A Witch In Winter (22 page)

‘Oh, you’ve been listening to Abe for too long,’ I scoffed. ‘I think they’re just not as sinister as Abe wants us to believe.’

‘Did he tell you about his run-in with them?’ Emmaline said.

‘Yes, all about betting on the weather too many times in a row?’

‘What?’ She looked taken aback and then snorted. Huh! Is that what he said?’

‘Yes – why? Is that not what happened?’

‘Well that happened, yes.’

‘But something else happened – right?’

‘Yes, but if Abe didn’t want to tell you, I certainly can’t.’

‘Oh come on!’ I hissed. ‘At least give me a clue.’

‘Anna, it’s his business. I’m not spilling his secrets, he’d kill me.’ Then she relented a little. ‘It was to do with a girl he liked … It ended dreadfully. Really dreadfully.’

‘Yes?’ I pressed. ‘Dreadfully how?’ Emmaline shook her head and I grabbed her wrist. ‘Em please, this isn’t just gossip. I need to know.’

Em bit her lip – but she seemed to realize she’d said too much to stop now. ‘Oh crap. Look – she dLooidtied. It was awful. But that’s
all
I’m saying. You want more, you have to ask him.’

Oh, Abe. I closed my eyes. Now I felt like a bitch for wringing it out of Emmaline. But I had to know the worst.

‘Em, I promise I won’t ask any more but … her death it wasn’t anything to do with
them
, was it?’

‘The Ealdwitan?’ Her voice was almost inaudible. ‘No not really. No. Natural causes.’

‘So … in the end, all Abe got was a fine? That’s not so dreadful, it is?’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Em said curtly. ‘They didn’t fine
him
. They fined his family. They lost their business, their house, everything. The Ealdwitan broke them, and Abe’s family have never forgiven him. He was seventeen, and they threw him out without a penny, without anything except the clothes on his back, and cut him off for dead. Simon’s the only one who even acknowledges his existence now.’

‘Emmaline!’ broke in Ms Wright. ‘Would you and Anna like to share this chat with the rest of the class?’

‘Sorry, Ms Wright.’

We put our heads down after that and got on with the work, but at the end of the lesson, while we were gathering up our books, Emmaline turned to me.

‘Look, I hope I’m being paranoid – maybe I am. But just be very, very careful what you do around the outwith from now on. It’s all too easy to slip up, especially in times of stress. I don’t think you realize what you’ve committed yourself to.’

I shook my head vehemently. ‘It’s not just a question of the Ealdwitan, Emmaline. I’ve promised myself never to do magic around ordinary people ever again. Can’t you understand – after what happened with Seth I’m
pleased
they’ve put this condition on. I’m never meddling again.’

‘Oh I
see
,’ Emmaline said, ‘so this is all for Seth, is it?’

‘If you want to put it like that,’ I said stiffly. Emmaline rolled her eyes. ‘What?’ I demanded.

‘Look – I really don’t think Seth’s enchanted any more, Anna. In fact if anyone’s besotted, I’d say it’s you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He just …’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Yes, for sure, you had him under a spell at first. But now … well, he just doesn’t act like he’s bewitched. There’s no diagnostic test you know – you can’t pee on a stick and get one line for fine or two lines for enchanted. But taking my best guess, I’d say Seth’s under the influence of plenty of hormones – but that’s probably it.’

‘Yeah right,’ I said. ‘Guys like Seth don’t fall for girls like me in the real world. What could he possibly see in me?’

‘I don’t know, do I? I’m not a guy. Why does anyone fall for anyone?

‘You can think what you like, but what I did to Seth was unforgivable. No; I’ve had it with magic. I’m never casting a spell again, as long as I live.’

Emmaline only looked at me over her glasses with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Then she sighed and turned to leave.

‘Well, Anna, for your sake,’ she said over her shoulder, ‘I truly hope you never have to.’

