Miss Hawthorne Sits for a Spell

by Katherine Hayton

  “Forget your self-pity for a moment,” Cynthia said with a flap of her hands. “I want to know how you got lightning to shoot out of your hands.” She turned to Wanda, the earlier lip curls and dismissive shakes of her head replaced by an expression of awe. “And if you can teach that trick to me.”

  “It’s not a trick.” Wanda stared at her shaking hands, picking at a fingernail. “That’s just some elemental magic. You’ve either got the knack of using it”—she risked a quick glance at Cynthia—“or you don’t.”

  If Wanda thought that would be enough to get Cynthia off her back, she was in for another think. While Emily waited for her car to arrive, more muscles adding their voices to the chorus of pain with every passing second, Mrs Pettigrew cajoled, harangued, and finally threatened Wanda to give up her secrets.

  “You can hardly kill her again,” Emily whispered as a car pulled up alongside the station. The driver waved while the large cat perching on his shoulder stared. “And it’d be nice if everyone kept quiet on this journey. I’m in enough pain without adding a headache from your yelling to the list.”

  Her plea went ignored. By the time Frank Libertyman—the driver—had dropped Emily at her car, the two ghosts had declared full-out war. Where Wanda had been painfully shy earlier in the day, the visit to her sister appeared to have replaced her spine with steel.

  “Could you two please cool it,” Emily pleaded again. “Our focus now should be working out where the spell book might have ended up. I presume it was sold at auction the same as the puzzle box. It’ll take a lot to sort through all the potential buyers and I can’t concentrate with you squabbling.”

  “I’m not,” Cynthia said, appearing disgusted. “All I want to know is how to do a few spells. It’s not like I can get into any trouble with them. Not now I’m dead.”

  “If you wanted to learn about witchcraft, you should’ve enquired while you were still alive.” Wanda sat back, arms crossed, nose up in the air. “It’s not my place to teach you.”

  “Maybe, if we find the spell book, you can teach yourself.”

  Emily said the words just to gain a bit of peace, but Cynthia latched onto the idea. “Great. Let’s do that, then. Will the auction house be open?”

  “Not on Saturday. They open again for auctions on Monday.” Emily turned the corner, pulling into her street. The usual relief she felt at coming home after a long day’s work was missing and not just because it was only midday.

  “Looks like your brother’s made himself at home,” Cynthia said with a laugh as the driveway came into view. A pile of old boxes not yet unpacked from when Emily moved in six months ago lay on the driveway, right where she wanted to park the car.

  “Hasn’t he just,” Emily muttered under her breath.

  Chapter Seven

  Harvey gave Emily a wave as she got out of the car, a wide grin decorating his face. “I hope you don’t mind. I got a hankering for some old-fashioned hokey-pokey biscuits but couldn’t find any baking stuff in the kitchen.”

  “And you thought dragging all my possessions onto the driveway would somehow help?” Emily shielded her face from the sun with her hand, squinting at her older brother as though he’d gone mad.

  “There weren’t any labels. I thought if I stacked them out here, rather than trying to squint at them in the dingy garage, I’d be able to work out what was in what.”

  Emily shifted her hands to her hips, deciding it was more important to display her frustration than prevent temporary blindness. “I can’t read remember? What good do you think labels would do me?”

  Harvey turned bright pink and stared at his feet. “Um, yeah. I forgot. How do you know what’s in what, then?”

  “The pictures.” Emily pointed to a small drawing on the side of one box. It had a bookshelf sketched on it. “That’s all the books from my old house. I couldn’t work out what to keep or throw out, so I just packed them all up. You’re welcome to go through them if you want some of Mum and Dad’s old favourites.”

  She moved closer as Harvey wrote something on the top of the box. After tilting one up, she tapped her finger on another drawing. “This is the one with all the kitchen stuff.” She shrugged. “I haven’t felt much like baking since I moved in.”

  “What’s this drawing meant to be?” Harvey stared at it in confusion.

