A Spell in the Country

by Heide Goody

  Jenny regarded Shazam’s pink and sticky arm, and the pink sticky beard she had also acquired. “You have just eaten a ton of candyfloss.”

  “I ’ad a little nibble too, while she weren’t lookin’,” said Jizzimus.

  The fish and chips arrived before Caroline came back. The waitress plonked three oval platters piled with cod, chips and mushy peas on the table, and a small mountain of knives and forks. Steel knives and forks.

  “Don’t you do the little wooden fork things?” Jenny asked her.

  “Only for takeaway,” said the waitress.

  “You can eat the chips wiv your fingers,” said Jizzimus. “An’ the fish. I’ll ’ave the mushy peas.”

  “I don’t like mushy peas anyway,” said Jenny. “They look like some kind of bacterial infection.”

  “Oh, I’ll have those.” Shazam happily scooped them off Jenny’s plate onto hers.

  “Greedy bitch stole my peas,” sulked Jizzimus.

  “I thought you weren’t hungry,” said Jenny.

  “Yes, but it’s mushy peas, isn’t it?” said Shazam. “Can’t let them go to waste.”

  The monkey next to Shazam fell over as though lunging for the precious peas. Shazam righted the monkey and tucked in.

  Caroline appeared.

  “Where’ve you been?” asked Jenny.

  “Bought you a present.” Caroline passed a folded t-shirt to Jenny. “You’ve got a big rip in that top. I saw this at the stand next door, thought of you and…”

  Jenny unfolded the t-shirt. “Thank you, Caroline, that’s very thoughtful. Oh, and look—” She turned the printed front to show Shazam: WHORE IN TRAINING.

  Shazam snorted with laughter and sprayed her plate with mushy peas.

  “You thought of me?” said Jenny.

  “Yup,” said Caroline.

  “Thanks.”

  Dee and Kay bought ice-creams from a man on an old-fashioned trike with a front-mounted ice box. They sat down on a concrete bench at the point where the promenade met the sand, the funfair behind them. To their left, on the other side of a sea front car park, was Skegness Pier. A mile or more out to sea, rows of sluggish wind turbines turned.

  “Is it brown all the way out?” asked Kay.

  Dee licked her rum and raisin cone thoughtfully. “I’m sure it turns blue, or at least a respectable grey, before it gets to the other side. Didn’t you see the sea when … when you were brought over to England?”

  Kay stopped nibbling the flake in her 99. “How much do you know?”

  “Not much, sweetness,” Dee replied. “I only know what I saw the day you came into my shop. And, yes, Caroline told me that someone had – sold you, was it?”

  Kay nodded.

  “I don’t know the details,” said Dee and then, thinking, “Does Jenny?”

  Kay shook her head. “I don’t want to get her into trouble by telling her more than she needs to know. I was transported in a box, a big plastic box yeah, from Porto to England. In the back of a lorry like—” she waved her hands at an articulated lorry in the car park “—like that one. Hardly any air. There was just a crack in the side of the box.” She held her hands, together as though in prayer, an inch or two apart. “And, you know, all I could see through that crack was – oh, God! It’s him!”

  “Who?” said Dee, swivelling around.

  Kay pressed herself up against Dee and pointed to the articulated lorry in the car park. “Him!”

  Dee looked. The lip-enhancing cream had worn off and the man’s facial burns had healed a mite in the intervening week and a bit, but there couldn’t be many bald-headed men with a face that was fifty percent glazed ham pink.

  “What’s he doing here?” said Dee.

  “It can’t be good,” said Kay. Dee could hear the fear in her voice.

  “Are you sure he’s a policeman?”

  “He had a badge. And he brought the police to Jenny’s house.”

  “What’s he doing here? Is he looking for you?”

  “It can’t be a coincidence.”

  The two witches lowered themselves, using the back of the bench as cover, and watched. The policeman walked to the rear of the lorry, talking to a man in crumpled overalls who Dee assumed was the lorry driver.

  “What do you think they’re talking about?” said Dee.

  “We could sneak over and find out,” said Kay. “Caroline knew a spell to change her appearance. Can you…?”

