by Sam Short
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Beth, “I’m not one for socialising... crowds of people make me very nervous. It’s nice just to interact with people for the short time it takes to serve them. It alleviates the need for long conversations. Anyway, I’m not alone. Emma’s helping me, she stayed here when the other two girls left. She asked me to help her. She’ll be back in a moment, she’s just popped off to buy a few raffle tickets.” She looked over at the table on which the prizes were piled. “The prizes are very nice, I must say. I think Emma wants to win the television. I don’t allow her to have one in her bedroom, you see, and I think that she believes that if she wins one, and I don’t have to pay for it, I’ll allow her to have it in her room.” She smiled at Millie. “Between you and me, I was going to give in and buy her one anyway.”
“I won’t tell her,” smiled Millie. “And I’ll be crossing all my fingers for her when Fredrick draws the winning raffle tickets.”
“Here she comes now,” said Judith, pointing to the young girl running towards them. She smiled at Beth. “Your daughter is a lovely girl,” she said. “It’s been a pleasure to teach her some magic during the last term, she especially loves lunar magic and anything to do with water. You’ve brought her up to be wonderfully polite. I’m sure she’ll make a very responsible witch when she’s older.”
Casting her eyes downwards in the way people not fond of compliments tended to, Beth smiled sheepishly. “Thank you,” she mumbled.
“Miss Thorn!” gushed Emma, taking the attention away from Beth, who appeared relieved at her daughter’s intervention. “You should see how many cakes Mum and I have sold for charity! Somebody even told me that they’d never tasted coconut slices quite like the ones they bought! The man ate one in front of me, and you could see from his face how much he loved it!” She gave a proud smile and stood a little taller. “I made the coconut slices, yesterday! When we baked all the cakes for today!”
“Well done!” said Millie. “That’s wonderful. You should be proud of yourself.”
“Yes,” agreed Judith. “Well done! Perhaps I’ll buy some to take home. I’m quite partial to coconut cakes.”
“I’m quite good at serving customers, too, aren’t I, Mum?” said Emma. “I think I might like to work in a shop when I’m older.” She gazed into space, her eyes narrowed. “Or become a brain surgeon. I’m not quite sure yet.”
“Well,” said Millie. “I can’t allow you to practice the skills you’d need to be a brain surgeon, but why don’t you show me your customer service skills?” She nodded in Norman’s direction. “Norman wants to buy some cakes.”
Emma peered around Millie and smiled at Norman. “Oh! Hi, Norman,” she said, slight colour rising in her cheeks. “I didn’t see you there. The scones you made yesterday have been selling really well. I sold four to the same lady!”
“Oh, good,” said Norman, kicking at a tuft of grass and looking at his feet. “I’m glad about that.”
“Good,” said Emma, fiddling with her hair. “I’m glad that you’re glad.”
Sensing the awkwardness between the two young teens, Millie laughed inwardly. She’d guessed there was a mutual attraction between the pair when they’d been in the classroom, but seeing them out of the classroom cemented the notion in her head. They fancied each other.
Remembering just how stomach-churning interactions with the opposite sex could be at the age of thirteen, Millie intervened, giving Emma an encouraging smile. “Go on then, show us how you serve.”
“Oh, yes!” said Emma, hurrying behind the table and standing beside her mother. She gave Norman an awkward smile. “Can I help you?”
Norman gave a shy nod of his head and stared at the cakes before him. “I’m not sure what to buy,” he said. “They’re for my stepfather, and I don’t want to buy him the wrong ones.”
At the mention of Norman’s stepfather, Beth crossed her arms over her ample bosom, her eyes darting quickly from left to right. “Trevor’s still here is he, Norman?” she asked quietly. “I thought he’d gone home.”
“He’s drinking beer in the tent over there,” explained Norman, pointing in the direction he’d come from. “He’s hungry, and he wants some cakes, but I don’t want to get him any that he doesn’t like. I want to make him happy.” He looked at the floor. “He’s never happy.”
