by Sam Short
A loud whistle from somebody in the crowd and a round of applause spurred the band on, and Boris began shaking his whole body, his head nodding faster and faster as the band played louder. People began thumping the wooden tables with their flagons, in time to the beat, and Boris threw himself into the air, his legs making a star shape and his spine arched in a curve.
“What’s he doing?” shouted Timmy, as Boris crashed into the stage and began writhing like a dying fish. “Is he possessed by a demon? Should I call an exorcist?”
“It’s called the caterpillar,” I said. “He’s performing what we call break-dancing.”
Boris threw himself onto his back and the crowd roared their appreciation as he began spinning, his legs drawn close to his body and his chin close to his chest.
“He’ll break his legs if he’s not careful,” said Timmy, his hand tapping out the beat on the bar. “They’re too spindly for that sort of exertion.”
Boris leapt to his feet as Barney rocked from side to side, beatboxing with obvious enthusiasm and pulling his shorts down a few inches to expose the elasticated band of his red underwear.
“Is he a stripper too?” shouted a woman. “I hope so. It’s been too long since I saw a gentleman’s ding-a-ling. My Harold’s been at the pies a little too much lately. His belly gets in the way.”
“No! He’s not a stripper,” I shouted. “Some people in our world who enjoy this sort of music wear their trousers like that. It’s a fashion statement.”
“It’s a blight on humanity,” said Granny. “Gone are the days of the Rockers and Teddy boys. Now those young cats dressed with dignity, not like narrow waisted ruffians.”
As the music got faster and Boris slid seamlessly into the move I knew as crazy-legs, Crispin stepped from behind the bar and approached me. The huge troll strutted toward me in time with the music and reached for my hand, gripping it in his shovel sized palm and tugging me toward him. “Dance with me, female!” he demanded.
I pulled my hand from his and stepped backwards. “That’s not how you speak to a lady,” I said. “I’m sure you’re a hit with the girls, aren’t you?”
“That’s how we trolls show our affection for the weaker sex,” said Crispin. “The lady trolls love it.”
“Weaker sex?” said Granny. “How dare you! You misogynistic animal! When I get my magic back I’m going to pay this tavern another visit and cast a spell on you — so powerful that your kidneys will pop out of your ears! Now step away from my granddaughter and thank your lucky stars that my magic is not accessible now.”
“Stop the music!” shouted Timmy, his roaring voice scaring the band into silence and stopping Boris mid moonwalk. “I’ve had enough. You troublemakers should leave now.”
Mum tapped me on my shoulder and passed me her handkerchief. “Wipe your hand, darling,” she said. “You’ve got some sort of disgusting troll bodily fluid on it.”
I took the handkerchief and looked at my hand. It was dark with a dusty deposit which stained my fingers.
“That’s not bodily fluid!” said Crispin. “That’s the dust from an honest hard day’s work in the depths. That’s what that is!”
The white handkerchief darkened as I rubbed my hand clean. Barney joined me, pulling his trousers up and wiping an accumulation of spittle from his chin. “Beatboxing is a messy business,” he said. “Let me use that hanky after you.”
He took the dirty piece of linen and studied it for a second. “This looks familiar,” he said, examining the stains. “My granddad was a roofer and his white t-shirt looked like this when he’d been working with lead and wiped his hands clean on it. I’m no Sherlock Holmes, but I know a clue when I see one.” He looked at Crispin. “Why do you have lead dust on your hands?”
Crispin frowned. “From working in the depths. I already told the female. It’s the dust from the same metal that almost took a toe off my foot when I dropped a sheet of it on my boot.”
“What work?” said Barney. “And what are the depths?”
“We’re building a —”
“Quiet!” said Quentin, putting a huge hand on his fellow bouncer’s shoulder. “Stay your wagging tongue and say no more! The man we work for told us to speak to nobody of our work, and there’s something about him which tells me he should not be crossed.”
“It’s important,” said Barney. “We’re looking for —”
“Enough!” shouted Timmy. “This isn’t an establishment in which people gossip to strangers. This isn’t Twiggy’s General Store and Tattoo Parlour! The people who sit in her chair to be decorated may be liberal with their tongues, but secrets spoken in The Nest of Vipers stay within these walls. Now be gone — I’m itching to see if that goat can fly as well as he dances, and my boys are itching to be the trolls who launch him.”
