by Sam Short
“You know you’re always welcome at my house, Emma,” said Victoria. “But I suppose when you say you want to get away somewhere, you mean to be on your own.”
“Yes,” said Emma. “Just for a little bit now and again.” She gave Millie an enquiring look. “Can I, Miss? I’ll clean up after myself, and I’ll be really careful.”
Being put on the spot was not something Millie relished, but if she’d wanted to refuse the young witch’s request, she would have. She didn’t want to, though. She imagined how hard Emma’s life must be, remembering stories she’d heard about young people having to care for poorly parents. It wasn’t easy for anybody to be a carer for a parent, but it must have been infinitely harder to be a teenage carer when life was tempting a person with much more exciting possibilities. Millie didn’t consider the request for long. Had it been one of the less trustworthy pupils asking for access to the cookery class during the school holidays, Millie would have refused, but Emma was responsible. She could be trusted. When Millie added in the fact that there was always somebody present at the hall, and the fact that since the awful soufflé incident in the cookery classroom all those years ago, magical spells had been cast over the hall to prevent such a terrible accident reoccurring, it was an easy decision to make. She nodded at Emma. “Of course you can,” she said.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” said Emma. “I’ll be ever so careful! I promise!”
“I know you will, Emma,” said Millie. “I’ll let the other teachers at the hall know that I’ve given you permission.”
With another excited thank-you, Emma turned away and hurried towards the house. “Hurry up, Nan,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “We’re going to practice magic, remember?”
“I’ll be in shortly,” said Victoria. She smiled at Millie. “That was very kind of you,” she said. “She loves cooking, but her mother makes it hard for her here. She watches over the girl’s shoulder, fretting and worrying. It will be nice for Emma to go somewhere she can be alone while doing something she enjoys.”
“I’m happy to be able to help,” said Millie, walking alongside Victoria as they followed the garden path.
Stopping suddenly, Victoria turned to face Millie and fixed her with a hard stare. “I’ve enjoyed our talk today, and you seem like a lovely young lady, Miss Thorn, but I must insist that you never come here again and upset Beth like you did today. Any ideas you may have swimming around your head about Beth being responsible for harming Trevor Giles, are foolish in the extreme, and I’d ask that you never voice them again — unless you have real reason to suspect my daughter. It’s your fault that Beth is in her bed at this time of day, and I must warn you that I won’t be so friendly toward you in the future if you traumatise her again.”
Looking at the older woman, Millie felt a pang of guilt. She hadn’t outright accused her daughter of killing Trevor Giles, but she had suggested it as a possibility. Which it was. Victoria was doing what any good mother would do — she was protecting her child. Millie nodded. “I didn’t mean to make her feel so awful,” she said.
Victoria gave her a thin smile. “Well, we both know where we stand now. I hope that you find the person who killed Trevor. I really do. However awful he was, he didn’t deserve to be murdered.” She put a hand on Millie’s back and guided her towards the house. “Come on. I’ll see you out.”
Chapter 25
Driving through the lush green countryside surrounding Spellbinder Bay, Millie discovered that it was worryingly easy to forget that less than twenty-four hours ago she’d witnessed the body of a dead man sprawled on the cold floor of a police cell. Not only had Trevor been dead, but his werewolf energy had also been leaving his body in the form of a foam which bubbled from his mouth.
It hadn’t been a pleasant experience, but Millie imagined that her ability to put it from her mind so quickly was a welcome side effect of her experience with the many traumatic events she’d lived through since she’d arrived in the town.
She’d witnessed the murder of Albert Salmon on her first day in the town, she remembered, and then, on that very same day, she’d been taken to Spellbinder Hall and introduced to a vampire, a ghost, and Edna Brockett. Edna had then attempted to prove to Millie that magic was real by conjuring up an evil entity in the fireplace in Henry Pinkerton’s office. It had been terrifying.
