by Wendy Steele
With the goddess Ishtar with her, Lizzie walked confidently into Edward Brown’s office. Brief pleasantries over, Edward Brown placed her contract in front of her and handed her a pen.Lizzie laid the pen on the desk and sat back in her chair.
“I don’t think you’ve been honest with me.”
“Then sign the contract and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
It was a clever ploy. Lizzie’s fingers itched to pick up the pen.
“How well did you know my father?”
“Why would I know your father, Mrs Martin?”
“I don’t know, Mr Brown, but I’m not signing anything until I find out the truth.”
“Then you are no longer employed by this company. Pack your desk and leave. HR will send you a letter with details of your final pay.”
Lizzie rose slowly from her chair, held back by the weighty chains of fear.
“Shame you’ll lose your pretty house.”
Edward’s final words were the catalyst she needed. Like a dragon from its lair, Lizzie unfurled.
“I’m not losing anything, Mr Brown. You can trash my house and steal my photos but you’ll not manipulate me like you did my father!”
She ran down the corridor, phoning Richard from her mobile. He would drop Rowan and Sam off at the police station and collect her from under the oak tree in the park.
She sat beneath the leafy boughs, her back pressed against the ancient trunk. The pain in her head eased, a warm sensation travelling up her spine, linking her heart beat to the rise and fall of energy within the tree. Pictures rose up in her mind behind her closed eyelids. Tension left her body, taken away by the tree and replaced with clarity of mind. She remembered the cool smooth surface of the quartz crystal and opened her third eye.
She walked up the steps to the party. She was introduced by Marsha, along the receiving line. She saw all the men and Doreen Klein, flushed with alcohol and her head in the clouds but there was something else. The fear in Doreen’s eyes. What did Doreen know? Doreen? Oh no!
They raced to her mother’s house, Richard making calls on his hands free as they drove. She cursed the traffic and swore at the traffic lights. A sleek black car was parked outside her mother’s house. They ran through the back door, Lizzie calling out as they flew up the stairs. Richard pushed past her into her mother’s room, knocking the doctor and his syringe against the wall. With practised constraint, he spun Dr Warrington around, and snapped on handcuffs.
Lizzie held her mother as she screamed.
“You’re okay, mum. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“You stupid girl! I want to end it like this! I’ll not fester in a hospital the rest of my life!”
“Mum, there’s nothing wrong with you.”
“Of course there is!”
Lizzie slapped her mother’s face. Patricia McCartney sat back on her pillows, wide eyed with shock.
“You have to listen! That man is not a real doctor. Do you hear me? Doreen told you about him, remember! Klein, Anders, Masters, Bergen, all of them! They set you up!”
Patricia McCartney’s eyes resembled saucers.
“You wouldn’t tell me about the past, about Dad, about Simon and Aunt Eleanor or your visit to Spain, and it nearly got you killed! You have to tell me what happened!”
Defiance settled on Patricia McCartney’s face. She folded her arms.
“Our house was broken into while we were away and I’ve been threatened at work. We have to put a stop to this. Rowan’s in danger.”
She spoke the final words without thinking and they were the ones to sway her mother’s resolve.
Patricia McCartney nodded briefly before weeping into her hands.
Richard took charge when the police arrived, leaving Lizzie alone with her mother.
Mrs McCartney remained in bed, sipping tea from her favourite china cup while Lizzie sat on the bed. She handed Lizzie her empty cup.
“I made a promise, Elizabeth and I don’t like breaking it.”
“But you’ll do anything to protect Rowan.”
Her mother nodded.
“I met your father at a Jubilee Party in London, or rather we met him, your Aunt Eleanor and I. There were hundreds of people there. Including Edward Brown, your father’s employer.”
“I guessed as much. Go on.”
“I’d spent my life nursing your grandparents and suddenly, I was free. Your father introduced us. Edward was charming, debonair and rich and I was his dance partner for the whole evening. While your father and Eleanor, who were much closer in age, threw themselves into the common dances, reels and such like, Edward and I talked. He was eloquent and well-read and we enjoyed a number of pleasant evenings together.”
“Edward Brown? You and Edward Brown?”
Her mother nodded. “Your father…Your father loved Eleanor.”
Lizzie slid off the eiderdown and landed on the floor. “Go on.”
