Witch Is How To Fool Cats Page 17

  “Come on,” Winky said. “Get on with it.”

  “Shut up. I can take as long as I want.”

  “There must be a rule about the amount of time you can take for one shot.”

  “Well there isn’t, so be quiet.”

  I had to make this one count, or it was curtains. I started to apply pressure to the wink and was about to fire when—

  “Jill, what’s going on in here?”

  Mrs V had come through from the outer office, and she’d done so just as I fired my shot. Much to my dismay, the wink flew across the desk and landed on the floor.

  “I’m just playing tiddlywinks.”

  “I heard you talking to someone.”

  I couldn’t think how she would have heard me, but then I realised that Winky had been leaning against the intercom. He must have pressed the ‘talk’ button.

  “I was just talking to myself.”

  “I see.” She gave me one of those looks of hers. “Would you like a drink?”

  “Yes, please. I’ll have a tea.”

  After Mrs V had gone back to her office, Winky started running around the room, whooping and punching the air. “I win. I’m the tiddlywink champion.”

  “That doesn’t count. Mrs V put me off my last shot.”

  “Sorry, but that’s no excuse. I win. You lose. That’ll be fifty pounds, please.”

  When Mrs V brought my cup of tea through, she had some paperwork tucked under her arm.

  “I’ve checked the list of charities as you requested, Jill, and as far as I can make out, they’re all genuine.”

  “Are there any that appear in both Wills?”

  “No, not as far as I can see.”

  “Okay, thanks for checking.”

  My hunch that there might be some kind of scam going on with the charities seemed to be yet another dead end.

  ***

  Jack was upstairs getting ready for our night out at the Battle of the Bands. Meanwhile, I was doing some last-minute practice on the penny whistle. Not that it would do any good because I was completely useless. If I didn’t use magic, my solo would be nothing short of disastrous. It was bad enough that I had to stand on stage and make a fool of myself in front of so many people, but it was the thought of letting down the rest of our band that bothered me most. They were all under the impression that I was some kind of musical maestro, so they were in for a nasty shock when they heard me playing without the benefit of magic.

  I had to have one last stab at trying to get Jack to see sense. He had to agree to let me use magic.

  “Please, Jack. Don’t you realise how awful this is going to be?”

  “You should’ve thought of that before you used magic last time.”

  “If I’d realised that Kit and Britt were going to enter us into a competition, I never would have done it. Surely you don’t want us all to be embarrassed?”

  “The only person who’s going to be embarrassed tonight will be you. If we lose, we lose, but at least we’ll have lost with integrity.”

  It was obvious that he wasn’t going to change his mind, so I would just have to face the consequences.

  The contest was being held at Washbridge City Hall, and we’d agreed to travel there in the Livelys’ car.

  “I’m feeling really confident about tonight,” Kit said, as we set off.

  “How can we possibly lose?” Britt grinned. “With our secret weapon here.”

  Little did they know that rather than being a secret weapon, I was in fact the weakest link.

  They continued to wax lyrical about my musical prowess until I could stand no more, and changed the subject. “Have you seen the Normals recently?”

  “I saw them yesterday,” Britt said. “They were standing in their front garden, waving their arms around. I wanted to go and talk to them, to see if they were okay, but Kit said we should mind our own business.”

  “Jack had a word with them, but they told him they were just doing their exercises.”

  “Weird exercises, if you ask me.”

  When we arrived at Washbridge City Hall, there was a crowd of people, queuing to get into the auditorium, and almost as many at the rear of the building, waiting to take part in the competition.

  I glanced around. “I had no idea there’d be so many people here.”

  “There are twenty bands in all,” Kit said.

  “How long is this likely to go on for?”

  “I can’t see us getting away much before eleven.”

  Fantastic.

  Backstage, all of the bands were congregated in a large hall. Every time one of our band members told me how confident they were feeling because I was the soloist, my heart sank a little more.

  “Jack, did you hear that? Everyone is expecting me to win this competition for the band. You have to let me use magic!”

  “We’ve already discussed this. And the answer is still no.”

  A few minutes later, the MC came into the hall, to address all of the bands.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention please? The first round of the competition will be a performance by the full band; the second round will be the soloists. In a few minutes, we’ll make the draw to determine the order in which the bands will perform. Then, in the second round, that order will be reversed.”

  When the draw had been made, we learned that we’d be first on stage. I wasn’t particularly nervous about the first round because I intended to hide at the back where no one would be able to see me.

  The rest of the band performed brilliantly. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice that I didn’t play a single note. We left the stage to loud applause, and then watched the other bands’ performances on the monitors, which were positioned around the hall. The standard varied dramatically: Some bands were excellent; others were truly awful. The last band on, West Chipping, were clearly head and shoulders above the others.

  “They’re definitely our main competitor,” Kit said. “If we can beat them, we’ll take the prize.”