Even after accepting that she was a witch, things had become no easier for Millie. She’d discovered that her mother had also been a witch and had hidden that fact from her. Then she’d almost drowned while retrieving a magical pearl from the seabed. Not forgetting that she’d discovered Sergeant Spencer was her father, too, and she’d been attacked by a man possessed by a demon while solving another murder. Then, if those incidents weren’t enough, she’d topped them off by spending the last few weeks trying to eat healthily. Hummus wasn’t at the top of her list of traumas she’d experienced in the past year, but neither was it at the bottom.
When she thought things through like that, it was easy to understand why seeing Trevor Giles’s body hadn’t traumatised her in the way it might have some people. She supposed it was a blessing.
Glancing in her rearview mirror, Millie noticed the bright flash of sunlight on metal a few hundred metres behind her. The size of the object suggested it was a motorbike, and just before Millie returned her eyes to the road ahead, she was able to make out the rider’s black leather jacket and open-faced helmet. She rolled her eyes. It was probably George — out gallivanting with his mystery woman.
When she glanced in the mirror again, there was no sign of a motorbike, and she gave a frustrated sigh. How had she allowed a man — scratch that — a vampire, to get so deep into her mind? She’d been hurt by a boyfriend in the past and had vowed never to allow it to happen again. There she was, deep in thought about a man who refused to tell her who the woman was who was sharing his home with him.
She shook her head and opened the window a fraction as she gave the Triumph some more gas, enjoying the throaty sound of the powerful engine as she rounded a smooth bend in the road. The guttural roar of the engine had the desired effect of ridding Millie’s mind of any negative thoughts, and it was with a positive attitude that she drove through Spellbinder Bay town, the bustling harbour on her left, and a row of brightly painted cafes, fish and chip shops, and ice cream parlours on her right. Tourists crowded the pavements and even the edges of the road, so Millie navigated the route carefully, enjoying the smell of hot food and sea air.
The next four names on the list of people Millie wanted to speak to all lived in the same area of the town, so she continued driving west, enjoying the sea-view.
With her window still open, the sounds of the busy town combined with the throb of the car engine to produce a soundtrack which would have lifted anybody’s spirits. The call of a gull mingled with the laughter of a child, and the throbbing blast of a boat’s horn announced it had returned to the harbour with a fresh haul of fish, which would be served in restaurants and fish bars later that same day. The urgent jingles of slot machines and coin pushers rolled from the open door of the amusement arcade, and the cheery voice of a busker accompanied the twang of his guitar.
Only one sound stood out as being out of place on the busy seafront, and Millie wound her window down further to make sure she hadn’t been mistaken when she’d heard it. No, she hadn’t. There it was again, the raised voice of an angry man. “How dare you accuse me of not paying! I’m as honest as a teabag, good sir! You, on the other hand, are as insolent as an astronaut without a refrigerator!”
Beneath the striped awning of a shop selling bric-a-brac and souvenirs, Millie saw the source of the shouting and manoeuvred her car quickly into an available parking space. She hurried along the pavement, just as Cuthbert Campion launched into another tirade. “You’re a man without principles! Like a dentist without a pigeon!”
The stocky man who Cuthbert was shouting at seemed to be nearing the end of his tether, and he leaned in closer
to Cuthbert’s face as Millie approached, pushing past the group of spectators who’d gathered to observe the spectacle. “Just pay me what you owe me, you silly fool. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to call the police,” the man said in a raised voice.
“Can I help?” said Millie, placing herself between the two men. She smiled at Cuthbert’s adversary. “I’m a friend of this gentleman.”
“A friend?” shouted Cuthbert. “You’re no friend of mine, young lady. I’ve never set eyes on you in my whole life!”
The other man took a step backwards, moving away from Millie and Cuthbert. He gave his head a slow shake. “Just pay me for the fridge magnet, sir,” he said. “And then we can all forget this little incident ever happened. I don’t want you to get into trouble, but I won’t tolerate shoplifters, whatever their age.”
“Shoplifter!” spat Cuthbert, his bald head matching the colour of his angry face. “I’m no shoplifter! I’m Cuthbert Campion, teacher of English literature and Chemistry at Spellbinder Hall!”
