by Sam Short
“Of course,” said Millie. “I’ll speak with Emma.”
“And I’ll speak with Helen Giles,” said Timothy. “She’ll need to be informed of what happened to her husband. I’m quite sure she won’t want Emma punished, though. She’s a good woman at heart.”
“And, Fredrick, make sure she is financially compensated,” said Henry. “Money won’t make up for the loss of her husband, but it will enable her to bring Norman up in a better way than he’s been accustomed to so far in his young life.”
“I will,” said Fredrick.
Henry nodded. “You did well in my absence, Fredrick,” he said. “You dealt with very challenging circumstances and did the best you could. Thank you. If Miss Timkins ever gets fed up of the job she was supposed to begin thirty years ago, then it shall be yours.”
“I appreciate the kind words,” said Fredrick.
“What about the werewolves in the dungeons?” asked Timothy. “What shall I tell their families?”
“And Mister Dickinson,” added Edna. “What will happen to that awful man?”
“Mister Dickinson will not be bothering us again,” said Henry. “He is under lock and key, and Ammon plans to put him on trial very soon. If he’s found guilty, he’ll be sent to The Chaos. A man with his powers will survive in such a harsh world, but it will not be an easy, or pleasant, existence.”
“And the werewolves?” said Millie.
“They are already regretting their actions,” said Henry. “I’m sure that a period of time in the dungeons will remind them that violence is not acceptable in a civilised community. It is lucky for them that they did not kill anybody, or they would have found themselves sharing a harsh world with Mister Dickinson.”
Edna let out a long sigh. “Phew,” she said. “So life is back to normal?”
“Yes, Mrs Brockett,” Henry said with a smile. “Life is back to normal.” He looked at Millie. “But not for you, Miss Thorn. For you, life is going to be very different.”
Chapter 44
Millie peered through the glass pane in the classroom door. Emma was busy at the far end of the room, tidying up spilt raisins and chocolate chips. A liberal dusting of flour covered the front of her apron and her face, and a welcoming aroma of baking cakes seeped past the door and into the corridor.
Millie smiled. The young witch looked content.
A soft breeze blew across Millie’s face, and the hairs on her forearms stood on end as the temperature around her dropped suddenly. Still not as comfortable as she would like to be around ghosts, she turned her head slowly to the right, aware of a presence next to her. The tall woman gave her a reassuring smile. “You don’t like ghosts?” she asked. “Do you?”
“It’s not that I don’t like ghosts,” protested Millie. “It’s just that I don’t like being surprised — and having an apparition suddenly appearing in front of you, is the essence of surprise.”
Charlotte gave a soft laugh. “I was the same once,” she admitted, her eyes on Emma as she washed a mixing bowl at the sink. “I was scared of ghosts. Spellbinder Hall used to terrify me. Cuthbert used to laugh at me; he used to tell me that one day I’d be a ghost, too.” She gave a deep sigh, and the air in the corridor became colder. “I never thought I’d be such a young ghost, though. I thought I’d live a long life, but it wasn’t to be.”
Moving slowly, Millie reached for Miss Timkins’s hand, her fingers passing straight through the ghost’s elegant wrist. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry about what happened to you, and I’m sorry about suggesting that you might have had anything to do with what happened to Trevor Giles.”
“There’s no need for you to be sorry,” said Miss Timkins. “I understand why you may have thought I was responsible for his death, and as for what happened to me, well, I’m here again, aren’t I? Doing what I always loved to do — watching enthusiastic children learn how to cook. Especially one like Emma who comes into school during the holidays to cook. It makes me so happy to watch them learn.”
Looking up at the tall woman, Millie frowned. “I’ve had a thought, Charlotte. Why don’t you teach cookery again?”
Charlotte’s narrow face broke into a shy grin, and her eyes twinkled as she took in what Millie had said. “Really?” she asked. “That would be wonderful. I could be an assistant to you! I’d love nothing more!”
