A Witch Alone

by James Nicol

  ‘No . . . I suppose I can manage for one night!’ Arianwyn sighed. ‘I’d best go and break the good news!’

  As Arianwyn wandered back along Kettle Lane she could already picture the grimace on Miss Newam’s face as she explained the temporary accommodation plan.

  The lights of the Spellorium were on but it suddenly didn’t feel as welcoming as it usually did. It was odd to think of Miss Newam being in there. Would she be snooping through drawers and complaining about this and that to Colin? ‘Oh, heavens, the snotling nest!’ Arianwyn moaned to herself loudly, certain Miss Newam would have something to say about that.

  Through the Spellorium window she saw Colin making tea by the small black stove that was burning cheerfully. Miss Newam sat beside it, still in her coat, clutching her bag as though she were waiting for a train. Bob inched carefully towards her, body flattened against the floor, clearly fascinated. Arianwyn watched as the moon hare sniffed at her boot and Miss Newam yelped, nearly jumping out of her seat, sending the spirit creature skittering around in circles.

  Arianwyn steeled herself and opened the front door.

  ‘Well?’ Miss Newam’s head shot up as soon as the door opened and the bell charm sang out. Her hair, coiled in tight plaits on her head, was all wispy and frizzy and her thick spectacles were firmly positioned on her sharp nose.

  Arianwyn took a deep breath, wondering how to explain.

  ‘Oh, I should have known!’ Miss Newam groaned. ‘There aren’t any rooms, are there?’

  ‘Not for this evening, no. I’m sorry. You’re all booked from tomorrow, though.’ Arianwyn turned to shut the door as Miss Newam continued.

  ‘And so, where are we going to stay . . .’

  Arianwyn tried to explain. ‘Well, I thought—’

  ‘I suppose we’ll be sleeping out in the street? Or perhaps the Great Wood!’ Miss Newam shrieked. ‘What is Miss Gribble’s marvellous plan?’

  ‘You’re . . .’ Just spit it out, Arianwyn told herself. ‘Staying here tonight.’ She made her voice as bright as she could. ‘Mrs Archer is sending some blankets and things across from the inn.’

  Miss Newam’s only response was a very loud snort, and then she stared around the Spellorium in horror as though it was the bottom of a sewer, and a very full one at that! ‘Here?’ Her voice was a hoarse whisper now. ‘Sleep . . . here?’

  ‘Well, there is the apartment upstairs,’ Colin offered. ‘You wouldn’t have to sleep in the Spellorium itself—’

  Miss Newam turned sharply and caught Colin with her hard eyes. ‘And precisely how do you know about the “apartment upstairs”?’

  Colin blushed.

  Thankfully, at that moment the door burst wide open, banging against the wall. A walking pile of assorted and slightly dusty blankets, sheets and pillows wobbled into the Spellorium. A muffled voice that sounded like Salle’s said: ‘Aunt Grace said you needed these as soon as possible?’ Bob scampered forward from his hiding place and ran in tight circles around her feet.

  Uncle Mat followed behind with a folded contraption of metal springs and strips of canvas. ‘Where d’you want this, Wyn?’ he asked brightly. He nodded a greeting to Colin and Miss Newam.

  Miss Newam stood abruptly. ‘Absolutely ridiculous to think that it is acceptable for me, in my position, to be sleeping above a Spellorium!’ She marched to the stairs, still muttering angrily as she went up into the apartment.

  ‘Crikey, who’s that?’ Uncle Mat asked, pulling a face and placing the camp bed on the floor.

  ‘Don’t ask!’ Arianwyn sighed. Tiredness overcame her and she suddenly felt like a small, hopeless apprentice all over again. Everything she had faced seemed to pale into insignificance besides Miss Newam’s utter disapproval.

  She rested her head against the polished counter-top and closed her eyes.

  Chapter 13

  A TALENT FOR CHARMS

  h, there you are,’ Miss Newam snapped as Arianwyn hurried into the Spellorium. It had been a week since Miss Newam and Colin had arrived in Lull. The mayor had promised them some space in the town hall, but until that was ready they were both working in the Spellorium.

  Colin was hunched over some charts of the Great Wood. He smiled and waved.

  Miss Newam continued. ‘My goodness, you’re entirely covered in – actually what is it you’re covered in, Miss Gribble? What have you been doing?’