Knowing we’d more than outstayed our welcome, we left the tavern quickly, with Granny reiterating her threat that she’d return when her magic was back.
Willow led the way to the boat, her spell leading her quickly along side streets and through narrow alleyways until the harbour opened up before us. The Water Witch’s bright red and green paintwork shone in the yellow light emitted from the street-lamps, and distant sounds of people having fun bounced across the water’s surface.
Boris stopped as we approached the boat, his head cocked to the side and his ears twitching. “Something is wrong,” he said. “I can hear footsteps on the boat. Somebody’s aboard the Water Witch!”
Barney broke into a run, shouting at us to stay back. His warning to us served as a warning to whoever was on the boat too, and with a thumping sound on wooden steps and a slam of the bow decking door, the dark shape of somebody wearing a flowing cloak appeared on the Water Witch and glanced in our direction.
Barney approached the gangplank at speed, almost slipping on the damp stone surface of the dockside, but regaining his balance as the intruder lifted an arm in our direction. “Stop right there!” shouted Barney. “Stay where you are!”
The intruder stood still and gave a low laugh.
“It’s a man,” said Granny, as the intruder laughed again.
Barney reached the gangplank just as the man lifted his arm and emitted a shower of colourful sparks from his fingertips. The buzz of electric in the air accompanied the light show, and Barney let out a cry of pain as he was thrown backwards through the air, his arms flailing and his head thudding on stone as he slammed into the hard floor.
“Barney!” I yelled, as the man climbed over the bow railings on the water side of the boat.
“He’s jumped in the river!” said Mum.
The thud of feet on wood disproved Mum, and as I arrived at Barney’s side and cradled his head in my hands, the roar of an engine starting drowned out Barney’s groans.
“He’s on a boat!” said Granny.
The long hull of the Water Witch had afforded the stranger’s boat a perfect hiding place, but as it slid into view with the man at the controls, it was obvious even in the darkness that the hull was painted a vivid red.
“I’ll stop him,” said Mum, magic sparking at her fingertips. The spell left her hand at speed, the golden stream of light flying straight and true until it neared the boat where it spread over the hull in an umbrella shape, before fizzing and spluttering out of existence.
“A forcefield,” said Granny. “It’s powerful magic.”
Barney groaned again, and I watched helplessly as the boat slid into darkness. “Forget it,” I said, as Willow and Boris hurried along the dockside in a pointless attempt at following the stranger. “Help me with Barney. I can’t lift him on my own.”
Chapter Ten
Barney took a bite of toast and sipped his tea. “Amazing,” he said, rubbing his head for the umpteenth time since he’d woken up. “The lump has totally vanished and there’s no pain at all.”
“You can thank Penny for that,” said Willow, tossing Rosie’s stuffed toy mouse along the length of the boat. “Her healing spell is second to none.”
Rosie chased the mouse through the boat and pounced on it as it landed next to Willow’s bedroom door, giving a satisfied mewl and settling down to chew on her prey.
“Should we check again?” said Willow. “Surely he must have taken something. Why else would he break in?”
The intruder hadn’t even damaged the door he’d used to gain entry to the boat through, using magic to unlock it rather than brute force, and if we hadn’t arrived at the boat when we had, it was doubtful we’d have ever known somebody had been aboard. As far as we could tell, after an exhaustive search which went on into the early hours of the morning, nothing had been taken and nothing had been damaged. Mum had done a sweep of the boat checking for sleeper spells which may have been cast. She and Granny had explained that some spells could be cast and left to fizz away in the ether, unseen until they were triggered by the person who’d cast them. Mum had found nothing, and with the bright sunlight spilling in through the boat’s windows, and music playing on the CD player, we all felt safer and more cheerful than we had the night before.
Barney buttered another piece of toast. “We’re all in agreement that the person on the boat last night must be the person who’s responsible for taking the witches, and we can safely assume that the boat he was on is the boat the dwarfs told us about.”
