by Sam Short
“Are you threatening to burn Brian at the stake?” shouted Granny, getting to her feet and holding a hand before her with sparks dancing at the fingertips. “Cos’ I’ll burn you first, you ginger muppet!”
“Calm down, Gladys,” said Boris placing his front hooves on the table. “You’re suffering from witch dementia! You shouldn't even be threatening to cast a spell — anything could happen! Now put your hand away and sit down! Barney wasn’t threatening Brian, and you know it. Anyway, you like Barney. You told me he would make a fine grandson-in-law.”
Granny smiled. “Yes, I did, didn’t I?” she looked around the table with pride replacing the expression of anger. “It was a pun! Do you all get it? He’ll be my grandson-in-law if he makes an honest woman of Penny, and he’s a dirty fed, hence the law part of the pun!”
“Very good,” said Willow. “Very clever, Granny.”
“Funny,” I acknowledged. “Don’t anyone arrange a visit to a hat shop just yet though. Barney and I have only been together for a few weeks.”
Barney cleared his throat. “I’m not a dirty fed, Gladys. I’m a police officer, and anyway the term fed is American.”
“I didn’t want to call you a pig, Barney. Not in the presence of bacon and sausages anyway. It seemed disrespectful,” said Granny. “So I went yank on your ass.”
“Why do our conversations always end up so far away from where they started?” asked Mum. “Let’s focus on the task in hand for once. Is everybody ready to go? Is all the luggage on the boat, and is the boat prepared?”
The last question was aimed at me. “The boat’s ready,” I confirmed. “The Water Witch has a full fuel tank, fresh gas canisters, a full water tank and a greased stern gland. She’s ready to go when everybody else is.”
Willow looked at her watch. “It’s nine o’clock,” she said. “Uncle Brian and Susie will be making their way to the bridge. We’d better get going.”
“Any more questions before we leave?” asked Mum. “Just remember — the most important thing is that everybody is touching the clogs when we pass through the portal, apart from Penelope of course, as it’s going to be her portal we’re passing through. The magic clogs will ensure we all get through safely as long as we’re touching at least one of them, okay?”
Everyone nodded, and Barney cleared his throat. “I have a question,” he said.
“Yes?” said Mum.
“How does it work? The portal I mean. I’ve seen Penny going through hers, and it looks a little scary. I’m the only one among all of us who doesn't have magic. Will I be safe? I don’t understand what a portal is.”
“I don’t have magic,” said Boris. “As far as I know at this juncture in time anyway.”
“You come from a family of witches though, Boris,” I said. “I’m sure that when Granny takes the cure for her dementia, and you find yourself back in your body, you’ll have magic. I know it.”
“When will you take the cure, Granny?” said Willow. “Maeve gave it to you almost two weeks ago.”
Boris looked away and Granny fiddled with her necklace. “I don’t want to talk about it right now, thank you. I’ll take it in my own good time.” She pointed a finger at the breast pocket of Barney’s jacket. “Pass me a piece of paper from your police notebook, and your pencil, and I’ll show you how a portal works and put your mind at rest, Barney.”
I handed Granny a white paper towel. “Use this. Barney can’t remove pages from his police notebook, Granny. He could be accused of destroying evidence. Even I know that.”
Granny sighed and took the pencil from Barney as she smoothed out the paper towel on the table. “He’s wearing his uniform to a magical dimension, Penelope. I’m sure the police authorities would have a bigger problem with that than with a missing page from a notebook.”
“Just show him what you want him to see, Mother,” said Mum. “We must get going.”
“Do you look at the stars, Barney?” said Granny, using her finger to test the sharpness of the pencil point.
“Of course,” said Barney. “I like stargazing.”
Granny smiled. “Those stars are not there anymore, Barney, but they’re so far away that the light from the explosions which destroyed them is still reaching us, millions of years later. That’s all a lot of the stars are, Barney — the light from an explosion long ago.”
“I know,” said Barney. “It’s amazing.”
