A Spell in the Country

by Heide Goody

  Jenny wasn’t sure if Norma was referring to bras, clothes in general, breasts or even possibly whales, and was starting to think that her long stiff drink had gone to her head when the barman came over with more alcohol.

  “Thanks, George,” said Caroline. She winked at him. “Let’s move onto the cocktails after these, eh?”

  “Let’s move onto the cocktails after these,” agreed the barman.

  “So, what is this course all about then?” asked Dee.

  “Ur, the usual tripe about self-improvement and self-actualisation,” said Sabrina.

  “I’m not doing it if there’s any of that meditation nonsense,” said Norma. “If I wanted to sit still with my eyes closed I could just get forty winks at home.”

  “Maybe it’s about discovering your inner woman,” said Shazam.

  Norma snorted.

  “Ah,” said Sabrina. “Sweat lodges and running around naked in the woods.”

  An excited little grin burst through Shazam’s lips.

  “I’m game if you are,” said Caroline, coyly.

  “I’m all for getting back to nature,” said Dee nervously, “but I’m not sure about the whole naked thing.”

  “Quite,” said Norma.

  “Doesn’t matter,” said Jenny.

  “It doesn’t?”

  “Nope,” said Jenny. “Any training course, whatever it is, you always judge on the quality of the catering. And the accommodation.”

  “I’ve not even checked out the buffet yet,” said Shazam.

  “Ur, cheese and ham sandwiches, pork pies and a dozen unlabelled variations on ‘pastry surprise,’” said Sabrina.

  “That sounds nice,” said Shazam.

  “I’m sure a sea of brown passes for a king’s banquet in – where was it you were from?”

  “Melton Mowbray,” said Shazam, failing to spot Sabrina’s dripping sarcasm.

  “In my book,” said Caroline, giving Sabrina a cold glare, “I judge a course by the quality of the company.”

  Sabrina’s answering smile was brittle and hard.

  “It doesn’t really matter, does it?” said Dee. “This course is free. So, I’m sure we’ll be happy with whatever comes our way.”

  “I do like free stuff,” said Shazam.

  Norma held up her glass and peered into its bubbly heart as she swirled it. “I predict several weeks of tedium, interspersed with pain, mud and the faint prospect of a messy death at the hands of each other.”

  Jenny stared at Norma, a horrible suspicion forming in her mind.

  “L’enfer, c’est les autres,” said Sabrina.

  “Well, at least it’s a change of scene,” said Dee. “I just hope they cope at the shop without me.”

  “What kind of charity shop is it?” asked Shazam.

  “The Shelter for Unloved Animals,” said Dee.

  “I love all animals,” said Shazam. “Although Mr Beetlebane is my absolute darling.”

  “Mr excuse me?” said Caroline.

  “Mr Beetlebane,” said Shazam and stroked the limp and patchy stole around her neck. It stretched out its claws and yawned.

  “Christ it’s alive!” exclaimed Caroline, sweeping several glasses off the table as she jumped back.

  Sabrina leaned in with surprising speed. In a twinkle she had a bunch of glasses in her grasp with hardly a dropped spilled.

  Mr Beetlebane meowed, gave each and every one of them a half-second evil eye and then curled up to sleep once more.

  Jenny shook her head and sighed.

  “Startled you, huh?” said Norma.

  “It’s not that,” said Jenny wearily.

  “What then?” said Dee.

  She gave them a frank look. “Am I just going to have to come out and say it?”

  “Say what?” said Shazam.

  Jenny shook her head. “We’re all bloody witches, aren’t we?”

  There was a long, silent moment.

  “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, poppet,” said Dee.

  “As a joke it’s in very bad taste,” said Sabrina.

  “Really?” said Jenny. “You just cast a restorative charm on those glasses and you clearly know your herb lore better than Dee.”

  “I only know what I read in books,” said Dee.

  “Yes, but you have an uncanny ability to conjure clothes that fit perfectly.”

  “Mere conjecture,” said Norma.

  “Says the woman who actually just did a fortune-telling in prosecco dregs. Impressive, by the way.”

