Witch Is When Things Fell Apart (19 page)

Chapter 23

I arrived at Christy’s bakery at a little after four in the morning. If my timing was right, I’d be there just after Gary, the dispatch man, had clocked off, but before the delivery drivers arrived. The only people around were the cleaning crew, and they had moved into the offices.

The delivery vans were parked in the dispatch area, which was just inside the building. I hid underneath the metal staircase, which led up to the offices, and waited. A few moments later, I heard footsteps. It was only three minutes after four—too early for the delivery drivers. A key turned in a lock, and then one of the van’s back doors opened. Moments later it closed again. Someone had climbed inside one of the vans.

It wasn’t difficult to pick out the right van because I could see a slight movement, as whoever was inside shifted around. As quietly as I could, I made my way across the dispatch area until I was directly behind the van in question. I took hold of the handle, and opened the door.

Just as I’d suspected!

Beryl Christy passed me a cup of tea. We were in her office overlooking the factory floor.

“How did you know it was me?” she said.

“You still have Eddie Lingard on your payroll. That didn’t make any sense, so I tried to figure out why you would still be paying him. I could only come up with two possible explanations. Either he was blackmailing you, or you felt guilty for dismissing him. After meeting him, I came to the conclusion he wasn’t the blackmailing type. Even so, I wasn’t absolutely sure my hunch was right until I opened the van door just now.”

“Eddie was one of the best employees I’ve ever had. He worked his socks off. He came in early and stayed late.”

“Which is why you had to dismiss him.”

“Yes. I wouldn’t have had time to get to the cakes before the drivers arrived if Eddie had still been working here.”

“And you kept on paying him?”

“What else could I do? None of this was his fault. I couldn’t let Annie sell the business. This bakery is my life. What would I do without it?”

“Why didn’t you just tell her that you didn’t want to sell?”

“I
have
tried, believe me, but she’s got it into her head that running the business is too much for me.”

“Is it?”

“No. I love it. It’s what gets me out of bed in the morning.”

“Then why sabotage it and risk losing your customers?”

“I thought if I could do just enough damage to put off the buyer, that I’d be able to win those customers back later. Stupid, I know, but I wasn’t thinking straight.” She hesitated. “I suppose you’ll have to tell Annie and the twins?”

“Not necessarily, but only if you agree to certain conditions.”

“Go on.”

“You have to stop the sabotage—right now.”

“Of course. You can’t imagine how painful it’s been for me to damage my beautiful cakes.”

“And you have to tell Annie that you don’t want to sell the business. Tell her what you’ve just told me—that the business is your life, and you can’t bear the thought of giving it up.”

“But what if she won’t listen?”

“You have to make her listen, or I’ll spill the beans. Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

As I was already up at such a ridiculous hour, I decided to kill two birds with one stone. Bakers weren’t the only ones who kept crazy hours. The first edition of The Candle newspaper should have been coming off the press about now. I’d had some dealings with reporters in Washbridge, and knew that many of them kept ludicrously unsocial hours. On the off chance that I’d catch one of them at their desk, I slipped through the deserted reception area and soon located the news floor.

It seemed I was wrong—every desk was deserted. Oh well. I’d have to try again later.

“Hello?” A vampire wearing a baggy, sleeveless jumper over a shirt—not a good look—appeared out of a small office to my right. “Who are you?”

“Jill Gooder.” I walked over to him. As I got closer, I saw he was wearing Bermuda shorts. Nice combo.

“What do you want?” He took a long drag on a cigar—totally ignoring the ‘No Smoking’ signs posted all around the office.

“I’m a private investigator.”

“So? Do you want a medal?”

“I just wanted to ask a few questions. You are?”

“Terry Hosser. I’m the editor-in-chief, if it’s any of your business.”

Mr T Hosser was certainly living up to his name. “It won’t take long. If I could just have a few moments of your time.”

“I’m leaving in five minutes. What do you want to know?”

“I’ve been looking through the archives of your publication, and I can find no mention of TDO at all. Can you explain that?”

“What’s to explain? We report the news.”

