Authors: Trisha Ashley
‘Why on earth didn’t you call me last night and warn me who the new vicar was, Poppy?’ I demanded, when I finally got someone to answer the telephone up at Stirrups. As usual, her mobile had either gone flat, been trodden on by a horse, or not been switched on at all.
‘Sorry, Chloe. I was going to, as soon as I had a minute, only I’ve been up half the night.’ I could hear her stifling a yawn. ‘When I got home after the party I could hear one of the ponies banging about in his stall with colic, so I had to get the vet out. Mum wanted me to lie in this morning, but I couldn’t leave her to do all the work alone.’
‘But, Poppy, the new vicar is
Raffy Sinclair
.’
‘Yes, isn’t it exciting?’ she agreed enthusiastically. ‘Though actually, I didn’t think you were a huge fan of his, because you’ve never mentioned him and—’
‘Poppy,’ I interrupted, ‘I came face to face with him in the High Street less than an hour ago and it was such a huge shock that my heart is still racing.’
‘Oh, I
know
and I don’t blame you, because he’s
terribly
handsome, isn’t he? His eyes are almost turquoise, like the sea in that Jamaican holiday brochure you got when your mum went missing – quite stunning! And he’s really, really nice when you talk to him too, so even if all those stories about him and the rest of his band are true, I’m sure he’s put all that behind him now that he’s found God.’
‘Poppy, it wasn’t just a shock, it was a nightmare! Raffy Sinclair—’ I began, but she had the bit between her teeth now and was galloping off.
‘I expect you felt as stunned as we all did when he walked into the room last night. But I’m sure we’ll all soon get used to seeing him around the parish. We’ll have to, won’t we, since he’s the vicar?’ She giggled. ‘It’s going to be such fun!’
‘Poppy, stop gabbling for a minute and
listen
! Raffy Sinclair is the man I met at university – you remember, the boyfriend who went off and left me when his band was offered a recording contract, and didn’t come back? The one I never, ever, heard from again – unless you count reading about his debauched exploits in the newspapers.’
There was a gasp. ‘
That
was Raffy Sinclair? I had no idea! If only you’d told me his name instead of clamming up about it, I would have warned you and – oh, Chloe, he seemed so nice too!’ she exclaimed, distressed.
But of course Poppy had been away at the crucial time and when she eventually returned I’d lost any desire to share more than the barest details, even with my oldest friend. Only Zillah knew the full extent of what I went through then and I hadn’t told even her the name of the man who’d broken my heart.
‘I never wanted to see him again!’
‘No, and I suppose I can understand that, because
I
still feel a bit sick when I think of the silly way I behaved over
that instructor when I was doing my course and I’m sure I’d
die
if I had to see him again,’ she agreed.
‘That was a bit different, Poppy – I thought Raffy
loved
me. He told me so!’
‘I know, and it’s terribly sad and romantic, just like a film,’ she sighed.
‘Yes, one with an unhappy ending!’
‘But it
was
an awfully long time ago. I expect you’ve hardly thought about him for years, it was just the shock of suddenly seeing him that’s upset you.’
‘Poppy, Mortal Ruin’s music is inescapable, so I’ve never had the chance to forget him!’
In fact, ‘Darker Past Midnight’ still makes me want to cry, because I’m not the girl in the song he’s longing to see again…but I didn’t tell Poppy that.
‘Oh, yes, I suppose that would keep stirring it up,’ she agreed. ‘But at least you got over him long ago, even if you couldn’t forget all about him, and you’ll probably soon get used to seeing him about. And after all, now he’s been ordained, he must be a totally changed man from the one you knew.’
‘I don’t care if he’s on the fast-track shortlist for sainthood,’ I snapped and slammed the phone down, though I was sorry almost immediately. It wasn’t poor Poppy’s fault that I was so upset.
Then some slight movement out of the corner of my eye warned me that I was not alone and I saw that Zillah was sitting quietly on a kitchen chair as if she had materialised there, with a large pot pie in a ceramic dish, the ostensible reason for her visit, on the table in front of her.
‘Oh, Zillah!’ I gasped, wondering just how many shocks a heart could take in one day. ‘How much of that did you hear?’