Placing a hand on Norman’s shoulder, Millie glanced at Judith, whose eyes shimmered with tears. “He doesn’t like cream cakes,” she offered. “And he really seemed to enjoy the chocolate brownie he... found on the bar. So maybe he likes chocolate cakes with no cream.”
Emma nodded. “Chocolate does make people feel happy,” she said, taking her mother’s hand in hers. “It makes you happy, doesn’t it, Mum? When you feel sad.”
Blushing, and giving a self-deprecating grin, Beth glanced down at herself. “Perhaps I eat a little too much chocolate,” she said.
“I think we all do,” said Millie, cheerily, offering Beth a smile she hoped would not be read as patronising. Although Millie occasionally struggled with her weight, her issues were evidently not on the same scale as Beth’s. She gave Emma an encouraging smile. “So... can you recommend any chocolate cakes that Norman’s stepfather might like?”
The young witch ran her eyes over the selection of cakes on the table and pointed at a plate laden with tiny chocolate chip muffins. “I think he’ll love those bite-sized muffins,” she said. “Everybody likes muffins, but you don’t feel guilty eating five bite-sized ones like you would if you ate five real sized ones! There’s no cream in them, either, and they’re bursting with chocolate. You should buy him some of those, Norman. They’ll cheer him up!” She winked at her classmate. “I promise!”
“Okay!” said Norman, attempting to perform a wink of his own, but instead managing to blink for what seemed to be at least four uncomfortable seconds. “I’ll take some of those, please... Emma.”
“Give him the ones in the plastic box on the other table,” said Beth, indicating the smaller table behind them heaped with paper bags, Tupperware boxes, and a cash tray. “They’re fresher. The ones on the plate have been out for a little too long. They’re beginning to go hard.”
“But those are yours, Mum. I baked them especially for you yesterday and then paid for them and put them in that box,” said Emma. “I put them aside just for you to take home. There were ten, but the nice police sergeant helped me pick up all the coins from the grass when I knocked the cash tray over, so I gave him two as a thank you.” She smiled at Judith. “Your father loved them, Miss Spencer! He licked the chocolate off his fingers like he was a toddler!”
“I bet he did,” said Judith, with a grin. “He’s a chocoholic!”
Beth nudged Emma, and spoke in hushed tones. “I know those cakes were for me, but we want Norman’s stepfather to get the best ones, don’t we?” she said, indicating Norman with an urgent jerk of her head as he looked the other way. “We don’t want him to get annoyed because his cakes are too hard, do we?”
Realisation dawning on Emma’s face, her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, yes. You’re right, Mum. Norman’s stepfather should get the fresh ones. You can take some hard ones from the table, and anyway, I can always make you some more.” She smiled at Millie. “Now I know how to bake them.”
“Yes,” said Beth, “give those to Norman for his stepfather, and I’ll take a few of the hard ones home with me. You know me, Emma. I’m not a fussy eater.”
“That’s very kind of you, Miss Taylor,” said Norman, passing his five-pound note to Emma. “But are you sure? Trevor is quite drunk, so I don’t think he’d care if his cakes are hard. You can have the freshest ones if you like.”
Smiling kindly, Beth gave a quick shake of her head. “I don’t want to speak badly about your stepfather, Norman, but we all heard how he spoke to you today. I’m sure he can be very nice sometimes, but I’d rather he didn’t have any excuse to be nasty to you again.”
“He used to be nasty to you, didn’t he,
Mum?” said Emma. “When you were in school with him. That’s why you don’t like him, isn’t it?”
“He was nasty to me, yes,” said Beth, “but that doesn’t really matter anymore. It was a long time ago. I shouldn’t have told you.”
With sudden anger displayed on his face, Norman grabbed the bag of muffins from Emma’s hand. “Sometimes I wish he’d just go away and leave Mum and me alone!” he snapped. “Why won’t he just go away? For good!”
“I’m sure things will work out for you, Norman,” said Beth, softly. “I’m sure of it.”
“Me too,” said Millie, placing a reassuring hand on the boy’s back. “Come on, let’s get those cakes to your stepfather before he starts wondering where you’ve got to. Miss Spencer and I will come with you.”