“You looked for Eleanor, didn’t you?”
“Yes, mother but tell me about Edward.”
“He…We…let’s say, the relationship ended, for him anyway.”
Lizzie crawled onto her knees, her chin on her arms on the bed. “But you were pregnant.”
“I was alone and scared.”
“You had Eleanor.”
Fury raged in Patricia McCartney’s eyes. “That changeling! She was my adopted sister, delivered to our door to make my life hell!”
“Adopted!”
“My parents believed I required a sibling and they were unable to produce one. I was five years old when a noisy toddler entered my life and called me sister. I hated her from the moment I saw her!”
“While Dad… why? Why did Dad marry you?”
“Because Edward Brown told him to.”
“Wait…Edward needed you married off. You pestered him, didn’t you?”
“I loved him! He was the father of my son!”
“So they swapped babies so Brown could be near Simon while Eleanor’s baby, you, were brought up by Granny McCartney and Dad! Granny’s not your Mum!”
“I know.”
Lizzie and Rowan sat on garden chairs in Richard’s garden, the men on the far side lighting the barbeque, giving the women some privacy.
“But why did…why did Granddad…”
“Granny McCartney was jealous of his relationship with me. I knew that but not why, until now. She didn’t want his love or mine but she didn’t want us to have each other either. Her child had been taken from her then he died. On top of that, she’d been rejected by the man she loved. Granddad turned to drink when she blackmailed him into keeping away from me. I still don’t know exactly how he died. Richard gave me an outline of what the police discovered.”
“And?”
“It fits in with a vision I had after I hit my head in the bar. He was drunk. He was on a bridge. Then he was gone. It might have been suicide or maybe he fell. We’ll never know.”
“And you still don’t remember why you fainted in the bar?”
Lizzie shook her head. “I have no idea. I remember being at work that day, the dream of the man jumping from the bridge and then I woke up in hospital. It hurts when I try and search for more.”
“Don’t then.” Rowan sighed. “She’s not my Granny anymore.”
Rowan’s sad face pulled at Lizzie’s heart. “It seems to me, it’s not so much in the title as the action, don’t you think? Granny has always treated you as her granddaughter. I don’t think that should change, do you?”
“You forgive her?”
“It wasn’t her doing, Rowan. She was used by Edward Brown, same as Granddad.”
“I’d like to talk to her, maybe with Sam.”
“I think you should. She’ll listen to you.”
The chilled rosé tickled her nose. It was her second glass but with no work tomorrow, or in the foreseeable future, she didn’t care.
“They’ve made the Spanish arrests. You were right about Coleman. With protection, he
’ll tell all he knows,” said Richard.
“He’s obeyed his father then the Browns all his life. I hope this works out well for Errol and he gets the protection he needs.”
“Good looking man, is he?”
Lizzie winked at Richard. “Hell yeah!”
Devastation flickered across Richard’s face before smiling benevolence resumed. Lizzie grabbed his hands.
“I’m teasing you, Richard. He’s closer to Rowan’s age than mine!”
Richard looked at his hands. “I wouldn’t blame you. You are single.”
“And right now, I’m happy to stay that way. You said before we went away, about needing to straighten yourself out. I’ve found out after thirty eight years that my mother isn’t my mother, my father worked for a bunch of gangsters, I only got my job because they wanted to keep an eye on me and my real mother is alive and living in Wales somewhere. I could certainly do with some straightening out!”
“That’s a lot for one person. How’re you feeling, apart from confused?”
Lizzie sat back and sipped at her drink. “Surprisingly good. Not sure how I’m going to pay the mortgage next month but I’ve made a decision about one thing.”
“Which is?”
“The next job I interview for, I’ll be sure to check before I start that I can wear what I like!”
Acknowledgements
Thank you Peter Jones, writer, cover designer supreme, formatting hero and true friend.
Thank you first readers, especially Melanie Collier and Mel Jackson Bridge, for your valuable feedback.
Thank you friends and fellow authors on social media for your help and support.
And the final thank you to Mike, my partner, my love, for allowing me to read aloud and share the workings of my mind as this first Witch Lit novel took shape.
Table of Contents
Wendy Steele
Also by Wendy Steele
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
Acknowledgements