  “It’s a set of cutlery,” Emily said, glaring at him in a full-on challenge. “Anyone could see that.”

  He pulled his mouth down at the corner, but she was busy with the next box. Funny how she could open and sort through a dozen or more in a single day at the charity shop, but she hadn’t yet got these organised yet.

  “This one is gardening equipment.” Emily pushed the box back towards the garage. No need to get that out, not with winter about to take a firm grip. “And this one is old ornaments.”

  “You kept those?” Harvey took a step back, his eyebrows crawling halfway up his forehead in surprise. “I didn’t think you celebrated Christmas.”

  “I don’t.” Emily sighed. “It seemed wrong to chuck them out when Mum took so much care over the years to keep them in one piece.”

  Harvey pulled up one flap and dragged out a tangle of tinsel. It looked more like sad, metallic string than the vibrant decoration it had once been. All the feathers of shiny green had dropped off like the pine needles of its living counterpart.

  “Yeah, better keep those for the next generation,” he scoffed, pushing the box shut again.

  “What next generation?” Emily kicked her foot against the box. “Unless you’ve got a love child somewhere you neglected to tell me about, I think that ship’s well and truly sailed.”

  “Hey, never say never.” Harvey stretched out his back, groaning. “Cary Grant had a child when he was over a hundred, or something like that.”

  “In his early sixties, I think you’ll find.” Emily nudged her brother’s shoulder. “Given the trouble you had finding a hot wife when you were young, I don’t rate your chances nowadays.”

  A cloud sailed across Harvey’s face and was gone. “There’s a bit of life left me in me, yet,” he said, patting his butt with a satisfied grin.

  “How about you put it to good use and move these back inside?”

  “Sure thing, boss.” Harvey tossed her a salute and began to move everything back where it had been.

  With a shake of her head, Emily walked inside and immediately wished the police had locked her up at the station.

  A pile of dishes sat by the sink. No, not just beside it, inside it as well. A spill of something that had started off liquid but long since hardened into cement decorated the cabinet door beneath the bench. A snail’s trail of the same substance marked a path from the stovetop to the sink.

  Just pretend you didn’t see it! Go and sit on the sofa as you planned.

  “Even Gregory never got our kitchen into a state like this,” Cynthia said, following the words with an appreciative whistle.

  “That’s because you had a housekeeper.”

  “Ha! A lot of good that did me.”

  “Holy moly.” Wanda moved up to inspect the sink at close quarters then moved away, her lips and nose wrinkling in a moue of distaste.

  “Don’t worry about the dishes,” Harvey announced, sailing in through the front door with an armful of supplies. “I’ll clean everything up once I finish baking. It’ll be spick and span again by the time the biscuits have cooled.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” Cynthia said, purring with satisfaction. “You better nip this nonsense in the bud otherwise, he’ll just keep making a mess of things. You mark my words.”

  Emily opened her mouth, unsure if she was about to unleash a tirade or a sentence of acceptance when the phone rang. The actual phone, in the hallway, rather than her smartphone on which any normal person would call her.

  “Hello?” she said in a brusque voice, hoping it was a salesperson so she could mash the off button and slam the phone back into its cradle.

  “Emily
! I’m so glad I caught you. How do you fancy being an audience member tonight?”

  She took a few moments to place the familiar voice.

  “Pete?”

  “Of course, it’s Pete. Who else would invite you to the roller derby?”

  Emily laughed. “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “It is.” Pete dropped his voice a few notches of volume. “It’s Gregory’s debut, but it slipped my mind to invite you last week like I said I would.”

  “Well, if it’s Gregory, I have to come, don’t I? Whereabouts and what time?”

  “Meet us at the charity shop and we’ll give you a lift,” Pete said, his voice full of relief. “Bring a friend or two along. There’s plenty of room.”

  “In your car, or in the hall?”

  “Both. I can take three and Gregnado can fit a few in his dad’s car.”

