Black Wood (A Witch Rising) (2 page)

“Oh well, you’re probably right,
Aurelie. If you don’t mind, I’ll leave Emily with you for a few
afternoons a week. I wouldn’t know how to find a babysitter so soon
anyway, especially in a remote area like this,” her father said.
“She’ll be no trouble at all.”

Aurelie clapped her knobbly
hands. “Goody, goody,” she exclaimed happily, like the cat who got
the cream. “We’ll have a marvellous time, won’t we, children?”

Emily rolled her eyes. She
really doubted that, particularly if the woman didn't stop calling
them 'children.'

After the first day at her new
school, Emily sat on Aurelie’s fluffy sofa, holding a cup of hot
tea in her hand.

“You’ll have to drink that
eventually, my dear.” Aurelie’s voice was soft, yet her stern look
didn’t leave any doubt that her words were an order rather than a
friendly reminder.

“So I shall when it’s cooled
down. I don’t drink my tea hot,” Emily said, imitating the blonde
woman’s voice. Aurelie grimaced, but didn’t respond.

Emily lifted the cup to her nose
to take a sniff and smiled sweetly. She didn’t intend to drink any
of it. She had taken a sip and had found that it tasted like
washing up liquid. Now she would just cradle the cup in her hands,
waiting for her father to pick her up, so she could hurry out the
door and leave the tea behind. Or maybe she could get rid of the
dark-brownish liquid now. What a marvellous idea. She looked around
the room and spotted several flowerpots in the corner next to the
window.

She chewed on her bottom lip. If
only she could get Aurelie and Clifford out of the room. She tried
to think of something, but not a single idea popped into her head.
Turning her gaze away from the plants, she sighed. Sam would know
what to do. He always did, but her brother wasn’t here. Hopefully,
her father would come pick her up soon.

Aurelie rose from her seat.
“Clifford, dear, why don’t you help me with the sandwiches in the
kitchen?”

Without waiting for a reply,
Aurelie grabbed Clifford’s upper arm. She pulled him to his feet
and dragged him out of the living room.

Yes! Emily almost shouted out
loud, then covered her mouth with her palm. She bolted toward the
window and emptied the content of her cup into the flowerpot, her
heart drumming in her ears. If Aurelie asked, she’d say her tea had
cooled down and she had enjoyed every drop of it. She smiled. What
a great plan. As much as she hated lying, this was a matter of
survival.

When Aurelie and Clifford
returned, each of them carried something: Clifford a plate with
sandwiches and Aurelie a small wooden box. They exchanged a quick
glance, as if they shared a secret, then placed the objects on the
table in front of Emily.

“Isn’t my tea delightful? I knew
you’d like it,” Aurelie said. “Can I pour you another cup?”

“Hell, no!” Emily shouted before
she could contain herself. No way was she having more of that
dreadful brew. Aurelie’s eyes narrowed to two tiny slits, and Emily
hurried to add, “I mean, no, thanks. My dad will be here any minute
now.”

“Well, why don’t you help
yourself to a sandwich?” Aurelie pointed at the tray.

Emily’s stomach rumbled,
reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since lunch. “Thanks,” she
said, but Aurelie appeared not to be listening. Her head bowed over
the wooden box, her fingers moved left and right over its carved
surface as though she was stroking a beloved cat.

Both Clifford and Emily grabbed
a tuna and corn sandwich, munching away silently. The tuna spread
tasted delicious. So much better than the tea, it was most
certainly purchased, not homemade. Emily smiled, and Clifford threw
her a questioning look. She glared back at him until he looked
away.

Eventually, Aurelie woke up from
her dream-like state, clearing her throat to speak. “My mother left
this to me.” She spoke slowly, her voice almost a whisper.

Emily slid closer to catch her
words.

“It’s very special.” Aurelie
opened the lid of the box. “I want you to have it. But you have to
promise that you’ll take great care of it.” Her hands moved inside
and she lifted a bundle wrapped in black satin. She removed the
cloth to reveal a leather-bound book. The cover looked scratched
and dusty, the pages yellow from age.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Aurelie
asked, her eyes big and shiny.

