A Witch In Winter (11 page)

No one could explain exactly how it had happened, but seemingly, during the storm, a chunk of cliff near the castle had fallen into the sea and a huge crack had appeared in the seawall which defended Winter from the full force of the winter storms. Everyone was worried that a major collapse was imminent.

Emmaline’s walk home took us past the seawall and as we passed it we studied the crack, fenced round with workmen’s tape and studded with markers for monitoring movement. It was pretty impressive – a long narrow crevasse in the solid bulk of the wall, as if the earth had torn itself apart. I pulled my coat around myself, the thin synthetic wool scant protection against the cold seawind, and shivered.

‘Do they know what caused it yet?’ I asked. Emmaline raised a single sardonic eyebrow at me, then when I did not respond, she sighed.

‘Jesus, for an intelligent girl, Anna Winterson, you’re remarkably dumb.
You
. You caused it.’

‘No!’ I was horrified.

‘Or rather that – that dark
thing
you conjured.’

‘Oh God.’ It made what happened to Seth seem almost mild in comparison. ‘Emmaline, I’m so, so sorry. I had no idea …’ my voice trailed away. ‘Will it be all right? The wall I mean – it won’t crack any further, will it?’

She shrugged.

‘Let’s hope not or we might all be underwater at Christmas. Hold up, we’re here.’

We were outside Winter Botanicals, a herbal shop that sold pot-pourri, essential oils and candles. I’d never been in but had often thought about it; the seductive smell lured you from yards up the high street.

‘Turn up that alleyway,’ Emmaline N clutebrow instructed and I saw a small opening to the side of the shop. Resisting the urge to duck my head, I turned into the narrow twittern, glad to be out of the chilly seawind that had chased us up the high street. There was a wooden door at the far end.

‘Push.’ Emmaline’s voice came from behind me. I pushed, and found myself in the most beautiful garden I had ever seen – a lush, scented jungle of plants and trees, flowers and fruit. Vines curled overhead, stroking my cheeks as I passed underneath, and my nose tickled with the heady mix of pollens in the air.

There was a strange buzz in my ears and, as I looked around, I realized it was coming from the bees. There were bees everywhere; drowsy, friendly bees drifting slowly from flower to flower, heavy with sunshine-coloured dust. Their hum was a warm, audible backdrop to the garden that quite drowned out any trace of traffic noise. It felt as though we were in a little bubble all of our own – a tiny Eden Project right here in Winter.

‘Sorry,’ Emmaline said, with a hint of malice. ‘Didn’t I mention the bees? I hope you’re not afraid of them.’

‘Not at all,’ I said truthfully. ‘I like bees.’

Was it my imagination or did Emmaline look slightly disappointed? She pushed past me without another word and climbed the steps to the back door of the shop, calling, ‘Ma, we’re here.’

‘Oh – hello, darling. Hello, Anna.’ Maya appeared in the doorway wiping her hands on her shop apron. ‘Just give me a sec to finish closing up and we’ll go upstairs.’

We hovered by the stairs while Maya moved purposefully around closing drawers, turning keys in locks, and reordering the hundreds of apothecary jars filled with every kind of herb, flower petal and seed. Vials of essential oils gleamed and winked in the dim light from the windows as she moved about the shop. When every jar was back in place, Maya shot the bolt on the front door, removed her apron, and we climbed the stairs to the flat above the shop. My heart was thumping when we reached the top and though I tried to tell myself it was the climb, I knew that wasn’t true. Something momentous was behind that door. I wasn’t sure what – Seth’s freedom maybe. Or perhaps the truth about myself.

I gulped, and crossed the threshold into the witches’ lair.

I don’t know what I expected, but the reality was pretty cool. The whole floor had been knocked through into one enormous, rambling cave crammed with books, plants and hangings. Prisms hung from each of the four windows, sending multi-coloured shards of light dancing around us, and in the centre of the high ceiling was a huge wrought-iron chandelier filled with dozens of beeswax candles. It was unlit, but I could imagine the blaze of light when they were all going, and the honeyed scent that would fill the room.