Granny nodded. “Space is vast, Barney. It’s why a lot of people argue against the existence of aliens who have the technology to visit our planet — space is just too huge. It would take them millions of years to cross the void.”
“I’ve read about that,” said Barney.
Granny licked her lips. “What if they didn’t need to cross that distance though, Barney? Maybe they could get here quickly if the distance wasn’t so great?”
“That make sense,” said Barney.
Granny folded the paper towel in two and held it up for us all to see. “Imagine The Haven is a long way away, Barney.”
Barney nodded. “Okay.”
Granny held the pencil near the paper. “Imagine this pencil is the boat we’re going to be traveling through the portal on, Barney.”
Barney nodded again.
Granny struck the folded paper viciously with the pencil point and held the impaled paper aloft. “Boom!” she said. “That’s how it works.”
“Huh?” said Barney.
“How does it work, Granny?” said Willow. “What does the paper represent?”
“Well, I don’t know. Willow,” snapped Granny. “That’s what the scientists do in films when they need to explain cross dimensional travel, and nobody questions them!”
“It’s because they offer an explanation too, Granny,” said Willow. “They don’t just poke a hole in some paper and expect people to understand what they’re talking about.”
“It’s because they’re men! Isn’t it?” spat Granny, throwing the pencil and paper at Barney. “Curse the patriarchy! Curse the scientists in films, and curse space travel! I’ve had enough of the lot of them!”
Mum put her hand on Barney’s shoulder. “Relax, Barney,” she said. “Traveling through Penny’s portal is new to all of us, you’re not the only one who’s trying something new.”
Mum was right. She could have opened her own portal to travel through if she’d wanted, but Granny couldn’t open hers while suffering from witch dementia and Willow and Boris had no way of opening their own portals — Willow was yet to earn her Haven entry spell, and Boris was a goat. Trusting the magic clogs would be a leap of faith for everybody on the boat apart from me.
My phone beeped. “It’s a message from Susie,” I said, defusing the tension. “Her and Uncle Brian are at the bridge. They’re waiting for us, we should get aboard the boat. Next stop — The Haven.”
Chapter Two
The engine vibrated beneath my feet as I gave The Water Witch a burst of power and guided her around the final bend in the canal as the bridge appeared in the distance. Barney stood to the right of me at the steering tiller, and Granny and Mum sat below deck at the dinette table, with the magical clogs in front of them.
Boris peered up at me through the open doors of my bedroom and gave as close to a smile as a goat could manage. The goat’s teeth had been yellow and grass worn when the animal had existed purely as a goat, but had become further discoloured since Charleston Huang had inhabited Boris’s body and continued to satisfy his penchant for brandy and cigars. Even Boris’s coarse white hair carried the aroma of cigar smoke, which I had to admit, was more agreeable than the odour the goat had emitted when it had been tied to a stake in Granny’s back garden.
With the sun in my eyes it was hard to make out the shapes of anyone standing on the bridge, but as the trees on the bank thickened their uppermost branches into a canopy which stretched across the narrow canal, it became easy to make out the spherical figure of Uncle Brian. Susie stood next to him, dwarfed by my uncle’s bulk, wavin
g a hand in the air. “It’s all clear!” she shouted. “No cars or people in sight, and Brian has cast a spell which will keep people away! It’s safe to open a portal!”
I waved my acknowledgment, and sent Barney below deck. “You’d better go and take hold of a clog,” I said. “And when we go through the portal make sure to keep your eyes open, it becomes very disorientating otherwise.”
I’d learnt from my first trip through a portal that closing your eyes when passing from one dimension to another confused the brain and brought on a dizzying case of vertigo.
Barney kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you on the other side,” he said, rather ominously, as he descended the three steps into my bedroom where Boris waited.
“Be sure to put a hoof into a clog, Boris,” I said, reminding him of our plan. “And make sure Rosie’s paw is touching them too.”