“But surely TDO is news? He’s cast a shadow over Candlefield for years now. He’s been responsible for several deaths, and yet no one even knows who or what he is.”

“And what’s your interest in this exactly?”

“I’m a resident of Candlefield. I think it would be in the public interest for you to report on this issue. Surely it is exactly the kind of thing that begs the attention of investigative journalism.”

“If you
were
a resident of Candlefield, I might hear you out, but isn’t it true that you spend most of your time in the human world? What gives you the right to tell full-time sups how we should live or what we should do? I know who you are. You’re sticking your nose into places it doesn’t belong. Look, I’m going to do you a favour and give you some free advice. Leave TDO alone. It will be better for you, and for the people of Candlefield.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It’s just friendly advice. Now, if you don’t mind I have a home to go to.”

That seemed to confirm my suspicions. For whatever reason, news about TDO was being deliberately suppressed. Whether that was through fear and intimidation or collusion, I didn’t know. But I intended to make it my business to find out.

I arrived at Cuppy C just as Christy’s van had been unloaded.

“Jill?” Amber said through a yawn. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

The twins took it in turns to get up early to meet the deliveries.

“I wanted to let you know that you shouldn’t have any more problems with the deliveries from Christy’s.”

“Really? What happened? Who was doing it?”

“I can’t give you any details, I’m afraid.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I did, I’d have to kill you.”

Amber managed a tired smile. “Oh, well. As long as it’s sorted, I guess that’s all that matters. Do you want to come in for a drink? We aren’t actually open yet, but you get special treatment.”

I wasn’t about to say no. My body still hadn’t forgiven me for dragging it out of bed so early. An injection of coffee and a toasted teacake might revive me.

After Amber had unloaded the delivery, she joined me at the back table. We were both munching on delicious, hot, buttery teacakes.

“You toast a mean teacake,” I said.

“Thanks. It
is
pretty good although I do say so myself.”

“Is Pearl still in bed?”

“What do you think? It should have been her turn this morning, but last night she said she was feeling a little queasy. She’s such a liar.”

“I was not lying.” Pearl appeared, still dressed in her polka dot nightie. “I did feel queasy.”

“Are you okay now?” I asked.

“Yes, thanks.”

“Of course she’s okay. All the work’s been done now by yours truly.”

“I’ll cover for you tomorrow and the day after.”

“You bet your life you will.”

Oh boy. It was too early for this. “I just told Amber that the Christy problem is solved.”

“Really?” Pearl yawned. “How?”

“She can’t tell you,” Amber said. “Or she’d have to kill you.”

Pearl joined us at the table and reached over to take a piece of teacake from her sister’s plate.

“Hey!” Amber slapped her hand away. “Make your own.”

“Have a piece of mine,” I offered.

“It’s okay, Jill,” Pearl said. “If meanie-pants here won’t share, I’ll make my own later.”

Amber poked out her tongue at her sister.

“How’s the Miles situation?” I asked.

When would I learn to keep my big mouth shut?

“He came around again yesterday,” Pearl said.

“You have to do something soon. He’s driving us crazy.”

They gave me his address minus the house number.

“What number does he live at?”

“I can’t remember, sorry. It’s a small cul-de-sac—you won’t have any problems finding him. Just ask where the fat, bald guy lives.”

Harsh but true.

I promised I’d do what I could.

“He’s been nosing around again,” Mrs V said.

“Who?”

“That Armitage guy from next door. He said he thought he’d dropped something in your office when he visited with the landlord.”

“Dropped what?”

“A pen.”

“Did he see Winky?”

“No. I wouldn’t let him go through. I said I’d take a look around and let him have his pen if I found it. He wasn’t very pleased, but he wasn’t going to get past me.”

“Good for you, Mrs V. Did you find it?”

“I didn’t bother looking. I could tell he was lying because his eyebrows twitched. Next time he comes here, he’ll feel the sharp end of my knitting needles.”

I laughed. Who needed a guard dog when they had a Mrs V?