“Of course we will,” said Judith.
Looking at the floor, Norman passed the bag of cakes from hand to hand. “Thank you, Miss Thorn and Miss Spencer,” he said. “I wish everybody could be as kind as you two.”
Leaving Trevor drinking beer and stuffing his mouth with tiny muffins, Judith and Millie escorted Norman back to his rugby game before reclaiming their seats at the small table outside the refreshments tent.
“Poor lad,” said Judith, refilling the two wine glasses.
“Yes,” agreed Millie. “Seeing the toxicity in other people’s lives makes you realise how lucky you are to have nice people in your life, doesn’t it?”
Taking a sip of her drink, Judith stared intently at Millie over the rim of her glass, curiosity in her eyes. “By nice people, do you mean George? Are you two an item again like last week, or not an item, like the week before?” she enquired, her tone genuine but teasing.
“Ha ha,” said Millie. She sunk in her seat and sighed. “It must seem like that to everybody else. We’re like a couple of kids, aren’t we?”
“Truthfully?” asked Judith. She nodded, not waiting for Millie to answer. “Yes, you are, although George comes across as the biggest kid. I mean, why doesn’t he just tell you who the mysterious woman is? We know he’s not involved romantically with her... or at least you believe he’s not.” She looked down at the table. “Although I’m not sure why you believe him. He’s been spending most of his time with a buxom blonde who has a liking for mini skirts, and you simply believe him when he says there’s nothing going on?”
Rotating her glass on the table, Millie looked at Judith with lowered eyes. “It’s not that I just believe him,” she said. She licked her lips and looked up. “I... I read his mind.”
“Millie!” said Judith. “You said you’d never —”
“I know what I said,” replied Millie. “I said being able to read people’s minds isn’t a pleasant power to possess. Accessing people’s thoughts makes me anxious, sad, and angry — all rolled into one awful ball of emotions. I said I wouldn’t do it again unless it was absolutely necessary, and I told you that I especially wouldn’t do it to people I care for.” She looked away from her friend. “Like George.”
Judith gave Millie a reassuring smile. “I think I’d have done the same if I was in your position,” she said. “I think I’d have read his mind, too. He was expecting you to accept too much, purely on the basis of his word.”
Millie nodded. Judith was right. It had been months since George’s relationship with the mystery woman had first come to Millie’s attention, and since that day, George had expected Millie to accept the fact that he would be spending a considerable chunk of his time with the woman in question.
Seeing her boyfriend buzz past on his motorbike, with a pretty blonde riding pillion, had not been easy on the first occasion, but as the rides had become more frequent, they had become even more difficult for Millie to accept.
When George had announced matter of factly that the woman would be moving into his large country home with him, Millie’s patience had finally been depleted, tempting her into using her mind reading abilities on her boyfriend.
She hadn’t delved deep into George’s mind. Not deep enough to find out who the woman was — she’d simply asked George one final time if the relationship he was having with the woman was anything that should concern her, and then used her power to discern if his answer was truthful or not. She had compared it more to a lie detector test than actually reading his mind. That may not have been technically true, but it had made Millie feel a little better about betraying George’s trust.
Looking back, Millie knew that she’d not really needed to read his mind to know that he was telling the truth. The way he’d put his drink down, leaned across the pub table, taken both of her hands in his and whispered his answer as he looked her directly in the eyes, his gaze not dropping for a moment, had persuaded her he was telling the truth.
She could still remember the sincerity he’d projected when he’d spoken. “Millie, I promise you with every fibre of my being that I am not romantically involved with her,” he’d said. “I realise how hard it is for you, and I wish I could let you in, but it’s complicated, and it’s not my decision to tell you. I need her permission. I’m sorry. But please know that I don’t want to hurt you.”
George’s vampiric mind had been easy to read, and Millie had only needed a few seconds to completely verify that he was being honest. She hadn’t asked George about the other woman since that day, but her relationship with him had suffered as a consequence of the secret, leading to the pair splitting up on numerous occasions, the current occasion being the fourth or fifth time in two months.
