Witch Is When the Floodgates Opened Read online

  It was actually.

  “Of course not! I came to see you, and to see how the kids and Peter were. But a few custard creams would have been nice.”

  “Anyway, I’m glad you came over. It’s saved me having to ring you. I wanted to remind you about the children’s party.”

  This sounded like bad news. “What children’s party?”

  “I told you about it two or three weeks ago.”

  Typical Kathy—she did this to me every time. She made out that she’d told me about something when in fact it was the first I’d heard of it.

  “I don’t remember anything about a children’s party.”

  “You went to it last year. It’s the one held at the community centre for the local kids. Don’t you remember—you spent most of the time in the toilet hiding from the clown?”

  “I was not hiding from the clown. I had an iffy tummy, that’s all.”

  “That’s strange because, if I remember correctly, your iffy tummy only came on when the clown appeared.”

  “Pure coincidence.” I hate clowns—they’re evil; all of them.

  “Anyway, you’ll be pleased to hear that there won’t be a clown at this year’s party. They’re having a Punch and Judy show instead.”

  “When is it anyway? I might not be able to make it.”

  “I’ve already put your name down to help out, so you have to go.”

  “You never asked if I wanted to help.”

  “I knew you would.” She smirked. “You and I will be helping out with the food and the games.”

  “How are the kids anyway? Apart from the chicken mania?”

  “Oh, you know. Mikey is still playing his drum twenty-four seven.” She gave me a look.

  “Hey, don’t blame me. I didn’t buy it; that was Courtney’s mum.”

  “He’s driving us insane.”

  “Can’t you lose it accidentally on purpose?”

  “Oh yeah, and that wouldn’t cause a problem.”

  “You could say someone stole it.”

  “You really don’t know anything about kids, do you, Jill?”

  “I know I wouldn’t let my kids make these things.” I held up one of Lizzie’s latest beanie creations. She and Kathy were tearing apart my treasured beanie collection, one at a time, then turning them into frankensteinesque creatures. I glanced around the living room. They were everywhere; it was like some sort of freak show.

  “I like them,” Kathy said.

  “You would. You’re weird.”

  ***

  Grandma’s tea room was now open for business. Under highly suspicious circumstances, she’d taken over the shop next door to Ever A Wool Moment. The previous tenant, Rod’s Rods, the largest fishing tackle shop in Washbridge, had encountered all manner of unusual problems, ranging from flooding to an infestation of rats. I was convinced that Grandma had been behind it, and that she’d deliberately driven him out, so she could expand her empire.

  Kathy worked at ‘Ever’. Since starting there, she seemed to have been promoted and given more responsibility almost every week. When I arrived, she was busy behind the counter. When she spotted me, she asked one of the assistants to take over.

  “What’s this?” I said, pointing to a poster on the wall.

  “It’s another of your grandmother’s sales initiatives.”

  “Does she ever stop with them?”

  “There’s no sign of it happening yet.”

  “What’s this one all about?”

  “This is ‘Ever’ membership.”

  “What’s that when it’s at home?”

  “Customers can sign up to become ‘members’ of Ever A Wool Moment in order to enjoy a number of perks. They get an Everlasting Wool subscription, a pair of One-Size Knitting Needles, and are also entitled to Auto-Refill Coffee.”

  “Auto-Refill Coffee? How does that work?”

  “I don’t actually know. Every new member is given a special coffee cup to use in the Ever A Wool Moment tea room. As soon as it becomes empty, it refills itself.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “Don’t ask me. Ask your grandmother; it’s one of her innovations.”

  Once again, this sounded suspiciously like magic. The woman was shameless. The rules for living in the human world stated that you should not let humans know that you had magical powers. Grandma continuously flaunted the rules. Why wasn’t anyone asking questions? Why wasn’t an investigative journalist knocking on her door? Maybe I should tip off the Bugle, but then I hated the local rag even more than I disliked Grandma.

  “How’s the tea room doing?”

  “Really well. See for yourself.”

  I glanced inside, and, sure enough, most of the tables were taken. The place was full of women chatting, knitting and drinking from their Auto-Refill cups.

  “Some of these old biddies stay in here all day,” Kathy said. “They arrive first thing in the morning, and don’t leave until we close. The strange thing is that more and more people keep coming in, but the tea room doesn’t seem to get any fuller.”

  “How is that possible?”

  Kathy shrugged.

  “Where is Grandma anyway?”

  “I don’t know. She isn’t in yet. Not that I’m complaining.” Kathy grinned. “I like it better when I’m running the show by myself.”

  “Has there been much interest in this new membership scheme?”

  “Are you kidding? Everyone wants to sign up. We can’t keep pace with it.”

  Surely Grandma couldn’t keep getting away with this? She was pushing her luck way too far. Sooner or later, someone would realise that something very suspicious was happening at Ever A Wool Moment.

  Chapter 3

  I was so busy daydreaming that I totally forgot to be on the lookout for my movie buff neighbour, Mr Ivers, who I normally tried to avoid like the plague.