  Norma couldn’t help but give a prim but incriminating “Thank you.”

  “Shazam,” said Jenny.

  “I’m not a witch.”

  “You’re called Shazam, for one. It’s one step away from Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo. You have a black cat. You actually dress like a witch.”

  “This is purple. Witches dress in black.”

  “You dress like a purple witch. All you’re missing is the pointy hat.”

  “It’s in the car,” murmured Shazam.

  “Witches, huh?” said Caroline.

  “Don’t think I didn’t spot it,” said Jenny. “You had the bar chap completely under your spell.”

  “I don’t need magic to do that,” said Caroline.

  “But it doesn’t hurt to use a little I bet.”

  Caroline gave a little harrumph. “And what’s your party piece then?”

  “Staying one step ahead of everyone else in the room,” said Jenny.

  No one spoke for a good few seconds and then Dee said, “I think that answers our question about what this course is all about.”

  “Ur, I’m sure there’s not much you can teach me about witchcraft,” said Sabrina.

  “We’ll ask them to keep it simple for you,” said Caroline. “No witch left behind.”

  Shazam giggled and then apologised to Sabrina.

  “I’ve been around the block a few times myself,” said Norma. “I know Effie Fray of old and she’s no guru. You’ll need to get up pretty early in the morning to teach me something about the craft I don’t already know.”

  “And speaking of getting up early,” said Jenny, pushing her chair back.

  “Really?” said Caroline. “It’s not even nine.”

  “It’s been a long day,” said Jenny. Like a switch flipped, she suddenly wanted to cry.

  Dee touched Jenny’s arm; that only made it worse. “Sleep well, poppet.”

  Jenny turned away quickly and then realised she had not taken any food back for Kay.

  “Buffet!” she declared loudly to dispel her tears, and piled a plate high with unidentifiable brown food things.

  She took deep calming breaths as she walked down the corridor to their rooms. Jizzimus was outside the bedroom door as instructed, practising break dance moves.

  “Good evening, guard-imp,” said Jenny and threw him a buffet nugget which he caught in his thorn-like teeth. “How has she been?”

  “Quiet as a church mouse that’s bin poisoned and then stabbed, vicious-like,” said Jizzimus.

  “Good.”

  Jenny entered the room and almost dropped the food when she saw that the room and Kay’s bed in particular appeared to be empty. A moment later she saw the sheets and bed cover down the side of the bed. Kay had wedged herself into the space on the floor between the bed and the radiator, almost managing to slide under the bed. She was asleep, arms wrapped around her.

  “Are you gunna eat that?” said Jizzimus.

  Jenny looked at him, unsure if he was referring to the buffet food or the sleeping girl. Both appeared appetising but Jenny knew she would regret it either way. She might have had little to eat that day and too much to drink but unidentifiable room temperature buffet was rarely a good choice.

  She put the plate down, undressed silently and slipped into the other bed.

  “You smell like Bertie Bassett,” said Jizzimus.

  “Long story,” said Jenny.

  She lay in the dark and stared at the ceiling,
knowing that sleep wouldn’t come soon enough.

  Her feet smelled of liquorice but the room itself was filled with the enticing chocolate smell of a young woman, clinging to the last vestiges of childhood. The smell – bitter, edging towards sour – was distracting and unnerving.

  “Do not help yourself to the mini bar,” she muttered to herself.

  “Can’t sleep?” said Jizzimus.

  “No.”

  “Could perform my latest rap for you.”

  “No thanks.”

  “It’s got a funkload of swears in it.”

  “I doubt it will help,” said Jenny and turned over.

  Chapter 2 – The Witches of Eastville

  Jenny approached breakfast the next morning with some concern. Meals in general were a concern. If anyone was going to spot her difficulties with iron, it would be other witches, and cutlery was a daily problem. She relaxed somewhat when she realised breakfast was a buffet style arrangement.

  “Morning,” said Dee. She was tucking into a bowl of porridge topped with everything the breakfast bar had to offer. Marshmallows and chocolate chips jostled for position on a mountain of sunflower seeds and blueberries.

  Jenny sat down beside her. “Morning.”

