control him.”
Felix gasped. “You killed Gerald Timkins. How could you?”
“And why did you attack my son?” said Granny, joining us on stage and peering over her glasses.
“I lost control,” said Mrs Round. “All the years of watching Felix get fatter and fatter, and more ill, took their toll on me. Today was the day I thought Felix would stop. I thought that if he won today he’d never enter another competition — he promised me he’d retire if he beat Gerald’s record, and I believed him. When Brian won, I lost my temper. I’m so ashamed.”
“Well, you’ll have a long time to come to terms with what you’ve done,” said Granny. “In prison.”
Mrs Round stumbled, and Barney caught her. “Who will look after Felix?” she said. “He won’t be able to help himself when I’m locked away, he’ll eat himself to death.”
“I can look after myself,” said Felix. “And don’t you dare use me as the reason you murdered a man. That’s not fair.” He turned to Barney. “Take her away, officer. I can’t look at her again.”
The clinking sound of handcuffs being locked brought home the reality of what she’d done, and Mrs Round sobbed loudly as Barney led her from the stage and to the waiting police car.
Granny and Boris sat together on the grass near the water’s edge, and Willow, Susie, and I sat at the picnic bench, listening to the radio and drinking wine. Mabel sat at our feet, and Rosie was curled up on the roof of the Water Witch, enjoying the last of the evening sun.
Barney had telephoned to tell us that Mrs Round had made a full confession and that her fingerprint matched the partial print on the gun, and Arthur Bell had been re
leased from custody with an apology.
All in all, it had been a good day. Susie had got a scoop for the newspaper, Barney had arrested a murderer and been invited to the haven, and I’d had my first vision. The only thing we couldn’t understand was why Granny hadn’t immediately taken the cure for witch dementia that Maeve had given her.
Boris and Granny had excused themselves from our company and had been speaking in hushed tones for at least twenty minutes, but finally they both got to their feet and joined us at the table, with Boris standing next to granny as she pushed onto the bench beside me.
“We’ve come to a decision,” said Granny.
“A joint decision,” said Boris.
“Yes?” said Willow.
Granny sighed. “Today my witch dementia nearly got my son killed when my spells got muddled up.”
“Erm… what are you talking about?” I said. “The spell you cast was perfect — it stopped Mrs Round in her tracks. Literally.”
“You don’t understand,” said Granny. “That was an accident. I was trying to turn her heart to charcoal. She would have died on the spot — should have died on the spot — nobody tries to kill my son. Nobody! Nobody! Nobody!”
“There, there, Gladys,” said Boris. “Keep it real. Think happy thoughts.”
Granny shifted her weight and cleared her throat. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to shout. As I was saying — today a near catastrophe happened because of my dementia, and I know I need to cure it, but…”
“But what?” I said.
Granny continued. “But, I’ve — I mean Boris and I have decided, that I won’t cure it for another few weeks. Boris and I have a holiday booked, you see. In Wales — we’ve booked a beautiful static caravan for the week and we’re looking forward to going. As soon as I drink that potion Maeve gave me, I’ll be cured, and all my mistakes will be righted — which means Boris and Charleston will swap places immediately. That goose will turn back into a real bird too — all manner of little things might happen.”
