Witch Swindled in Westerham

by Dionne Lister

  Now what? Should I look into getting a car? There were so many things to see in England: castles, gardens, museums, even beaches, although they weren’t the beaches with soft golden sand I was used to, still, the sea was the sea. My bank account could stand me getting an older second-hand car. I could probably snag a semi-reliable car for two or three thousand pounds. But that was a bit too complicated for one afternoon. I’d figure it out later. Right now, I was bored, and I needed to do something.

  Maybe taking photos would cheer me up. If I stuck to outside and avoided putting people in my sights, I’d avoid the dead-person thing. Shit. What if I saw someone at the engagement was going to die? What if it were Olivia or her parents? Way to go, witches. You’ve taken something I loved and turned it into potential torture. I’d have to never take photos of my brother or Millicent again. I didn’t want prior knowledge. And what about selfies? My jaw dropped. I wasn’t a serial selfie taker, but still. Stop thinking, Lily. It’s not helping. Breathe. Maybe there was a way I could switch it off? Okay, I’d go with that thought and check with Angelica later.

  I grabbed my camera and headed outside. Our laneway was just as quaint as the rest of Westerham, so I didn’t have to wander far to get some nice pictures. I crossed the road and walked about fifty metres before turning and pointing the camera towards Angelica’s property. The jasmine was flowering, and blue agapanthus grew in a row between the front fence and the road. Click.

  I blinked. Goosebumps stole along my arms. Through the lens, the day had darkened to twilight, and a black van had popped into the scene, a couple of houses down from Angelica’s. Click. It looked like the one that had pulled up behind me the day I was almost kidnapped. I swallowed and reminded myself they weren’t here now. I walked towards it, my muscles tensed, camera still up—I didn’t want to lose the image, but I was ready to run if I had to.

  I stood in front of the van and pointed my camera at the two men in the front, who didn’t have balaclavas on this time. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. It was freaky. It was like they were really there, and I waited for them to notice me. Both men were bulky bastards, thick-necked and broad-shouldered. The driver’s dark hair was short, and a snake tattoo slithered up his neck to hide under his black beard, the snake’s tongue flicking out to almost touch his earlobe. He was laughing, which exposed crooked front teeth. The other guy was totally bald. His thick black eyebrows made little awnings above his dark eyes, or was that one awning? He had an aggressive monobrow going on. I scrunched my face. Not a good look.

  Were these the guys who tried to snatch me, or were they just delivery guys taking a break? I was pretty sure I knew the answer to that question. My magic didn’t do too many random things. There was a reason I was seeing this. When had they been here? And had they been here more than once, watching, waiting?

  I looked around, suddenly cold, even though the sun was shining. It was about eighteen degrees today, so it wasn’t warm, but it felt like the temperature had dropped to ten degrees. I walked around the van and took photos from every angle. I even reached out and tried to open the driver’s door, but my hand met nothing. Well, it was worth a try.

  Now was the time to test my phone theory. I turned my camera off and switched my phone to camera mode. I listened for the hum of magic. “Show me the black van.” Yep, there it was! So that answered that. I took the shot, just to make sure.

  I dialled Angelica. “Hi, Ma’am.”

  “Calling again so soon?”

  “Yes. I have something you need to see. I just took some photos outside your house, and the black van was there.”

  Her voice was frantic. “Goodness, Lily, get inside, now!”

  “No, no, sorry. They’re not here now. But they’ve been here before. I was able to get photos of their faces too.” I shivered, wondering how often they sat out here, just waiting. Would they ever try and come inside when I was home alone? Angelica worked late some nights. Vulnerability didn’t sit well with me. I needed to find spells to defend myself.

  Heavy breathing came over the phone. “Goodness me. Don’t scare me like that again. Get inside anyway. I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

  I’d only just made it inside when Angelica came out of the reception room. We sat on a Chesterfield, and I handed her my camera. She scrolled through the photos. “These are very good, Lily.” She shook her head. “What you do is amazing. And you have the number plate too. I’ll get Tim to run these images through the system. We’ll have a positive ID on these guys before you know it.”