  “Where’s Kay?” asked Dee.

  “Still asleep. Yesterday was a long day,” said Jenny. She ripped into her croissant hungry.

  “She’s very young,” Dee said. “I get kids her age in the shop sometimes. It’s good training if they want to work in retail. Most of them spend at least a week trying to hide in the stock room so they don’t have to interact with the public. I can’t imagine how she must be feeling, knowing she’s here on a course with a load of witches.”

  Jenny looked down at her plate and sighed, searching for the right way to frame her answer. “Um, about that…”

  Dee’s eyes widened. “Oh my goodness. She still doesn’t know? How could she not know? It’s going to come up some time soon. Very soon. Oh dear. Do you think she’ll be allowed to stay when the organisers realise she isn’t a witch?”

  “I don’t know,” said Jenny. “I’ll think of something, I just need to keep a careful eye on her today.”

  “We both will, poppet,” said Dee. “You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

  Their first training session was in a separate building on the far side of grass covered rear grounds. When the seven of them were gathered after breakfast, Madison led them across misty lawns.

  Eastville Hall’s front aspect overlooked a large and busy garden, but to the rear it commanded a view of a lawn so vast that one might be tempted to call it a paddock, if it had any horses, or a field, if it wasn’t so well kept. Over a hundred metres wide, the lawn ran several hundred metres towards a long, brutally maintained hedge lined with beehives. Beyond, a patchwork of fields stretched away to the not so distant sea. The enormous garden was home to a row of greenhouses, two ponds, a small copse, a row of neatly spaced sheds which looked like misplaced beach huts, and their destination.

  Madison guided them into a round building: low and slightly decrepit looking, conceivably built as a large summer house, albeit by someone who hated summer and wanted to hide from it. They took their seats in a room which had been arranged as a classroom but looked as though its day job was storing things too shabby for the main house. Garden furniture cluttered one corner. A sad pile of mildewed books and board games gathered dust in another. A flip chart on which was a series of drawings was the only new and dust-free item in the room. The chairs were made of military green tubular steel with canvas seats and, despite their shabbiness, were surprisingly comfy.

  Jenny made sure Kay stayed close and generally away from the other witches.

  “It looks like our first activity is pin the tail on the donkey,” said Caroline with a raised eyebrow. The first diagram certainly looked like an oddly deformed horse.

  “I’ve seen that horse in the Unloved Animals calendar,” said Dee. “All sorts of animals end up there.”

  Jenny tried not to look at Jizzimus as he perched on the flipchart and scrutinised the drawing.

  “If I’m honest guv, this needs some improvement. Shall I give it a massive willy or what?”

  Jenny stared past him, at Shazam, who had pulled out a small jacket against the cool of the room. It looked as if it had been made by hand, in her trademark black and purple, but the fabric had a curious tufted appearance.

  “Ur, what is that … jacket made from?” asked Sabrina.

  “Is it chenille?” said Dee.

  “I knitted it myself from acrylic,” said Shazam, with a proud smile, “but I wove in cat hair from Mr Beetlebane for added warmth. And to capture his, you know, spirit.”

  Sabrina pulled a face. “It certainly does that.”

  “Does spirit mean smell?” Kay whispered to Jenny.

  Jenny shushed her. “Best behaviour,” she said. “Here comes the course leader. Behave and everything will be fine.”

  Kay looked baffled. “Why wouldn’t it be fine?”

  Jenny gripped her hand and wished that wicked witches could pray.

  Effie Fray moved to the head of the room and beamed at everyone. She’d dressed in a style that seemed consciously quirky. Red Converse baseball boots, a long corduroy skirt, and a Led Zeppelin T-shirt.

  “Hello everyone. The first morning of the course proper and I can’t tell you how excited I am to have you all together like this. I’ll explain a little bit about what we’re all doing here, we’ll do some sharing around the room, and then we’ll spend most of the day on our first practical exercise.”

  “Googly eyes and an ’at then, boss?” suggested Jizzimus, capering around the flip chart, pointing at the unfortunate equine. “Go on, we’ll all need a laugh if this old windbag’s gunna keep on like this.”

