Witch is Why It Was Over Read online

  “Any news on when Socks is going to arrive, Winky?” He was so engrossed with his phone that he didn’t hear me, so I shouted, “Winky!”

  “Hold on. I can’t afford to miss this.”

  Five minutes later, he put the phone down.

  “What was so fascinating that you couldn’t drag yourself away?”

  “Don’t you realise what day it is?”

  I shrugged.

  “It’s Ginger Monday.”

  “It’s what?”

  “You’ve heard of Black Friday, I take it?”

  “Of course. It’s when perfectly sane people go crazy, and buy tons of stuff they don’t really need.”

  “Ginger Monday is the feline equivalent of Black Friday.”

  “What have you bought? Something totally useless, no doubt.”

  “Not at all. I’ve been meaning to buy one of these for ages.”

  “Really? What is it?”

  “It’ll be invaluable.”

  “So, what is it?”

  “A paw-spa.”

  At that, I cracked up.

  “What’s so funny about a paw-spa?”

  Chapter 2

  Aunt Lucy phoned to ask me to go over to Candlefield; she sounded excited, but wouldn’t say why over the phone. I magicked myself straight there, and found her in the lounge, having a cup of tea with Amber.

  “Tea, Jill?” Aunt Lucy stood up.

  “No, thanks. I’ve not long since had a drink. Where’s Pearl?”

  “She’s in Cuppy C,” Amber said. “I’ve just been for a check-up, so I thought I might as well drop in on Mum on the way back.”

  “Is everything okay with you and the baby?”

  “Yeah. All good.”

  “Tell Jill your news,” Aunt Lucy said.

  “William and I have decided on names for the baby.”

  “Already? You aren’t letting the grass grow. What have you chosen?”

  “Because we don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet, we thought it would be nice to choose two names that rhymed.”

  “Err—right?” It was good to know that Amber’s pregnancy hadn’t affected her craziness.

  “So, we chose Phil for a boy, and if it’s a little girl—”

  “Jill?”

  “No. Lil, short for Lily. What do you think?”

  “Very nice.”

  “You won’t tell Pearl, will you? You know what she’s like; she’ll steal our ideas.”

  “I won’t say anything.”

  Amber finished her drink. “I suppose I’d better get back or Pearl will be on my back.” She gave Aunt Lucy a kiss. “Love you, Mum. See you later, Jill.”

  “You sounded excited on the phone,” I said, once Amber had left.

  “I am. Lester and I might be moving to a new house.”

  “I thought you liked it here?”

  “I do. This is a lovely house, but it’s time for a change. We’ve been talking about it for a while, and now that he’s in a steady job with a regular wage, there’s nothing holding us back.”

  “Do you have any idea where you’ll go?”

  “We’ve already found somewhere.”

  “You didn’t hang around.”

  “To be honest, we weren’t actually looking for a house at the time. We’d just been out for a meal when we spotted the for-sale sign. It’s a darling little cottage with a thatched roof, and a beautiful garden.”

  “It sounds fantastic. I’d love to see it.”

  “I don’t want to jinx it, so I’d rather not take you there until our offer is accepted.”

  “Have you already made an offer?”

  “Yes, Lester did it earlier today. We’re just waiting to hear.”

  “Fingers crossed for you.”

  “Thanks, Jill. You won’t mention this to your grandmother, will you?”

  “It’s not like you can keep it a secret. I think even Grandma will notice when you move out.”

  “I know, but I don’t want to tell her until the contract is signed. She’s bound to give me plenty of grief, and I’d rather not face that before I have to.”

  “I won’t say a word, I promise. Is the new house far from here?”

  “No, not far at all.”

  “I suppose I’d better be getting back. Keep me posted on the house front, won’t you?”

  “Of course, but before you go, Barry wanted a quick word with you.”

  “Do you know what it’s about?”

  “He’s got a bee in his bonnet, I’m afraid. I’ll let him tell you all about it.”

  As soon as I walked into the room, Barry came charging over, and jumped up at me.

  “Jill! I’ve got big news!”

  “Hi, boy. Get down before you mark my top.”

  “I’m going to be a star!”

  “Can’t you take this dog out of here?” Hamlet said. “He’s been driving me crazy all morning with his latest madcap scheme. How am I ever supposed to get any reading done?”

  Hamlet was even grumpier than usual. He probably still hadn’t forgiven me for covering him in flea powder.

  “Come on, Barry, let’s go out onto the landing.” I led the way out of the room, and closed the door behind me, to give Hamlet a little respite. “Okay, what’s this all about?”

  “I’m going to be a supermodel, Jill.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Look.” From somewhere in his fur, he produced a small business card, and handed it to me.

  The card read: Scott Basset, Pooch First - Model Agency.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “A man gave it to your auntie when we were in the park. He said I was a handsome dog, and would do well on TV. He said you should phone him if you’re interested.”

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea, Barry.”

  “Please, Jill. I want to strut my stuff on the dogwalk.”

  “I’ll need to think about it.”

  “Pretty please. I really want to do this.”