“Actually,” said Millie. “I thought it would be the other way round. I’m only a part-time teacher, anyway, and I’m sure you’re a far better cookery teacher than I’ll ever be. Perhaps you should become the full-time cookery teacher here at the hall, and if you ever need any help, I’ll be your assistant. It’s your decision, of course — you are the headmistress.”
“I’d like nothing more, Millie!” beamed Charlotte. “Thank you!”
As footsteps bounced off the walls of the corridor, Charlotte turned to face the approaching man. “He’s going to be so excited when I tell him I’m the cookery teacher,” she said. “He’ll like nothing more than eating his lunch as we look out of the classroom window together.”
“How is he doing?” asked Millie, in a low voice.
“It’s been over a week since he ate the soufflé,” said Charlotte. “And it was only yesterday that he fully recovered. But he’s fine. It worked.”
“Ah! Miss Thorn,” said Cuthbert, as he approached. “It’s wonderful to see you now I can remember your name! I do believe an apology is in order, though — my daughter has informed me that I’ve been most rude to you on occasion.”
Millie smiled. “No apology is necessary, Cuthbert,” she said. “And I’m over the moon for you. It must be such a relief to be rid of that metaphorettes.”
“Oh, goodness gracious, yes!” said Cuthbert. “I feel like a mouse who’s gained a new hat!”
“Pardon?” said Millie, giving Charlotte a sideways glance.
Cuthbert broke into a bellowing laugh. “I’m joking, young lady! My brain is fully operational again, thanks to Charlotte’s wonderful soufflé.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” said Millie.
The classroom door swung open, and Emma smiled up at them, a paper bag in her hand. “I’ve cleaned up after myself, Miss Thorn and Miss Timkins.” She gazed at Cuthbert. “And Mister...”
“Mister Cuthbert Campion,” replied Cuthbert. “I was once an English and Chemistry teacher here at Spellbinder Hall. A long time ago.”
“Are you ready, Emma?” asked Millie.
“Yes, Miss,” said Emma. “And thank you for offering me a lift home, although I don’t mind walking.”
“It’s my pleasure,” said Millie. She held the classroom door open for Charlotte and Cuthbert and said her goodbyes, before putting a hand on Emma’s shoulder as she walked alongside her. “And what we spoke about?” said Millie.
Emma lifted the paper bag. “Only chocolate, Miss. No potions. It’s like you said — it’s not nice to trick people into eating things they might not want to. I’ll never do it again. Anyway, chocolate cheers Mum up without needing to add a potion!”
“Good,” said Millie. “And your mother? How is she?”
“She’s doing great!” said Emma. “It’s only been a week since Nan made her speak to somebody who could help her, and she’s much better already. She’s taking me to the cinema tonight! It’s the first time we’ve been in years, but Mum wants to get out more.”
“That’s wonderful!” said Millie.
“What about you, Miss?” asked Emma. “It’s Friday today. Have you got plans for tonight?”
“Yes,” said Millie. “I have. I’m going out for a meal. With my father and my sister.”
George’s motorbike was parked outside her cottage when she got home, and as she opened the red front door, the sound of laughing voices greeted her.
“No way!” said George.
“Way!” replied Reuben. “He was as tall as ten houses and had at least fifty-four legs! He posed no problem for me, though. He’d threatened my witch! Nobody threatens my w
itch. I lost the plot, George! I lost my temper and battered that demon all over the chaos!”
“You’re the man, Reuben!” said George, tossing the cockatiel a peanut, before lobbing one in the air and catching it in his mouth. “It’s a shame you fell over and injured yourself, after you’d found the secret cave with the gates in, and dragged Millie to safety, though.”
“Yeah, but I’m fine, man. I’m fine,” said Reuben.
“Hello boys,” said Millie, closing the door behind her. “Having fun? I heard you telling George the story of your epic adventure, Reuben. You made it sound... amazing.”