CoffeeDrops had to be one of the smallest coffee shops in Washbridge. Although I’d walked past it numerous times, I’d never actually ventured inside. Tess was waiting for me by the door when I arrived.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said, still trying to catch my breath.

“No problem. I’ve only just got here myself.”

I’d have been on time if Winky hadn’t waylaid me with a report he’d compiled of all the reasons we should relocate to new offices. I’d dumped that in the trash on my way over to the coffee shop.

Tess looked every inch the young professional. When I’d seen her in the park in Candlefield, she’d been dressed in jeans, jumper and boots. Today, she was wearing a smart, black suit.

She insisted on ordering and paying for the drinks. On her recommendation, I had the caramel latte.

“What kind of lawyer are you?” I asked.

“Mergers and Acquisitions mainly. Pretty boring stuff.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“Not really. Just lots of long days and late nights. Still, the pay is good so I shouldn’t complain.”

“What made you decide to work in the—” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “In the human world?”

“I guess I wanted to see both worlds. Most of my friends have never been outside Candlefield. I can’t imagine spending my whole life among only sups. I kind of like humans. I’ve even dated a couple.”

“Are you with someone now?”

“Not at the moment. What about you?”

“Not that you’d notice.”

We talked for almost an hour. Just like me, Tess maintained two homes. She had what sounded like a top-end apartment in the centre of Washbridge—close to her offices. In Candlefield, she had a small flat near to the main square. She described herself as cash rich, time poor. That’s why she employed a cleaner in both Washbridge and Candlefield. She also paid someone to look after, and walk Bonny. She was a smart cookie and clearly had her life together. Just like me. What? What’s so funny about that?

“Where’s the loo in here?” I said.

“It’s up the spiral staircase.” Tess checked her watch. “Look if you don’t mind, I need to get off. There’s a deal we have to close tonight.”

“Sure.”

“Maybe we can do this again some time?”

“Definitely.”

When I got back to my seat, Tess had gone. I drank what was left of my latte and then headed home. Tomorrow was the Levels Competition. A few hours spent on last minute revision was called for.

Chapter 24

I felt like death, or something bearing an uncanny resemblance to it. My legs and arms ached—so did my head. And I felt like I hadn’t slept for a month, which was weird because I’d only just climbed out of bed. I’d started to feel a little weary the previous night while I’d been doing last minute revision for the competition, but I’d put that down to having had an early start at the bakery. It felt like I had flu, but I didn’t have any kind of head cold. Of all the days for this to happen, it had to be today. What was I supposed to do? I wasn’t sure I could drag myself across the living room let alone all the way to Candlefield to take part in a competition. What was the alternative? To call Grandma and tell her I couldn’t make it? She wouldn’t believe I was ill, and even if she did, would she care? Not a chance. Somehow, some way, I had to get to the competition and hope that I’d feel better as the day went on.

It was two hours later, and I’d made it to Candlefield. How? I had no idea. If anything I was feeling slightly worse.

Grandma was waiting for me outside the Spell-Range as agreed. The whole area was already bustling with people. Bunting, flags and banners had been hung from the walls and the lampposts.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” she said.

“Sorry I’m late.” Even my jaw ached. “I’m not feeling too well.”

“Were you drinking last night?”

“No! I was revising.”

“What’s the matter with you then?” She stepped closer and put her crooked fingers on my forehead. “You’re burning up. Open your mouth.”

I did.

“Say Arrrh.”

“Arrrh.”

“Just as I thought!” she said.

“What?”

“You’ve been poisoned.”

“What? How?”

“Never mind that now. We need to get it out of your system.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. I didn’t like the sound of that one little bit.

“Come with me.” She grabbed me by the hand, cast a spell, and the next thing I knew we were in her kitchen. “Sit down!”

I didn’t need telling twice. My legs were all set to give way anyway.

Grandma took several jars from her cupboard and poured the contents into a large pan which she heated on a low light. Next she grabbed a bag from under the sink and picked out something which looked remarkably like a cockroach, and threw it into the pan. After a few minutes, she poured the liquid from the pan into a large mug.

“Drink this.”

The smell almost made me retch.

“I can’t.”

