Witch Is When Things Fell Apart (13 page)

Chapter 13

It was the twins’ birthday and, as arranged, they were going to come over to Washbridge to celebrate. Tonight, we were going clubbing—yay, joy of joys. But before that, Kathy and I were going for a manicure and pedicure—yay again! Could this day get any worse?

“Morning, Jill.”

Yes, apparently it could.

“Morning, Betty. Lovely day.”

“The sun doesn’t agree with me,” she said.

That would explain the parka.

“Aren’t you hot in that?”

“It’s better than the alternative. I blister.”

“Nasty.”

She glanced around furtively. “I’m trying to avoid that man.”

“Who?”

“Mr Ivers. I don’t know how you put up with him. He’s such a bore. He never stops talking about the movies he’s seen.”

“Pity, I thought you and he might hit it off.”

“Certainly not. He even tried to sign me up for his stupid newsletter. Who’d be crazy enough to pay for that?”

Who indeed?

“He did give me an idea though,” she said, still keeping a lookout for the man in question.

“Oh?”

“I got to thinking. If he can sell his boring cinema newsletter, then I’m sure I could produce a newsletter on sea shells.”

“Is there a lot of sea shell related news?”

“You’d be surprised.”

Gobsmacked, more like.

“You could be my first subscriber.”

Before I could enjoy the delights of the nail bar, I had to pay a visit to Sarah Conway. The Pleaston estate was certainly no Tregar Court, but it was a massive step up from Sunnyside.

Sarah, who had a young baby, was only too happy to talk to me about her family.

“Jason and I don’t keep in touch. We haven’t spoken for—” She did a calculation on her fingers. “Must be over six years now. We were never particularly close even when we were kids.”

“Did you know he was living in Tregar Court?”

“Yeah. Someone told me a couple of years ago. I didn’t believe them at first.”

“Look, this is kind of a sensitive question, but do you have any idea how he can afford to live there?”

“Not a clue. Last I heard he was fitting carpets.”

“Is it possible he came into money? Could he have won the lottery or something?”

“That’s the only explanation I could come up with. He wouldn’t have told me if he had.”

“Is there anyone who might have left him money? In a Will?”

“I wouldn’t have thought so.”

“What about his father?”

“I never knew Jason’s dad. Neither did he. He’d done a runner before Jason was born.”

“Do you know why he left?”

“Not really. Mum didn’t like to talk about it. I do know that Mum and Jason’s dad used to live in a much nicer part of Washbridge, but that was before Jason was born. There were money problems of some sort. That’s why Mum ended up moving to Sunnyside.”

“Do you have any idea where Jason’s father might be?”

“No. He and Mum never married, so I never even knew his name. I do have a photo of him and Mum taken a few years before he did a bunk.”

“Could I see it?”

“Sure. It’s in the spare bedroom. I’ll go get it. Watch Courtney for me will you?”

What? Leave me alone in charge of a baby? Was she insane?

Courtney looked up at me and gurgled.

“Hello, I’m Jill.”

She burped. I had that effect on people.

Ten minutes later, Sarah returned with an old metal tin.

“It’s in here somewhere.”

She emptied the photos out onto the coffee table. The majority of them were of her and Jason through the ages.

“There you go.” She handed me the faded, black and white photograph.

Even though the man was many years younger in the photo, I recognised him immediately.

“Why can’t I just have a manicure?” I said, as Kathy led me by the arm.

“Because I won a combined manicure and pedicure. I don’t want to waste my prize.”

“But I hate anyone touching my feet.”

“When exactly was the last time anyone touched your feet?”

“I don’t remember, but just the thought of it gives me the creeps.”

“Tough. You’re going to have a manicure
and
pedicure, and you’re going to like it. Got it?”

Sisters. Anyone want one?

‘Nailed It’ was in the Greenlands shopping mall. Have I mentioned how much I hate malls? Soulless, sterile and boring—all of them. Kathy worshipped at the altar of the mall. Given half a chance, she’d have moved in. No class, my sister.

I’d hoped I might accidentally on purpose get lost in the crowds and sneak away, but Kathy had my number. She only released my arm once we were inside ‘Nailed It’.

The interior was a shade of turquoise which reminded me of my mouthwash. Behind the semicircular counter was an army of manicurists all sporting identical black smocks. On our side of the counter sat a number of women ranging in ages from a giddy teenager to a woman who looked almost as old as Grandma.

“Morning ladies.”

I recognised that voice. Daze gave me a wink.

“Welcome to Nailed It. How can I help?”

What was she doing here? Daze, whose real name was Daisy Flowers, was a super supernatural or sup sup for short. She worked as a Rogue Retriever which meant she brought back rogue supernaturals from the human world. She was one tough cookie and apparently now a manicurist. In the short time I’d known her, she’d worked behind the counter in a fast food restaurant, been a parking warden and now this. Versatile or what?

“I called earlier and made a booking. And we have vouchers.” Kathy held up her prized possessions. “I won them in a local radio phone-in.”

“Congratulations,” Daze said with way too much enthusiasm. “These entitle you to the combined manicure and pedicure. For two.”

“Yay!” Kathy squealed. She really was that excited. Weirdo.

“Lucinda will be your manicurist today.” She pointed towards a petite brunette at the far end of the counter.

Kathy made her way over to the waiting Lucinda.