“I guess,” Emily said, not sure
whether the woman knew there was nothing beautiful about an old,
smelly book with yellow pages. She reached for the cover to open it
and have a look at the thing when Aurelie cried out.

“No, don’t!”

Emily flinched. “Sorry,” she
whispered, but Aurelie seemed once again absorbed by the book as
she reached for the black cloth and wrapped it carefully around it,
then placed it back inside its box.

“You have to be alone when you
open it for the first time because it’s
very
special,”
Aurelie said with the usual frozen smile back on her face.

“What’s so special about an old
book? My granny used to have hundreds of them.”

“Oh, but this isn’t the ordinary
old knickknack your grandmother used to collect, my dear. Old, yes,
but not ordinary.” Aurelie chuckled, and for the first time
Clifford demonstrated he understood what was being said and
chuckled too. His lips parted to reveal a large gap between his
front teeth. For a while, Emily couldn’t help but stare at it. Boy
was that a big gap!

“And this is no book, either,”
Aurelie continued, jolting Emily out of her thoughts. “It’s a diary
that will fulfil your wishes. So, be careful what you request, my
dear, because soon you may very well run out of wishes.”

What nonsense! She had never
heard of a wish-fulfilling diary. Of the tooth fairy and genies,
yes, but not a diary. “Why don’t you use it yourself? Surely,
there’s a lot you could want.” Emily looked around the room at the
worn furniture, old chandelier and faded curtains. Aurelie could
definitely use new curtains and someone like her grandmother to
teach her how to make a good cup of tea.

“Why, dear, you should be
thankful for my generosity. Maybe I have two of them or maybe I
simply have no use for it.” Aurelie chuckled again. “Either way,
you should be very grateful that I have decided to pass it on to
you. You wouldn’t be so lucky if I had a niece instead of a
nephew.” She threw a meaningful glance at Clifford.

Emily opened her mouth to ask
why Clifford couldn’t have the diary when the shrill jingle of the
doorbell cut her off. Aurelie hurried out of the room to open
it.

“I wish I could have it,”
Clifford said as soon as Aurelie was gone.

Did the boy just talk to her?
“What?” Emily asked, not sure she’d heard right.

Clifford pointed at the closed
box. “The magic diary. Aunt Aurelie won’t let me have it, but I
wish she would.”

Emily smiled. She understood
what the older boy was talking about. Her Aunt Betty had a cute,
tabby cat, and she’d never let Emily play with it. Well, it wasn’t
exactly the same thing, but somehow she felt that maybe she and
Clifford had something in common after all. “You can look at it
whenever you come to visit.”

Clifford returned her smile, and
Emily decided they could be friends after all. Maybe it wasn’t his
fault he always gawked and never spoke so much as a word. With an
aunt like Aurelie, who would?

“Emily, time to go home!” She
heard her father’s voice calling from the hall.

“I’m coming, Dad,” Emily yelled
back. She yanked the old box off the table. It was so heavy, she
had to use both hands to carry it. “I’ll see you tomorrow,
Clifford.”

He didn’t lift his gaze from the
box. “Bye.”

***

“So, how was your first day at
school?” her father asked as they walked up the broad road toward
Ravencourt Manor.

“All right.” Emily shrugged,
gaze fixed on the wet asphalt. “I hope we won’t be staying here for
long though.”

“We’ll have to wait and see, Em.
I know it’s not easy for you, but it’s not easy for me either.” He
unlocked the front door. Together they walked to the kitchen where
her father warmed up their dinner. “What’s that?” He pointed at the
box.

“Just some old book Aurelie gave
me.”

“What a nice lady, isn’t she?”
Her father prepared her a cup of tea and placed it on the table.
“Listen, why don’t you watch TV while you’re having your sausage
and mash? I have to finish some work.” He turned on the TV on the
counter and walked out of the kitchen.

Although still full from the
tuna sandwich, Emily finished her dinner and rushed to place her
plate in the sink. On the way to her bedroom, she heard clattering.
Her heart skipped a beat, and she stopped, frozen on the spot as
she listened for more sounds. “Dad, is that you?” she shouted
toward the staircase leading to the upper bedrooms. No one
answered.