We’d been sure to leave Mabel the goose safe at my mooring in Wickford, but I wouldn’t go anywhere without Rosie on board. She’d been my constant and loyal traveling companion ever since I’d bought my boat.
Boris grunted. “Don’t worry about us, just concentrate on steering the boat in a straight line.”
He made a valid point. My boat was seven feet wide, and the space below the bridge was just a couple of inches wider. It could be tricky to navigate a narrowboat beneath one of the smaller canal bridges on the best of days, without the addition of a magical portal masking the route. “Don’t worry,” I said, “I’ll get us through safely. You have my word.”
“Have you seen that in a vision, Penny?” asked Boris. “Or is it just a guess to make us feel safer?”
I’d recently found out that I possessed the gift of seeing, and my first vision had helped solve a murder. I’d had no more visions since then, and had been told by my mother that I may not have another for years to come. I laughed. “No vision I’m afraid, Boris,” I said. “You’ll just have to take my word for it and put your trust in me.”
Barney smiled. “We trust you, Penny.”
Barney and Boris disappeared as they made their way through the boat to the dinette table, and Mum shouted to confirm that everybody was in position. “We’re all set, Penny!” she said.
The bridge neared and I prepared to cast my haven entry spell. Susie leaned out over wall of the bridge and smiled. “I’ll keep an eye on your shop!” she said. “I really wish I was coming with you!”
Susie lived in a flat directly above The Spell Weavers — the magic shop which Willow and I ran. She’d been unable to take the time away from her job as a journalist to join us on our trip into the haven, but had been consoled when I’d pointed out that now we possessed the magic clogs which allowed mortals safe passage into The Haven, she’d be able to join us on a future trip. “Thank you, Susie!” I shouted.
“Have a fabulous time!” yelled Uncle Brian, looking as dapper as he always did, in a bright red jacket which I knew would be fashioned from crushed velvet. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
I gave him a smile and a wave. Uncle Brian had only recently moved to Wickford from London, but was a welcome addition to the Weaver family. “We’ll have a great time,” I assured him, my fingertips crackling with magic as I prepared to cast my spell.
The bow of the boat, sixty feet to my front, neared the bridge, and I concentrated hard. Portals were normally opened in doorways, but Maeve had promised my mother that a portal could be opened in anything which was considered an entrance. I tasted the familiar metallic copper flavour in my mouth which accompanied any spell I cast, and forced the build-up of magic from my fingertips.
The water beneath the bridge churned and a warm breeze blew from the space between the cold damp walls of the archway. A soft gold light hovered in the entrance, and spread slowly until it filled the space below the bridge. “It worked!” I shouted.
“Good luck!” yelled Susie, as the bow of the boat slid into the light.
I concentrated on keeping the steering tiller in position as I nudged the power leaver forward a fraction, giving The Water Witch the extra power she’d need to remain on a straight course. The breeze grew stronger and my long dark hair lifted from my shoulders. I shielded my eyes from the leaves which the wind blew from the trees, and shouted a final farewell to the two people on the bridge as The Water Witch was completely enveloped by the shimmering wall of gold.
Wind and bright light made it hard to keep the boat’s course straight, but almost as soon as I’d entered the portal, I was steering the boat along an unfamiliar but beautiful stretch of water. “Is everyone okay down there?” I shouted, slowing the boat and guiding the bow towards the bank-side.
“We’re just dandy!” shouted Boris. “Are we there yet?”
“Yes!” I shouted, “come on up.”
The bow of the boat nudged the bank and I leapt ashore with two iron mooring hoops which slid easily into the soft earth. I hammered them home with the mallet Willow tossed ashore, and tied off the bow and stern ropes.
“It’s beautiful here” said Barney stepping ashore and offering Granny a steadying hand as she climbed from the boat. “It’s really beautiful.”
He was right. The stretch of water we were on was wider than the narrow canals I was used to navigating at home, reminding me of the River Thames in its middle course. The banks were alive with lush foliage and fragrant wildflowers, and a fat trout leapt for a fly which hovered suicidally close to the surface of the pristine water. Swallows dipped and dived as they caught insects on the wing, and a frog croaked from its hidden position in a clump of bull rushes.
