by Adele Abbott
Witch Is How
Berries Tasted Good
Published by Implode Publishing Ltd
© Implode Publishing Ltd 2018
The right of Adele Abbott to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved, worldwide. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 1
“I don’t believe it!” Jack thumped the dashboard, and tried the ignition again, but without success.
“What’s wrong with it?” I said.
“How should I know?”
“Okay. There’s no need to bite my head off.”
“Sorry. I’m just tired. I’d better call the breakdown service, but goodness knows how long they’ll be at this time of night.”
The good news was they weren’t very long at all.
But then, the bad news.
“The starter motor’s blown,” said the altogether too cheery mechanic.
“Can’t you just put a new one on?” I said.
“Sorry, love, but we can’t carry parts for every make of car, and there’s nowhere open at—.” He checked his watch. “Two-thirty in the morning. Have you guys just got back from holiday?”
“Honeymoon,” Jack said.
“Nice.” He gave us what I assumed was a knowing wink. “It’s a pity you had to come back to this.”
“What happens now?” My patience was wearing thin.
“You have the comprehensive plan, so I can tow you to the nearest garage, or I can take you back to your house. Whichever you’d prefer.”
“Take us home.”
Roger, that was his name, gave us a blow-by-blow account of his and Eileen’s honeymoon in Clacton-on-Sea, and he didn’t spare any of the details. More’s the pity.
“There you go.” He’d left the stricken car on the road outside our house. “Have a happy married life.”
“Thanks very much.” Jack stuffed a fiver into the man’s hand.
“Cheers, buddy.”
“Why did you give him a tip?” I said, once Roger had driven away.
“Why not?”
“He should have paid us for having to listen to his sordid honeymoon stories.”
“I thought he was okay. Come on, we should try to get some sleep.”
We grabbed our suitcases from the car and headed for the house. I couldn’t wait to put my head on the pillow.
“What the—?” Jack stopped dead in his tracks, just inside the door.
“What’s wrong now?” I stepped into the hall.
“Duck!” He called out as the coffee table came floating past my head. “Get down on the floor.”
I didn’t need telling twice.
“What’s going on, Jill?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“Our furniture is floating around the house. Call me crazy, but I’m guessing that magic is involved.”
“Madge must have done it.”
Under pressure from Grandma, I’d agreed to let her friend, Madge Moleworthy, stay at our house while we were on honeymoon.
“Can’t you stop it?” Jack ducked to avoid a vase.
“I could.”
“What are you waiting for, then?” Jack had to duck even lower to avoid a low-flying magazine rack.
“If I reverse the spell now, all the furniture will fall to the floor wherever it happens to be.” I pointed to the open lounge door. “The bedside cabinet is in there.”
“What other option do we have?”
“None I guess.” So I reversed the spell, and all the furniture fell to the floor. The sound was deafening.
“Why would Madge have done this?” Jack said when we were back on our feet.
“I’ve no idea, but I’m going to have a few choice words to say to her tomorrow.”
“It’ll take us ages to get everything back into the right rooms. Can’t you just cast a spell to do it?”
“You mean the good old put-the-furniture-back-in-the-right-room spell?”
“That sounds like it would work.”
“It probably would—if it actually existed, but it doesn’t. The only way we’re going to get everything back to where it should be is to move it ourselves.”
“We’ll be up all night doing that.”
“I won’t. I’m going to bed. This lot will have to wait until the morning.”
“Where is the bed, anyway?”
“Oh no, please don’t tell me—” I rushed upstairs. “It’s okay. It’s still in the bedroom. It’s too large to float out of the door.”
Jack followed me up. “I’ll have to call in to work in the morning, to tell them I’ll be late.”
“You can’t mention the furniture.”
“Give me some credit. I’ll just tell them I have to wait to get the car repaired.”
***
“Someone’s at the door.” Jack nudged me awake.
“What time is it?”
“Don’t know.” He put the pillow over his head.
“I grabbed my phone from the bedside table. It was eight-thirty. We’d been in bed for less than four hours.
Whoever was at the door knocked again.
“Can’t you get it?” I poked Jack in his side, but he just snored in response. “Great! I guess I’ll do it then.”
I threw on my dressing gown and manoeuvred my way through the labyrinth of errant furniture.
“Welcome home, Mrs Maxwell.”
“Kathy? What are you doing here?”
“Pete’s working in Smallwash today, so I thought I’d—” She looked past me. “Why are the dining room chairs in the hall?”
“I—err—”
Without waiting to be invited, she stepped inside.