  “Jill, I have some really exciting news.”

  I doubted that.

  “You know I’m now writing a movie review column for The Bugle?”

  “Yes, I think you did mention it.” A thousand times.

  “Well, you’ll never guess what happened.”

  The circulation of the paper has halved?

  “I’ve been invited to attend the London premiere of the new ‘Full Force’ movie.”

  “Really? That sounds very exciting.” Not.

  “It’s a great honour, and even better, I can take someone with me.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “I was wondering if you would like to accompany me?”

  “Sorry, I’m busy that day.”

  “I haven’t told you when it is yet.”

  Whoops! “I have so much work on at the moment—I’m busy every day for the foreseeable future.”

  “How disappointing. I thought you’d enjoy a trip to the capital. We could have gone on to a club afterwards, and let our hair down.”

  “That would have been great, but what can I do? Why don’t you ask Betty? I believe she’s split up from her boyfriend, so she’d probably—”

  “I’m not going with her. She’s so boring. All she ever talks about is sea shells.”

  “Oh well, got to dash. See you later. Bye.”

  Phew! Dodged that bullet.

  ***

  The colonel hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said Sir Cuthbert Cutts lived in a ‘stately home’. Access was via a long, winding driveway from which I could see the house in the distance. I’d driven past the estate many times, but I’d never actually visited the house, which was currently closed to the general public. A butler answered the door. He was tall and thin, with hair which looked as though it had been slicked back with lard.

  “Good morning, madam.”

  “Morning. I’m Jill Gooder. Sir Cuthbert is expecting me.”

  “Please follow me.”

  He led the way into an enormous entrance hall. The sound of my heels on the wooden floor echoed around the vast expanse of the room.

 
“This way, madam. Sir Cuthbert is in the Long Room.”

  I followed him up a rather grand staircase. He pushed open a huge, ornate door, and announced my arrival.

  “Ah, good morning, young lady.” Sir Cuthbert was a very short man: five-one at the most. Apparently, no one had told his tailor because his trousers were two inches too long.

  “Good morning, Sir Cuthbert.”

  “Thank you for coming today, Jill. Colonel Briggs speaks very highly of you. I’m delighted that you were able to take on this case.”

  “I don’t actually know what the case is yet.”

  “Come and sit with me.” He gestured to the leather armchairs which were either side of a huge fireplace. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “I wouldn’t say no to a cup of coffee.”

  “Would you like a biscuit with it?”

  “I don’t suppose you have any custard creams?”

  “Actually, we do. I’m rather partial to them myself.” He rang a bell, and within moments the butler came back into the room.

  “Bertram, would you organise some coffee and biscuits for us, please?”

  “Very good, sir.”

  I quite liked the idea of having a butler. Maybe I should get one? I’d call him Hargreaves.

  “So, Sir Cuthbert—” I said. "What exactly is it I can help you with? The colonel said something about an antique going missing?”

  “Yes, terrible affair. You probably saw some of the pieces as you came up the stairs. We have a fine collection which has been in the family for generations. One of our most treasured pieces, a vase, has disappeared.”

  “Was there a break-in?”

  “No. There’s no sign of one. The damn thing just disappeared. It was there when I went to bed, and the next morning it had gone.”

  “Have you notified the police?”

  Before he could answer, the door opened, and in walked Bertram carrying a tray. He poured the coffee, and held out a plate of custard creams. It seemed that Sir Cuthbert really did have class.

  I took two biscuits, somehow resisting the temptation to take more.

  “It’s nice to meet someone who shares my love of custard creams,” Sir Cuthbert said. “They truly are the king of biscuits.”

  I was warming to this man.

  “Ah, there you are, Cuthbert,” a female voice came from behind me.

  Both Sir Cuthbert and I stood up.

  “Jill, this is my wife, Lady Phoebe. Phoebe, this is the young lady I was telling you about.”

  Lady Phoebe didn’t look happy to see me. “So, you’re the private investigator woman?”

  I nodded.

  “Hmm, isn’t that rather an unsuitable job for a woman?”

  “Phoebe!” Sir Cuthbert said. “Jill comes highly recommended by Colonel Briggs.”

  “I wouldn’t trust anything the colonel has to say. Still you’re here now, so I suppose you’ll have to do.”

  “I was just asking your husband what exactly had happened to the vase.”

  “If we knew that, we wouldn’t need you, would we, dear?”

  “Have you informed the police?”

  “Of course, but do you really think they have enough resources to trouble themselves with this?” Lady Phoebe said. “I doubt we’ll hear from them again.”

  “How much is the vase worth?”

  “Somewhere in the region of twelve thousand pounds—give or take a thousand. But to us, it’s priceless—simply irreplaceable.”

  After a while, Lady Phoebe left us to it. Sir Cuthbert gave me a list of his employees, past and present, but went out of his way to emphasise that he had no reason to suspect that any one of them was responsible for the disappearance of the vase. I told him I would get started immediately.

  “Do you have a photo of the vase?” I asked.

  “I do indeed,” Sir Cuthbert said, taking one from the inside pocket of his jacket. “There you are.”