  “I wish,” said Dee. “I don’t think they’re friends, do you? Looks like the copper is telling the other one what to do, like he’s his boss or something.”

  The lorry driver went to the rear doors and flung one open. He gestured inside, talking all the while.

  “Is he dropping something off? Or picking it up?” said Dee. “Ow!”

  Kay had gripped her arm painfully. The teenager’s eyes were wide with alarm.

  “Look.”

  “What?”

  “Look!” Kay was pointing frantically. “The boxes in the truck. The big plastic boxes!”

  “You mean…?”

  Kay nodded grimly. “We have to rescue them.”

  Jenny returned from the toilets, modelling her dubious new t-shirt. “What do you think?”

  “It fits,” said Shazam kindly.

  The monkey keeled over as though in appreciation. Shazam set it upright.

  “Totally suits you,” said Caroline.

  “Dunno why it says ‘in trainin’’,” said Jizzimus. “Reckon you could turn pro any time.”

  “Thanks,” said Jenny. “Just so you know, I am wearing this ironically.”

  “If you wish,” said Caroline. She pushed aside her finished fish and chips. “Now, I suppose we had better try to find Cobwebs’ cat.”

  “Mr Beetlebane is fine,” said Shazam. “He’s just having a nap somewhere.”

  “Ye-es,” said Caroline. “Maybe we ought to find him, all the same.”

  “Where shall we look?” said Jenny.

  “This is meant to be a fortune-telling trip,” said Caroline. “Maybe we ought to divine where ol’ Beetlebum is.”

  “And when that fails, we go look,” agreed Jenny. “Okay. What method shall we use?”

  Shazam rummaged through her carrier bags of purchases. “Zoffner the Astute said we should look within so— Ah!” She pulled out a large box.

  “My First Ouija Board,” Jenny read.

  “It’s purple and got cats on it,” said Shazam, as if that was all the justification she needed.

  Zoffner took the card from the top of the deck and turned it over. He gave it the most cursory of glances. “You are here, in Lincolnshire, under some form of duress.”

  “Isn’t everyone?” said Norma.

  “Some of us think the place has mellow and rustic charm.”

  “Like a pig pen.” Norma flipped the next card. The Three of Coins. “You lied about having your own house. You live in a caravan.”

  “Don’t be bound by preconceptions. A caravan is a house.”

  “It has wheels.”

  “They’re both punctured.”

  “It’s not a house,” she said firmly.

  Zoffner flipped a card. “You see yourself as champion in the fight against evil.”

  “One tries.”

  “You … you believe in wicked witches?” He blinked. “Actual wicked witches?”

  “No need to sound like that,” she retorted. “You’re the fool for not believing.”

  “And who is Lesley-Ann Faulkner?” he asked.

  “A wicked witch.”

  His fingers brushed the edge of the card. “So why do I see a trippy flaming tree monster?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “They take an age to bring out the food at the local Harvest Fayre pub. Maybe you’d like to discuss it over—?”

  Norma turned another card and said, without even looking at it, “Your wife got the real house in the divorce settlement.”

  “It was always in her name. I don
’t believe in property. She was the sensible one.”

  “You don’t say.”

  Zoffner flipped a card. “You— Oh.” He peered at the card closer, lifting his tinted specs to see it better. “You have met a wicked witch recently. Today, in fact.”

  “Have I?” said Norma. She leaned in to peer at the card. He smiled softly at her.

  “Didn’t you know that, Norma?”

  She gave him a fiercely irritated look. “I— where does it show that?”

  He turned over another card to cover the previous one. It was the Queen of Cups. Norma looked at it.

  “Your wife was a witch?”

  “What can I say?” said Zoffner. “I’m drawn to powerful and foxy ladies.”

  Norma was flustered. Her undergarments suddenly felt too tight. Restrictive rather than supportive.

  Zoffner flipped another card. “You have been lonely for a long time, Norma. You were sent away somewhere.” He looked at her in surprise. “Were you in prison, Norma?”

  She put her hands over his and the cards to stop him. “I’m not lonely,” she said, stiffly. “There’s a difference between lonely and alone.”

  His gaze met hers. “Not much difference. Trust me.”