  With round one finished, the judges gave their scores for each band. It was a bit like watching the Eurovision song contest, and almost as tedious. When all the scores had been totted up, we were in a tie for first place with West Chipping.

  “It’s all on the solo round now,” Britt said.

  “We’ve got it in the bag, then,” Kit grinned. “We can’t lose with Jill on the penny whistle.”

  Because the order of appearance was reversed for the second round, I would be the last one to perform. First on stage was West Chipping’s soloist, a harpist whose rendition of De Falla was met with a standing ovation. As I watched the rest of the soloists, my nerves began to jangle more and more.

  All too soon, it came to my turn. This was the moment of truth; the moment when everyone would realise that I couldn’t play the penny whistle to save my life. How would they react? I was about to let the whole band down, and I felt terrible, but there was nothing I could do about it, so I picked up the penny whistle and started towards the stage.

  But then someone grabbed me by the arm.

  “You have to use magic,” Jack whispered.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. You have to use magic or we’re going to lose this contest.”

  “But you said that on no account was I to do that.”

  “Never mind what I said. We have to win this! Just use magic, okay?”

  “Okay!” Somewhat shell-shocked by Jack’s sudden about-turn, I cast the spell, made my way onto the stage, and began my performance.

  Chapter 21

  The next morning, I was the first one downstairs, and by the time Jack made an appearance, I was already halfway through my bowl of cornflakes.

  “Jack, before you sit down, there’s a photograph I want to show you.” I held out my phone.

  “Why are you showing me a picture of a hippopotamus?”

  “Oh, sorry, that’s the wrong photo.” I quickly flicked to the next one. “That’s the one I wanted you to
see.”

  “That’s a photograph of me?”

  “That’s right. Not the hippopotamus—the hypocrite.”

  “Very funny, I don’t think.”

  “You’re unbelievable, Jack. You spent all week telling me that under no circumstances was I to use magic, but when you thought that you were going to lose the contest, it was suddenly okay. Whatever happened to integrity?”

  “I did it for the other band members.”

  “Rubbish. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing to West Chipping, could you?”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered to me. Like I said, I only did it for the others.”

  “How very selfless of you.”

  Just then, there was an almighty rumbling sound from out on the street.

  “What’s that?” I said.

  “I’ve no idea.” Jack headed for the lounge and I followed.

  Out on the street, three enormous black trucks had parked on the opposite side of the road, in front of the Normals’ house.

  “What’s going on?” I leaned forward to get a better view. “It looks like some kind of invasion force.”

  Several men, dressed all in black, climbed out of the vehicles. All but two of them headed down the Normals’ driveway; the other two remained on the pavement.

  “This is freaking me out, Jack. What do you think is happening?”

  “I have no idea, but I intend to find out.” He hurried out of the house and across the road where he approached the two men.

  Whatever was said didn’t take very long because a few minutes later, Jack was back in the house.

  “Who are they? What’s happening?”

  “I have no idea. It’s some sort of government thing but they wouldn’t tell me who they were or what they were doing. They just said it was top secret and that I had to move away.”

  ***

  When I arrived at the office, Armi was there.

  “Morning, Armi. How’s your arm?”

  “Much better, thank you. Are you and Jack still enjoying your cuckoo clock?”

  “You know it.”

  “If you ever decide you’d like another one, maybe for the kitchen, just let me know.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind, thanks.” For about as long as a goldfish would.

  “BBB&C?” Armi raised an eyebrow. “They used to be one of our main competitors.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Bridge, Bridge, Bridge and Coleman.” He pointed to the large white envelope on Mrs V’s desk.

  “Mr Stead dropped it off for you a few minutes ago, Jill.” Mrs V handed it to me. “He said you’d asked for a copy of his wife’s Will.”

  “Right, thanks.”

  “Which one of the Bridges have you been dealing with?” Armi asked.

  “Hubert.”

  “He must be getting close to retirement now. I’ll be seeing him next weekend at the W.L.S. I’ll have to ask him how much longer he has to go.”

  “W.L.S?”

  “The Washbridge Lawyers Social. It’s an annual event when we let our hair down for the evening.”

  A room full of lawyers? I bet that was a laugh a minute.

  “I thought you’d retired, Armi?”

  “I have, but retirees are still allowed to attend. Hubert is bound to be there. He’s part of the entertainment. In fact, I think he’s top of the bill this year.”

  “Jill doesn’t want to hear about your lawyer shindigs,” Mrs V said. “She’s a busy woman.”

  “Sorry, Jill.” Armi started for the door. “I’d better be going, anyway. I have a consignment of springs to collect from Cuckoos Unlimited.”

  “Bye, Armi.”

  “That man.” Mrs V sighed. “Just because he’s retired, he thinks that everyone else has all the time in the world to stand around and chat.”

  “He’s looking well.”

  “He won’t be for much longer unless he does something about his eating habits.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He still insists that he isn’t eating more biscuits and cake than he used to do before we moved into the new house, but the empty cupboards tell quite a different story. By my reckoning, he’s already gone through a packet of ginger nuts, and three packets of chocolate digestives this week. To say nothing of the cupcakes.”