‘Enough,’ she said, while the roll-up fag dangling from one corner of her mouth shed a long trail of ash that narrowly missed the pot pie. ‘Finally I know the name of the man who made you so unhappy. Who deserted you in your hour of need. Who—’
‘Let’s not go there,’ I said wearily, dropping onto the chair opposite. I was starting to feel quite wrung out and the day had barely got going yet.
‘And now here he is, masquerading as a man of God,’ she said, ignoring me. ‘The warning was on the cards!’
‘It’s a pity they didn’t spell it out a bit more clearly, then, because I thought they just meant David. And Poppy doesn’t understand why I’m so upset that Raffy’s come here, since it was all such a long time ago. She says that since he’s become a vicar he
must
have changed a lot since I knew him, but it’s hard to believe.’
‘Whatever he’s become now doesn’t excuse what he did in the past. And anyway, Chloe, the past tends to come around and bite you on the bum when you’re not looking.’
‘Yes, it certainly just bit mine.’
‘And it will bite his, in time – his punishment will find him out.’
I looked up quickly at that. ‘You’re not going to tell Grumps, are you?’
She didn’t reply, just grinned at me, golden teeth glinting, and then hoisted herself up leaving a final discarded snakeskin of ash on the table. ‘There’s a nice pie for your dinner. I’m off out later, so I thought I’d cook early – I’ve joined the local tea dance club.’
She held out one small foot in a jewelled high-heeled silver sandal for me to admire. ‘New, breaking them in.’
‘Lovely,’ I said, my mind still focused on other things.
‘Zillah, you really
won’t
tell Grumps anything about what happened between me and Raffy Sinclair, will you? I mean, he doesn’t know we ever went out with each other, let alone—’
‘You can’t hope to keep secrets from your grandfather,’ she said ambiguously, which either meant that she thought he was so all-seeing that he would automatically pick up information from the airwaves, or that she told him everything.
I hoped my little Sticklepond Sibyl was wrong.
‘So now I don’t know if she’ll tell Grumps that Raffy’s the man who treated me so badly, and if so, whether he’ll feel the need to try and take some kind of revenge. Though if he did, Raffy would
totally
deserve it,’ I said to Poppy and Felix later in the snug at the Falling Star.
Felix had entirely forgotten that I’d been out with anyone while at university (he too had had other things on his mind at the time, being in the throes of his divorce just then), and was unflatteringly astounded to discover that Raffy and I had been an item.
‘But it’s all so long ago and anyway, you couldn’t really blame the man for going off when Mortal Ruin got its big opportunity, could you?’ he said, even more inclined than Poppy to think I should have got over it by now. ‘Be reasonable, Chloe!’
‘Perhaps not, but I
could
blame him for dumping me without a second thought!’
‘But you spent only one term at university, so it was hardly a long relationship, was it?’
‘And you were both terribly young, so it probably wouldn’t have lasted anyway,’ Poppy suggested gently.
‘I wouldn’t worry about your grandfather doing anything to him, either,’ Felix said with his sudden attractively lopsided grin, ‘because if he tried to put some kind of curse on all your old suitors, he’d have no time to do anything else.’
Poppy giggled. ‘That’s an exaggeration, Felix! Chloe’s only been out with a handful of men and no one at all for ages and ages.’
‘I wouldn’t mind if he put a curse on David Billinge,’ Felix said. ‘I’m sure he’s trying to get back with you, Chloe. And you seem to have managed to forgive
him
, even though he jilted you on the eve of your wedding, haven’t you?’
‘That was because he did me a favour. I realised almost immediately that marrying him would have been a big mistake. Now he just wants to be friends, which is fine by me. He’s picking me up on Wednesday afternoon and we’re going to look around a few country cottages. It’ll be fun – I love looking at other people’s homes.’
Felix looked unconvinced, and I’m pretty sure Poppy wasn’t listening at all, because she suddenly said, ‘You needn’t see much of the vicar, Chloe, so it may not be such a problem as you think. I mean, it’s not like you go to church, is it? Your paths will hardly cross.’
‘They crossed this morning, practically on my doorstep.’
‘I expect he was taking his dog for a walk round the block, because the rear drive to the vicarage is just up Angel Lane, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, so it is. Well, I’ll just have to try and keep out of his way. And I expect that even if Grumps does find out and tries to do something horrible to Raffy, it won’t work. Besides, he has other things to worry about at the moment.’ I told them about the parcel Grumps had received from
Digby Mann-Drake. ‘He said it was a warning and it must have been something really nasty, because he burned it.’