  The photo had obviously been taken in the grand entrance hall. The vase, which was front and centre, was much smaller than I’d imagined. If I’d had to describe it in one word it would have been ‘ugly’.

  “A beauty, isn’t it?” Sir Cuthbert beamed with obvious pride.

  “Err—yes. It’s very—err—small.”

  “The best things come in small packages.”

  “Can I keep this photograph?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  ***

  So, this was what my life had come to. I was now chauffeur to my cat.

  “Hurry up!” Winky snapped. “Bella will be waiting for us. I told her we’d pick her up at five o’clock.”

  “I’m so sorry, Sir. I didn’t realise we were running to such a tight schedule.”

  “I don’t appreciate the attitude. You should be honoured that I’m allowing you to take me. I could have booked a taxi, but I knew you’d want to accompany us to such a prestigious event.”

  “It’s only a darts tournament. Not much prestige going on there.”

  “Hold on to this.” He handed me a small, red packet.

  “What is it?”

  “Those are my darts. You can look after them until we get there.”

  “Thank you very much. You’re so kind.”

  “Just be careful with them—they’re precision instruments. I can’t use just any old darts, you know.”

  “I’ll guard them with my life.”

  Bella was waiting outside the apartment block where she lived. I pulled up, opened the rear door, and she jumped in.

  “Hello, Bella,” I said.

  She smiled enigmatically, but didn’t speak. I was, after all, only the hired help, and she was a supermodel. I thought I might amuse myself by listening to their conversation, but they spoke in hushed voices, so I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

  The tournament was being held at a hotel about forty miles west of Washbridge. There were huge banners outside advertising the event. Once I’d parked, I started to walk towards the main entrance.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Winky shouted.

  “Over there—to the main entrance.”

  “That’s not where we should be headed.”

  “But it says, ‘Open Darts Championship’.”

  “That’s the human event. We’re here for the feline event.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Around the back; in the basement.”

  Winky led the way around the building with Bella by his side. I followed behind, carrying his darts. We reached the entrance where two rough-looking tabby cats stood guard. Winky nodded to them, and they nodded back, both of them eyeing Bella jealously. Winky and Bella started down the steps, and I began to follow when one of the tabbies blocked my way.

  “I’m sorry. Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’m with him.”

  “This is a feline only event. No non-felines allowed.”

  “But I—err—Winky!” I called out.

  “Oh yes, of course.” He came running back up the steps. I assumed he was going to have a word with the door cats, to persuade them to let me in. Instead, he grabbed the darts and said, “We’ll see you later.”

  With that, he and Bella disappeared inside.

  “What about me?” I called, but he’d gone. I turned to the door cat. “Is there no way I can be allowed in?”

  “Sorry, no can do.” The tabby stood his ground.

  “How long will the tournament last?”

  “It’s usually three or four hours. It’ll probably be over around ten thirty.”

  “What am I meant to do until then?”

  “Do I look as though I care?”

  He didn’t.

  Great! So, I’d driven all the way there, and now they’d abandoned me. What was I meant to do for the rest of the evening? I had a good mind to leave them there, and let them find their own way home. But, I knew that would only come back to haunt me. Winky would make my life a misery. Instead, I walked around to the front of the buildi
ng, and went in through the main entrance. I couldn’t have any alcohol because I would be driving, but at least I could quench my thirst. I bought orangeade and a packet of crisps, and made my way through to the main hall. I’d never been to a darts tournament before, and I had no idea what to expect. The hall was packed; most of the audience were in fancy dress.

  “Hello there, sexy.”

  I turned around to see a man dressed in a gorilla costume. He removed the mask. I wished he hadn’t—he’d looked better with it on.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” he slurred.

  “That’s okay. I’ve got one, thanks.”

  “That’s not a drink! You need something stronger. Why don’t you have a beer?”

  “No, I’m okay, thanks.”

  “You look lonely. Why don’t you come and sit with me? We’ll have a great time.”

  Oh dear.

  I cast the ‘forget’ spell, and beat a hasty retreat out of the building, to the safety of the car. There, I spent the next three and a half hours listening to the car radio, sipping my orangeade, and eating crisps.

  Just before eleven o’clock, Winky and Bella appeared. The two of them were making slow progress across the car park, probably because of the huge trophy they were carrying. I opened the rear door, and helped them to put it on the back seat.

  “I took first prize.” Winky looked suitably smug. “What do you think to the trophy?”

  “Very tasteful.”

  “And, there’s the small matter of a cheque for FIVE THOUSAND POUNDS!”

  “Five grand? Do I get a share?”

  “Why would I give you a share?” He laughed.

  “Because I brought you here. If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been able to take part in the tournament.”

  “You’re right. It was good of you to provide transport, and I don’t want to appear ungrateful.”

  “Do I get a cut then?”

  “No. Something much better than that. When we get back to the office, Bella will take a photo of you, me, and the trophy. I’ll get a print framed especially for you.”

  “You’re so generous.”

  “I know. I can’t help myself.”