“Agreed,” I said. “And we can be equally sure that he’s the same man the trolls are working for in the depths — whatever they are — and that lead has a big part to play in it all.”
“And that the lead is being used to deflect magic,” said Boris. “We’re all in agreement on that front too.”
“What?” said Willow. “When did we speak about that?”
“We didn’t,” said Boris. “Did we need to? Are you all telling me that it hadn’t crossed your mind that lead works against magic in the same way it does against radiation in the mortal world? Why do you think magic can’t be used in the Silver Mountains? Because of the lead, and I’d bet a bottle of the finest brandy that there are lead deposits in every part of The Haven where magic can’t be used.” He looked around the table. “Really? Nobody picked up on it? I assumed it didn’t need saying as it was so blatantly obvious.”
Granny gave Boris a pat on the head. “You forget that your Oxford education affords you a far greater intellect than the rest of us, Boris. Think of us as village simpletons and yourself as Einstein — the chasm between our intelligence levels is that glaringly wide. I’m so proud of you.”
“I thought of it,” mumbled Barney.
“You did?” said Granny. “So why didn’t you mention it?”
“I wrote it in my notebook.”
Granny held out a hand, tapping the palm with a finger. “Let me see.”
“It’s in my other shorts,” said Barney.
“I’ll get them,” said Granny. “Where are they.”
“Okay, I put my hands up,” said Barney. “I didn’t think of it, but I would have got there eventually. I have a process, and I trust that process.”
“Well put some more fuel in the process’s tank,” said Granny. “It’s running on fumes at the moment.”
Barney pushed his plate away and stood up. “Excuse me,” he said. “I’m going to take a shower.”
I waited for Barney to enter the small bathroom and close the door behind himself before I narrowed my eyes and stared at Granny. “It was Barney who realised it was lead on the handkerchief last night,” I said. “And it was Barney who ran towards danger when we found somebody on the boat. I think we’re doing well as a team, and anyway, Granny — what has your contribution been towards the solving of the mystery? All you’ve done is get stoned and cause an argument with trolls.”
“I’ve got other problems too,” said Granny. “I can’t be using all of my grey matter on the problem of the missing witches, I’ve got to save some brain power for coming up with a way to split my sister and Derek up. There is absolutely no way that that pair are ever becoming an item. So, forgive me if I haven’t contributed to solving the mystery just yet. I’m sure my time will come, and I’m equally sure that when it does I will shine. Brighter than you lot. That’s for sure.” She gave Boris another gentle pat on the head. “Not you of course. Nobody can shine brighter than you, Boris.”
“The gesture is appreciated, Gladys,” said Boris, getting to his feet, “but undeserved. We all deserve praise, and we all shine in different ways. I consider myself lucky to be able to call you all friends. Now, as it seems you three have bickering to carry on with, I’m going to take a leaf from Barney’s book and leave you to it. I fancy a walk along the waterfront. I need a breath of fresh air and some time to think.”
“Don’t go too near the edge of the river,” shouted Granny, as Boris climbed the steps up to the decking. “And don’t go speaking to strangers!”
“I won’t,” came the distant reply.
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t speak to me in that way in front of Boris,” said Granny, glaring at me. “Asking me what my contribution to solving the crime has been — you made me look silly.”
“Oh, stop worrying what that goat thinks about you,” said Mum. “You act around him like you used to act around Dad. You’re like an old married couple, and it’s embarrassing!”
“How dare you call my relationship with Boris embarrassing,” said Granny. Sparks rolled from her fingertips and her eyes glazed over.
“Careful, Granny,” said Willow. “Dementia, remember. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
Granny watched the sparks at her fingers and took a deep breath. The sparks vanished as quickly as Granny’s mood shifted from angry to upset. “Why is everything so difficult?” she said, a tear forming in her eye. “Why did I have to get witch dementia? It’s not like it runs in our family. It’s my dementia’s fault that Charleston is trapped in the body of a goat!”
“Well take the damned dementia cure for goodness sake!” said Mum. “What’s wrong with you? It’s a simple fix!”