  “Okay, I’ll give them a call later to find out more about the agency.”

  “You’re the best, Jill.” He jumped up again, and began to lick my face.

  Aunt Lucy was waiting for me when I went back downstairs.

  “He’s told you, I take it?”

  “Yeah. He seems very keen. What was the guy like who gave you the card?”

  “He’s a vampire. I didn’t even notice him until he approached us, but he seemed very taken by Barry. Are you going to contact him?”

  “I don’t see how I can say no. Barry would be heartbroken. I’ll see what I can find out about this agency first, though. I’d better get back to the office. Let me know how you go on with the new house.”

  ***

  Back in Washbridge, a small crowd had gathered by the door to my office building. As I got nearer, I could see what was attracting so much attention. A man-sized nail varnish bottle was handing out flyers. As I took one, I caught a glimpse of the man’s face through the eye-slot in the costume; it was Nails. The flyer was a twenty percent off voucher for all treatments during Nailed-It’s first two days of trading. The nail bar was due to open at midday, and there was already a queue of women on the stairs.

  “Hey! You blind or what?” A woman barked at me as I made my way upstairs to my offices. “There’s a queue here.”

  “Yeah. Get in line,” her friend joined in.

  “I’m not going to the nail bar. My offices are at the top of the stairs.”

  “You’d better not. I’m watching you.”

  Mrs V seemed not to have noticed the commotion out on the stairs; she was too engrossed in a magazine. A wedding magazine, needless to say. There were at least a dozen more of them spread across her desk.

  “There’s so much to plan, Jill,” she said, without even looking up.

  “Will you have any money left for the wedding after buying this lot?”

  “I did go a bit over the top, didn’t I? I never realised there were so many.�
��

  “Me neither, although I’m pretty sure you’re not forced to buy all of them. Incidentally, I see the nail bar is opening today.”

  “Sorry, dear, what did you say?”

  “The nail bar, just down the corridor. It opens later today.”

  “That’s nice. What do you think about the reception?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Where do you think we should hold the reception?”

  “I—err—I’m not really the person to ask. I suppose it depends on how many guests you’re planning to invite. Have you actually set a date yet?”

  “Not as such, but we thought sometime next summer. At our age, we can’t really afford to hang around.”

  Just then, I heard sounds coming from in my office. If Socks had crash-landed that microlight of his again, he’d be in for a tongue-lashing.

  It wasn’t Socks, but the noise was feline related.

  “Winky? Why are these kittens in my office?”

  “These are my nephews and niece. That’s Billy, that’s Roddy—”

  “I’m not Roddy,” the black kitten said in a squeaky little voice. “I’m Sammy.”

  “Sorry. That’s Billy, that’s Sammy, that’s Roddy and that’s Peaches.”

  “They’re all very sweet, but why are they in my office?”

  “Do you recall that I told you Socks wanted me to look after something for a few days? These little darlings are it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me it was kittens?”

  “I didn’t know until Socks arrived with them in the microlight.”

  “Don’t tell me that he transported all four of them in that death-trap of his.”

  “It’s okay. They were wearing crash helmets. I’ve put them in your cupboard.”

  “Hold on. Didn’t you say your brother was going on holiday? Are you telling me he’s just dumped his kids on you?”

  “I don’t mind looking after them. I didn’t even realise I was an uncle until he turned up with them in tow. He’d never told me.”

  “That’s very generous of you, but I can’t have an office full of cats. What will my clients think?”

  “You don’t have any clients, and besides, you wouldn’t throw these poor little mites out onto the street, would you?”

  As he spoke, the four kittens all looked at me with big, pitiful eyes.

  “I—err—no, of course not. How long has Socks gone away for?”

  “Only for a couple of nights. He’s going to pick them up on Wednesday.”

  “Okay. I suppose I’ll just have to put up with them until then, but these little bundles of fur are your responsibility. I expect you to keep them in check, and out from under my feet.”

  “No problem. I’ve already got them eating out of my paw.”

  ***

  It had just turned four o’clock when I remembered that I was supposed to be buying a card and present for Kathy and Peter. If I went home without them, Jack would have my guts for garters.

  “I’m calling it a day, Mrs V. I have to do a little shopping.”

  “Okay, dear. What do you think about limousines? White or black?”

  “White, I’d say. Sorry, I have to dash.”

  I’ve never understood why it takes some people so long to choose a greetings card. On average, Jack takes at least thirty minutes, but he’s lightning fast compared to Kathy. I could have written a novel in less time than it takes Kathy to pick out a birthday card. I’d long since refused to go into a card shop with her again.

  The process is actually very simple: 1) make sure it’s for the right occasion (e.g. don’t buy a condolences card for someone getting engaged—unless you don’t like their partner) and 2) pay as little as possible.

  Who are you calling a skinflint? The word you’re looking for is frugal.

  Trust me, it’s a tried and tested method, which is why it took me less than a minute to pick out an anniversary card.

  The present was a different matter entirely. What are you supposed to buy someone for their anniversary? I had no idea, which is why I wandered around at least a dozen shops, without anything catching my eye. Jack should have been the one to do this; he was so much better at selecting gifts than I was.