On my first trip to The Haven I’d noted how clean and alive with life the magical dimension was, putting me in mind of the paintings I’d seen of England in the days before pollution had poisoned the landscape and waterways. It truly was a beautiful place, and a peaceful serenity washed over me as I imagined journeying along the river. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of the sweet-smelling air, enjoying the sun on my face and the sound of birds and insects.
“Why does the sky seem a little red?” said Boris, leaping gracefully from The Water Witch and gazing at the scenery.
The peachy tint to the sky was strongest where the snowy peaks of distant mountains touched the sky, but the whole vast sky had a slight reddish hue to it. I’d noticed it when I was last in The Haven, but there had been far more important things to concentrate on than the colour of the sky.
Mum joined us on the shore and scooped her long dark hair behind her head, gathering it into a ponytail which she tied with a bobble she took from her pocket. “The sky is red,” she said, “because as Maeve was being burned alive at the stake — she closed her eyes and prepared to die. The red of the sky is the colour of the flames which she could see through her eyelids. It’s said that the pain she experienced as the flames began burning her is what caused all her magic to explode form her in a fraction of a second — creating The Haven and transporting her to safety. She’s lucky to be alive, but what she created when she thought she was going to die, not only saved her life, but the lives of countless other persecuted witches who fled to The Haven after her. It’s quite a story, and we should feel very honoured to be standing here.”
Granny gave a low snigger. “It’s okay here, but it’s certainly no Oz. Now that’s a place which would impress me. If I was to conjure up a magical land I’d fashion it after Oz, populating it with a mixture of folk, but I’d most certainly throw in a few short fellows who’d dance, sing, and jump at my every command. It does the soul good to look down on others every now and again — both figuratively and literally. No flying monkeys though, those buggers would cause havoc with a banana plantation, and I’d be sure to plant a few of those. And a pear orchard. I like pears. I like Oz.”
Boris lifted his nose from the flower he was smelling. “Is that how you see me, Gladys? As somebody you can look down on?”
Granny placed a hand on the goat’s back. “You know that’s not how I feel about you, Boris. I treat you with the respe
ct and dignity you deserve.”
Boris stamped a hoof and snorted. “Then why didn’t you take the dementia cure when I asked you to?”
Granny bristled. “This is not the time or place for this conversation, Boris. We’re in the company of others.”
Mum frowned and gave Granny a stern stare, but just as she was about to speak, the air around us crackled and fizzed. Boris took a few stumbling steps backward and Barney jumped. Two billowing clouds of red smoke swirled into existence in front of us, and in a fraction of a second, with a loud popping sound, there were two extra people in our group.
Maeve and Derek stood side by side, up to their knees in grass, the smoke dispersing around them. Derek carried the staff he’d used to cast a spell over a field full of people the last time we’d seen him, and Maeve gave us a wide friendly smile. “Thank you all for coming,” she said. She turned her attention to Barney. “Especially you, lawman. Our need is dire, and you are the only person equipped with the skills to solve a mystery which no amount of magic can help us with.”
“Skills,” muttered Granny. “I’ve seen more skills in a circus monkey.”
Derek slammed his staff into the river-bank. “Silence, Gladys Weaver. Show some respect to the creator of The Haven!”
Granny narrowed her eyes. “I respect Maeve,” she said, “but I find it hard to respect a man who until very recently called himself The Copper Haired Wizard of The West.” She turned her back on Maeve and Derek and clambered aboard The Water Witch. “Would you be so kind as to accompany me, Boris?” she said. “We should talk.”
Boris gave Maeve what was an attempt at an apologetic grin, but was a grimace of yellowed teeth. “Please excuse me, your honour,” he said.
Maeve tilted her and gave a gentle laugh, her long blond hair shining in the sunlight. “Call me Maeve, please. We don’t stand on formalities here.”