  “First of all,” continued Effie, “you’ll be fascinated to know what you all have in common. It may surprise you, so we’ll take things slowly. I don’t want to upset anyone. Just remember: we’re in a safe environment here.”

  She moved towards the flip chart. “Let’s consider this diagram for a moment. Anyone know what it is?”

  “A poor hard-working pony that got stuck in a thresher,” said Dee. “He was within a whisker of being put down, but the Shelter for Unloved Animals stepped in and paid the vet’s bills. It’s a good news story because he got a lovely new forever home when his wounds were healed, and now he’s just left with those scars.”

  Effie was silent for a moment. “Thank you, Dee. An oddly specific guess, but wrong. Anybody else? Yes, Sharon?”

  “Shaz—”

  “Yes, Sharon?”

  “Is it a quagga?” asked Shazam.

  “It is indeed!” said Effie with clear delight. “What do we know about quaggas, hmmm?”

  “Half horse, half zebra, now extinct,” said Sabrina.

  “Well, the quagga was a distinct subspecies, but that will do. The key word there is ‘extinct’. How do we suppose they got that way?”

  “Did they all die?” asked Norma. Jenny could see no trace of sarcasm, but perhaps Norma had mastered the art of keeping a straight face.

  “Well yes, they did,” said Effie, both pointedly and pointlessly. “But what caused it?”

  “Did they all get hunted by tooled-up Victorians?” asked Jenny.

  “Yes, that’s right,” said Effie. “Plus they captured some to put in zoos and menageries. Of course, when it was too late, the last remaining specimens were few and far between; isolated in various collections. They died alone and miserable, probably not even knowing that other quaggas existed.”

  Dee sniffed loudly and dabbed at her eyes. “Poor souls.”

  “Yes, poor souls indeed,” said Effie. “Now let’s move on to what the quagga has to do with us. What if I were to tell you—”

  “Is this where you tell us we’re all witches?” asked Caroline.

  Effie’s face underwent a minor malfunction as her thunder was stolen.
r />   “We already know,” added Norma haughtily.

  “Witches?” whispered Kay. Her head whipped around to inspect the women.

  Jenny squeezed the girl’s hand tighter.

  “Goodness me,” said Effie. “And how did that come to light?”

  “Little Miss Brainiac over here worked it out,” said Caroline, indicating Jenny.

  Effie smoothed her skirts and looking thoughtfully at Jenny for a moment. She cleared her throat and addressed them all. “Well that does save us some time. You’ve obviously all accepted it and taken it in your stride. Very good news.”

  “Witches,” Kay breathed to herself.

  “So let’s compare witches with quaggas.”

  “Both hunted by Victorians?” suggested Dee.

  “Both got a taste for ’orse dong?” suggested Jizzimus.

  “Extinction,” said Sabrina.

  “Exactly,” said Effie. “Witches are in danger of extinction. We have lived in isolation for too many years.”

  “Are you going to breed from us?” asked Shazam, her face alight with both horror and excitement.

  “Easy there, Cobwebs,” murmured Caroline.

  “Oh dear me, no. No! That isn’t what this is all about. What? No!” A flustered Effie fanned herself with her notes. “The thing that threatens our existence is ignorance. Ignorance and isolation. Witches are naturally secretive. We like to stay below the radar. The way to fight back against our global and national decline is simply to get together to share what we know and support each other. I guarantee that everyone in this room will know something that all of the others don’t. We can learn from each other and maximise our potential.”

  “I can maximise anything me,” yelled Jizzimus, grabbing his crotch and thrusting across the floor in front of Effie. “They should all get a load of me doing my sexy-dance. Tell ’em about it boss, go on!”

  Jenny ignored him. Her mental attention was entirely focused on the poor teenager beside her. What was Kay thinking right now?

  “Maximising our potential?” asked Sabrina. “Ur, specifically?”

  “Well, as we move through the course, we will all explore the different aspects of witchcraft,” said Effie. “We can exchange knowledge; hone our skills and share the journey towards becoming a better witch. At the end of the course I hope to be able to guide you all on your next steps out in the world.”