Granny seemed not to have heard Mum. “And it’s my dementia’s fault that I’ve fallen in lov —” She stopped speaking and put a hand to her mouth, as if to stop anymore words tumbling out, and her body shook as she sobbed.
“What did you say?” said Mum.
“Don’t, Mum,” I said, putting an arm around Granny. “She’s upset.”
“Oh, Penny,” gasped Granny, pushing her head tight against my chest. “I’ve got a secret that will make you all hate me if I reveal it.”
“What secret?” said Willow. “Are you okay, Granny? What’s wrong?”
Granny seemed to have shrunk in my arms, and her bony shoulder dug into my flesh. I put a hand on her head, and pulled her tighter to me. “It’s okay, Granny,” I said. “I know your secret, and so does Barney. You told us after smoking the pipe of peace, and Barney and I don’t hate you. We love you.”
“I told you?” she said, looking up at me through teary eyes. “And you don’t hate me?”
“You did,” I said, squeezing her tight. “And of course I don’t.”
“It had to come out at some point,” she said, hiding her face in my bosom. “I couldn’t hide it forever! It’s been burning a hole in my very soul! What would Norman, rest his soul, think? He’ll be spinning in his grave knowing he had a harlot for a wife!”
“Mother?” said Mum, her voice soft. “What’s going on?”
“I’m worried,” said Willow. “Granny, you know we love you. You can tell us anything.”
“Anything,” said Mum.
Granny looked up, her cheeks puffy and her eyes bloodshot. “Anything?” she sobbed. “Even that I’ve fallen in love with another man and betrayed your grandfather, Willow?” She turned her gaze to Mum. “I can tell you that I’ve betrayed your father, Maggie? Because that’s what I’ve done. I’ve gone and fallen in love with a Chinese acupuncturist. I’ve gone and fallen in love with Charleston, and when I take my dementia cure I’ll lose him. I can’t tell him of course, he harbours no roma
ntic feelings towards me. Why would he?” She wiped her cheeks with a shaking hand, and stared up at me. “What would Norman, rest his soul, think? It’s a saving grace that Charleston is Chinese and not Japanese. Norman, rest his soul, loved Chinese food, but hated what the Japanese did in Pearl Harbour. That’s the only positive I can draw from this terrible mess!”
“The only positive you can draw from all this is that Granddad was a little racist?” I said. “What about the fact that you’ve fallen in love? That’s a beautiful positive.”
“Mother,” said Mum. “We’re not the sort of family who judges one another in matters of the heart. We never have been. I loved Dad, yes, but I love you too. I want you to be happy.”
“I’m sure Granddad would too,” said Willow. “He’s probably looking down on you, happy that you’re happy.”
“What?” said Granny. “Your grandfather once made a man cry because I commented on how nice his suit was. Norman, rest his soul, was a jealous man, a very jealous man indeed. He won’t be smiling down on me, he’ll be bubbling with rage. I can picture him now, his right eyebrow arched and his knuckle duster ready for action.”
“Knuckle duster?” said Willow. “Granddad?”
“Oh yes,” said Mum. “You’d be surprised, Willow.”
“How else do you think he made a grown man cry?” said Granny. “He wasn’t big or strong, he needed back up for the occasions on which his mouth wrote cheques that his body couldn’t cash.”
“You can’t base your future life on what Dad was like,” said Mum. “That was the past. Your future is your future, and if you want my advice, you’d tell Boris, I mean Charleston, how you feel about him. You might be surprised. He speaks of you in very high regard, and I think I speak for everyone else when I say that we’re all very fond of him too.”
Willow and I nodded our agreement, and Granny gave Mum an affectionate smile. “You fatties are always very optimistic,” she said, resting her hand on Mum’s. “Maybe it’s the raised cholesterol playing havoc with the thought process, I don’t know, but I admire your outlook, Maggie. On this occasion, I think your optimism is misplaced, though. Charleston won’t look twice at me when he’s back in his real body. He’ll be gone from my guest bedroom the second his body is no longer frozen by magic. That room will be empty without him. I like to go in there sometimes to comb his hair and polish his ring. It’s got a lovely stone in it – a real diamond, I think.”
