Hugo and the Bird

by Jeff Mills

  It took nearly three weeks before a decision was made, which was upsetting for everyone, especially Emma, who felt very alone. She would spend many hours by herself in her room. Mrs Bennett could hear her crying but could do little to console her.

  They were seated round the table having their evening meal. Stephanie was trying to be cheerful, telling Emma about what was happening to the girls and boys that they both knew and the tales they had been bragging about on the things that they had done during their summer break.

  Hugo was fed up of hearing about who had broken up with who and who was now going out with this and that boy. It had been two weeks since he had seen Bird and he was desperate to know what was happening to the gnomes and goblins. On several occasions he had suggested to his father that he call him or go there himself but his father told Hugo that Bird was probably very busy helping the gnomes sort out their little village again, and they did not want Emma to see the graves of those gnomes that had been killed as it might upset her even more. Hugo’s father left the table and went into his office.

  Mr Bennett always seemed to be ankle deep in paperwork in connection with his work, writing reports and suggesting treatment plans for his dental patients. Surprisingly, these had suddenly seemed to increase in number following the report of his inheritance in the local paper and his potential celebrity status. There was also a mounting pile of letters from supposed ‘long lost friends’ and people who were convinced they might be related to him. How the press became aware of the information, no one seemed to know, but following its release a week earlier he had been inundated with letters from all over the world, telling him how much good, just a little donation, would make, if he could see his way to being generous.

  He gave a loud groan and stood up, stretched himself and grabbed a handful of the papers on his desk. He screwed them up tightly as if wringing someone’s neck and violently threw them into the waste bin, shouting,

  “Vultures...every one of them. Blood-sucking vultures!”

  Everyone stopped and looked at him and suddenly laughed. Even Emma broke a smile.

  “Did someone call?” A voice came from the lounge, followed by Bird coming through the door into the kitchen. His presence suddenly broke the morose atmosphere that had existed, at least until Mr Bennett’s outburst. They were eager to ask him what was happening but Bird shushed them and sat down next to Emma.

  “I was so deeply sorry to hear about your parents,” he said and put his wing around her. She gave a slight grin of thanks and, after being told the whole story, rather than what he had read in the paper, he pulled up the chair to the table and explained about the chicken pox at the goblin camp. He thanked Mr Bennett for his help and that of his doctor friend.

  “Oh, and thank you for giving me your medicine. It was very useful,” he said, looking at Stephanie, who blushed a little. When asked if it had worked, he had to admit that he was a little unsure, as the goblins had left without trace. Even those left at the reserve who had been injured did not know or, more likely, were not prepared to say.

  The phone rang and Mr Bennett slammed his hands down on the table, making everyone jump.

  “If that’s one more reporter asking me about my connection with Sir Richard Benson and the curse that’s supposed to be on our family, I will personally murder him.”

  Leaving the room, he went into the lounge. The only noise that could be heard was a mumbling. Everyone went silent as he returned. They looked at him questioningly.

  “What?” He looked a little red-faced. “Oh, that was someone from an estate agents wanting to know if I was planning to go ahead with the development of the land. You know, the bit where Sir Richard was killed and did I want them to act as agents for me after it was developed. I told them I would think about it. I must be honest; I had forgotten about it.”

  Sitting down again, he rapidly changed the subject and told Bird to carry on with what he knew.

  “There’s not much else to tell except that they still haven’t found that girl reporter who went missing and who, I think we are sure, has in fact been changed into Morgana.”

  “Where do you think she is now?” asked Emma, putting aside her own problems for a moment.

  “I understand there was a report that she might have been spotted somewhere near the Hartland lighthouse but no-one has seen or heard anything about her or the other witch since the attack. The police plan to seal off the old cave to make sure children,” at which point he looked at the three in front of him, “or anyone else doesn’t go in there. One end has already collapsed and it nearly trapped some policemen in it when it did.”

  “What about all the stuff inside, the potions and bottles and....and those three coffins?” blurted out Hugo, with a tremor in his voice as he remembered the coffins.

  “I heard that the police had sent in a team of experts to have a look at everything and someone was going in from the local museum who is keen to get some of the pieces which, they say, may be from the seventeenth century.”

  Bird sat back and sighed. “That’s about it for now and since everything seems to have settled down and gone quiet, I thought that I might take a trip to Australia and see my brother.”

  “You mean there are two of you!” exclaimed Mrs Bennett.

  “Oh, didn’t Hugo tell you? In her experiments, Kadavera used a similar potion on my brother but his went a bit wrong, or at least a bit more wrong than me, because he wouldn’t stop growing and people, where he now lives in Australia, think that he’s a hill. He’s called Magnus for short, because he’s so big. I haven’t seen him for a hundred years, so he may be a mountain now.” Everyone laughed.

  “How will you get there?” Stephanie piped up. “You can’t fly that far.”

  “You’re right,” said Bird. “I’ll become invisible and jump on a plane.” He hesitated and then looked at Mrs Bennett and said pleadingly, “Talking about being invisible, have you got anything to eat, as I will need to be invisible for a long time?”