“And why is the washing basket in the lounge?”
“Err—I—err—” I turned to the stairs. “Jack! Kathy’s here. Come and say hello.”
“There was no need to wake him,” she said.
“It’s okay. He was just about to get up anyway.”
“What’s up?” Jack appeared at the top of the stairs, looking like death warmed up. “Oh. Hi, Kathy.”
“Morning, Jack.” She grinned. “Still recovering from the honeymoon?”
“Kathy was just asking about the furniture,” I said. “I was about to tell her that moving the furniture around was all your idea, but now you’re here, you can explain it yourself. I’ll go and put the kettle on.”
I didn’t hurry making the tea because I wanted to give Jack ample time to explain the furniture situation. When I eventually went through to the lounge, the coffee table was nowhere to be seen, so I handed their drinks to them.
“Has Jack told you what we’ve been up to?” I said.
“Err—yeah, kind of. I’m just not sure I buy this Feng Shui stuff. And anyway, I thought it just
involved moving things around in the same room. I didn’t think you had to move stuff from one room to another.”
I was impressed by Jack’s quick thinking, and I played along. “You’re talking about conventional Feng Shui. This is ultimate Feng Shui. Very different.”
“Right, well, whatever floats your boat.”
Or furniture.
“Shouldn’t you be opening the shop soon, Kathy?”
“Nope. I don’t need to be there until ten.”
“How come?”
“While you were away, I took on a part-time assistant, May Knott. She’s going to do a few hours each week.”
“She doesn’t sound very reliable.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, she may not show up. Get it? May Knott—may not.”
Kathy and Jack both groaned.
“What do you think of the garden?” Kathy said.
“What do you mean?”
“Haven’t you seen it? Pete took out the sandpit while you were away.”
“It was dark when we got home last night, so we went straight to bed. As soon as we’d finished with the Feng Shui, that is.”
“Let’s take a look.” Jack led the way through to the kitchen.
“Why is there an armchair in here?” Kathy shook her head.
“You can’t argue with ultimate Feng Shui.”
“The garden looks great.” Jack got to the window first. “Peter’s done a fantastic job. Are you sure we don’t owe him anything, Kathy?”
“Positive. We thought it was better than getting you yet another toaster.” She glanced around. “Speaking of which—where is your toaster?”
“In the back bedroom, I think.”
“Right.” She rolled her eyes. “So, what do you think of the garden, Jill?”
“It’s fantastic. It looks so much bigger now that the sandpit has gone. Thanks.”
After Kathy had left, Jack showered and dressed, and then dealt with the mechanic who came from the local garage to collect the car. We then spent the next two hours moving all the furniture back to its correct location. By the time we were done, I was exhausted.
“I can give you a lift to West Chipping if you like,” I offered.
“There’s no need. Just drop me at the station. The trains are pretty much every fifteen minutes.”
“Well done on the Feng Shui explanation, by the way. I was impressed.”
“Thanks, but how will we explain to Kathy why we’ve moved all the furniture back, the next time she comes over?”
“You’ll think of something.”
***
I dropped Jack at the station, and then parked in my usual spot in the city centre. As I was walking to the office, my phone rang.
“Jill. It’s Madge Moleworthy.”
“Madge? What on earth happened at the house?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It took us ages to move all the furniture back. What were you thinking?”
“I didn’t do it, but it was still entirely my fault.”
“Who did do it?”
“My cousin, Martha. She and I have been playing practical jokes on one another ever since we were kids. While I was over here, I turned her tap water into strawberry soda. It was hilarious.”
“It sounds it.” Not.
“Anyway, Martha decided to get her own back on me. She must have come over to your house in the night and cast the ‘float’ spell. She’d assumed I’d be in bed, but I’d already left for home. I didn’t know anything about it until she rang me this morning. How bad was it?”
“Bad enough.”
“I really am sorry, Jill. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
“It’s alright. Everything’s back to normal now. Anyway, I have to get going. I’m just on my way into the office.”
“Okay. Sorry again.”
I was really looking forward to seeing the new sign: Jill Maxwell – Private Investigator. Hopefully, Sid Song had kept his promise and installed it while we were away.
He had. I could see it—wait a minute! What the—?
I hurried up the stairs and found Mrs V hard at work on her tapestry.
“Welcome back, Jill. How was the honeymoon?”
“Very nice, thanks.”
“I hope you took lots of photos.”
“Quite a few, yeah. Look, about the—”
“And the photos from the wedding? Have you got those yet?”