Reuben hopped along the back of the sofa, dodging George’s hand and pistachio nut shells. He launched himself into the air and landed on Millie’s shoulder. “Please don’t tell him the truth,” he whispered. “He’s so cool.”
“The truth is,” said Millie. “That you’re a hero, Reuben, and you can tell that tale anyway you like.” She pointed at George’s legs. “Feet off the sofa, George. Please.”
“Sorry,” said George, adjusting his seating position. “I hope you don’t mind me being here. I came to ask you something, and Reuben invited me in for a while. We’ve had fun.”
Scanning the mess of nut shells and chocolate bar wrappers covering the sofa, Millie nodded. “I can see that,” she said.
“I’ll clean that up,” said George, scrambling to his feet.
“No, leave it,” said Millie. “It’s fine. What is it you wanted to ask me, George?”
George looked at Reuben. “Would you give us a minute?”
“Of course,” said Reuben, flying from Millie’s shoulder, and out of the open roof window. “You two sort things out, you make the perfect couple.”
Millie rolled her eyes at Reuben’s feathery back, and smiled at George. “So, what is it?”
“I need to talk to you, Millie,” said George, approaching her. “I want to tell you about Emily. I want to tell you who she is, and where she came from, and I want to ask you if we still have a future together... you and me. I thought you could meet Emily. Tonight, at The Embarrassed Lobster. I’ve booked a table. It’s steak night.”
As light poured from the roof window and landed on George’s face, highlighting his good looks, Millie sighed. George was impossibly good looking, funny, and even clever on occasions. He’d lied to her though, or at least hidden the truth, and Millie wouldn’t stand for that, however good the reason George had to keep the truth from her was.
Then there was what Fredrick had told her. Of course it wouldn’t work. Of course it would end in heartache. Millie would age and George wouldn’t, how could that be a good thing?
She shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t think we have a future, George, not romantically, anyway. And as for Emily, I know who she is. I heard you telling my father about her. I was in the corridor, and I heard it all. I think it’s a sad story, George, and I think what you did for her was the right thing, and I’m glad she came to find you after all this time. You’re a good man, and Emily is lucky to have you to guide her, but as for you and me?” She shook her head again. “I’m sorry.”
George closed his eyes for a moment. “I understand,” he said. “I’ve lived long enough to know when somebody has made up their mind.” His face broke into a wide grin. “And I’ll live for a lot longer yet, so when you’ve grown old and lonely, and live alone with fourteen cats and a herb garden, don’t come looking for me. This cool cat will still be zipping around the countryside on his motorbike, with no time for rude old women!”
Millie laughed. She laughed hard, and when she’d finished laughing, she lifted herself onto tiptoes and kissed the vampire.
Blushing, George smiled. “What about the meal tonight? The table is booked. How about you meet Emily anyway?”
“I’m sorry,” said Millie. “Dad and Judith are taking me out for a meal.”
“Oh,” said George. “Anywhere nice?”
Millie shrugged. “I don’t know. They haven’t told me yet.”
Chapter 45
The Embarrassed Lobster throbbed with life. The orange glow in the windows acted as a welcoming invitation to passers-by, and upbeat music rolled from the open door, riding on the malty fumes of locally brewed beer.
Friendly voices rose from the beer garden alongside the pub, which offered an expansive view of the sea, its calm surface reflecting the moon, and Millie’s nose twitched as she caught a whiff of the star of the night — juicy steak and battered onion rings.
As Millie entered the pub, she was almost knocked off her feet by Timothy as he exited, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and appearing as if he was about to let out a mighty belch.
He gulped as he banged into Millie, swallowing any burp that may have been about to escape. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“It was my fault,” said Millie. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
Timothy shook his head. “No,” he said. “You misunderstand me. I’m sorry, but you’re two weeks late for our date. I invited you to steak night on the day of the school fete. I’m afraid I’m no longer interested.”