  “But if we catch these guys and they aren’t stalking me anymore, won’t whoever’s behind this just send someone else to watch me? At least these guys don’t seem super competent, and we’ll know who they are. Maybe we can do a reverse spy?”

  She looked at me, her eyes wide, poker face gone. But then she regained her composure, and the serious expression was back. “That is an excellent idea. You sure you don’t want a permanent job with us?”

  “No thanks. Maybe if you were running things, I’d consider it, but not right now.” I didn’t trust the PIB. I could trust some of the people working there, but the guy running things, at least who was seen to be running things—because, let’s face it, us little people rarely knew who was making the big decisions—Pembleton, didn’t inspire confidence. He’d given his witch of a niece a job there, and she’d kidnapped my brother and almost killed me. Not too clever if you asked me.

  “Well, I’ll get the information on them so we know how to handle things. They’re probably low-level witches, or their boss wouldn’t have them doing something as mundane as following you.”

  “They did try and snatch me once.”

  “Without succeeding.”

  “True. If they wanted me dead, why wouldn’t they just kill me from a distance?”

  She stared at me, maybe assessing how to say what she wanted without freaking me out. “They may not want you dead. Your parents may not even be dead, Lily. They might want you to use your magic for them, or they might want you dead, but they’re not ready to act yet. People like these have plans, Lily. And if anything happens to you, we’ll be after them. I’m sure they don’t want that kind of pressure, especially if they’re working towards something. We need to find out who they are before whatever it is they’re waiting for happens. Right now, we can’t tie them to your parents’ disappearance, so they can sit back and wait.”

  I tamped down the buzz of hope vibrating in my chest. Assuming they’d died was almost easier than hoping they were alive but knowing we’d been separated for so long when we could have been together. What if they were out there, somewhere, tortured, hoping, waiting to be saved? What if I could see them again? I took a deep breath. No, hoping like that only to have it annihilated later would kill me. I’d grieved their deaths, and there was no way I could do it again. Best to focus on what was real, here and now. “Could whoever they are be waiting to see if I’m a threat?”

  “You mean waiting to see if you have your mother’s talents?”

  I nodded.

  She shrugged. “Maybe.” She took a memory card out of her pocket and handed it to me. “Your other one.”

  “Thanks.”

  Then she took the memory card out of my camera and pocketed that. “I’ll get this back to you tonight. Will you be okay if I head back to the office now?”

  “Yeah. I guess so.” I tried not to sound sorry for myself. Living in England was not what I’d thought it would be. I wanted to visit castles and galleries, spend time with James and Millicent. Instead, I was dredging up the past and avoiding being kidnapped. I sighed. “See you tonight.”

  “Bye, Lily.”

  Alone. Again.

  That was it. I wasn’t going to sit around feeling sorry for myself. I grabbed my wallet. It was time to go into town, to the supermarket. Double-choc-chip ice cream, here I come.

  Chapter 5

  Olivia pulled out her phone. “Selfie time!” We stood on London Bridge. Menacing black
clouds closed in around the Thames, but it wasn’t raining. Yet. Red double-decker buses and black London cabs zoomed past. We were looking across the brownish-grey river at Tower Bridge. As pretty as the scene was, the river looked kind of dirty. Swimming was definitely out of the question, not to mention it was cold. Olivia turned around, putting her back to Tower Bridge. “Come on, Lily.”

  I turned around, and we leaned our heads together, smiling. She used her phone to take the shot, then checked it. “What do you think?” She showed it to me.

  “Looks fine. No double chins. We’re good. Can you message it to me?” There was no way I was getting my phone out and taking photos of us. It wasn’t just the fear of taking a photo I didn’t want to see, but what if something weird showed up, and Olivia saw the picture. How would I explain that extra person behind us that wasn’t actually there, or the fact that someone was faint enough to see through?

