funeral for Lucy too. I’ve no idea what she would have wanted.’
I hesitated, fingering the top of my pendant. ‘Sophie said that Lucy was a witch. Is it true?’
Drew blew out a long breath. ‘I don’t know what she was. All I know is that she filled Sophie’s head with a lot of nonsense, and I wish to God she hadn’t. Sophie’s
always been . . . ’ He searched for the right word. ‘ . . . intense,’ he decided at last. ‘And she’s struggled to fit in. Lucy encouraged her to “explore her
spiritual side”,’ he said, hooking his fingers in the air for emphasis, ‘and now she’s joined some cult set up by one of my ex-students. I didn’t trust the little
toerag when I taught him, but he’s clever. He’ll make sure he always stays on the right side of the law.’
Drew sighed. ‘Karen and I have both tried telling Sophie how dangerous it is, but the more we try and discourage her, the more committed she is.’
‘She’ll grow out of it,’ I said. ‘If it’s any comfort, I did everything that would most make my father’s life a misery when I was Sophie’s age, but I
got over it. Poor Dad,’ I remembered, shaking my head. ‘I gave him a really hard time.’
‘At least you weren’t messing around with the occult,’ said Drew gloomily.
‘Sophie’s just picked what will wind you up most. If you’d been a druid, she’d probably have joined the Young Conservatives.’
He smiled reluctantly at that. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said. I saw him look at his watch. ‘I’d better get on. Are you sure you’re going to be
okay?’
‘Absolutely.’ Doing my best to disguise my disappointment, I got to my feet too and thanked him again for the coffee and the brownie. ‘I feel like a new woman,’ I said as
I left.
It was true. By the time I came out of John Burnand’s office, tucking the envelope with Lucy’s few effects into my bag, I was back to my old self, and able to scoff at my earlier
conviction that someone called Hawise (
Hawise
! Where had my subconscious come up with a name like that?) was in my head. Clearly the brownie had done the trick. Now all I needed was a
square meal and a good night’s sleep, I decided.
I set off back to Lucy’s house, mentally compiling a list of everything that needed to be done before I could sell it, not really noticing where I was going until I found myself on the
edge of a square.
I looked around, puzzled. I saw a hot-dog stall, a cycle rack jammed with bikes. It was still cool, but people were enjoying coffee at the tables and chairs set out in the spring sunshine. The
shop on the corner was selling televisions, their brightly coloured pictures flickering at the edge of my vision.
I frowned. Where was the market cross? Where was the toll-booth? Where were the stalls and the peddlers, and the good-wives tutting over the vegetables and the countrywomen squatting by their
baskets of eggs and butter? Thursday Market should be packed with traders and beggars and servants, and all the folk who come to gossip and to bargain and to buy.
‘Hawise!’ The hand on my arm makes me jump and I swing round, my hand at the ruff of my linen smock.
‘Oh, it’s you, Alice!’
‘I’ve been calling your name for an age,’ Alice complains. She is plump and pretty –
and knows it
, Elizabeth would have said – and beneath her cap she has
very blue, slightly protuberant eyes, with long, fair lashes that she flutters against her milk-and-roses complexion. ‘Didn’t you hear me?’
‘No, I—’ I glance back at the market, but everything is as it should be. I can’t remember why I thought it wasn’t, and I shiver suddenly.
A goose walking over my grave.
‘Daydreaming again, I suppose,’ says Alice dismissively. She isn’t the kind of girl who wastes time on things that aren’t real.
She is distracted by Hap, sniffing at her gown, and she draws her skirts away with a shudder, pursing her rosebud mouth in disgust. ‘Get it away
I hesitated, fingering the top of my pendant. ‘Sophie said that Lucy was a witch. Is it true?’
Drew blew out a long breath. ‘I don’t know what she was. All I know is that she filled Sophie’s head with a lot of nonsense, and I wish to God she hadn’t. Sophie’s
always been . . . ’ He searched for the right word. ‘ . . . intense,’ he decided at last. ‘And she’s struggled to fit in. Lucy encouraged her to “explore her
spiritual side”,’ he said, hooking his fingers in the air for emphasis, ‘and now she’s joined some cult set up by one of my ex-students. I didn’t trust the little
toerag when I taught him, but he’s clever. He’ll make sure he always stays on the right side of the law.’
Drew sighed. ‘Karen and I have both tried telling Sophie how dangerous it is, but the more we try and discourage her, the more committed she is.’
‘She’ll grow out of it,’ I said. ‘If it’s any comfort, I did everything that would most make my father’s life a misery when I was Sophie’s age, but I
got over it. Poor Dad,’ I remembered, shaking my head. ‘I gave him a really hard time.’
‘At least you weren’t messing around with the occult,’ said Drew gloomily.
‘Sophie’s just picked what will wind you up most. If you’d been a druid, she’d probably have joined the Young Conservatives.’
He smiled reluctantly at that. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said. I saw him look at his watch. ‘I’d better get on. Are you sure you’re going to be
okay?’
‘Absolutely.’ Doing my best to disguise my disappointment, I got to my feet too and thanked him again for the coffee and the brownie. ‘I feel like a new woman,’ I said as
I left.
It was true. By the time I came out of John Burnand’s office, tucking the envelope with Lucy’s few effects into my bag, I was back to my old self, and able to scoff at my earlier
conviction that someone called Hawise (
Hawise
! Where had my subconscious come up with a name like that?) was in my head. Clearly the brownie had done the trick. Now all I needed was a
square meal and a good night’s sleep, I decided.
I set off back to Lucy’s house, mentally compiling a list of everything that needed to be done before I could sell it, not really noticing where I was going until I found myself on the
edge of a square.
I looked around, puzzled. I saw a hot-dog stall, a cycle rack jammed with bikes. It was still cool, but people were enjoying coffee at the tables and chairs set out in the spring sunshine. The
shop on the corner was selling televisions, their brightly coloured pictures flickering at the edge of my vision.
I frowned. Where was the market cross? Where was the toll-booth? Where were the stalls and the peddlers, and the good-wives tutting over the vegetables and the countrywomen squatting by their
baskets of eggs and butter? Thursday Market should be packed with traders and beggars and servants, and all the folk who come to gossip and to bargain and to buy.
‘Hawise!’ The hand on my arm makes me jump and I swing round, my hand at the ruff of my linen smock.
‘Oh, it’s you, Alice!’
‘I’ve been calling your name for an age,’ Alice complains. She is plump and pretty –
and knows it
, Elizabeth would have said – and beneath her cap she has
very blue, slightly protuberant eyes, with long, fair lashes that she flutters against her milk-and-roses complexion. ‘Didn’t you hear me?’
‘No, I—’ I glance back at the market, but everything is as it should be. I can’t remember why I thought it wasn’t, and I shiver suddenly.
A goose walking over my grave.
‘Daydreaming again, I suppose,’ says Alice dismissively. She isn’t the kind of girl who wastes time on things that aren’t real.
She is distracted by Hap, sniffing at her gown, and she draws her skirts away with a shudder, pursing her rosebud mouth in disgust. ‘Get it away
Similar Books