“Timothy,” said Millie. “You were so polite and respectable during the time you helped me solve Trevor’s murder. Why have you reverted to this old Timothy? Why are you so brash again?”
Timothy smiled, and then gave a loud laugh. “This is who I am!” he said. “I’m Timothy Huggins! Biggest wolf in town, and if you’d please step out of my way, I have to be going. The night is young, and I’ve got a belly full of meat. Somewhere in Spellbinder Bay is a young lady craving the attention of a man like me, and I’m going to find her!”
“Okay,” said Millie, stepping aside as Timothy passed. “Good luck to you, and good luck to the woman you’re hunting.”
Timothy nodded and hurried into the night, and then, just as Millie was stepping over the threshold of the pub, she heard her name being called. “Millie, wait!” said Timothy.
“What is it?” she said.
Timothy dragged his feet as he approached her, and then he looked at the floor. “I’m not going around the pubs looking for a woman,” he said. “I wouldn’t know what to do if I found one. I’m going home to play video games online. I’m not brash, Millie. Not really.”
“Really?” said Millie.
Timothy nodded. “Really,” he said. “I put an act on when I’m around women.”
“Why?” asked Millie. “It won’t work, it will push women away from you, not attract them.”
“Then it is working,” said Timothy.
Millie frowned. “Please explain that, Timothy.”
“I want to push women away,” said Timothy. “They intimidate me, and I know what I look like. I’m twenty-six, but I look like a teenager. I still get asked for identification in pubs. I’m overweight, and I have spots. What woman is ever going to want me? I became used to women rejecting me when I got close to them, so I decided never to let a woman get close to me.” He gave a long sigh. “I make women hate me, Millie. On purpose.”
“Timothy,” said Millie. “That’s the quickest route to never being happy. Those things you said about yourself are —”
“I know,” said Timothy. “And I don’t want your advice. I don’t mean that disrespectfully, Millie, but I’ll sort my own issues out eventually. I wanted you to know it’s an act because I respect you. I don’t want you to think badly of me. I think very highly of you.”
Millie smiled at the werewolf, but as she was about to tell him that she respected him, too, he turned his back and hurried away. “I’ll see you around!” he shouted.
“Next week?” shouted Millie. “Steak night?”
“Maybe!” yelled Timothy, bathed in a soft glow as he hurried beneath a streetlamp. “I’ll need to check my diary!”
Shaking her head, a smile on her lips, Millie strolled into the pub. Seated near the window was a woman with her back to the door. With long blonde hair and painted nails which clicked on the wine glass she hel
d, she laughed as George made a joke.
When George spotted Millie, he waved at her. “Millie,” he said. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thank you,” said Millie. “Dad and Judith are waiting for me in the restaurant.”
Standing up, George put his pint glass down and gestured at Emily to turn around. “Emily,” he said, as she turned in her seat, her face happy. “This is Millie.” He smiled at Millie. “Millie, this is Emily, she knows that you’re aware of her story.”
Ambushed, Millie shrugged and approached the table, taking the hand which Emily extended in greeting. “Hello, Emily,” she said.
“Millie,” said Emily, her words spoken delicately. “How wonderful to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“And I’ve heard a lot about you,” said Millie.
“I’m so sorry I stepped on your toes when I arrived in Spellbinder Bay,” said Emily. “I was confused and unhappy. I needed sanctuary, and George gave it to me. He kept me away from people, like I’d asked him to. I realise that perhaps I was selfish. I had no right to come between you two.”
Unable to hold any malice toward a woman who’d been through so much, Millie gave her a reassuring smile. “No,” she said. “You don’t need to apologise, Emily. I can only imagine how hard things were for you. You needed George. You needed a family.”
“Yes,” said Emily, her eyes a soft brown beneath emerald eyeshadow. “We all need family, and George told me you’d found yours too. That’s so wonderful!”
“Thank you,” said Millie. “And I must be going. They’re waiting for me.”