  “Would you like to make yourself some sandwiches?” she said with a beaming smile on her face.

  The others looked at her questioningly but then one by one they started to laugh. Bird looked confused at each of the faces around him, then he remembered the sandwiches which he made as a replacement for the ones he had eaten on the day of Emma’s parents’ funeral. He looked thoroughly embarrassed.

  “I think that I had better make them, don’t you?” Mrs Bennett said, still smiling. “And I’ll make a few extra for you to take, in case you get peckish,” she added and went to the side counter to make them.

  Half an hour later Bird had eaten his fill and he had the extra in a small package under his wing. “If you need me, call me in the usual way but I may be a bit delayed in getting there.” He waved his wing, patted Hugo on the head, gently brushed Emma’s cheek, which made her smile, the first time since the accident, and then, with a slight bow, disappeared.

  “You certainly do have some strange friends,” Hugo’s father said. Looking at the clock and then the mounting pile of papers on his desk. Sighing, he announced, “I don’t know about you but I think that it’s bed time. I also think that tomorrow I’ll go and have a look at that bit of land.” Emma and Hugo gave each other a worried glance. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure no witches are around.” Making a false yawn, he pointed up the stairs and everyone took the hint.

  The next morning, before breakfast, the phone rang. It was the receptionist at his surgery. She had received an emergency call and asked him if he would go to his surgery to treat a young boy who had fallen down a flight of stairs and had broken one of his front teeth. It had taken over an hour before Mr Bennett had finished his treatment. He had to admit that he had done a pretty good job and the boy and his mother were smiling by the time they left.

  On his return home, Hugo and Stephanie were watching the television and arguing as to which channel
to watch. Mrs Bennett was busy doing the washing and so he casually asked if anyone was interested in going into Bideford to have a look at his ‘inherited property’. Mrs Bennett feigned disinterest but as an afterthought announced that, since he was going into town, she could do some shopping while they were there, so she might as well come. The children forgot their squabble and eagerly answered that they would love to go.

  “See if Emma wants to come with you?” he asked Stephanie, who leapt from the settee where she was sprawled and ran up to Emma’s room.

  * * *

  A few minutes later both girls came down the stairs, with Emma still trying to comb the knots out of her hair.

  They each looked at Mrs Bennett, who was still walking around in her pinafore, tidying the room and putting everything straight.

  “Come on, Mum, that can wait,” Hugo said impatiently. His mother gave him a stern look and continued to fluff up the cushions.

  “Get in the car you lot,” ordered Mr Bennett and turning, gave his wife an impatient look. She huffed and tore her apron off. Putting on her jacket, she grabbed her handbag, a couple of reusable shopping bags and with a loud bang, shut the front door. Everyone was seated and belted up as she threw the shopping bags into the back of the Volvo and then took her seat in the front.

  “I have to call at the solicitors to pick up the keys first,” her husband announced as they set off.

  “What keys?” Hugo asked. “I thought that you said it was just a piece of land.”

  “Yes,” came the reply, “but it’s surrounded by a wire fence to keep out nosey children, like you.”

  He glanced back at the occupants of the back seat and grinned, “and any other trespassers. There are still some artefacts lying around that might seem attractive to some light-fingered people. The police found a man a few weeks ago trying to dig up some of the stones still left from the original house. He said he was building a wall but the police found out that he had been doing it for weeks and selling the dressed stones to an architectural salvage company, so they ordered the solicitors to put a fence around the property and employ a security company to check it regularly.”

  * * *

  Before they had realised it, they had pulled up next to the solicitors. Mr Bennett put some money in the parking meter and went inside.

  It was about twenty minutes before he emerged, holding high a ring of keys which he jiggled as if in triumph.

  “What took so long?” his wife moaned.

  “Oh, I had to fill in a load of forms and they had to phone the security company to say I was coming but it’s done now. Let’s go. We’ll leave the car here and walk there, so everybody out. That doesn’t mean that we’re going shopping Julia, so don’t get any ideas.” His wife looked sheepish as if to say,

  “Would I do such a thing?” and glanced at Stephanie and Emma and winked. They smiled and muttered something from behind their hands.

  Five minutes later they were standing at the gate of a chain-linked fence and Mr Bennett was fiddling with the lock. Finally, with a flourish, the chain fell away and in triumph he pushed the gate open. He bowed like a doorman and ushered them in.

  Hugo had seen part of the property when they had watched on that fateful day when that man, Sir Richard Thingy, was killed but there were so many people that day that he had not taken it all in.

  There was a rough green area to one side which still showed a dent where the JCB had fallen. Around it was an assortment of walls and broken-down buildings with piles of stones, some stacked while others were scattered. He wandered aimlessly around, imagining the buildings intact and what they would have looked like when they were in their prime.

  He walked over to the site where the JCB had left its mark and, without thinking, looked up to make sure that nothing was going to fall on him. A sudden noise of stones falling attracted his attention and he walked over to a corner of walls. Almost at ground level he noticed a small wooden door. He was about to investigate it when he heard his father calling as it was time to go.

  Giving the door a final look, he re-joined the rest of his family and they made their way out. Mr Bennett gave the chain around the gate to the fence a final pull, to make sure it was secure and they started back.