  Arianwyn glanced down at herself; she was covered in messy blue smears. ‘Harvesting covia berries – they needed bringing in before the first frosts.’ She raised the bucket she was carrying. ‘I’ll need to dry them first, but they’ll be ready to use in a week.’

  ‘I see,’ Miss Newam said, but she sounded entirely bored.

  Colin smiled and indicated a large mug and the teapot. Arianwyn felt a surge of gratitude. She wiped her blue-stained fingers on her skirt and took the mug, smiling. ‘Any news on when we can set off on our expedition?’ she asked.

  ‘As it happens I was just going to call the C.W.A. to see when . . .’ Miss Newam glanced around the Spellorium.

  ‘Are you looking for something, Miss Newam?’

  ‘Yes – where’s the telephone?’

  ‘There isn’t one,’ Arianwyn said, sipping gratefully on the mug of tea.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The nearest phone is the public one on Old Town Road.’

  ‘A public telephone?’ Miss Newam asked. She turned slowly to face Arianwyn. ‘I cannot be expected to use a public telephone to carry out official, and I might add, secret, C.W.A. business. That’s quite out of the question!’

  Arianwyn sighed. ‘You could ask Aunt Grace – I sometimes use the telephone at the Blue Ox.’

  ‘I can’t quite believe that I have to use a phone in a public bar!’ Miss Newam fumed.

  ‘Or you could ask the mayor or Miss Prynce if you could use one in the town hall? I’m sure they would be only too happy to help! You could check on when your office there might be ready, as well.’ She couldn’t wait for Miss Newam to move out of the Spellorium. Secretly she thought Miss Newam and the mayor would quickly annoy one another.

  ‘Well, I suppose I’ve no alternative,’ Miss Newam responded, a sour look on her face. She pulled her coat on and headed towards the door.

  Arianwyn sighed and rested against the counter, idly playing with an open drawer of fine tiny temerin seeds. They made a reassuring sound as they tumbled through her fingers. She started to feel a little calmer.

  She looked up as the door opened and the bell charm sounded. Miss Newam had come face to face with Miss Delafield on the doorstep. The two women eyed each other carefully. Miss Delafield towered over Miss Newam but apparently didn’t intimidate the smaller woman, who stood her ground.

  ‘Ah, you must be the legendary Miss Delafield,’ said Miss Newam, her mouth twisting a little. ‘I’d heard you were still incapacitated?’ She sniffed. ‘I’m Hortensia Newam from the C.W.A.’

  Miss Delafield glanced over at Arianwyn and then back at Miss Newam, leaning heavily on her walking stick. ‘I’ve heard so much about you, Miss Newam, and don’t you worry: I’ll be right as rain in no time. Just you watch!’

  ‘I was just on my way to see the mayor,’ Miss Newam said, and without any further comment she barged past Miss Delafield and walked off, nearly unbalancing the district supervisor.

  ‘She’s so rude!’ Colin gasped, burying his head in his hands.

  Miss Delafield hobbled inside, her leg still wrapped in a bright white cast, her walking stick clicking against the floorboards. A small wicker basket swung at her side. ‘Arianwyn dear!’ she called out in her booming voice.

  ‘Miss Delafield!’ Arianwyn moved quickly across the Spellorium and was surprised when she was caught up in a hug from her supervisor. She smelt of engine fumes and peppermints.

  ‘Now then, dear, let me get a good look at you.’ She held Arianwyn at arm’s length and studied her carefully for a few moments. ‘You look well. Your hair’s a little longer. How’ve yo
u been?’ She paused for a moment and sniffed the air. ‘I say, is that . . . snotling? I think you might have a nest, dear!’

  Arianwyn flushed as she remembered the nest in the storeroom. She’d still not done anything about it. ‘Just a little one,’ she explained, but Miss Delafield wasn’t really listening.

  ‘Oh my goodness – young Mr Twine as well! Tell me, has the whole of the C.W.A. been relocated to Lull for some reason?’ She broke into a loud laugh and clapped Colin on the back. He staggered forward a little under the force.

  ‘Hello again, Miss Delafield. How are you?’

  ‘I’ll be all the better when I get this wretched thing off my leg!’ Miss Delafield smacked her walking stick against the white cast and grinned. ‘Next week, the doctor said, but in the meantime the whole district is falling into a total shambles, you can’t imagine.’ She eased herself into the chair beside the stove and Bob scampered across the floor to sniff at her cast and then jumped into her lap, purring with delight. ‘I’ve had five witches retire in the last few weeks and no sign of a replacement yet from the C.W.A. I was going to ask if you might be able to pick up some extra duties—’

  ‘Oh, Miss Delafield—’ Arianwyn started to speak but broke off, wondering exactly what she would or could say to her supervisor without revealing the High Elder’s mission.