“Drink it or I’ll pour it down your throat.”

She wasn’t joking. I picked up the mug, and closed my eyes. If I’d been able to see the horrible concoction, there’d have been no way I could have drunk it. I took a sip.

“Yuk!” I spat it out. “I can’t drink—”

Before I could finish the sentence, she’d grabbed my nose, pushed my head back, and poured the liquid down my throat.

I danced around the kitchen with my mouth wide open—trying desperately to get rid of the taste and smell.

“Any minute now,” Grandma said. “You’re going to be—”

I put my head over the sink and threw up. For the next twenty minutes, I continued to throw up until I was certain there was nothing left inside me.

“Sit down.” She took my hand, led me into the living room, and lowered me onto the sofa. “How do you feel?”

“Like I just died.”

“You might well have done if you hadn’t got that out of your system. You can have ten minutes, and then we have to get back or you’ll lose your place in the competition.”

“Are you kidding? I can’t possibly compete now.”

“Of course you can. You’ll be fine now it’s out of your system. You’ll start to feel better soon.”

I still felt terrible, but I could tell things were starting to improve. The aches in my arms and legs weren’t as bad, and my headache was starting to ease. But I still felt as weak as a kitten.

“What was it?” I managed to say through dry lips.

“I’m not sure, but my guess would be Brewflower.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a rare plant that’s been banned in Candlefield for several centuries, but there’s still some to be had on the black market. It can be fatal in high doses, but more commonly it’s used to put someone out of action for twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Someone didn’t want you in the competition today.” She checked her watch. “Come on. It’s time we got back.”

The inside of the Spell-Range was barely recognisable. Bleachers had been installed on three sides. They were already almost full to capacity. I tried to pick out Aunt Lucy or the twins, but it was impossible. Stalls selling all manner of refreshments were lined up along the remaining wall, and were already doing a roaring trade. Row after row of small cubicles had been installed for the competitors. Grandma led me to the one that had my name on the front.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, as she ushered me inside.

“Much better. Just hungry.”

“It’s probably better you don’t eat until the competition is over. Now, you’d better get changed.”

“Why do I need to change?”

“You didn’t think you could compete wearing those did you?”

I glanced at my jeans and tee-shirt. “What’s wrong with these?”

“The Levels is the most prestigious competition held for witches. Competitors are expected to wear traditional clothes.” She handed me a long black smock dress and a pointed hat.

“This is a joke, right?” I laughed.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

She didn’t.

“But this is the sort of thing that witches wear in children’s books.”

“Where do you think those authors got their ideas from?”

“You mean witches really used to wear these?”

“Going back centuries, yes. Nowadays standards have dropped, and they’re only worn on occasions like this. Hurry up. We don’t have all day.”

I changed into the dress and hat. I looked as though I was on my way to a Halloween ball.

“Now you look like a witch,” Grandma said, and almost smiled. “I’ve checked out the competition, and from what I can see you only really have one serious opponent. A third year, second-level witch name of Alicia Dawes.”

“So I hear.”

“You know her?”

“No, but I met someone yesterday who made it clear he didn’t think I should be allowed to compete today. He mentioned her name.”

“If you’re on your game, you should be more than a match for her. But remember, what’s the golden rule?”

“Focus.”

“Very good. Now wait here until they call your name, and then you make your appearance. Understood?”

I nodded.

Grandma reached for the door.

“Aren’t you going to wish me luck?”

“I don’t believe in luck.”

There wasn’t a mirror in the cubicle so I couldn’t get a good look at myself, but I was pretty sure I looked ridiculous. Maybe this was all some elaborate joke, and I’d just been punked.

“Ladies and Gentlemen.” A man’s voice bellowed over the loudspeakers. “We now come to the level two competition. This year we have five contestants. Please welcome, Hilary Love.”

The crowd began to cheer.

“Next we have Sasha Newcombe.”

Even louder cheering. I recognised Sasha’s name from my visit to Eddie Lingard’s house.

“Our third contestant is Marie King.”

My hands were beginning to tremble.

“Our fourth contestant will be known to many of you already. Please welcome Jill Gooder.”