  Then I saw it: The perfect present.

  “Could I get this gift-wrapped?” I asked the eager assistant.

  “Of course, madam. Can I ask what the occasion is?”

  “An anniversary.”

  “Oh? Right.”

  Mission accomplished.

  ***

  “How do I look?” Jack said; he’d just changed into his new suit.

  “Very hot. Why don’t we forget the anniversary dinner, and have our own little ‘party’ instead?”

  “We can’t let Kathy and Peter down. They’re expecting us. We can have a ‘party’ when we get back.”

  “I might not be in the mood, then.”

  “Aren’t you glad you came home to get changed? You look stunning.”

  “Thank you, kind sir, but that doesn’t mean I forgive you for choosing a boring anniversary dinner over me.”

  His expression suddenly changed to one of panic. “What about the card and present?”

  “All in hand. They’re in the boot of my car.”

  We’d tossed a coin to decide which car we’d take, and I’d lost, so not only would I have to put up with a boring anniversary dinner, but I couldn’t even have a drink.

  Not that I was complaining, obviously.

  Although I was never going to admit it, Jack had been right about the dress code. Peter looked very smart in his blue suit; Kathy was wearing a pretty, red dress that I hadn’t seen before.

  “Happy anniversary.” I handed over the card and present.

  “Thanks.” She gave us both a kiss on the cheek. “Come on through to the lounge, and get a drink.”

  “Hi, you two.” Peter was waiting for us in there. “What’s it to be?” He pointed to the line of bottles on the sideboard.

  “I’ll have whisky on the rocks,” Jack said.

  “Just a lime and soda for me. I’m driving.”

  “You should have taken a taxi,” Kathy said, as she opened the envelope. “I see Jill chose this card.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing. It’s very—err—nice.” She placed it on the mantelpiece alongside the others. “How long did it take you to pick it?”

  Before I could respond, Peter jumped in, “Why don’t you open the present?”

  “What is it? It’s very big.” Kathy began to tear off the paper.

  Jack seemed as keen as Kathy and Peter to find out what it was.

  “A foot-spa?” Kathy stared at the box. “Err—thanks.”

  Peter picked up the discarded wrapping paper. “Thanks very much, Jack, Jill.”

  “Dinner is almost ready,” Kathy said. “Shall we go through?”

  As we made our way into the dining room, Jack grabbed my hand, and whispered, “A foot-spa? Seriously?”

  Kathy had done us proud with the meal. Even I had to admit it was an enjoyable evening; she and Peter were good company.

  “I think it’s time to tell you our big news,” Kathy said, after we’d all finished dessert.

  “Are you pregnant again?” It was the first thing to pop into my mind.

  “No, I told you, two kids are enough. You’ve probably realised that I haven’t been very happy at Ever for some time. Anyway, we’ve done our sums, and now that Pete’s business is established, I’m going to open a small business of my own.”

  “You? Run a business?”

  “If you can do it, I’m pretty sure I can, and besides, I’ll have Pete to help me with the accounts and stuff like that.”

  “What kind of business?” Jack asked.

  “A bridal shop.”

  “That’s a great idea.” Jack nodded his approval.

  “Why a bridal shop?” I asked.

  “You know how much I love weddings, and people are always going to get
married.”

  “What about the competition?” Jack asked.

  “That’s another thing that attracted us to the idea. There are only two bridal shops in Washbridge, and neither of them is anything to write home about. We’re sure we can do much better.”

  “I can practically guarantee you one customer,” I said.

  “Really? About time too. When were you and Jack going to tell us?”

  “No, not us. Mrs V is getting married to Armi next year.”

  “Mrs V? When did this happen?”

  “He proposed over the weekend; I found out this morning. She’s talked about nothing but the wedding all day.”

  “When are you planning on opening the shop?” Jack asked.

  “We’re going to start looking around for suitable premises straight away. Basically, we want to open as soon as possible.”

  “Have you got a name for the shop?” I said.

  “We thought we’d call it Kathy’s Bridal Shop.”

  “Very imaginative. When will you be leaving Ever?”

  “The sooner the better because there’s lots for us to do before we can open the shop. I’ll probably hand in my notice at the end of the week.”

  “I’m sure Grandma will wish you well.”

  “I bet. I’m not looking forward to telling her.”

  When it was time for us to leave, Kathy pulled me to one side.

  “How do you fancy a day-trip to Frickle-On-Sea on Wednesday?”

  “Jack will be working.”

  “I meant just you and me. Pete’s working too.”

  Although I’d just taken on the Bradley case, I quite fancied the idea of a day at the seaside. “Okay, why not? Which car shall we take?”

  “Let’s leave the cars at home. We’ll take the coach.”

  “Good idea. We can both have a drink that way.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, and let you have the details.”

  “Great.”

  “What are you looking so pleased about?” Jack asked, as I drove home.

  “Kathy and I are going to the seaside on Wednesday.”

  “Huh, it’s okay for some. I have to work.”