“And I will be yours,” Daze said, as she led me in the opposite direction.

“You don’t have to do this,” I whispered, as we took our seats on opposite sides of the narrow counter. “I didn’t want to come anyway.”

“Of course I must. I don’t want to blow my cover.” Daze took out a small plastic box containing all manner of hand grooming paraphernalia. “Anyway. I’m rather good at it, if I do say so myself.”

That’s when I spotted her name badge, and laughed.

“What?”

“Nothing, sorry.”

“What are you laughing at?”

Whoops. Golden survival rule number one: don’t cross Grandma. Golden survival rule number two: don’t upset Daze.

“It’s just—err—the name badge.”

“Oh, that thing. It wasn’t my idea. They wouldn’t let me use ‘Daze’.”

“Daisy is a nice name.”

I didn’t like the way she was looking at me. And I especially didn’t like the way the nail file was pointing towards my throat.

“Not for you, obviously. For someone else—someone who was more ‘daisy like’.”

Much to my surprise, the manicure wasn’t the ordeal I’d expected. Not that I was any kind of expert, but Daze did appear to know what she was doing.

“Whoaaa!!” I almost jumped out of the chair.

“What’s the matter?” Daze looked concerned.

“How did you do that?”

“What?”

“Clip my toe nail?”

“I didn't.”

Both of her hands were in plain view, so who was touching my feet? I peered under the counter.

“Blaze?”

“Hi,” he squeaked.

“Hi.”

Blaze was Daze’s sidekick and apprentice Rogue Retriever.

“Does he know what he’s doing?” I whispered to Daze.

“He’s a wiz when it comes to feet.”

I certainly hoped so.

“What are you guys really working on?”

Daze handed me a swatch of colours to choose from.

“There’s a rogue werewolf in the district. We need to get him before the full moon tomorrow.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“No, thanks. We got this one. Have you had any joy with your TDO investigations?”

“Not really. I couldn’t find a single article in the newspapers about The Dark One. Why do you think that is? Are the press afraid?”

“Possibly. Have you decided on a colour?”

I flicked through the swatch, and selected the most neutral shade I could find. “This one will do.”

“Not very adventurous.”

“I have enough adventure in my life already.”

Kathy had chosen the polar opposite of neutral.

“What colour is that?” I pointed to her toe nails.

“It’s called ‘purple dazzle’. Do you like it?”

“It’s very—purple.”

“What do you think of these?” She held out her hands. “Greentastic!”

“Green and purple?”

“I wasn’t sure they’d work, but I’m really pleased with them. Haven’t they done yours yet?”

“Yeah, look.” I held out my hand.

She looked confused.

“It’s called ‘shades of neutral’.”

“You’re so boring, Jill. Are your toes the same?”

“Of course.”

She sighed. “What time are the twins coming over?”

“Six o’clock.”

“Are they going straight to your place?”

After their last visit, it had taken me a week to get the flat back to normal. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

“No, they’re going to meet us outside Ever A Wool Moment. They wanted to have a look around Grandma’s shop before we meet up with them.”

“We’ve got a few hours to kill then.”

“Don’t you have to get back for the kids?”

“No. Pete’s taken a day’s holiday. He’s taking the kids to the cinema. I have the whole day to myself. So, what shall we do?”

Much as I loved Kathy. I could only take her in small doses. I had assumed I’d be able to fit in a little work in between the nail bar and meeting up with the twins. So much for that plan.

“There is
one
thing I have to do,” I said.

“It had better not be work. This is a holiday.”

“It’s not work exactly, but I do have to call in at the office.”

Kathy scowled.

“Honestly, it isn’t work. You’ll see.”

Mrs V’s ‘washing line’ was strung across the outer office. Kathy and I had to duck underneath the socks to get to her desk.

“I see you’re into socks now, Mrs V,” Kathy said.

“Yes, I’m getting better at them. I wanted to hang them up so people can see them properly.”

“What about would-be clients?” I asked.

“It’s okay. They won’t damage the socks if they duck underneath.”

That’s okay then.

At Mrs V’s invitation, Kathy picked out socks for Peter and the kids. While she was making her selection, I sneaked into my office.

“I thought you’d forgotten me,” Winky said.

“As if. Your love life is my top priority right now.”

“Sarcasm does not become you. Get the basket.”

“Where are we taking that ugly thing?” Kathy was putting the socks into a small plastic bag.

“It’s not a ‘thing’, it’s a ‘he’. And he’s not ugly.”

“Where are we taking ‘he’?”

“I—err—I have to drop him off somewhere.”

“Vets?”

“No. Just across the road actually.”

“Why?”

So many questions. What was I meant to say? That Winky had a date with Bella? That they’d arranged it via semaphore?

“We take turns cat-sitting.”

Mrs V gave me a puzzled look. This was obviously news to her.

“It’s a new arrangement.”

To avoid any more awkward Winky-related questions, I ducked under the washing line and made my way out.

“You wait here,” I said to Kathy, when we reached the building where Bella lived.

She shrugged. “Hurry up then. I’m starving.”

“Where am I supposed to leave you?” I whispered to Winky.

“Flat twenty-five. Just ring the doorbell, and leave me outside.”

The concierge gave me the kind of look you’d expect from someone who’d just seen me talking to a cat.

“Are you sure?”

“I know what I’m doing.”