Judith broke into Millie’s thoughts by pouring her another drink and passing a hand across her face. “Earth to Millie,” she said. “Are you in there?”
Millie blinked. “Sorry,” she said. “I was lost in thought.”
“That’s quite alright,” said Judith, leaning back in her seat. “But you still haven’t answered my question. Are you and George an item this week, or not?”
“Not really,” said Millie. “I told him I needed space again, and he’s kept his distance. He’s got his mystery friend to keep him company, and I’ve got Reuben to keep me company.”
The cheeky cockatiel might not have been the politest of witch’s familiars in the world, but Reuben had proved himself to be a loyal and understanding companion. In fact, the spell which Millie had cast which had enabled her to speak to her dead mother, had been Reuben’s idea, and the little bird was actively working on a way to bring her back again after Millie’s mother had explained that the visit did not have to be a one off occurrence.
A smile teasing her lips, Judith looked past Millie and spoke into her hand. “Speaking of company, your not so secret admirer is approaching from your six o’clock,” she warned, laughter in her eyes. “And he’s straightening the knot in his tie. He must mean business.”
Bracing herself for the inevitable flirting of Timothy Huggins, chemistry teacher and werewolf, Millie took a gulp of wine as footsteps crunched through the grass behind her.
“Millie,” came the familiar effeminate voice. “Are you okay? I rushed here as soon as I heard.”
Millie looked up at the man whose appearance was an enigma. Much like his voice, Timothy Huggins was a mixture of fully mature man and pubescent teenager. She knew he was in his mid to late twenties, and the lines beginning to show under his eyes proved that, but the outbreak of acne on his cheeks and the wispy attempt at what Millie supposed was an attempt at a beard, tricked the mind into perceiving him as a much younger man. A boy, even.
On the flip-side, when Timothy transformed into his wolf, there was no confusion about his maturity. His wolf was the largest and most powerful in Spellbinder Bay. Other wolves were fearful of Timothy, and it was well known that although his human form was less than intimidating, his wolf form was to be respected.
Learning that the size of a werewolf’s animal form was based on the amount of courage in the person’s heart, and not the size of their body, had made a lot of sense to Millie, especially where Timothy was concerned. It seemed that Timothy’s courageou
sness knew no bounds when it came to speaking his mind, and he certainly wasn’t timid when it came to approaching the woman he’d taken a liking to. Millie just wished that the woman in question wasn’t her.
She gave Timothy a polite smile. She liked him, just not in the way he wanted her to like him. “You rushed here when you heard what?” she asked.
Kneeling down next to her seat, Timothy gazed up at Millie. “I rushed here when I heard you were an unclaimed treasure once more. I rushed here to make my feelings known, and to invite you to a meal, tonight.” He licked his lips. “It’s Friday today, Millie. That means that tonight is steak night at The Embarrassed Lobster.”
“Unclaimed treasure?” said Millie, trying not to giggle. “Whatever does that mean?”
Timothy smiled. “You’re a treasure which no man has claimed, Millie,” he said. “When I heard that you and George were no longer involved romantically, I rushed here to lay down my claim to you. Respectfully, of course. I don’t actually think I own you, it’s just a saying, but I do think you’re a treasure, Millie Thorn… a spectacular treasure which gleams among other less beautiful treasures. Like the barmaid at The Fur and Fangs.” He frowned. “Or the woman from the pie shop.”
“That’s a lovely compliment, Timothy,” said Millie. “I think. But may I ask how you heard that George and I aren’t together anymore? I’m not sure where you got that information from. I haven’t told anybody. Has somebody been talking about me?”
“I heard you tell Judith yourself. Just now,” said Timothy. “I was over there, in the process of hooking a duck, when I heard you utter the words I’ve longed to hear. I rushed over here right away, Millie, and I still had three attempts left to hook a duck with a sticker beneath it which would indicate that I’d won a prize from the top shelf. This was more important, though, although I was going to choose a large teddy bear as my prize.” He smiled and shifted closer to Millie. “Which I was going to gift to you.”