‘Actually, I forgot to tell you that Mr Mann-Drake came into my shop the other day and he seemed very inoffensive and pleasant,’ Felix said. ‘I didn’t even realise who he was until we were chatting and he said he’d bought Badger’s Bolt as a weekend cottage, but found the ambience so restful that he intended spending a lot of time there. That doesn’t sound very dangerous, does it?’
‘But Jake looked him up on the internet and he’s really not a very nice person – and Grumps said he could easily deceive people,’ I warned him.
‘Yes, I think he sounds horrid and Miss Winter should be glad that your grandfather bought the Old Smithy and not him, or we would have him right in the middle of the village,’ Poppy agreed. ‘But I’ve just had a thought: Miss Winter is bound to make the new vicar go and visit your grandfather, isn’t she?’
‘Serves him right,’ I said callously, then changed the subject and told them about my conversation with Chas.
‘He took it a lot better than I expected. He’s such a nice man that I really want him to be my father!’
‘There’s still a good chance he is,’ Poppy said optimistically. ‘And at least you’ll soon know one way or the other, won’t you?’
‘If it’s not him, what will you do then?’ Felix asked. ‘Go after that actor, whatever he was called?’
‘Carr Blackstock – and he didn’t sound particularly friendly. I’ll think about that, if it comes to it. One step at a time.’
‘Gosh, everything seems to be happening to you at once,’ Poppy said.
‘Yes, it needs only Mum to turn up on the doorstep to make my happiness complete,’ I replied slightly sourly, because it was starting to feel as if my six-year sea of relative tranquillity had been maliciously stirred with a big stick and a whole lot of murky stuff was rising from the bottom.
I saw the notorious Mr Mann-Drake for myself the very next day and, like Felix, I found it hard to square his appearance with his reputation…though, admittedly, his appearance
was
very odd.
He was going into Marked Pages as I was coming out, after my usual cup of coffee on the way back from the post office with the Chocolate Wishes orders. When he made a strange sort of half-bow and doffed his wide-brimmed felt hat, wishing me good morning, I guessed who he was even though he looked nothing like the photograph of him I’d seen.
It must have been taken while he was standing on a box, for instead of being tall and cadaverous, he was more like a skull on a short stick, wrapped in a Victorian-style evening cloak. His hair was dyed even blacker than Jake’s and plastered flatly to his head and though his skin appeared slightly mummified, his eyes were as dark, bright and alert as a lizard’s.
In fact, he looked like an old-fashioned music-hall magician, except that there was something slightly reptilian about
him that gave me the creeps, even though his voice fell like drops of liquid honey into the air. Grumps was right about that.
Poppy rang later that day from her mobile and she must have been up in one of the paddocks, out of earshot of her mother, because I could hear sheep bleating in the background and a blowing noise, which she said was Honeybun being friendly and wanting to say hello. I was only surprised that for once her phone was in working order.
‘Did you call so Honeybun could communicate with me?’ I asked. ‘Only I’m melting couverture and I’ll have to turn the temperature down and tip a bit more in, shortly.’
The chocolate spends over an hour being heated and stirred before the next stage, when you put more of the couverture chocolate drops into the Bath to cool it down, and once started on the process I don’t stop, short of a power cut.
‘No, of course not, it was because Raffy Sinclair’s just been here and I thought you’d like to know.’
‘What, he’s been to Stirrups?’
‘Yes, he caught us just as we were having our elevenses. He said he intended visiting every house in the parish over the next few weeks to introduce himself, starting with Mr Lees and the members of the Parish Council. He’d seen Effie Yatton already and after us it would be Felix.’
‘That seems pretty keen – he’s only just arrived.’
‘He certainly is keen. He’s already had a meeting with the Parochial Church Council and he’s started saying morning and evening prayers in the church every day too, which is more than poor old Mr Harris managed. He said anyone who wanted to join him would be welcome.’
‘But doesn’t Mr Lees practise the organ in the afternoons?’
‘Yes, but he’s usually finished and gone for his tea by then, though he sometimes plays it late at night when he calls in to lock up the church on his way home from the pub. People complain about it, but being blind he says day and night are all one to him, and takes no notice.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard him playing once or twice faintly, when the wind has been in the right direction and my bedroom window open. But I thought he was deaf and dumb as well as blind, the Pinball Wizard of the mighty Wurlitzer?’