  I did have my Nikon with me—let’s not get crazy; it came with me almost everywhere—and I snapped a few shots, because no one ever asked to see those. Nothing weird showed up. My shoulders relaxed, releasing the tension I didn’t realise I harboured. The quicker I figured out how to turn my talent off, the better. I’d managed to learn another two spells on Sunday, as per Angelica’s challenge. I could now magic an item to me or away from me, but I had to know what the item looked like, where it was, and I had to be able to imagine the place I was moving it to. The other super exciting thing I could do was dewrinkle my clothes without ironing. You’d be right if you thought that was beyond boring. There were even more mundane spells than that—I’d picked the more exciting ones from the beginner’s book.

  “What’s that building over there? It looks like one of those old mobile phones, the really big ones.”

  “That’s the Walkie Talkie.”

  “Ha! Cool name.”

  “It’s not the official name, but that’s what everyone calls it.”

  We walked to the other side and along the northern side of the Thames, towards Tower Bridge. There was a bit of a line to get tickets, but that was to be expected. Beyond the gatehouse, the bridge towers rose five stories and had character galore, having been built in the late eighteen-hundreds. Four turrets surrounded a main one on each of the two towers. I’d taken a handful of shots when the lighting changed. It switched to sunny, and walking towards me across the bridge was a procession of horses and carts, all driven by men with some kind of hat on—some wore berets, and some wore traditional wide-brimmed hats. Oh my God! This was amazing. There were no cars, just people dressed in olden-day clothes, and my picture was in colour. I swallowed. This was a big deal. Imagine the history I could uncover with my abilities. But no one would believe it wasn’t Photoshopped. Bummer.

  “Getting some good shots?”

  I flicked the Off switch and let my camera dangle from the neck strap. “Ah, yeah. Great. Thanks for bringing me here. I imagine you’ve been here heaps of times.”

  She laughed. “I’ve had two school excursions and shown about four other people around, so you could say that. But I don’t mind. I love history. I have a bachelor of arts in social anthropology and history.”

  “Can I be rude and ask why you’re working at Costa?” Too bad if she didn’t like the question; it was out there now. I wasn’t exactly known for my tact. I hoped she wasn’t offended.

  She smiled. “It’s not a rude question.” Phew. “I can’t decide where I want to take it next. I’m deciding between teaching and working at a museum. I’ll be going back to study again next year, depending on what I decide, although I think it’s easier to get a teaching job rather than a museum one. Plus, now that I’m marrying Ernie, I don’t want to commit to too much. I really want to have kids soon, and his job’s going really well, so we’ll have that option.”

  Yeah, his theft was going great guns. Gah. I plastered the smile on my face. If we outed Ernest, all her dreams were going to go down the toilet. How could I do that to her? She was so nice. I guess I shouldn’t get too close to her, because she was going to hate me when this was all over. She was so much better off without that jerk, but you couldn’t tell someone that, especially someone you hardly knew. She had to find out for herself. My heart hurt for her. Stupid magic. Stupid Ernest, and stupid bloody Camilla.

  We got our tickets and went to the upper level of the bridge that sat above where the road underneath opened. There were even glass panels in the floor. Wow. Looking down on the people and cars was cool, if a bit off-putting. You’d think I’d be an expert at dealing with weird crap by now, but I was a slow learner.

  I’d read an entry in Mum’s diary talking about her and Dad visiting Trafalgar Square and the art gallery there, so I’d asked Olivia if we could visit. I just told her my parents had been there before, because the diaries were still a secret. The only ones who knew they existed were me, Angelica, and James.

  After Tower Bridge, we took the underground. The tube was packed but orderly. We made the trip without any problems. After a short walk from the tube station, we arrived at Trafalgar Square. The large paved area was surrounded by roads on three sides with the National Gallery overlooking Nelson’s column—it was quite tall—plus a statue with a horse, and a fountain. A couple of street artists drew chalk pictures on the pavement near the gallery. Tourists took photos, and workers in office gear hurried past.