I went to bed happier than I’d been for a long time, and even the sight of the watchful crow crouched at my window the next day didn’t dispel my mood. ‘Oh sod off!’ I told it, grinning. It shifted from foot to foot and hunched its head into its shoulders, like an angry old man. Then it lifted its wings and flapped away. A moment later something came shushing down the chimney, landing with a soft thud on the hearth. It was a dead dormouse, its eyes bloody holes in its head. I shuddered and picked it up by the soft tail. Its body was still warm, its paws curled beneath it as if it were sleeping.

Bloody hateful vicious crows. Tears sprang into my eyes as I wrapped the little corpse gently in tissues. Then I slung on jeans and a top, and went slowly downstairs to put the poor thing in the bin. Dad was already seated at the kitchen table, nibbling a piece of toast and reading a book about Icelandic fishing quotas.

The smell of coffee and toast revived my mood a little, and I took a piece from his plate and bit into it.

‘Morning.’

‘Excuse me, my dear, there’s bread by the Aga if you want toast. No need to pinch mine.’

‘Sorry, I’ll put some more on.’ I fiddled around with the toast griddle and then looked in the cupboard. ‘We’re out of Marmite. Can you add it to the list?’

‘Fine, fine.’ Dad nodded, and took another bite.

He was about to chew when he broke off, looking at the open kitchen window. A crow was hunched in the frame. It bobbed its head, letting a stream of guano fall on to the sill. Then it flapped onto the sideboard and began to peck at the bread.

‘Those bloody things!’ Dad said indistinctly around his mouthful. ‘Oy! Shoo! SH—’

He stopped, coughed, coughed again. His face turned puce and his breath rattled in his throat, then stopped altogether.

‘Dad? Are you OK?’ I said, alarmed. He shook his head desperately and mimed patting himself on the back. I thumped his b th heiack, but nothing happened. As I watched, horrified, his face turned from pink, to red, and finally to dark purple. His eyes bulged and the veins in his forehead stood out. Sweat broke out on his forehead, his fingers alternately clutched at the table and clawed at his throat.

‘Dad! Dad! Help, oh God! What should I do?’

He only shook his head, tears springing from his eyes with the effort of trying to choke up the piece of toast lodged in his throat. I felt terror and power build inside me like a spring trying to force its way through the earth – but with a huge effort I shoved the magic back down, frantically searching my memory for ways of dealing with a choking fit.

OK. Five back slaps first – I slapped him hard between the shoulder blades, and he flung forward like a rag doll, limp and blue.

Next, five abdominal thrusts. I heaved him out of his chair and put my arms under his sternum, heaving back and up with all my force.

Dad buckled against my arms. I heaved again. Still nothing. His huge weight was limp and my arms felt like they were tearing out of their sockets. Fighting back tears, I heaved for a third time.

There was a sound like vomiting and a mangled piece of toast flew out of Dad’s mouth and hit the table. I let go and Dad collapsed forward, gasping and choking. His gasps were terrible to hear, like sandpaper rasping in his windpipe, but I didn’t care. Just hearing the air coming in and out of his lungs was incredible. After a moment he pulled himself upright and back into his chair, and I watched as the pink began to come back into his cheeks and lips.

When I was sure he was OK I ran to get a glass of water and helped him drink it, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a tea-towel.

‘Anna,’ Dad croaked, ‘I thought my number was up.’ He stopped and coughed piteously. There was blood mixed with the spit on his lips. I put a hand on his shoulder.

‘Dad, don’t talk! Drink some water.’

He took a sip and coughed again. Then he said, more easily, ‘Thank goodness you were here. You were brilliant, sweetheart. I think you just saved my life!’

I gave a shaky laugh and hugged his shoulder. He put an arm around me, hugging me back very hard.

‘Well done, sweetie. Who taught you to do that?’

‘Telly,’ I said.

Dad laughed too, then broke into a coughing fit. When he’d finished he said, ‘I’ll never complain about you watching the goggly-box too much again.’