  ‘But I was told you have some study to assist Miss Newam with, samples from inside the wood, is it?’ She gave a loud barking laugh ‘Whatever will they come up with next!’

  ‘Yes, that’s correct,’ Arianwyn said; she didn’t hear any conviction in her own voice at all and felt her cheeks grow warm.

  ‘Hmmm, well, blasted waste of time if you ask me – not that anyone ever does!’ She stroked the moon hare’s long ears and smiled up at Arianwyn. ‘But I am pleased you’re back, dear. Oh, and I have a little something for you.’ She lifted the basket from the floor beside her chair.

  It looked a little like a basket a fisherman might carry: rounded, with long leather straps and a brass buckle that gleamed. Arianwyn felt a small flutter around her heart when she saw her name engraved on a piece of leather stitched to the top.

  ‘Had a chum of mine in Kingsport make this just for you,’ Miss Delafield beamed. ‘As a sort of “well done” gift.’

  Arianwyn undid the buckle and the front of the basket dropped forwards with a gentle jingle. Inside were several rows of small labelled containers, and strapped into place was a selection of charm bottles and globes of various shapes and sizes.

  ‘I thought it would come in handy when you’re out and about and don’t have all your charm bits and pieces available.’

  ‘Miss Delafield, it’s wonderful! Look, Colin!’ Arianwyn beamed, showing the case to Colin.

  ‘Well now, just make good use of it, dear. Never known a witch with such a talent for charms as you. And perhaps it will come in handy when you are off collecting your samples . . .’ Something in Miss Delafield’s voice told Arianwyn she wasn’t convinced by the High Elder’s cover story and she felt her knot of unease loosen just a little.

  ‘And I’m sorry about Gimma coming back,’ Miss Delafield added. ‘I wasn’t given much of an option, if I’m honest. There’s such a shortage of capable witches that it’s every man, or rather witch, to the pump at the moment, dear. And who knows, once we’ve trained her up she might be half useful for something. She’ll be carefully supervised by both of us. How much trouble can she get into?’

  ‘That’s precisely what I’m worried about!’

  ‘But you don’t mind too much do you, dear?’ Miss Delafield stared hard at Arianwyn. Her green eyes seemed to bore through her very soul.

  ‘No of course not. Not at all!’ Arianwyn said brightly.

  ‘Well, that’s good, then, because I think she’s due back in the next day or two.’

  ‘How . . . lovely.’

  What was one more little lie?

  Chapter 14

  THE TEA PARTY

  alle and Arianwyn were eating bowls of Aunt Grace’s best beef stew by the fire in the Blue Ox, rain pattering gently against the dark windows. Arianwyn was finishing her story about the harvest bogglins as Salle giggled and gasped.

  ‘Well, Farmer Eames was singing your praises to anyone who would listen yesterday evening so I don’t think you have too much to worry about, Wyn!’ Salle laughed as she dipped her bread into the rich beef stew.

  The door opened and a hooded and broad figure swathed in a long raincoat walked slowly across the inn towards the table opposite Salle and Arianwyn. The figure shrugged off its all-encompassing dripping wet coat – revealing the mayor underneath.

  ‘Oh, hello, Mayor Belcher,’ Salle called.

  The mayor raised a hand in greeting but didn’t even glance at the two girls. He flopped into the seat and sighed. Arianwyn frowned at Salle in concern. The mayor usually had something to say about everything: it was unusual to see him so quiet.

  ‘Ask him if he’s all right,’ Salle hissed at Arianwyn.

  ‘You ask him!’ Arianwyn replied quickly. She’d not entirely forgiven the mayor for accosting her on her first day back in Lull and interrupting her breakfast plans.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. Fine!’ Salle muttered as she turned towards the mayor and tapped him gently on the shoulder. ‘Everything all right, Mayor Belcher?’

  ‘I’m sorry, what?’ the mayor asked, clearly lost in his own thoughts.

  ‘We just wondered if everything was all right?’ Salle repeated.

  ‘Oh no, Salle. Not really. You see Gimma is due back tomorrow and I have a meeting to go to over in Conniston and I won’t have time to prepare anything for her arrival.’