‘Oh, no, he can hear perfectly well, and talk if he wants to – he just doesn’t usually want to. He must have talked to Raffy, though, because they’re going to the Falling Star for a drink together tonight.’
‘What? Raffy can’t invade
our
pub!’ I protested indignantly.
‘They’ll go in the back bar and I don’t suppose he’ll make a habit of it, he’s just being friendly.’ She paused, then added, apologetically, ‘He
is
warm and friendly, you know, Chloe, though I found it a bit hard talking to him, knowing he treated you so badly. I think he noticed there was something wrong.’
I could imagine: Poppy’s thoughts and feelings scud across her expressive face like clouds across the sky.
‘As soon as Mum went to make him some fresh tea, he told me he’d bumped into someone he knew at university the previous day, Chloe Lyon, and Mr Merryman had told him you were a friend of mine! He said it had been quite a surprise to find you were living in Sticklepond.’
‘I bet it was!’
‘That’s what I said, and then I think he realised you’d told me all about him, because he said it seemed to have
given you a bit of a shock when you ran into him in the High Street, but he assumed that you’d long ago forgiven and forgotten and moved on with your life, just as he had.’
‘What does he mean, just as
he
had?’ I demanded indignantly. ‘
I
was the wronged one – and I was doing just fine with the moving-on bit until he chose to turn up on my doorstep.’
‘Yes, but of course at that point he was assuming you were married, because he’d seen you that morning with Jake and thought he was your son.’
‘But why on earth should he—’ I began, then remembered. ‘Oh, yes, I think Jake
did
call me Mum when he was leaving, the way he does when he’s trying to wind me up.’
‘I told him you weren’t married and that Jake was your half-brother, and you’d practically brought him up singlehanded. He looked really surprised.’
‘There, that just goes to prove he never even
looked
at the letter I sent him after I got back from university, or he would have known all about Jake! And now I suppose he thinks I’ve been pining for him all this time and that’s why I’ve never married.’
‘Oh, no, I’m sure he doesn’t, Chloe! I explained that you’d spent the last few years building up a really successful chocolate business and he’d actually eaten one of your Wishes at his welcome party.’
‘I wish it had choked him!’
‘You don’t really think that, it’s just his arrival’s temporarily stirred up all the hurt feelings again, that’s all. But I’m positive he’s an entirely different man from the one who let you down, a
nice
man.’
‘Can leopards really change their spots?’
‘Yes,’ Poppy said simply. ‘Even the blackest sinner can repent. And he must have done, or they wouldn’t have let him enter the Church, would they?’
‘I suppose not,’ I agreed reluctantly, only half believing in this metamorphosis from rock god to man of God. ‘Did he say anything else interesting?’
‘No, there wasn’t time, because Mum came back with the fresh tea and a plate of Bourbon biscuits and started flirting with him, which was hideously embarrassing.
And
she told him she was going to start attending church services, though I shouldn’t think she ever has, apart from the occasional wedding.’
‘She won’t be the first. He’ll have every woman in the parish drooling over him, just wait and see.’
She giggled. ‘Except Hebe Winter! He’s going out to Winter’s End in the morning and then he said he thought he might visit your grandfather in the afternoon, since she’d made such a big thing of it and he was quite interested in the concept of the museum, anyway.’
‘Visiting Grumps might not be the wisest move he’s ever made,’ I said. ‘I have a feeling Zillah has told Grumps everything she knows about Raffy Sinclair. Look, I’ll have to go and see to the chocolate now – I’ll talk to you later.’
It was late afternoon by the time I’d finished making Wishes and cleaned the workshop up again.
I felt tired and drained, but I went through into the museum because I’d promised to help Grumps check the proofs for the guidebook. It was just a short brochure, but he was now thinking of using the same firm in Merchester to privately print his definitive guide to the history of magic, an old project he was suddenly keen to resurrect, and which had so far been
rejected by every publisher he’d sent it to, even the one who published his book on ley lines.
He had the proofs spread out on the desk and they didn’t take long to go through. Then, just as we finished, Zillah appeared with Clive Snowball, who was carrying an old cardboard wine box.
