Witch Is When Life Got Complicated (9 page)

Chapter 14

I was en-route to Candlefield. When I’d left Washbridge, the sky had been grey and it had been pouring with rain. As soon as I was within sight of Candlefield, the rain stopped, the clouds cleared, and the sun began to shine. If ever there was an argument for moving there permanently, this was it. I had to focus hard on my destination so that the car would know to deliver me straight to Cuppy C where I’d arranged to meet the twins.

Amber was behind the counter when I walked into the tea room. She saw me, and her face lit up.

“Jill! How are you?”

“Ticking along. I see you’ve dyed your hair again.” It was black—the last time I’d seen her, she’d been blonde.

“We aren’t talking about that.” She scowled.

“We aren’t? Don’t you like it?”

“I liked it perfectly fine until—.” Her gaze shifted to the table in the far corner of the tea room. “Until she did
that
.”

I’d assumed Pearl must be in the cake shop. I hadn’t noticed her in the corner, sitting with another woman. And the reason I hadn’t noticed her? Because she too had dyed her hair—black.

“She did it on purpose.” Amber’s voice was much louder now.

Pearl heard her sister, looked up, and saw me. She said a few words to her companion, and then skipped across to join us at the counter.

“Hi, Jill.” Pearl gave me a hug. “What lies is
she
telling you?”

“I’m only telling the truth.” Amber huffed. “You copied me again.”

“Don’t listen to a word she says.
She
copied
me
.”

“That’s rubbish!”

“It so isn’t!”

Oh how I’d missed this. I’d only been in the shop for two minutes, and already the twins were at each other’s throats. Their argument bounced back and forth while I tried to remain neutral.

“I thought of it first!” Amber insisted.

“That’s rubbish. I had mine done first!” Pearl countered.

I was tempted to turn and run for the hills, but I hadn’t come all this way to leave now. I took a deep breath and stepped in between them. “Girls! Please!”

The twins fell silent.

“Thank you.”

“Sorry, Jill,” Pearl said. “It’s her fault.”

“Yours more like.”

“Enough!” I raised my hands. “Can we call a truce at least until I’ve gone? Okay?”

Amber nodded.

“Okay?”

Pearl nodded.

I sighed with relief. “Okay. That’s better. I hope I didn’t drag you away from your friend.” I gestured to the woman who Pearl had been sitting with. The woman, who seemed oblivious to the twins' altercation, was making notes in a small notepad. Even though she was seated, I could see she was incredibly tall. The faux leather cat-suit she was wearing showed off her toned body. She had the look of an Amazon.

“Daze won’t mind.”

“Who?”

“Her name’s Daisy Flowers,” Amber said in a whisper.

“Daisy Flowers?”

The twins both shushed me and glanced over to see if the woman had heard.

“She doesn’t look like a—” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Daisy Flowers.”

“That’s her real name,” Amber said. “But no one calls her that.”

“Not if they enjoy living.” Pearl grinned.

“What did you call her?” I asked.

“Daze.”

“D A Z E?” I spelled out the name.

The twins nodded.

“Amber, you get us all a drink,” Pearl said. “I’ll introduce Jill to Daze.”

Amber scowled; she didn’t appreciate being given orders by her sister. But at least she didn’t argue this time.

“Are you sure we should join her?” I said. “She looks as though she’s busy.” And very scary.

“Come on. It’ll be cool.”

The woman looked up as we approached—her long black hair framed a beautiful face.

“Daze, this is my cousin, Jill Gooder.”

The woman stood, and flashed me a dazzling smile. “Pleased to meet you.”

She shook my hand, which felt as though it might disintegrate under her grip.

“The twins have told me a lot about you,” she said in a husky voice. “Please sit down.”

Pearl and I did as instructed; Amber joined us shortly after.

“I understand you’re a private investigator in the human world,” Daze said.

“That’s right.”

“That must be fascinating. Do you handle human and sup cases?”

The question threw me for a moment. “Only human up to now. At least as far as I’m aware. The twins probably told you that I only recently discovered I’m a witch.”

“That must have come as a surprise?”

“Shock more like. I’m still trying to get used to the idea.”

“Sounds like you’re a fast learner if what your grandma told me is true.” She grinned at the twins who managed only empty smiles in return. “I hear you whupped their asses in a test.”

“Beginner’s luck, I guess.”

“I might be able to put some business your way,” Daze said. “If you decide to take on sup clients.”

“Oh?”

“Daze is a hunter,” Amber said.

“Hunter?” I looked to Daze for more information.

“That’s what people around here call me, but my official title is Rogue Retriever or RR for short.”