There were no crucibles or broomsticks that I could see – and the nearest thing to a cauldron was a huge kettle sitting on the cooker. In some weird way, the normality was unsettling. I’d been prepared for a stack of new-age tat: pentacles, crystals, and the like. Sandeir The very lack of it somehow made the situation seem more real.

Maya turned on the gas and an eerie shriek filled the air as the kettle gusted out steam.

‘I hope you don’t mind.’ She set out six cups and a pot. ‘I’ve invited some other friends. We … consulted them, about the disturbances, before we knew what was going on, and I think they deserve to know the outcome. But they’re not due for a while, so in the meantime let’s have some cake and get to know each other.’

I sat at the table and Maya cut three thick slices of loaf-cake, sticky and scented with honey. Emmaline filled the teapot and poured us each a cup. A rich, strange smell filled the room and Maya curved her hands around her cup. Her eyes met mine across the curling tendrils of steam.

‘Well, Anna. We have a lot of questions, but perhaps they should wait until our friends get here. And in the meantime, maybe it’s fairer to let you ask your questions first. Is there anything Emmaline and I can tell you?’

All day I’d been full of questions, confusion – torn between a desire to scoff the whole thing off as bullshit, and the uncomfortable conviction that it was anything but. Most of all I’d been bursting with the urge to pour out my troubles to someone older and wiser, finally get some answers. And now I found myself tongue-tied, helpless and confused. I put my cup against my forehead and the china burned my skin, but all I could think of to say was a petulant, childish, ‘Why me?’

Maya shrugged.

‘Why any of us? It’s strongly hereditary. Usually through the female line. Your father seems unequivocally ungifted, so I’m guessing your mother? Where is she?’

‘She’s dead,’ I said dully, not bothering with the nuances.

‘Ah.’ Maya’s eyes softened. ‘That explains a lot, although not everything.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, obviously it explains why you know so little. But it doesn’t explain this explosion of power – it doesn’t normally manifest like this. Usually there’s a slow build up from puberty onwards. There will be a few signs and family members will start to keep an eye out. What do your mother’s family have to say about all this?’

‘I don’t know any of them. My father isn’t in contact and he won’t tell me anything about them. I’ve tried asking him, I even tried to trace them a few times, but nothing. I don’t even know if any of them are alive.’

‘I see. That does happen – although not often – we are a tough group, by and large, and extremely clannish. But if there’s no family member around to help then usually someone else steps in. No one wants to see an accident like yours occur. Clearly no one stepped in, in your case. Do you remember any signs as you were growing up?’

iv>

‘Signs? What kind of signs?’

‘It’s hard to say, it varies so much. Weather disturbances are common; freak storms, extreme unseasonal cold snaps or heatwaves. Electrical disturbances. Spontaneous fires. You don’t remember anything like that when you were growing up?’

I shrugged helplessly.

‘Not really. Of course there were storms – but I doubt they had anything to do with me. How would I know?’

‘I think you would know. You knew something was wrong as soon as you’d bewitched Seth, didn’t you?’

I nodded reluctantly. Yes, I had known, even if I hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself. Part of me was kind of surprised that I wasn’t totally freaking out here, calling the police to get Maya and Emmaline locked up. But perhaps that was why; they were only telling me stuff I already knew. Had always known.

‘But that was different,’ I said, ‘that was a spell.’

Maya’s brow furrowed.

‘It’s not so much a matter of spells, it’s more about willpower, and exerting that will – you can cast your will without using any traditional spells or incantations. Spells are just a way of concentrating the mind. They have no power outside of the person saying the words.’

‘You mean, you need to be a witch?’ I said, confused. Maya winced and I stammered, ‘S-sorry, is that the wrong word?’

‘It’s not wrong, exactly,’ she said uncomfortably.

‘It’s pejorative,’ Emmaline said flatly. ‘It’s not what we use to describe ourselves – or not usually.’

‘It has so many negative associations,’ Maya explained. ‘It’s associated with witch-hunts and burnings and so on, and it’s usually the term used by outsiders to stigmatize. Some people like to use it, of course. There is a movement to reclaim it, and some feel that used by a member of the community it’s acceptable. But it’s not very usual in – in polite conversation.’