“Not yet, no. What happened with—”
“The sign? You noticed it, then?”
“I could hardly miss it. Why does it say: Gooder and Maxwell?”
“I don’t know, dear.”
“Why didn’t you stop them from putting it up?”
“I wasn’t here. My sister had another one of her funny turns, so I had to go down there to see her. When I came in the next day, it was already up.”
“Have you spoken to Sid Song?”
“Of course. I rang him straight away, and he admitted that it’s his fault. He said he’ll change it free of charge.”
“I should think so too. When’s he bringing the new one?”
“Hmm. There’s a slight problem there.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Mr Song rang me the next day. Apparently, he’d been at a meeting of his barbershop choir when he fell and sprained his ankle. He said it may be a while before he can replace the sign.”
“Great! That’s just great.”
“I’m really sorry, Jill.”
“It isn’t your fault. How is your sister, anyway?”
“She’s fine. She was over-reacting as usual.”
“I see you’re still working on the tapestry. It doesn’t seem to have grown much since I was last here.”
“It’s way more fiddly than I expected.” She handed it to me. “What do you think of it so far?”
“It’s looking good. That figure there is obviously you.”
“You’re right. It is.”
“And that figure of you is knitting something.” I squinted to get a better look. “Oh, I see. The figure of you in the tapestry is knitting a tapestry. That’s very good.” I moved it even closer to my eyes. “Wait a minute. Doesn’t that figure also have a figure of you, knitting a tapestry?”
“That’s right, dear.”
No wonder it was taking her so long. It was the tapestry equivalent of Russian dolls. How she’d managed to include such detail was nothing short of a miracle.
“How’s Winky been? I hope you remembered to feed him.”
“Of course I did, but I’m glad you’re back. I hate going home, smelling of cat.”
“Winky doesn’t smell.”
“Hmm. Speaking of which, I hope you complained to the hotel.”
“What about?”
“The smell of cat. You must have noticed it at the ceremony and again at the reception.”
“Err—no, I can’t say I did.”
“Quite a few people mentioned it. You should definitely ask for some kind of compensation.”
“Right, well, I’d better make a start.”
I thought Winky would be pleased to see me because it meant he wouldn’t have to put up with Mrs V any longer, but he didn’t even glance up from the computer screen.
“I’m back.”
“So I see.” He was typing, frantically.
“You know you’re not supposed to use my computer.”
“Shush! Can’t you see I’m busy?”
Charming.
I walked across to my desk and peered over his head at the screen.
“What’s that you’re doing?”
“It’s my new business venture.”
“Another one? What is it this time?”
“I’m now a fully-fledged Feng Shui consultant.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m deadly serious. After I heard how much the old bag lady had paid to get someone to move her furniture around, I figured there
were big bucks to be made. And I was right.”
“Who’s going to take Feng Shui advice from a cat?”
“That’s the clever part. My consultations are provided online, so no one knows they’re dealing with a feline. Look.” He pointed at the screen. “This software creates images of all the furniture in a room. I just use the mouse to move stuff around on-screen. The client then follows the plan to re-arrange the furniture.”
“So, you get the client to do all the heavy lifting themselves?”
“That’s right.”
“And how do you decide where to position the furniture?”
“I spend hours consulting the Feng Shui instruction manual.”
“Really?”
“Of course not.” He laughed. “I just shuffle them around at random.”
“And how much do you charge for that?”
“I’m able to offer budget prices because I don’t actually have to pay site visits. One hundred pounds per room on average.”
“And how long does it take you per room?”
“Five minutes max.”
“Unbelievable.”
“So, you can see why I’m going to need your computer for the foreseeable future.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“For a start, you could get that stupid sign changed. Gooder and Maxwell? It makes you sound like a vaudeville act. Anyway, how was the honeymoon? I want all the sordid details.”
“Never you mind about my honeymoon—how’s your love life coming along?”
“It isn’t. They’ve all dumped me.”
“What? Trixie, Judy and—”
“Daisy. Yeah. They found out about one another and turned up here en masse.”
“I wish I’d been here to see that.”
“It wasn’t pretty. Anyway, who cares? It’s their collective loss. When I make a million from Budget Feng Shui Online, they’ll be sorry. That reminds me. I’ll need you to give me a lift across town on Friday.”
“Why? What’s happening then?”
“I’m going to speed-dating.”
I laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Speed dating for cats? I assume you’re joking.”
“No, I’m not. I’ll have you know that felines were speed dating long before you two-leggeds came up with the idea.”