The tea room was filling up, but the staff behind the counter seemed to be coping. Everyone who walked into the shop stared at Daze as though she was some kind of local celebrity.

“What’s a Rogue Retriever?” I was keen to find out more about this fascinating woman.

“Let me ask you a question,” Daze said. “Before you became aware of sups, what did you think of witches, werewolves and vampires?”

“I can’t say I’d given them much thought.” It was true. Outside of movies and books, I’d never given much thought to any kind of supernatural creature for the simple reason that I didn’t believe they existed.

“That’s as it should be.” Daze glanced around the room, and seemed unfazed by the attention her presence was generating. “Sups are allowed to visit the human world; they’re even allowed to live there. But there are rules and protocols that have to be followed. No sup is allowed to do anything that is likely to attract the attention of humans. The vast majority of sups play by the rules, but there’s a small number of ‘Rogues’.

“So? You
retrieve
them?”

“That’s right. I bring them back to Candlefield where they are punished accordingly.”

I thought about asking what form that punishment might take, but figured it would probably come under the category of ‘you wouldn’t want to know’.

“That sounds like a dangerous job.”

Daze shrugged.

“Daze is a sup squared,” Amber said, and then shrank under Daze’s glare.

“I don’t like that term,” Daze said.

“What does
sup squared
mean?” I was more than a little curious.

Daze sighed as though she’d given this same explanation a thousand times. “I’m a super sup or sup sup for short. Some people—” She looked at Amber, who suddenly discovered something incredibly interesting on the floor. “Some people have taken to abbreviating sup sup to sup squared. It’s stupid.”

“I agree.” Pearl looked pleased to be able to pile in on her sister.

“You say it too.” Amber retaliated.

“I don’t!”

“You do!”

“Enough!” Daze said, and immediately the twins fell silent. You didn’t argue with Daze.

“So, are you like some kind of super hero?” I asked, but then immediately wished I hadn’t.

“Sup sups have a broad range of powers, but I wouldn’t use the term ‘super hero’.”

I was intrigued by the idea of a supernatural super hero whose job it was to chase, capture and bring back rogue sups from the human world. “How do you find out about the Rogues?”

“Usually the authorities here in Candlefield get to hear, and post a bounty for the Rogue’s retrieval. That’s how I make my living. Occasionally, I’ll just stumble across a Rogue.”

“Are there other Retrievers?”

“A few. Not many licensed ones though. We tend to keep out of each other’s way. Occasionally there’ll be more than one of us after the same bounty. That can get a bit messy.”

I waited for her to elaborate, but she wasn’t forthcoming.

“How do you split your time between here and the other world?” I asked instead.

“I spend the majority of my time in the human world. I’m usually only here when I bring back a Rogue or if I’m on holiday.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out a card, and handed it to me. Printed on it was the word ‘DAZE’, and a phone number. “In your line of business you might come across a few Rogues. If you do, just give me a call.”

“Sure.” I slipped it into my back pocket.

“Anyway.” Daze stood up. “I’d better get a move on—I need to check the bounty list before the others beat me to it. Nice to meet you, Jill.”

“Likewise.”

“Bye, girls.”

The twins chirped their goodbyes.

“Have you got a death wish?” Pearl turned on her sister. “Sup squared?”

“I was only joking.”

“You know she hates that. You might as well have called her Daisy.”

“She’s one scary lady,” I interjected in the hope of staving off another argument.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want to be on her wanted list. She can kick some serious ass.”

“Has Aunt Lucy talked about my mother’s engagement much?” I asked.

“She hasn’t mentioned it once,” Amber said. “It’s as though it isn’t happening,”

“She’s in denial,” Pearl agreed.

“Do you know much about Alberto?”

“Hardly anything. Mum had never mentioned him to us. As far as we can make out, she and your mother both had a soft spot for him, but he blew them both off.”

The door to the tea room flew open, and Daze rushed back in. “Pearl!”

Pearl looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

“You forgot to give me the cupcake.”

Relief washed over Pearl’s face. “Sorry. It’s behind the counter. She scurried across the room, picked up the box and handed it to Daze.

“You should have seen your face.” Amber laughed once Daze had left. “You were bricking it.”

“So would you have been if you’d thought Daze was coming for you.”

As I walked back to the car, I took out Daze’s business card. She was one impressive woman, and might prove to be a useful ally.

