Witch Is When Everything Went Crazy Page 2

  “Do you have the time to run a shop? I mean—err—I know how busy you are already.”

  “Haven’t you heard the saying: ‘If you want something doing ask a busy man’?”

  “Didn’t Benjamin Franklin say that?”

  “No, I did, just now. Didn’t you hear me?” She turned towards the outer door. “Now come on.”

  “Me?”

  “Who else?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’ve set up a number of viewings. You can come along and give me a second opinion.”

  “Viewings? Of shops?”

  “No, of camels. Of course, of shops. Now, are you coming or what?”

  The young man who showed us around the various properties had a lot to say—too much if Grandma’s expression was anything to go by.

  “This property has only recently come onto the market. It is ideally situated—”

  I’d been daydreaming, but was suddenly snapped back to earth.

  “That’s better,” Grandma said.

  “What have you done to him?”

  The man was frozen like a statue—his mouth open mid-sentence.

  “He was giving me a headache,” Grandma said.

  “Will he be alright?”

  “Of course. It’s not permanent. The ‘freeze’ spell will only last for a few minutes. We’ll be gone before he comes around.”

  I’d completed my level one witch training, and was about to embark on the next level. I was looking forward to it, but not to the lessons with Grandma. There were six levels in all. My cousins, Amber and Pearl, were on level two, and they’d been in training since they were born, so I guessed I was doing okay. I had a long way to go to catch up with Grandma though. As a level six witch, she was as powerful as they come.

  “Are you coming or not?” Grandma was waiting by the door.

  I glanced back at the frozen man, and then followed her outside.

  “So? Which one do you think?” she asked.

  “I think this one is the best we’ve seen.”

  “So do I. It’s just the right size. Now, all I have to do is come up with a name. How about ‘Yarnstorming’? Or ‘Ever a Wool Moment’? What do you think?”

  “What about ‘Stitch Slapped’?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?” I said. “You aren’t getting any—” Whoa! What was I saying? Did I have some kind of death wish?

  “You were saying?” Grandma’s gaze burned into me.

  “I was just—I mean—nothing. This one is the right size, and it’s in a good location on a busy street. There’s only one thing—”

  “The bus stop?”

  “Yeah.” The bus stop was located right outside the shop. While we’d been looking around, the queue of people at the stop had blocked the window. “It’s a pity because everything else is fine.”

  “I can sort that out.” Grandma turned back to face the bus stop, and before I could ask what she was going to do, she did it.

  The bus stop slid along the pavement until it was in front of the bookmaker’s, two doors down from the future wool emporium.

  “That’s better,” she declared, happy with her work.

  I glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, but everyone seemed to be going about their business as if it was the most natural thing in the world to see a bus stop relocate itself. I must have looked puzzled because Grandma said, “I cast the ‘move’ spell together with the ‘mask’ spell. Both are level four. The second spell is used to hide another spell. That’s why no one noticed the bus stop moving.”

  The more I learned about magic, the more intrigued I became. I couldn’t help but wonder what level I might have been on if I’d started on my studies when I was a kid.

  The ‘mask’ spell had obviously worn off because I noticed an old lady do a double-take when she realised that the bus stop was now fifteen yards further down the road.

  Peter had taken the kids to a birthday party—there seemed to be one almost every week. Kathy had invited me over for a takeaway. She had curry; I had burger and chips. I told her that Grandma was about to open a shop on the high street.

  “How old is she?” Kathy said, through a mouthful of rice.

  “I don’t actually know. She can’t possibly be as old as she looks.”

  “Shouldn’t she have retired by now, and anyway how is she going to get here every day? Does she drive?”

  Only a broomstick. “I’m not sure. By bus, I guess.”

  “Do you think she might find me a part-time job? For while the kids are at school.”

  This was going from bad to worse. The thought of those two working together didn’t bear thinking about. “I doubt she’ll be able to afford anyone at first.”

  “Ask her to keep me in mind, would you?”

  “Sure.” Not a chance.

  “Have you heard from Jacky Boy?” Kathy asked.

  “If you mean Maxwell, then no. Thank goodness.”

  “If you and he don’t get together soon, I’ll be forced to set you up on another blind date.”

  Kathy’s track record at hooking me up on blind dates was less than stellar. If I told you that the guy who had spent all evening with his finger up his nose had been the ‘pick’ of the bunch, you’d probably get the picture.

  “If you do, I’ll kill you.”

  “I’m looking forward to my birthday blast. It’s ages since I got off my face.”

  “Me too. I can’t wait,” I lied. Normally, I would have been looking forward to it, but I had the small matter of having to juggle that, and the wedding on the same day.

  “Auntie Jill!” Mikey came rushing in.

  “Auntie Jill.” Lizzie was two steps behind him.

  “Hi guys. How was the birthday party?”

  “It was fantastic,” Mikey said.

  Lizzie nodded in agreement.

  “There was a magician. He did magic tricks. It was fantastic. Can I have a magic set, Mum? Please?”

  “You’ll have to wait until Christmas. Money doesn’t grow on trees you know.”

  “If I had a magic set, I could make it grow on trees.” Mikey laughed. “Do you like magic, Auntie Jill?”