  “Gregnado, eh?” Emily glanced up to see Harvey staring at her with an amused smile on his face. She turned, blocking him with her shoulder as though the phone cared who saw it. “What’s your stage name?”

  “For Pete’s Sake,” her friend answered, then guffawed. “Not the most original.”

  “What time?” she repeated, dropping her voice lower as her brother continued to stare with interest.

  “Four thirty pick up. We’re on at five.”

  Emily hung up the phone and poked her tongue out at Harvey, feeling about five. She hitched her mobile out of her pocket and called through to Crystal, walking to her room and closing the door against unwelcome eavesdroppers.

  “It’s my birthday, today,” she announced when the medium answered. “How do you feel about going out to watch Greg and Pete splatter themselves all across the hall in a roller derby?”

  With her muscles stiffening from their earlier exertion, Emily walked instead of driving to the shop, in the hope it would loosen her up again. Crystal tooted as she passed by, waving a hand out the side window.

  “I didn’t have time to get you a present,” Crystal exclaimed as she clambered out of her car. “But I got you this.”

  Emily accepted the giant foam hand with a laugh. “It’s perfect.” She slipped it onto her right hand and waved the forefinger in a circle above her head.

  “Be careful with that thing.” Crystal primped her hair in the reflection from the charity shop window, then held the door open. “After you, birthday girl.”

  Walking past with a flounce, Emily gave a regal nod and pulled the foam hand off, airing out her fingers. She gave a normal-sized wave to Pete who was standing at the counter, in deep discussion with Greg. Out of habit, she crossed to the back of the store and looked up the staircase to the attic. To her surprise, a man was descending the steps.

  “Oh,” he said, putting a hand to his chest. “You gave me a fright.”

  “I have that effect on a lot of people.”

  It took Emily a second to decipher the man’s words. He spoke with a strange, flat cadence, like someone hard of hearing. As he reached ground level, she recognised the features of Downs Syndrome and understood why.

  “What were you doing upstairs?” Emily took a step back, so the man had room to pass by her. Instead, he stopped and stood in place, beaming a gigantic smile at her.

  “The bathroom’s on the ground floor,” Pete called out, waving. “Go out through the rear door, not upstairs.”

  The man returned the wave and followed the directions while Emily crossed over to the counter to join Pete and Gregory. Crystal stared after the stranger for a second before coming over as well.

  “That’s Terrence Salem,” Pete said with a nod to the corridor. “He’s on the team.”

  “He’s a roller-skater?” Crystal asked, her voice full of surprise.

  “Best one we’ve got,” Gregory said, a defensive note in his voice. “He can skate a lot quicker than me.”

  “And he doesn’t care about getting hurt as much as I do,” Pete added, “so he takes risks that would turn my blood cold.”

  “Sounds fabulous,” Crystal said in a small voice, a frown of worry crossing her face.

  “I don’t know what Emily’s been telling you about our team, but it’s not as bad as it sounds.” Pete shot Crystal a wink and draped his arm around Gregory’s shoulders. “And we’re about to break this one’s cherry, tonight.”

  “Just so long as he doesn’t break anything else,” Emily said, wrinkling her nose. “I want all the thrills and none of the spills, thank you very much.”

  Terrence joined them at the counter, raising his eyebrows as the conversation came to a natural end. “Pete tells me you used to work at an accounting firm just down the road from my old house.”

  “Did he?” Emily wasn’t sure she liked people discussing her behind her back, but let it go. “What street were you on?”

  “Gloucester. I lived in an apartment block close to the city. Ermine Villas.”

  Emily nodded her head, giving the man a more appraising look. “That’s a nice spot. Pinetar must feel like a step down.”

  “Hey,” Pete and Gregory called out in unison.

  “I have family in Pinetar, so that makes a difference. Are we ready to go?”

  “We’re ready.” Pete clapped him on the shoulder and turned to Emily. “Are you coming along with me, or with Greg?”

  “With Greg,” she replied, hooking her arm through the young man’s elbow. “Since it’s his big day.”