Chapter 15

Have I mentioned that I hated my sister? I didn’t really—I loved her to bits, but she did things that drove me totally insane. Like the time she’d set me up on a blind date with a guy who spent all evening picking his nose. And I still hadn’t forgiven her for stealing my beanies. Kathy also had a habit of booking tickets for all manner of events without checking with me first. Last time it was that awful amateur dramatics production, this time it was the circus.

“I hate circuses.”

“No you don’t,” Kathy insisted.

“I do. They’re all animal poo and sawdust.”

“There aren’t any animals in this circus. It’s just acrobats, and clowns and stuff.”

“I hate clowns.”

“Oh yeah.” She laughed. “I’d forgotten about your clown phobia.”

“I do
not
have a clown phobia. They’re just boring.” I’m terrified of them. No one will ever convince me they aren’t evil. There should be some law against them.

“Then why do you always hide behind the sofa whenever they’re on TV?”

“That was when I was a kid.”

“What about last Christmas when you came over for dinner?”

“I wasn’t hiding. I’d dropped something.”

“What?”

“I can’t remember. A cracker or a mince pie or something festive.”

“You’re such a liar. Even the kids were laughing at you.”

Children could be so cruel.

“There must be someone else who could go with you.”

“You promised you’d go if I found the lagoon blue wool, remember? And besides, the kids want you to come. “Kids!” She shouted at the top of her voice.

“Is it time to go?” Mikey shouted.

“Circus! Circus!” Lizzie chanted.

“Do you want Auntie Jill to come with us?”

“Yes!” They screamed in unison.

I hated my sister.

“There’s acrobats!” Mikey said.

“And tightrope walkers,” Lizzie said.

“And clowns,” Mikey added.

I somehow managed to force a smile. I’d get my revenge on Kathy—just you wait and see.

The travelling circus had set up camp on a small green on the outskirts of Washbridge.

“You have got to be kidding!” My heels sank into the mud as soon as I stepped out of the car.

“You should have worn different shoes, Auntie Jill,” Mikey said. “I’ve got my wellies on.”

“I should, shouldn’t I?”

“You can borrow these, they’re Pete’s.” Kathy passed me a huge pair of wellingtons, which were three sizes too big for me. I had no choice but to wear them. It was that or try to navigate the quagmire in my heels.

There’s nothing to match the aroma of damp sawdust. They should bottle it—Eau de Big Top.

I checked the seat number on my ticket and to my horror saw we were on the front row.

“Yeah, we should get a great view,” Kathy laughed. “Of the clowns.”

Evil. There was no other word for it.

The kids loved every second. They screamed, shouted and laughed their way through a variety of acts. I made what I hoped were suitably enthusiastic noises to hide my derision.

“Why have you got your eyes closed?” Lizzie asked when the clowns made an appearance.

“They’re not closed,” I insisted. “It’s the lights. They’re a little bright.”

“Auntie Jill is scared of clowns,” Kathy said.

Lizzie laughed. “Are you?”

“Of course not.”

I kept my eyes closed.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” the ringmaster said. “We come to our final act.”

Thank goodness. Freedom was only minutes away.

“Please welcome the Great Marvinos—jugglers extraordinaire!”

Three men wearing red cloaks and gold harem trousers ran into the ring. After a bow, they discarded their cloaks, and began their act.

Throwing balls in the air, and catching them again—what’s so clever about that? I could do that when I was a kid, but I didn’t go around calling myself ‘The Great Jillino’. But then, I couldn’t keep six of them in the air or eight or—how on earth did they do that? Swords? Surely not. Chainsaws? That had to be dangerous. I couldn’t watch.

“Look Auntie Jill!” Mikey pulled at my sleeve. “They’re juggling fire now.”

And so they were. The three men were throwing blazing torches to one another. The lights in the Big Top had been dimmed for effect. The accompanying music became more and more dramatic as they increased the number of torches.

The entire crowd seemed to gasp as one when one of the men dropped a torch. Perhaps it was all part of the act? The torch landed on one of the discarded cloaks, and set it alight. From there, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The flames spread quickly to a rope, which had been used earlier by the high wire act. People began to scream as they realised that one side of the tent was now ablaze. Kathy was frozen with terror. The kids began to cry. Behind us people started to panic.

I reacted instinctively. As soon as I had cast the ‘rain’ spell, dark clouds appeared above our heads, just below the roof of the tent. Moments later, rain began to pour down, and soon the fire was out. I reversed the spell, and the clouds disappeared.

“Kids!” Kathy shouted. “Take off your boots!” It was too late, they’d already run into the house. Their muddy footprints were all over the hall carpet. “Great! That’s all I need.”

“It’ll be okay.”

“Are you kidding? Just look at that mess.”