  “I do.” More than you’ll ever know.

  “You used to hate magic when we were kids,” Kathy said. “You used to say it was fake.”

  Mikey looked horrified.

  “I never said that,” I protested.

  “You did. Can’t you remember that time when we were watching a magician at the seaside somewhere, and you stood up and shouted, ‘It’s in your hand’?”

  “I never did that.” The memories came flooding back. El Mystero, the so-called magician, had palmed a ball in one hand while pretending to make it vanish into thin air in the other. Such an amateur! “Anyway, I like magic now.”

  Mikey’s smile returned. “Do you think magic is real, Auntie Jill?”

  “Magic? Yes, I’m sure it is.”

  Peter hadn’t spoken a word, which wasn’t like him at all. Kathy must have noticed too because she sent the kids to play in their rooms.

  “What’s up?” Kathy said.

  “The holiday money has gone.”

  “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

  “Norman Reeves has vanished, and taken the money with him.”

  “Where’s he gone?” Kathy said.

  “If I knew that, he wouldn’t have vanished, would he?”

  “No need to get ratty with me.”

  “Sorry. I just don’t know how I’m going to tell the kids. They’ll be devastated.”

  “Who’s Norman Reeves?” I asked.

  “He’s the trip coordinator. Quiet guy. Works at the local housing office. I can’t say I know him all that well. If I’m honest, he comes across as a little weird.”

  “Why would you trust him to be treasurer then?”

  “He’d done it for the last two years. There’s never been a problem before.”


  “If it helps, I could lend you the money,” I said.

  “Thanks, but it wouldn’t do any good,” Peter slumped down in the armchair. “Everyone’s money has gone, so the whole thing will have to be called off.”

  Kathy put her head in her hands. “What are we going to tell them?” She gestured towards the kids’ bedrooms.

  Peter shook his head. “Let’s give it a couple of days to see if anything turns up.”

  “I can’t believe Norman would do something like that,” Kathy said. “When was the last time anyone heard from him?”

  “Two days ago, I think. He went to Antonio’s for a meal with his girlfriend. Since then, nothing.”

  “Do you want me to see if I can come up with anything?” I offered.

  “Do you think you can find him?” Peter looked hopeful.

  “I don’t know, but I’ll give it my best shot.”

  “You have to find him, Jill.” Kathy took my hand. “The kids will be devastated if the holiday is cancelled.”

  No pressure then.

  I was becoming more sensitive to the presence of ghosts, and could usually tell now when my mother was close by.

  “Mum?” I glanced around the living room of my flat. “Mum?”

  “It’s me,” a male voice said.

  I turned around to see Alberto. “What are you doing here? Is Mum alright?” Weird question, I know. She’s dead—how much less alright could she be?

  “Your mother is fine. Well, maybe a little upset.”

  “Why what’s wrong?”

  “You have to promise not to let her know I told you.”

  “Told me what?”

  He hesitated.

  “I promise I won’t tell her. What’s wrong?”

  “On her death bed, your great-grandmother gave your mother her wedding ring. Your mother wore it on a necklace all of the time. She’d always planned to take it as her own wedding ring if she ever married again, but now she can’t.”

  “Why not? What happened to it?”

  “It’s disappeared. She was wearing it when she went into the nursing home, but since she—” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

  “Died and came back as a ghost?”

  He nodded. “It wasn’t on her finger. I told her she should ask you to investigate, but she doesn’t want to add to your workload.”

  “Leave it with me. I’m on it.”

  “Thank you, Jill. I knew you’d want to help. I won’t say anything to your mother just in case you draw a blank. I don’t want to get her hopes up.”

  Chapter 3

  At this rate, I was going to have to take on an assistant. As well as the Colonel Briggs case, I now had two other items on my to-do list: the missing holiday cash and the missing ring. The trouble was that two out of those three were unpaid, so maybe the assistant would have to wait.

  “Why are you ordering treats for that horrible cat?” Mrs V asked when I walked into the office the next morning.

  “What treats? I haven’t ordered anything.”

  Mrs V passed me a parcel. It was addressed to ‘Winky the Cat’ care of my office address.

  “Someone must have ordered them.” Mrs V huffed. “It’s bad enough you waste your money on premium cat food and full cream milk.”

  “It has to be a mistake. I’ll look into it.”

  I’d no sooner stepped into my office, than Winky was all over me. “Did I hear ‘treats’?”

  I was too busy to worry about why someone would have sent Winky a parcel of cat treats. They were here now, so he might as well enjoy them. I ripped open the packet, and scattered a few on the floor. “Don’t eat them all—” Too late. He’d already vacuumed them up.

  “More!” he insisted.

  What the heck? Anything to keep him quiet. I threw them to all four corners of the room. If he was going to eat them, he’d at least have to work for them.

  “You couldn’t just put them in my bowl?” he complained.

  The last time I’d called this number seemed like a lifetime ago. Back then, I’d known nothing about my ‘other’ family, and I’d been oblivious to the fact that I was a witch.

  “Daleside Nursing Home.”

  “Hi. My name is Jill Gooder. My mother passed away in your nursing home a few months ago. I want to speak to someone about a ring she was wearing.”