  Drops of water landed on my face, and I looked up. “It’s raining.”

  “Let’s get inside.”

  We hurried up the stairs and into the National Gallery, which was free. “Are you kidding? Nothing’s free.”

  “Most of our galleries and museums are free.”

  “Ours aren’t.” Australia needed to get onboard with generosity. What a great idea, making tourists feel like they weren’t getting ripped off. Novel idea. Plus, if you felt really guilty for getting something free, like I was sure to, you could buy a souvenir at the end, because what exhibit didn’t end at a gift shop?

  We wandered through high-ceilinged rooms, one of which had an impressive domed roof and gild-accented arches. Hushed voices echoed in the vast spaces. You could smell the history, that almost-musty yet sweet odour of old books and antique furniture.

  We entered a new room, and I stopped in front of the first painting. Holy crap. It was one of my favourite artists—Canaletto. His renditions of Venice blew my mind. That’s what I’d do in the next life: be an artist. Hmm, maybe I could take up painting again on the days I had nothing to do and didn’t feel like confronting my camera. I’d enjoyed art at school but hadn’t done any since. Something to think about.

  Olivia stood next to me, our shoulders almost touching. “You ever been to Venice?”

  “Yeah, once. My dad’s family used to live near there. It was awesome, although it was so long ago, I’ve forgotten a lot of it. Photos help me remember.” And that was for all things—not just holidays. If it weren’t for photos, I’d lose my parents for good. “What about you?”

  “Twice. My parents love to travel. We go somewhere different every year. It’s easy when everything’s so close.”

  “You’re lucky. To get here from Australia takes at least twenty-four hours.”

  She looked at me and smiled. “But you’re lucky now too. You live here. Hey, we should go on a long weekend somewhere together. Ernie often has to go to conferences for the weekend. We could go to Paris, Berlin, Rome. Wherever you want.”

  “That would be freaking awesome! I’d love to.” I was close to everything now, so why not take advantage? I snorted: I wondered how Beren and William would like following me around Europe. Ha! Something else niggled at me, though. Oh, that’s right, Ernie and his conferences. Conferences my arse. He was probably liaising with super-witch Camilla. I bet she was giving him presentations all right. Cow.

  Gah, push out the negative thoughts and enjoy the moment. There was nothing I could do about it right now, so I stepped back from the Canaletto and framed a wide shot. As I clicked, two people, their backs
to me, popped into the picture. They were holding hands. The woman was about my height, with shoulder-length wavy brown hair. The man stood a few inches taller. They wore jeans and shirts, casual gear. Something about them was familiar.

  My mouth went dry, and my stomach dropped. It couldn’t be. I kept the camera up and walked around them, so my camera was pointing at their faces, towards Olivia who stood behind them.

  I froze for a moment, not even breathing, tears blurring my sight. I shook my head. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. My hands trembled as I clicked and clicked and clicked and clicked. I reached out one hand. Please, please, please.

  But there was no one there.

  I knew there wouldn’t be, but I couldn’t help it. My heart constricted, and I couldn’t breathe.

  “Lily, are you all right?”

  I reluctantly lowered my camera, aware of the tears running down my face but not caring. I didn’t want to stop looking through my camera, but I was sure my behaviour already seemed strange to my friend. “I don’t feel well. Can we grab a water or something and sit?”

  I thrashed against the panic threatening to drown me. It couldn't be, but it was.

  I’d just seen my parents.

  Nausea crawled up my throat. I made it to the garbage bin just in time.

  Olivia rubbed my back. “Oh, no, you poor thing. Let’s get you cleaned up, and we’ll head home.”

  I nodded, grateful I wasn’t alone. All the walls I’d built, all the progress I’d made since my parents had disappeared was destroyed in an instant. I was that fourteen-year-old girl again, crying myself to sleep every night, comforting my brother who cried almost as much as I did for weeks, until he got it together. It had taken me longer, but I’d done it. Now all that healing had been undone, sliced to pieces by my own damn magic.