‘What word do w– people use, then?’

Emmaline and her mother looked at each other and kind of laughed.

‘Well, as to that, there are as many answers as there are ways of doing magic.’ Maya shrugged. ‘We are not a very united community. Well, apart from the Ealdwitan, who are united to a fault.’ She pursed her lips as if in disapproval, but I didn’t have time to pick apart her statement. There was something more important on my mind.

‘How can I fix Seth?’

‘Ah.’ Both Emmaline and Maya stopped and looked at each other. Maya’s brows furrowed again. She looked into her tea cup, then back up at me. ‘To be honest, Anna, we don’t know.’

‘We already tried to take it off,’ Emmaline said. ‘That first day he turned up at school. But we didn’t manage.’

‘Our hope was that we could persuade you to do it,’ Maya said. ‘But clearly, you’ve already tried too.’

‘Maybe I wasn’t powerful enough?’ I said hopefully, ‘Maybe if we worked together?’

Maya took a bite of cake and shook her head as she swallowed.

‘I really don’t think that was the problem. Having seen what you did with that …’ She shuddered. ‘That
thing
, that came with the storm, I have no doubt that wherever the problem lies, it is not with your power. You stripped away charms that have surrounded the Wicker House since Tudor times. You removed protections that have sat on this village for hundreds of years – all without any focus or training. No, if brute force could do it, that charm would be lifted by now.’

The disappointment was like a punch to the gut. I’d been so sure that Maya would have all the answers …

‘You mean, I may never be able to undo the harm I’ve done?’

Maya saw my stricken expression and patted my hand.

‘I’m not saying that. Just that for the moment, I can’t quite see the way. And sorry though I am for your Seth, to be honest that’s not the first priority. The most important thing is to reinstate some of the protections on the town, if we can. The last thing we want is a major disaster with loss of life. Compared to that, a love-lorn boy is the least of our worries.’

I put my head in my hands. I wasn’t so sure. The possibility of a town collapse felt so remote and theoretical, whereas Seth’s problems seemed very real and very near.

‘But don’t give up, the others may have an idea of why this charm is proving so stubborn,’ Maya said, comfortingly. ‘They’re just coming up now.’

As she spoke I heard footsteps on the stairs, followed by a knock. Then a woman and two men were opening the door, coming in, stripping off coats, and the room was full of warmth and chatter. I hung back, trying to make sense of the group. The woman was young, in her teens or twenties, and obviously some relation to Maya and Emmaline; she had the same dark eyes and long, clever face, although her hair was fair – a golden, sun-streaked mass. The two men looked like brothers – both tall with black hair and long, Roman noses. The older one wore a little pointed goatee, neatly trimmed. The younger – who looked to be in his early twenties – had at least a week’s worth of stubble, but nothing organised enough to be called a beard. He was wearing a scruffy leather jacket.

‘Ma!’ The girl kissed Maya affectionately. ‘How are you?’

‘Sienna, darling.’ Maya patted her back. ‘My, it’s good to see you again. It feels like much too long. Anna, this is Sienna, my older daughter.’

‘So, this is the Anna we’ve heard so much about.’ Sienna smiled at me with a tiny hint of equivocation. ‘Anna, this is my husband, Simon Goldsmith.’ She indicated the older man. ‘And his younger brother, Abe.’

‘Pleased to meet you.’ Simon shook my hand formally. Abe only gave a slightly sardonic grin over Sienna’s shoulder. He had a ring through his eyebrow.

‘Do you mind?’ Sienna said suddenly. She gestured towards the table. I shook my head, unsure what she meant, but not wanting to offend. Picking up my tea cup she swirled around the dregs and knocked out the last of the liquid into my saucer. Then she stared into the cup, her brows knitted in so exact a copy of Maya’s characteristic frown that it was almost comical. Suddenly her expression cleared and she smiled. ‘Welcome to the family, Anna. I can see your path is going to be entwined with ours for a long time.’