  “No,” she said quietly.

  “The great thing about two lonely people,” said Zoffner, “is that they can each offer what the other needs most.”

  “That’s very astute.”

  “Groovy.”

  They cleared the table and set out the My First Ouija Board. The three women each put a finger on the glass pointer.

  “How does this work?” asked Caroline.

  “Is it even witchcraft?” said Jenny.

  “Of course, it is,” said Dee. “We just ask a question and the board tells us the answer.”

  “I don’t believe in ghostly spirits giving us answers from beyond,” said Caroline. “It’s stupid.”

  “No, it’s our unconscious minds that reach out and divine an answer using the ideomotor effect,” said Shazam.

  “You mean our fingers push it,” said Jenny.

  “Yes.” Shazam cleared her throat. “Ouija board. Is Mr Beetlebane still alive?”

  The pointer, with no perceptible effort, glided over to YES.

  “Is he hurt?”

  The pointer flew to NO, despite Jizzimus trying to stop it by standing on the board.

  The monkey toy fell over.

  “That monkey keeps falling over,” said Jenny.

  “Shush,” said Caroline. “This is fun.”

  “Is he close?” asked Shazam.

  The pointer drifted near the YES then the NO and then moved towards the letters.

  “I,” read Shazam. “N. In. He’s in somewhere. S.”

  The fallen monkey shifted on the seat and twitched its shoulders.

  “Okay. That monkey just moved,” said Jenny.

  Caroline looked. “No. That monkey did not just move.”

  “It did!”

  “Shhh,” said Shazam. “I. In Si… D. Inside? He’s inside somewhere.”

  The monkey’s torso rippled.

  “Look!” said Jenny.

  “What?” said Caroline and then, “Shit!”

  The monkey rolled over onto its back.

  Shazam gave a little squeal. “It’s possessed!”

  The monkey’s T-shirt heaved and pulsated.

  “It’s goin’ all alien chest-burster,” said Jizzimus, hiding behind Jenny.

  “This is insane,” said Caroline.

  The monkey gave a final heave and a long black limb shot out from under the t-shirt. For half a moment, Jenny thought she was witnessing the hatching of some monstrous spider egg before getting a grip on herself. “It’s the cat!” she shouted in relief.

  With a Meow! Mr Beetlebane crawled out from inside the monkey, covered in white foam stuffing.

  Jizzimus chortled. “And that, my girl, is ’ow babies is born.”

  Shazam dragged her scruffy mog onto her lap. Jenny inspected the huge rip in the monkey’s belly. “He must have crawled inside while we were with Zoffy-whatsisface.”

  “We’ve had him with us all this time,” said Shazam.

  “Look within,” said Caroline with a sigh. “Do you think he knew all along?”

  Jenny shrugged. “Well, that’s enough excitement. Maybe we ought to try to find the others. I wonder where Kay and Dee are.”

  Shazam plucked a cube of foam from Mr Beetlebane’s ear. “Let’s ask the Ouija board.”

  “I found that last experience a little freaky,” said Caroline.

  “It got results,” said Shazam.

  “Fine,” sighed Jenny.

  Jizzimus had dragged the monkey toy under the table and was busy disembowelling it, muttering something about “If the cat can do it—”

  Jenny put her finger on the Ouija pointer. “Ouija board. Where are Dee and Kay?”

  The pointer hesitated a fraction and then drifted off.

  “B,” said Shazam. “Beach. No. U. R. N.”

  “Burns unit?” said Caroline.

  “E,” said Shazam. “D. Burned. M. A. N. Man.”

  The pointer stopped.

  “Burned man,” said Jenny. “Is that the name of a pub?”

  “Or is it she’s with a man who’s been burned?”

  Jenny suddenly tightened with fear. “I know a man who was burned recently.”

  “So do I,” said Caroline.

  Kay gave a jump, got one knee onto the trailer’s floor, and levered herself into the back of the truck. Dee stayed outside, nervously keeping guard. She realised she really, really needed a wee.

  “Hurry,” she hissed.

  “Are they still in the cab?” Kay hissed back.

  Dee poked her head round the side and looked along the length of the trailer. The driver’s door was shut. “Think so.”