  “I need to drop these keys off, so you lot can do what you want and I’ll see you in ten minutes at the car.”

  “Make that half an hour,” his wife said and looked at the two girls who grinned broadly. Mr Bennett gave them an exasperated look and shrugged.

  “Can I come with you Dad?” Hugo pleaded and looked disdainfully at the women. Without waiting for a reply, father and son started walking back in the direction of the solicitors. After dropping off the keys, they went back to the car but as they got there Mr Bennett asked Hugo if he fancied an ice cream. This didn’t need an answer as far as Hugo was concerned. Five minutes later they were sitting on the seats by the wall on the quay, both licking ninety-nines from the Hockings’ ice cream van.

  “Dad, what are you going to do with that site?” Hugo asked with a note of concern in his voice. “You know, with the tales about it and that man getting killed there.”

  His father stopped mid-lick and looked very thoughtful.

  “I’ve been approached by several builders who are itching to get their hands on it to build flats and offices. As they keep reminding me, it’s a prime site and worth a lot of money. A few weeks ago I would have jumped at the chance to sell it but after the recent events and meeting those weird characters, plus the women who claim to be the descendants of the three witches killed here centuries ago, I’m not so sure. I am beginning to think that there really is a curse on it, and since you and I may be involved then I think that I must give it more thought.”

  A large drip of ice cream fell from his cone onto his trousers. Jumping up, he cursed under his breath, trying to wipe the mark off his clothes. It was at that point that the three women came back, with Stephanie holding a large plastic bag, obviously containing some new item of clothing. Mrs Bennett looked at her husband and then at his trousers and commented,

  “Messy pig! Serves you right! Those were clean on today. Now look what a mess you’ve made of them.”

  Her husband looked embarrassed and the girls laughed at Mrs Bennett’s feigned anger. Standing straight, he looked at the bag in Stephanie’s hand and muttered,

  “Look who’s talking. Right, let’s go.”

  “Don’t forget to call in at the supermarket on the way home. We need to get some bread and something for dinner tonight,” his wife reminded him.

  * * *

  Two hours later they arrived, exhausted, back home. There was another pile of letters behind the front door, which was becoming normal.

  “Stick them in my office, Hugs!” Mr Bennett called to his son as he went upstairs to change his trousers. Hugo hated the nickname Hugs but his father said it because he knew it annoyed his son and used it as a joke.

  Accompanying the letters, the local newspaper was also there and, glancing at it, he noticed a small piece in the corner, at the bottom of the front page, with a report of a possible sighting of the missing journalist in the Hartland area but all it said was that the police were making enquiries. Hugo thought back to the night of the attack and the young woman he had seen there who seemed to be organising it.

  “Lunch is ready!” Mrs Bennett shouted from the kitchen.

  Hugo deposited the letters and newspaper on the desk in his father’s office and ran back to the kitchen. He was starving.

  It started to rain that afternoon so Hugo and Emma, who was beginning to get over her tragedy, played on the computer while Stephanie, looking almost normal, with only a few red marks left on her face, had been picked up by her boyfriend’s mother to spend the day with them. For the first time in what seemed a long time, everything seemed normal.

  * * *

  At the building
site in Bideford which the Bennetts had visited, the little wooden door in the corner between two walls creaked open a crack. A bloodshot eye peered out from under a ragged black cloak, looked around and then silently closed the door leaving only the sound of the falling rain and the occasional cry of a scavenging seagull.

  Chapter 49

  The Potion

  The sun had just dipped below the horizon and the sky was a blaze of red, yellow and pink, as the rainstorm that evening had just passed over. The last of the holiday makers were plodding back to their various hotels, guest houses and caravans for their suppers before invading the few bars and pubs in the area for some evening entertainment. The deck chair rental store was putting the tarpaulins over their stacks of brightly-coloured seats and the Hockings’ ice cream van was making its way back to its base in Appledore, a few miles away.

  The light wind ruffled the blue and white tape that was criss-crossed across the entrance to the cave. Putricia gripped her cloak tightly around herself, despite it being a warm evening, to prevent the lingering rays of sunshine touching her body. Tearing aside the tape, she slid into the entrance and when deep inside, threw back her hood and looked back towards the opening.

  She watched for several minutes to make sure that she had not been spotted. The coast was clear. Pulling a rusting lamp, a small piece of cloth and a shiny stone from beneath the folds of her rough cloak, she laid the cloth on the floor and, using a rusty nail, she struck the stone. The spark which it generated momentarily illuminated the tunnel, casting eerie shadows on the wall.

  After several attempts, the small piece of tinder cloth began to glow. She blew on it gently to encourage the ember to ignite, then pushed it into the lamp. The wick burst into flame. Shadows danced and flickered in the orange light.

  With a final look behind her, the witch moved cautiously forwards towards the cave and the prizes still left there. She touched the rock walls tenderly as she moved forward, knowing that this was going to be the last time that she would be there. It was home and had been for the short time she could remember, not counting those centuries when she had been ‘sleeping’, which were just a hazy dream.