The shopkeeper lifted his glasses and stared at Cuthbert, looking at him from several angles, before giving an enthusiastic nod of his head. “My goodness,” he said. “It is you. I was a pupil at Spellbinder Hall when you taught there, Sir.” He turned to Millie and spoke in a whisper, even though the crowd of spectators had moved away since the shouting had ceased. “Are you...urm. Do you know about Spellbinder Hall? Are you...” He gave a quick wink. “One of us?”
“I’m a witch,” said Millie, her voice low.
“I’m Ollie,” said the shopkeeper, his face relieved. He looked left and right, checking for eavesdroppers. “I’m a witch, too.”
Cuthbert suddenly stumbled, and Millie grabbed him by the arm, steadying him. He blinked a few times and then looked around. “How did I get here?” he said. “I was just about to sit down for a cup of tea with my daughter.” He smiled at Millie. “Oh, hello, young lady. You’re the lovely young teacher I met yesterday, at the school fete.”
“Hello, Cuthbert,” said Millie. “You seem to have got yourself into a spot of trouble with this shopkeeper.”
Ollie shook his head. “No he hasn’t,” he said. “If I’d recognised Mister Campion, I’d have given him the fridge magnet for free.” He gave Cuthbert an appreciative smile. “You were one of the best teachers at that school, Sir.”
“Thank you for the compliment,” said Cuthbert. “But what do you mean — fridge magnet? What fridge magnet are you talking about?”
Looking embarrassed, Ollie pointed at the breast pocket of Cuthbert’s suit jacket. “It’s in there,” he said. “You picked it up and put it there and then walked out of the shop. Like I said though, Mister Campion, had I recognised you, I would never have chased you outside and confronted you.”
“I’m glad you did! That’s what you should have done!” said Cuthbert, slipping the fridge magnet from his pocket and studying it. “You’ll never succeed in business if you don’t treat everybody the same! Now, how much does this magnet cost? I like it. It captures the view of Spellbinder Bay from the clifftop very well indeed.”
“It would be two-pounds-fifty,” said Ollie, “but honestly, Mister Campion, I want you to have it. You might not remember me very well — I’ve certainly changed in the last few decades, but you helped me when I was being bullied, Sir. You taught me not to listen to the names I was being called, and I took your lesson onboard. You helped me to deal well with a hard period in my life.”
Taking his wallet from his trouser pocket, Cuthbert retrieved a five-pound note and thrust it towards Ollie. “Of course I remember you, Oliver. You were a good boy and a pleasure to teach, but I insist that you take my money, and I insist that you keep the change. I always pay my way, young man.”
Ollie attempted to answer, but the warning scowl that Cuthbert gave him changed his mind. He smiled and closed his hand around the money. “Thank you, Mister Campion,” he said.
“Thank you,” said Cuthbert. He put a hand to his head and frowned. “I don’t feel so well,” he said. “I think I should be getting home.”
“My car is over there,” said Millie, guiding Cuthbert gently along the pavement. “I’ll take you home.”
When Cuthbert saw Millie’s car, he let out a delighted gasp. “Oh my,” he said. “She’s a beauty! They don’t make them like that anymore!” He raised an eyebrow and winked at Millie. “You certainly have taste,” he said.
Millie laughed as she helped Cuthbert into the little two-seater. “I’ve always been a fan of the old classics,” she explained. “Modern cars don’t seem to have any character.”
As Cuthbert settled into the old leather of the passenger seat, he smiled up at Millie. “Well, you’d better get this old classic home before he has another funny turn and forgets where he lives.”
Chapter 26
The drive to Cuthbert’s home was short. He lived less than half a mile from the harbour area of town, but the solitary house in which he lived, at the end of a private lane, offered seclusion from the nearby town.
Cuthbert Campion and his daughter lived in a large seafront home, the front garden offering a similar sea-view to the one visible from Millie’s cottage. That was where any similarities between Millie’s home and Cuthbert Campion’s ended, though. For the first time since she’d arrived in Spellbinder Bay and discovered she had access to vast wealth, built over centuries by the witches who had come before her, Millie considered spending a chunk of it on a home like the Campion’s as she marvelled at the impressive building.