  There were eight crates in the back. Eight potential trafficked individuals. Kay struggled with the interlocking lid of the nearest. With far more noise than Dee would have liked, threw it open. “It’s empty.” She opened the next. “Empty!”

  “Maybe they all are,” said Dee.

  “Just keep an eye out.”

  Dee popped her head around the other side of the truck and saw the shaven-headed policeman coming towards her. A barrage of half-formed warnings, ideas, doubts and flight instincts rattled through Dee’s brain. She dared to hope he didn’t recognise her from their ten second encounter in the charity shop.

  Loud enough for Kay to hear, she said: “Oh, hello. I wonder if you could help me.”

  “What were you doing back there?” he demanded.

  Dee stepped towards him. In the narrow space between the truck and the car next to it, he wouldn’t be able to get past without squashing her aside.

  “I was looking for someone to help me, poppet,” she said. “I was looking for the, um, the pier.”

  He gave a little, irritated shake of the head. “And?”

  “And I wondered if you knew where it was.”

  He looked at her as though she was stupid. That was good. If he thought she was stupid then he might not suspect she was up to anything. He jerked a thumb at the building directly behind him. “That’s it.”

  Dee made a show of looking at it intently. “Is it?”

  “It says Skegness Pier on the side. In lightbulbs.”

  “Oh. I did wonder. Is it the only pier?”

  There was a thump of trainers on tarmac, Kay jumping out of the lorry. The policeman’s eyes flicked; he’d heard it too.

  “Excuse me.” Gently but implacably he pushed her aside.

  Dee stumbled to her knees. She put a hand on his feet and silently mended his shoelaces: mended them into a single mass of woven thread. The policeman shoved her up and out of his way. Dee was not a cruel person, but the look of confusion on his face as he fell over his own feet was delightful to behold.

  She dashed to the trailer doors.

  “They’re all empty!” said Kay.<
br />
  “We have to go!” urged Dee.

  “You!” yelled the prostrate policeman, staring furiously up at Kay.

  Under the table, Jizzimus merrily ripped the stuffing out of the monkey, finishing the job that the cat had started. Above, his mistress and the other two tiresome witches chatted on and on. They seemed awfully excited.

  “Doug Bowman was my DS when I was a detective constable,” Caroline was saying. “I saw him for the first time in ages the day before I came to the Hall. He wanted to know if I fancied a change of job. When I saw him the following morning, he had this nasty burn on the side of his face.”

  “’Ere goes.” Jizzimus wriggled under the monkey’s t-shirt, through the rip Beetlebane had made, and slotted his arms and legs into the cavities he had excavated in the toy’s arms and legs.

  “This Doug Bowman,” said Jenny, her voice trembling. “Was he bald? Like, his head shaved?”

  “That’s right,” said Caroline. “A shaved gorilla in a suit. What’s wrong?”

  It took a bit of wriggling and gouging for Jizzimus to scoop out two eyeholes. When he had, he rolled clumsily to his feet. “Ta-dah! Look at my monkey suit!”

  Jenny ignored him utterly. “The burned bald guy. That’s the man who chased us, Kay and me. When I rescued her.”

  “Rescued her?” said Shazam.

  Jenny sighed heavily. So did Jizzimus. What was the point of going to the effort of creating his own amazing monkey outfit if no one was going to appreciate it?

  “Fine!” he snapped. Unnoticed he ran under a row of tables, out into the car park and towards the pier.

  Dee wasn’t one of life’s runners. It wasn’t that she was necessarily unfit – although a love of late-night, cream-filled snacks did count against her – and she was all in favour of practical clothes and footwear for the woman on the move, but nature had seen fit to give her a body that was thoroughly non-aerodynamic. Kay ended up all but dragging her as Dee scuttled along, trying to keep up, spurred on by the shouts of the shoe bound policeman.

  Their choice of direction to run could have been better. If they had headed up the slope of the car park, they could have tried to escape into the town centre, the floral gardens, even to a police station. But they had run down the slope. To the right were fast food stands and souvenir stalls, to the left, the wall of the pier building and, ahead, the beach and the sea.