“If you need a carpet cleaner, Fiona Digby can probably recommend one. I saw one at her house when I went to see her the other day.”

“What happened at the circus, Jill?” Kathy still looked pale after her scare. “One minute it looked like we were toast, the next—”

“The sprinklers saved us.”

“What sprinklers? I didn’t see any sprinklers. It looked like rain clouds.”

“Inside a tent? Don’t be ridiculous. It’s the shock—you’re upset. Come inside, I’ll make you a cup of sweet tea.”

The ‘rain’ spell had saved the day, but Kathy knew something was going on. I’d have to be extra careful in future.

The TV van was double-parked outside my office.

“I’m sorry, you can’t come in.” A snotty-nosed young woman with acne and an attitude blocked my way at the top of the stairs.

“This is my office.”

She looked at me as though I’d just arrived on the simple train. “We’re filming an interview.”

“With who?”

“It’s okay!” Mrs V shouted from inside the office. “Let her in.”

‘Spotty with attitude’ reluctantly stepped aside.

The room was packed with camera men, sound men, and miscellaneous gophers—all of them had been given a scarf to wear. Mrs V was seated. Her trophy was on the desk in front of her.

A smarmy, middle-aged man with a fake tan and even faker hair was standing next to Mrs V—his microphone poised for action. “Do you mind?” He was glaring at me.

“I don’t mind. Carry on.”

“You’re in shot.”

And you
should
be shot, but I’m not complaining. “Sorry.”

I went through to my office.

“When will they want me?” Winky said.

“When will
who
want you?”

“The news crew of course. Do I look okay?”

“It’s not a horror show they’re shooting.” Too harsh?

“I work here too. I should be included in the piece. Does my fur look okay?” He licked a few stray hairs.

“I’m sure they’ll give you a call when they need you.” Don’t hold your breath.

“I don’t know why they want to interview that old bag. All she ever does is knit.”

“Whereas
you
?”

“I channel the spirit of your father.”

“Really? I hadn’t realised that’s what you did. I thought you were just a massive pain in the ass who only ever stopped complaining long enough to destroy my desk.”

“I’ll ignore that remark. How about some tuna while I’m waiting?”

“Not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“No one wants to interview someone with tuna breath.”

“Good thinking.”

“What was that all about?” I asked Mrs V once the TV crew had left.

“They have an arts and crafts programme on at the weekend. They’re going to feature my win.”

“Good for you.”

“Make sure you watch it,” she said.

I’d rather poke out my eyes with a knitting needle. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I lied. “By the way, I’d steer clear of Winky for a while.”

“I always do. What’s up with him now?”

“He wanted to be on TV.”

Mrs V laughed. I could hear Winky hissing in my office. If that cat took it out on my desk again, I’d kill him.

Winky had retired to the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet where he sulked for the rest of the afternoon. I preferred him when he was sulking—it meant I could actually get some work done. I typed ‘pathetic looking dog’ into the search engine, and was soon viewing page after page of images of suitably morose canines. After I’d picked one which reminded me of Barry, I quickly knocked up a poster that included the number of one of the ‘burner’ phones I always kept on standby.

“Are you still trying to find Blinky?” Mrs V asked when she saw the pile of posters in my hand.

“Not this time.” I put one of the posters on her desk.

“Who’s Henry?” She looked puzzled. “I didn’t know you had a dog. I didn’t think you could have pets at your flat.”

“I don’t and I can’t. Henry doesn’t exist—I made him up. Cute though isn’t he?”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a long story. I’ll update you later.”

This time, when I put up the posters, I didn’t get any of the cruel jibes I’d experienced when I’d been searching for Winky. I guess people love pathetic looking dogs, but not psycho, one-eyed cats.

I’d just put up the last of the posters when my phone rang.

“Just calling to see how you are,” Kathy said, but there was something in her voice that told me that there was more to the call than that.

“I’m fine. What’s up?”

“Nothing much.”

“Kathy?”

“I had intended to tell you last night.”

“Tell me what?”

“But what with the fire and everything.”

“Please tell me you haven’t booked me a ticket for something else.”

“Well—not exactly.”

“What does ‘not exactly’ mean?”

“The show must go on,” she said with a false laugh.

“What show must go on?”

“WADS. The play resumes its run tonight. All tickets from the—” she hesitated as though trying to find a suitable word, “From the
abandoned
performance are still valid. So, I didn’t actually book anything new. You already had a ticket.”

“Who’s going to play the male lead?” I asked, but then remembered the man with the nervous twitch. The understudy’s understudy, Brian Hargreaves to the rescue.