I opened the door to a deafening cheer. I waved a hand to acknowledge the crowd, and then took a quick glance to my left at the other competitors. To my relief, they too were dressed in black smocks and pointed hats.

“And last, but not least, I give you your final level two contestant, Alicia Dawes.”

I glanced to my right at the last cubicle. The handle turned, and the door opened. The final competitor stepped out to ear-shattering applause.

“Tess?” I gasped.

Tess or Alicia, or whatever her name really was, waved to the crowd. When the applause finally subsided, she turned to me. There was no emotion on her face.

“Tess?” I said again.

“I hope you’re ready to lose,” she spat the words. The friendly, smiling woman I’d had coffee with the day before was nowhere to be seen, and suddenly everything became clear.

“You poisoned me,” I said.

She smiled, but said nothing.

The format of the competition was straightforward enough. Each of us had to perform the same spell, and at the end of each round the witch who’d performed worst was eliminated. There was a panel of three level six witches who would adjudicate.

In round one we were asked to perform the ‘levitation’ spell. We had to levitate to a particular height and then move back and forth, left and right following their precise instructions. Thanks to my improved focus, I now had much better control than the first time I’d attempted that particular spell when I’d ended up falling flat on my backside.

Sasha Newcombe was eliminated at the end of the first round. The judges gave no indication of how each competitor had done, so I wasn’t sure how I’d faired against the others. In round two, we were asked to perform the ‘lightning bolt’ spell. A padded target in the shape of a giant owl (why an owl? I had no idea) was wheeled out in front of each of us. On the judges’ command we had to cast the spell and then fire the lightning bolt at the poor old owl. This time it was pretty obvious who would be eliminated. The targets which Alicia and I had in front of us had almost entirely disintegrated. The target in front of Hilary Love was almost as devastated, but Marie King’s target had only a small scorch mark on it. We were down to three. I didn’t like the ‘fireproof’ spell. I’d only tried it a couple of times, and it had scared me both times. The spell should allow me to walk through fire unscathed, but having the courage to actually do it was another thing entirely. A line of fire was lit in front of us and we were given the go-ahead. I cast the spell, and focussed with all of my might. The three of us came through the other side unscathed—almost. Hilary Love had the slightest of singes on her fringe.

That left just me and Alicia in the competition.

“The final and deciding round,” the head judge said, “will be the ‘magnet’ spell.”

Great! One of my least favourite spells, and the one I felt least confident about.

“This is where you lose,” Alicia said under her breath.

A large pile of metal objects was placed about ten yards in front of us.

“Contestants,” the head judge said. “You are to attract the metal star which is on the top of the pile. Do you see it?”

We both nodded.

“Whichever one of you is able to attract the star will be the winner and will progress to the grand final. Are you ready?”

We nodded again.

“Go!”

The star rose from the pile, but then moved no further. Both of us had it under our control, so it would come down to whichever of us had the most focus. I closed my eyes and remembered everything that Grandma had taught me. Before today, I hadn’t been too concerned how I did in the competition, but I’d be damned if I was going to let this cheating little cow beat me. I put everything I had into the spell.

The star hit my hand with such force it almost knocked me over. The crowd erupted.

“We have a winner.” The head judge announced. “Jill Gooder is this year’s level two champion.”

I glanced to my right where Grandma was standing, and for a moment I thought I saw a smile cross her lips.

“You won!” Amber appeared from somewhere and threw her arms around me.

“I knew you would!” Pearl almost bowled me over.

“Well done!” Aunt Lucy said.

“Thanks everyone.”

I glanced back at Alicia who looked as though she wanted to kill me.

“You’re in the final,” Amber said. “You could become a level six witch.”

“Leave the girl alone.” Grandma pushed the twins away. “She has to prepare. Go back to your seats.”

“Good luck, Jill!”

“Good luck! We’ll be rooting for you!”

The twins and Aunt Lucy made their way back to the bleachers.

“Aren’t you pleased?” I said to Grandma. “I won!”

“Of course you did. I taught you, didn’t I?”