  ‘Like a parade?’ Salle asked. Arianwyn nearly spat her mouthful of stew across the room.

  ‘No, not a parade, Miss Bowen. You do come out with the oddest things sometimes,’ the mayor sighed. ‘I just wanted to give my niece a nice welcome back to Lull. I’m’ – he paused for a few seconds and then added in a hushed voice – ‘you see, I’m just so worried about her coming back. She must be anxious and I’m keen that she sees she has, well, friends here.’

  Salle and Arianwyn exchanged a brief glance. If there was one thing Gimma Alverston didn’t have in Lull it was friends. She’d put the whole town at risk and then tried to blame Arianwyn into the bargain.

  ‘I’m worried people will react badly to her return,’ the mayor continued. He looked pale and worried. ‘Do you think people will understand?’

  ‘I . . . I think we have to appreciate that a few people will feel differently about Gimma, but some time has passed now since the summer. Some people hopefully will have put it all behind them . . . perhaps,’ Arianwyn offered. She hoped Lull would be forgiving.

  He looked cheered by the thought of this. ‘Do you think so? Oh, I do hope you’re right, Miss Gribble.’ The mayor smiled and relaxed back into his seat for a moment but then lurched forwards, looking crestfallen again. ‘But I was going to have a little tea party for her when she arrived.’

  ‘Well, that sounds like a nice idea,’ Arianwyn said quickly, thinking that she couldn’t imagine anything worse than tea with Gimma.

  ‘But I won’t have time to get anything ready as I’ll be in Conniston all day, only just back in time for her arrival.’

  ‘Well, we could host it, couldn’t we, Wyn?’ Salle said, after an awkward pause.

  The mayor looked up and smiled, hope shining in his eyes.

  ‘What?’ Arianwyn was sure she hadn’t heard right. ‘Us . . . host a tea party . . . for Gimma?’

  Salle nodded as though it was the best idea anyone had ever had. ‘Yes!’

  ‘What are you doing?’ Arianwyn hissed, pulling her aside. ‘Don’t cause trouble, Salle!’

  ‘I’m not. I thought this might be a nice way to . . . you know, make things all right with Gimma.’

  Arianwyn knew that Salle wasn’t really capable of being devious; she was sure this was a genuine effort on Salle’s part. ‘Yes, of cour
se we’d like to help,’ she said, turning back to the mayor, though she couldn’t believe her own words.

  ‘Oh, would you? That would be so very kind of you both.’ The mayor beamed. ‘It needn’t be anything grand, just some sandwiches, cakes, scones of course, cordial, perhaps a trifle? Just a few people – the three of us, perhaps Miss Delafield or Miss Newam, and Mr Twine maybe?’ He got to his feet, his cheeks pink once more. ‘You are both so very kind to do this. I really do appreciate it.’ He stooped down and pulled Arianwyn and Salle into a rather awkward and slightly too tight hug. ‘Thank you! I knew I could count on you!’

  The next afternoon found Arianwyn and Salle busily baking cakes, biscuits and scones in Arianwyn’s too-small kitchen. ‘Did you check the scones?’ Arianwyn called to Salle, who was flicking through a magazine as a worrying amount of black smoke plumed from the tiny oven behind her. She herself was hastily tidying the apartment, which mostly consisted of hiding things under cushions or under the bed or in cupboards. She glanced at the clock: it was nearly five and Gimma and the mayor would be arriving any second.

  ‘Salle, the scones!’ Arianwyn called again.

  ‘Oh, drat!’ Salle spun round and pulled open the oven door. More smoke billowed out into the apartment.

  ‘Open a window, quickly!’ Arianwyn called as she tried to hold everything in a cupboard and shut the doors at the same time.

  ‘I hope we’re not too early?’ Miss Newam’s razor-sharp voice cut through the smoky haze of the apartment just as Arianwyn slammed the door shut.

  ‘No, not at all,’ she lied. ‘We were just taking the scones out of the oven, weren’t we, Salle?’

  Salle nodded; she held a tray of scones in her oven-gloved hands. One row seemed to be entirely scorched. Miss Newam waited by the top of the stairs in her usual ill-fitting grey suit. Colin stood beside her, his hair brushed out of his eyes, a blue bow tie wonkily secured at his neck. He blushed and said, ‘Hi, Arianwyn. Thanks for inviting us.’

  ‘Shall I put the kettle on?’ Arianwyn asked, rushing to the stove.