Emily forced out a loud breath
and resumed walking, her hand clutching the railing to guide her
through the darkness. After a few steps, she heard it again. She
leaned against the cold wall as her heart jumped in her throat. It
sounded like someone was rattling a locked door. “Dad? This isn’t
funny.”

Although it was dark outside,
the soft light of the moon seeped through the high windows in the
hall. With her heart hammering in her chest, she took one slow step
after another as she climbed up the stairs. The light on the
landing flickered, then the bulb went black, and Emily could barely
see the contours of the stairs. She hated when darkness crept into
corners and turned furniture into hideous shapes. A shiver ran down
her spine at what could be lurking there. Her skin turned into
goosebumps, but she pushed the thoughts to the back of her
mind.

The rattling started again, this
time louder than before. Emily sprinted through the corridor toward
her grandmother’s bedroom, keeping her eyes fixed on the closed
door. When she reached it, the rattling stopped. Should she go in?
Maybe her father was inside.

With shaking legs, she turned
away and bolted along the long corridor. As soon as she reached her
room, she grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door wide open.
Inside, the curtains were not drawn, and she could see the moon
high above Urquhart castle. She took a step forward. A black cat
jumped up from her bed and hissed, then sprinted past her toward
the open door. Emily shrieked.

“Is everything all right?” Her
father’s voice carried up the stairs. His footsteps pounded along
the hall, and then he appeared in the doorway, a flashlight
flickering in his hand. “What’s the matter?”

Emily dropped to the floor and
peered underneath the bed. “I think I saw a black cat.”

“A cat? Are you sure?”

Emily stood and brushed the dust
off her jeans as she glared at him. “Dad, I know what a cat looks
like.”

“I’m sure you do, but how would
a cat get in here?” Her father raised his eyebrows. “Now that I
think of it, your grandma had a cat. Maybe it’s the same one.”

Emily sat on the bed and hugged
her pillow. “She used to leave a bowl of milk in the backyard. But
we’ve been here two days. Shouldn’t we have seen him already?”

“Maybe it was just a stray in
search of a warm bed for the night,” her father said.

“I’ll leave a bowl of milk in
the kitchen, and then I shall look for him tomorrow.” She was so
excited at the thought of having a cat to cuddle. In London, her
mother hadn’t allowed a pet, but her father was different. He
wouldn’t care. “What happened to the lights?” she asked.

“The bulb needs to be changed.
It’ll only take a moment.” Her father moved toward the door. “I
need to get back to work. Good night.”

“Good night,” Emily said, but he
was already gone, leaving the door ajar. She frowned and slumped on
her bed. Her father was so absorbed in work, he even forgot to tuck
her in. She folded her arms and poked her lip out.

A few moments later the light in
the hall flickered on. The house was as silent as a mouse. Now
what? Emily looked around for something to do. She missed the noise
of their London residence and her brother Sam punching away on his
Playstation. Her friends from school would pop in and out while her
mother served them iced tea in the summer and Earl Grey in the
winter. Every morning, the delicious scent of hot chocolate-chip
cookies raisin buns would waft past her window from the bakery next
door. On Sundays, her father would often surprise them with a plate
full of steaming rolls, nut-topped croissants and cinnamon
tartlets. Sam and she would then sit in the living room, munching
on their breakfast while listening to their parents planning the
day’s activities. And there were so many things to do and see in
London. Watching the guards change at Buckingham Palace, feeding
ducks in St James’s Park, smelling the impressive flower
arrangements coming from all over the world at Kew Gardens. She
even missed the things that used to make her barking mad, like her
brother always barging in, borrowing things and never returning
them.

Her glance wandered to her bag
and she remembered the diary. With its black cover and intricate
carving, it looked a little odd and scary, but, since she had left
her pink, glittery diary in London, she needed something else to
write on.

Emily removed the cloth and
opened the box.

Emily wiped her sweaty hands on
the bedspread and ran her finger over the thick, yellow paper,
turning one coarse page after another. Despite the old smell that
tickled Emily’s nose, the diary showed hardly any wear and tear.
She recalled the conversation with Aurelie. A diary that makes
wishes come true, Aurelie had said. There were no stains or marks,
nor any handwriting. It seemed no one had ever tried it.