  “A little birdie told me it’s your big day, too,” Greg said, throwing an arm around Crystal’s shoulders and leading the two women out to his dad’s car. “Happy birthday.”

  The Roller Derby was taking place at the community hall in Pinetar Beach. Although referred to as an entirely different town by the locals, the beach was only forty minutes away from the main Pinetar township. On foot.

  By car, it only took a few minutes before they pulled into the driveway.

  “Should we wait for the others?” Emily asked as she struggled out of the backseat. She shook her legs out but, even after a minute, they still felt numb. To be on the safe side, she stayed close to Crystal as they walked towards the hall.

  “I’m sure they won’t get lost,” Gregory said with a laugh. He waved to a couple of people filing into the building, roller skates looped over his shoulder. “And if they do, we’ve got spare skates. You can fill in for them.”

  “Although I’m happy to watch you break your neck,” Crystal said, her expression aghast, “I’ve no desire to do the same. The last time I had a pair of skates on, they still played disco on commercial radio.”

  “I bet you were quite a mover, back in the day.” Gregory performed a few quick steps and turned on his heel in a complete circle.

  Crystal just rolled her eyes as they filed into the hall. There were two seats in the middle of the back row, offering the best view, and she claimed them with a toss of her jacket.

  After a few minutes spent making small talk with people—most of whom Emily was just as surprised to see there as they were to see her—she sat and leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes.

  “I think the main idea of being a spectator is keeping your peepers open,” Crystal said with a giggle. “If you wanted a good night’s sleep, I think you might be out of luck.”

  “It’s been a long day,” Emily said, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. She cracked an eyelid open and watched her friend staring around the room with excitement. “You keep watch and tell me when the action is about to start.”

  It didn’t take more than a few minutes before Crystal dug an elbow into her side. The skaters rolled out onto the track, their arms lazily hanging at their sides, in complete contrast to the speed they were travelling.

  “Oh, I can’t look,” Crystal squealed, holding her hands over her eyes and peeping through her fingers.

  “Wow!” Emily stared at the track, amazed at the grace and determination of the men she worked beside every day. As the pace grew faster, she leaned forward, accidentally kicking her handb
ag onto the lower level.

  “Thanks,” she said as the woman on the seat below her handed it back. The zip was half undone and Emily checked the puzzle box was still in place, lifting it out briefly to admire its design.

  Her eyes met with Terrence as he whizzed past on the track. His gaze stayed fixed on her as his body turned into the curve of the track. A split-second later he tumbled head over heels, the skaters behind him piling into a heap as they tripped over his prone form.

  “I can’t look!” Crystal shrieked again, staring at the growing carnage.

  Chapter Eight

  “Hey,” Cynthia said the moment Emily woke the next morning. “Could you tell Wanda she has to teach me her tricks?”

  “Didn’t I tell you not to come into my bedroom while I’m sleeping?”

  “You’re awake.”

  “Only just. You were here waiting already.”

  Cynthia shrugged and batted the concern aside with her hand. “Never mind that now, I need to learn how to shoot stuff out of my hands.” Her eyes gleamed. “Imagine the possibilities!”

  “If she doesn’t want to show you, I can’t help.” Emily sat up and groaned as her muscles reported the exact amount of over-exertion she’d subjected them to the day before.

  “You could tell her you won’t hunt down the spell book until she’s taught me her secrets.”

  “I could but I won’t.” Emily shifted the covers back, feeling like a hot poker was stuck in every joint. “If what the sergeant said was right, we’re living on borrowed time as it is.”

  “Didn’t stop you going out last night.” Cynthia sniffed and stuck her nose into the air.

  “We couldn’t do anything last night,” Emily said, then wondered why she was bothering. “If you can’t sweet talk Wanda into doing what you want, it’s nothing to do with me.”

  A crash from the kitchen soon had her running, despite the protest from her muscles. Harvey offered an apologetic grin as he wiped pancake batter off the kitchen tiles. Peanut circled around his legs as he squatted, perhaps indicating where the blame should lie.