A witch's days

The winds blow wild around the witch's cottage, filled with the whispering voices of spirits impatient for All Hallow's Eve.

The witch has a good idea and is vexed not to have thought of it sooner. She asks her cat to go to the Manor, and make enquiries of any of the beasts on the Estate who will speak to him.

The witch forages for supplies in the woods, and finds a fine crop of chanterelles. She fries them in butter and sage to eat on toast.

The witch attends the Manor once more, and is turned away again. The Housekeeper apologises profusely, but is under very strict instructions from the Lady's Aunt.

The witch drops by the vicarage, and enquires about the Lady's wellbeing - the Vicar groans and invites her in for tea. He reveals that the Aunt and cousins seem in no hurry to leave, and their company is not entirely soothing for the Lady.

The witch takes up her shawl, which is almost done now. The days are chilly now, and the leaves are turning. A shawl will be very welcome, she thinks.

The witch goes to the village for supplies, and is almost knocked off her feet by a horse and rider galloping through the busy market street. The horse's lips are flecked with foam, and in the saddle the Lady's older cousin is brandishing his whip and laughing loudly.

It is the day of the funeral, and the witch attends at the back of the church. The mourners are greeted by the Squire's sister and her son, while the Lady sits in her wheeled chair, clutching a black handkerchief, and her younger cousin's arm laid comfortingly about her shoulders.

The witch goes to her pantry and gives her three demijohns of blackcurrants macerating in vodka a good shake. She has a small taste from one - the cassis is coming along well.

The witch's cat is curled up in a tight circle on a cushion, fast asleep. He chirrups awake when she kisses his forehead, and realises he has dribbled on his paws.

The witch goes to visit the Lady, but the Housekeeper apologetically turns her away. Through a window she peeks into the drawing room, where the Lady's aunt is singing while her son and daughter play the violin and piano. The piano-playing is not bad, at least.

The rogue appears at the witch's window in the deep twilight, and tells her he will be going far away for a while, just in case. She kisses him goodbye for a while, and lays a charm of protection upon him.

The witch cleans and dusts her cottage thoroughly, makes some coffee with a stick of cinnamon to stir it, and sits back down in her rocking chair with relief. She is glad the Lady is now free of pain, although she wonders if she should have anticipated the Squire's death...

The late Squire's sister has arrived from the South in a fancy carriage with her son and daughter in tow, and the witch packs to return to her cottage. She greets the Squire's sister, who raises an eyebrow at her outstretched hand, and sweeps past her into the manor.

The vicar has come to see the Lady to make arrangements for her father's funeral. The witch watches carefully from a corner to make sure the young woman does not overtire herself, but she seems more well than she has in years, despite her grief.

The witch goes to check in on her cottage, and her cat. She asks if the Young Weaver's daughter took good care of him. The cat shrugs, washes his face, and indicates that his jar of chicken treats needs refilling. When the witch left, it was still half-full...

The Lady of the Manor looks out of the window as the coach rolls them back to the village, her little dog sleeping on her lap. She looks older already, as if ready to step into her new role. When they arrive, the Housekeeper has arranged a room for the witch to stay a few nights.

A messenger arrives at the Inn, and tells them the village Squire died unexpectedly three nights ago. His daughter, now Lady of the manor, sobs again - this time for her father's death - as the witch comforts her. Later, the witch quietly arranges for them to return to the village the next day.

The witch asks the Squire's daughter how her pain is. The Squire's daughter hesitates, then confesses - it has gone, entirely, for two days now. She is still weak, and cannot walk, but she no longer aches in every bone. The girl's eyes fill with tears of hope.

The Squire's daughter is unusually quiet today, as if something is puzzling her. She and the witch eat hot fried fish and chipped potatoes with plenty of salt and vinegar beside the harbour. The Squire's daughter cleans her plate at speed, and follows with a large icecream.

The fisherman strokes his beard, but he has seen stranger things. The witch chants a blessing for rest upon the mermaid's bones, and release upon the Squire's daughter.

The sea is dark, and the waves leap at them as soon as they pass the harbour wall. The witch stands up unsteadily in the rowboat and tips the contents of the sack over the side. As soon at the bones touch the water, they evaporate into sea foam.

The witch engages a fisherman to row her out to sea the following evening at midnight. The fisherman raises his bushy eyebrows, but takes her coin and agrees.

The witch returns to her bedroom at the Inn after shopping for more pain-relieving herbs. The room is locked, as are the windows, but a sack has been left at the end of her bed. She looks inside, and sees the grey, dusty bones of a mermaid jumbled within.

The sun is out, cold and clear above the harbour town. The witch sits with the Squire's daughter on the beach, telling her slightly scandalous stories until the girl's cheeks are red with laughter and sea air. By early afternoon she is looking tired, and confesses that her legs hurt again.

The witch suggests they stay indoors that day, and the Squire's daughter regretfully agrees. She embroiders her cushion again while the witch reads aloud from one of the books she purchased two days before, a daring tale of mice who live in an Abbey which they must defend from a rat Warlord.

The witch wheels the Squire's daughter down to the beach once more, and is relieved to see the girl's clear joy at being outside again. They spend a few hours watching the tide, and the witch buys them hot chocolates that stay warm, with a little enchantment.

The Squire's daughter is in less pain today, but still needs rest. The witch leaves her to sleep, and goes out into the seaside town. She finds a small, dark bookshop down a winding backstreet, and loses herself in books for a few hours.

The Squire's daughter wakes in the night, crying out with pain. The witch spends the next dozen hours brewing teas to ease her pain, and massaging the girl's legs, and silently berating herself for letting the poor child overexert herself.

The witch wheels the Squire's daughter down to the beach again, and this time hires a deckchair for herself. The little dog brings her owner a stick, and the girl throws it, the two of them playing fetch while the witch takes out her knitting and continues with her shawl.