  “Hold the line please. I’ll put you through to Admin.”

  The woman in Admin took my mother’s details and my phone number, and promised to give me a call back after she’d checked their records. She assured me that any jewellery on the deceased was always recorded and accounted for.

  The rest of the day was taken up chasing down the children of Mrs Vicars. Neither of them seemed too keen to talk to me until I turned on the charm offensive. What? I can do charm when I need to. In the end, I’d managed to set up appointments to see them both.

  I also managed to catch up with my accounts—a job I enjoyed about as much as a visit to the dentist.

  Peter called to tell me that the newly formed Action Committee had arranged a meeting. In my experience an Action Committee usually meant a ‘talk a lot, but do nothing remotely useful’ committee. I said I’d attend anyway.

  A couple of days earlier, the twins had sent me a message to say that they’d finally found the courage to tell Aunt Lucy about their engagements. Despite their apprehension, she’d been delighted, and had insisted on organising a family dinner to celebrate. I was invited. The meal was at Aunt Lucy’s, but the message hadn’t made it clear if Grandma would be there. Maybe she’d be too busy with her new wool shop venture. I could always hope.

  I arrived in Candlefield a few hours before the dinner was due to start. I’d spent all day on the phone chasing my own tail, and needed to wind down.

  The twins were working in Cuppy C. Barry was lying in the corridor upstairs, and came bounding over the moment he caught sight of me.

  “Let’s go for a walk. Can we? Can we?”

  I couldn’t refuse the big, soft thing, but I fancied a change from the park. I still found it surprising how warm and welcoming most of the inhabitants seemed to be. Everyone I encountered along the way said hello, and many of them knew my name. Maybe humans could learn a thing or two from sups?

  After an hour or so, I found myself in the market square. It was much quieter than on my previous visit. I daren’t venture into the heart of the market because Barry was showing way too much interest in the food on offer. Instead, I skirted around the edge. About halfway around, one stall caught my eye: ‘Spell Accessories - everything for the busy witch/wizard’. That was me—I was run off my feet. There was no food stall nearby, so I felt safe taking a closer look.

  There was all manner of gizmos, many of which I didn’t understand. One thing that caught my eye was something called a ‘Stor-a-Spell’. These were small trinkets which came in a variety of shapes. As far as I could make out, they allowed you to cast a spell which the trinket would then store for a set period of time before activating it. I could definitely see how that might be useful.

  Further along the row was a stall selling pet food and toys. Barry was more than a little interested in the food, but I managed to hold him at bay while I purchased a squeaky plastic bone.

  “What’s that?” Barry said.

  “It’s a toy for you.”

  “Can I eat it?”

  “No, you mustn’t eat it. It’ll make you poorly. It’s for you to play with. Here.” I dropped the toy at his feet.

  It had no sooner hit the ground than he grabbed it between his teeth, which made it squeak. Just as quickly, he dropped it and scrambled behind my legs.

  “Don’t like it!” he whimpered.

  “It’s only a toy.”

  “Don’t like it.”

  “There’s a little squeaker inside. It can’t hurt you.”

  “Don’t like it.”

  Oh well. That was money well spent.

  Grandma was seated at the head of the table—sh
e’d made it to the engagement party despite the demands of her new business enterprise—oh goody. William and Alan, who were seated next to their fiancées, looked as nervous as kittens. Lester, Aunt Lucy’s new love interest, looked relieved not to be the one under the spotlight for a change.

  “Why did you bring these young men here today?” Grandma asked.

  Amber and Pearl exchanged a nervous glance. “To celebrate our engagement, Grandma.”

  “I know that. I’m not stupid. I meant why would you want to expose them to your mother’s cooking? Aren’t you worried it will scare them off?”

  Aunt Lucy gave Grandma a look of disdain, but said nothing.

  “Mum is a very good cook,” Amber said.

  Pearl looked aghast at her sister—no doubt wondering when she’d developed a death wish.

  “So, William and Alan.” Grandma’s gaze switched between the newcomers. “Why?”

  William’s Adam’s apple did a jig, as he looked to Amber for help. She shrugged. He took a sip of water. “Why what?” he said, nervously.

  “Why did you wait until now to tell us that you were engaged?”

  William looked again at Amber who this time attempted to come to his rescue.

  “We announced it as soon as we could.”

  I looked at Pearl and Alan. They were both staring down at the table.

  “Really?” Grandma said, looking at both the twins now. “That’s not what I heard. I heard that you have both been engaged for some time.”

  Busted!

  “Yes, well,” Amber stuttered. “We did actually get engaged a little while ago—”

  “We had meant to—” Pearl said.

  “How come I didn’t know?” Aunt Lucy said.

  “Because you were too busy smooching with Moustache Man over there to notice.” Grandma threw a glance Lester’s way. He began to twizzle his moustache nervously.

  “You haven’t been wearing a ring—either of you.” Aunt Lucy challenged her daughters.

  How I loved these convivial dinners.

  “Oh but they did,” Grandma said. “Just not when you were around.”

  That woman saw all—knew all.

  “Sorry, Mum.” Amber bowed her head.