  I didn’t comment. What would I have said? That the real biscuit and cake thieves were wood nymphs who were living in the woods at the bottom of her garden?

  “Would you mind checking if any of the charities listed in Valerie Stead’s Will are the same as those in John Green’s or Philip Moore’s?”

  “I’ll get straight onto it.”

  “And while you’re at it, would you call Julie Moore and find out the name of the lawyer who dealt with her husband’s Will?”

  “Will do.”

  ***

  Later that morning, Grandma came charging into my office.

  “Good morning, Grandma. Was I expecting you? Do you have an appointment?”

  “I shouldn’t have to make an appointment to see my own granddaughter.”

  I was just about to offer her a seat when she took one anyway.

  “What is it I can do for you?”

  “I thought you should know that I’ve spoken to Ma Chivers, and we’ve agreed that the two broom flying troupes will perform in front of the people of Candlefield, to determine which one is the best.”

  “That sounds like a very sensible idea. I was expecting the two of you to come to blows.”

  “It’s just a formality, anyway. Obviously, my troupe will be voted the best.”

  “I’m delighted it’s all been resolved, now if you wouldn’t mind, I am rather—”

  “I do have one minor problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Dimples Lowe has had to drop out at short notice. The silly girl fell off her broom and broke her ankle.”

  “Oh dear. Is she alright?”

  “I’ve no idea, but it’s all very inconvenient.”

  As always, Grandma was empathy personified.

  “What will you do? How will you replace her?”

  “Why do you think I’m here? You’ll have to step into the breach.”

  “Me? But you said I was rubbish at it.”

  “You are, but you’re the best I have, so you’ll have to do. Make sure you’re available on Sunday.”

  And with that, she left.

  My phone rang; it was Pearl. At least, I thought it was her, but it was hard to tell because she was laughing so hard.

  “Pearl, is that you? Are you okay?”

  “Sorry, Jill.” She tried to compose herself. “Remind me never to cross you.”

  “I have precisely no idea what you’re talking about. Why are you laughing? What’s going on? I thought you and Amber would still be down in the dumps because of the failed loyalty scheme.”

  “We’ve sorted all of that out now. We did what you suggested and told everyone that we had to cancel the scheme, but that we’d honour any cards which were already full. We’ll take a bit of a loss on it, but it’s not anywhere near as bad as it might have been.”

  “How did your customers take the news that the scheme had been cancelled?”

  “One or two people complained, but overall most of them seemed to accept it.”

  “You still haven’t told me what you were laughing at.”

  “It was you, wasn’t it? You did it, didn’t you?”

  “You’re being even more cryptic than usual. I did what?”

  “You had the billboards put up with Sylvester Songspinner’s face on them, didn’t you?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course you don’t. They’re absolutely brilliant. So far, everyone who’s come into the shop today has mentioned them. Apparently, they’re all over Candlefield. In fact, there’s one right across the road from Cuppy C. I’m looking at it right now as we speak.”

  “It’s no more than he deserved.”

&
nbsp; “You haven’t heard the best bit yet. The man himself came in here about twenty minutes ago. He was spitting feathers.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He wanted to know where he could find you.”

  “Did you tell him?”

  “Of course not. I said I had no idea where you were, but I don’t think he’s going to be put off that easily, so I thought I’d better call and warn you.”

  “Okay, thanks, but to be honest, he’s the least of my problems right now.”

  “Why? What’s up?”

  “Grandma’s just paid me a visit, to inform me that I’ll be joining her broom flying troupe for Sunday’s show.”

  Pearl dissolved into laughter again.

  ***

  When we’d visited Corduroy’s house, Winky had kept him occupied while I searched for anything related to FelHealth. The only thing I’d found was a folder. It was mostly full of rubbish, but I did find one thing of interest: details of the national, annual conference, which was to be held later today.

  It appeared to be open to all-comers, so Winky and I planned on paying a visit, to see if we could find out who was behind the scam, which had taken the life savings of innocent people like Donny the Dustbin’s old mum.

  “Why can’t we just drive there?” Winky said. “You know how much I hate being magicked anywhere.”

  “There isn’t time, and besides I’m too busy. If you want me to go, then you’re just going to have to put up with the magic.”

  “Okay, but it better not hurt.”

  “You really are a wuss.” I studied the paperwork I’d taken from Corduroy’s house. “I don’t understand why all the information relating to the conference says it’s being held at the Catex Conference Centre in Caterbury. There’s no such place as Caterbury. It’s obvious from the map, that they mean Canterbury.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. It’s always been Caterbury without the ‘N’. It’s just that somewhere along the line, the two-leggeds started to misspell it, and somehow it got transformed into Canterbury.”

  “I’m sure you make this stuff up as you go along. Come on, we have to get going. Give me your paw.”