‘Oh, Dad!’ It felt like something was stuck in my own throat. ‘You might have … You could have …’ I couldn’t finish. He squeezed my shoulders.

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‘There, there. Don’t go on. I could have but I didn’t. You were here – all’s well that ends well.’ He gave a final hoarse cough and looked down at his plate, at the remains of the toast. ‘Do you know, I think perhaps I’m not very hungry for breakfast any more. I might just have a yoghurt.’

He laughed. I laughed too, more shakily.

‘Do I dare go to school?’

‘Do you dare
not
go to school, you mean.’ He gave me a mock stern look. ‘I think your old dad can manage from here, thank you. I’m not quite senile and I promise I’ll have soup for lunch.’

‘OK. No solid foods until I get home!’ I said, trying for another tremulous laugh. He smiled back.

‘OK. It’s a deal. Now get going, you’ll be late.’

I looked at the clock on the wall. I was late already, but I could hardly bear to leave Dad – just the thought …

‘Anna …’ he said, realizing my reluctance. I nodded, and he opened the door and held out my bag, jerking his head towards the forest with a meaningful look.

‘All right, all right. Take care.’ I kissed him and then set off.

As I crossed the drive the hateful, bloody crows lifted into the air, a cloud of black against the achingly blue sky, and I thought, with a shudder, of Emmaline’s
I hope you never have to
. What if the thrusts hadn’t worked?

I was late, I realized as I came out of the wood on to the road. I was really late. And there was a Maths test this morning. I should have asked Dad for a lift. Even at this painful half-walk, half-trot I wasn’t going to make it.

I was starting to think up excuses when there was the sound of an engine behind me and I turned to see Seth pulling onto the verge.

‘You’re late,’ he yelled out the window. ‘Want a lift?’

‘Oh! Yes please.’ I ran back along the tarmac and yanked at the truck handle. ‘Thanks.’

‘You’re lucky I’ve just been to drop off some shopping for Grandad.’ Seth put the truck into gear and swung back onto the road. ‘What happened to you – over-slept?’

I told him about Dad’s choking fit.

‘It terrified me,’ I admitted. ‘I didn’t really realize how much until afterwards. I don’t think Dad was that frightened but – well,
you
know what it’s like when you only have one parent. You constantly worry; what if something happens to them?’

Seth nodded, his face full of sympathy, and we drove in silence for a while. I watched the sea out of the truck window. You could see it crashing at the foot of the cliff at this part of the road, for the track led very close to the cliff edge. Some people went round by the inland route to avoid it, but I wasn’t bothered by heights and Seth presumably drove this stretch every time he visited his grandad. It was a calming, cooling sound on a hot day like today.

I should have felt relieved that it had all turned out OK – that Dad was fine. But something was fretting at the corner of my mind, like a sore tooth niggling away. And I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. I only knew that Emmaline’s words kept nagging away at me:
I hope you never have to
.

Was that what was bothering me – how close I’d come to breaking my promise? Except that I hadn’t, had I? It was all fine. But it had been very close. Too close maybe. Too close for … coincidence.

A huge black crow, the largest I’d ever seen, swooped suddenly across the windscreen like the shadow of death and the answer came to me like a cold hand clutching around my heart.

It wasn’t coincidence. Of course it wasn’t. It was engineered, engineered to try to get me to break my promise. It had failed – but that only meant there would be another attempt.

Who else did I care for more than anything in the world? Who else did I love? Who else would I break any promise to save?

‘Seth, you have to let me out of the car.’ I struggled with the door lock of the moving van.

‘Anna!’ He stared at me in frank disbelief. ‘Are you nuts?’

My mind was buzzing with one, obsessive thought: I had to get away from him. If I wasn’t around him, then I couldn’t use magic to save him, so therefore there would be no attack. That was logical, surely? It was my presence that was dangerous to Seth – without me there, the Ealdwitan wouldn’t waste time on him. I had to get away from Seth at all costs.

‘Stop the car and let me out!’