Set on a clifftop eroded from the hill behind it, with only a short drop to the sandy beach below, the building was an architectural delight. Huge windows spanned the front of the building, allowing uninterrupted views of the sea from every room on that side of the house, and the brilliant white walls reflected the sunlight, giving the home an even grander appearance.
Imagining how pleasant it would be to sip a cocktail on one of the balconies while watching the sunset, Millie scolded herself, reminding herself just how lucky she already was. There were plenty of people who would look at her cottage through the same envious lens that she studied Cuthbert’s home through, and she was sure that Cuthbert Campion or his daughter thought likewise about other houses, too. She should count her blessings, as the saying went, and she had plenty of them to count.
After parking her car alongside a rockery planted with hardy coastal shrubs, Millie walked alongside Cuthbert as he slowly made his way towards the large front door. “It’s a beautiful home,” she said.
“Thank you!” said Cuthbert. “I’m lucky to own it. I was given a lot of money by the Board of Governors at Spellbinder Hall. I don’t quite remember why right now. I think I had some sort of accident. My daughter will explain what happened; my memory isn’t what it once was. It’s a nuisance to me, and I think my memory loss makes me a nuisance to my daughter.”
Not wanting Cuthbert to consider his lack of memory an even greater nuisance than he already believed it to be, Millie chose not to remind him that he and his daughter had been in her classroom the day before and that his daughter had explained everything about her father’s accident. “I’m sure you’re not a nuisance,” she said.
As if wishing to prove Millie correct, Julia Campion suddenly swung the door open and stood in the doorway, a phone in her hand and a look of relief on her face. “Dad!” she said, the breeze sweeping a strand of hair across her face. “Oh, Dad! I’ve been so worried about you! I’ve been down onto the beach in case you’d fallen off the cliff. We must fix that low part of the fence! It terrifies me!” She showed Millie and Cuthbert the phone she was holding. “I was just about to phone the police, hop in the car, and come looking for you.”
“I’ve been for a walk, Julia,” said Cuthbert. “I wanted to pick something up from town.”
Julia hurried towards her father. “What did you want to pick up from town, Dad? We don’t need anything. I went shopping this morning!”
Cuthbert winked at Millie and rea
ched for his breast pocket. “A fridge magnet, my dear,” he said. “I thought it would brighten the kitchen up a little.”
Julia took a gentle hold of her father’s arm and sighed. “I don’t think we need a fridge magnet, Dad, but at least you’re home safe,” she said. She looked at Millie and let out a long breath. “Thank you, Miss Thorn, but why is he with you? Did he get himself into some more bother? He always seems to be getting himself into trouble with somebody.”
Before Millie had time to answer, Cuthbert turned his face towards her, his eyes pleading with her to keep a secret. Millie shook her head and smiled at Julia. “No,” she said. “I was passing through town when I saw your father walking in this direction. He looked a little tired, so I stopped and offered him a lift.”
Julia studied Millie’s face for a second or two. Seemingly satisfied with her explanation, she smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “You must come in and have a cup of tea and a bite to eat.”
Glancing at the beautiful house, Millie nodded. “A cup of tea would be lovely,” she said.
The interior of the house was no less beautiful than the outside, but Millie was happy to discover that beyond the modern wall hangings and clean angles of staircases and pillars, the house was lived in. The smell of baking hung in the air, and the sound of music came from somewhere in the distance, the beat of the drums sharp and urgent.
As the three of them crossed the large entrance hall, Cuthbert suddenly stopped and cocked his head to the side. He narrowed his eyes. “I can hear music,” he said. “That’s The Rolling Stones! They’re my favourite!”
“Yes, Dad,” said Julia. “You put the music on yourself. That’s why I didn’t hear you leaving the house.”
“Did I?” said Cuthbert. He gave a broad grin. “I have got good taste!”
“You like the old classics too,” said Millie, with a smile.