‘Clive’s got something for you,’ she said, with one of her gold-glinting smiles. She seemed to be on surprisingly friendly terms with the publican.
‘Mother sent these,’ he said, dumping the box onto the desk in front of us, then added, without showing any sign of curiosity about the strange objects that surrounded him, ‘I’ll be off then. There’s a delivery due at the Star.’
‘I’ll see you later at the tea dance club then, will I?’ asked Zillah.
‘No, I’ll pick you up and drive you, love: you don’t want to be walking the length of the village in those pretty silver sandals of yours, not in winter.’
I won’t say that Zillah simpered, precisely, but there was more than a hint of sashay in her walk as she went off to let Clive out again.
Grumps didn’t seem to have taken in any of this exchange but had folded back the lid of the box and was engaged in unpacking thick, greenish, old bottles, the sort that have a glass marble stopper hinged to the neck on a strong wire.
They each seemed to have several objects inside them, but when I held one up to the light I could only make out a slip of paper and what might have been twigs tied together. ‘Witch bottles? Is that Mrs Snowball’s mysterious magical speciality?’
‘Of course. Florrie Snowball makes the best and she’s
built up a large stock over the years, because we all felt they would be needed, sooner or later.’
‘Oh,’ I said thoughtfully, because the purpose of the bottles is to ward off ill-wishing, and they’ve been found hidden in many old houses. ‘Are these supposed to guard us against Mr Mann-Drake?’
‘The first line of defence,’ he agreed, ‘for as boy scouts say: be prepared!’
I couldn’t imagine Grumps had ever been a boy scout, but something was puzzling me. ‘Grumps, I thought the bottles contained magic to keep witches out. So how come a
witch
is making witch bottles? And if she had boxes full of them in the pub cellar, then they can’t be working, can they?’
‘They work very well.’ He held one up and shook it gently and for a moment I thought I saw a glittering spark of light like a shooting star in the murky depths, but it must have been a reflection.
‘But if the charm works, then why isn’t it affecting
you
either, Grumps?’
He looked at me in a surprised sort of way. ‘Because my heart is pure and my intentions good, though I confess to feeling the odd twinge, should I…er…
inadvertently
stray over the borders of white magic, even with the best of motives. A little revenge, for instance…’ He winced slightly. ‘It is like a sort of spiritual lumbago. Practitioners of the Old Religion can take two paths and this charm works against those who have taken the wrong one, and protects those of us who have not.’
‘Right,’ I said, thinking that at least if his coven believed that, then the witch bottles should keep them all on the straight and narrow – or, as straight and narrow as magic usually is: it seems a twisty sort of thing.
Grumps handed me the bottle. ‘You’ll find a small ledge for that above the museum door, Chloe. In fact, you will find a place for them over every exterior door to the Old Smithy.’
He was quite right, too – there was. I carried the box and he placed the bottles onto ledges above the lintels. ‘Made for the purpose, you see, Chloe. Very cautious women, the Frinton sisters. They will have taken their own bottles with them to set up at their new address.’
In my cottage there was a tiny niche carved into the stonework over both my front and back doors, just big enough to hold a bottle. I’d already noticed them and put one of my ornamental angel figures in each. They seemed protection enough to me, but since Grumps showed signs of extreme annoyance when I said so, I placated him by relegating them to the windowsills among the scented geraniums, and replacing them with the witch charms.
‘Poppy tells me the new vicar intends coming to see you tomorrow afternoon, Grumps,’ I said casually, when that was done, but obviously not casually enough because he gave me one of his sharp looks.
‘If he is obeying Hebe Winter’s orders, then he is a fool. If he knows of our relationship, then he is a double fool.’
‘What has our relationship got to do with it?’ I demanded, but he didn’t deign to reply to that one. I can’t really believe in his omniscience, so it does look as if Zillah has told him something about my past relationship with Raffy, though I sincerely hope not
all.
‘I’m not sure Mr Merryman ever recovered from his visit with you, Grumps. What on earth did you say to the poor man?’
He looked faintly surprised. ‘Nothing that anyone could
take objection to, I am quite sure! I was busy when he arrived, so perhaps it was what I was
doing
, rather than anything I
said
. Are you asking me to be kind to the new dolt when he comes to disturb my peace?’
‘No: you throw the bell, book
and
candle right back at him, if you want to,’ I told him callously.