The ambulance passed the Figaro at the turning from the dual carriageway
to the estate. Apart from pulling up to let it pass, Sarah Jane didn’t
think anything of it. Nor did the three teenagers she was ferrying home
from school on a Friday night that was routine even for her. When they
turned into Bannerman Road, though, and saw that the ambulance was parked
opposite Sarah Jane’s house, next to a police car, they all started
to worry.
“Dad!” Maria exclaimed anxiously. Sarah Jane stopped the car
long enough for her to dive out before turning into the drive and parking
properly. Maria dashed across the road and around the ambulance and was
relieved to see her dad standing by the gate of the house next door talking
to a policeman.
“Dad! Oh, no. Is it Mrs Hanley?”
“I’m afraid so,” Alan Jackson said as he put his arm
around his daughter’s shoulders and finished giving his statement
to the policeman. “When I got home from work, I noticed she hadn’t
brought in her milk. She always has six bottles, for all her cats. But
they were still out on the doorstep. I looked in the window and she was
lying there on the rug with the cats all milling around her. So I called
999, and then I broke the pane in the back door and got in there to see
if I could help. But she’d obviously been dead since this morning.”
The policeman seemed satisfied with that and after taking his full name,
address and phone number, moved on.
“Oh, dad!” Maria bit back tears. She always liked Mrs Hanley
and her cats. The old lady was a lot like her own gran, but much closer
to home. And the cats were all nice and clean and purred when she stroked
them.
And now Mrs Hanley was gone. Her dad squeezed her shoulder a little tighter
as they watched the paramedics bring the body out, covered by a blanket.
There were murmurs all around from the neighbours who stood watching,
and speculation that she had been ‘done over’ by burglars.
“It didn’t look like it,” Alan said. “There was
no struggle. Nothing obviously missing. I think she went to sit down on
her chair and missed, and couldn’t get up again. That’s all.”
One of the cats, a white and black one, came down the path, meowing plaintively.
Maria picked it up and stroked it.
“The RSPCA are coming,” her dad told her. “To collect
the cats. The police officer said we can go in and feed them and sort
things out while we wait for them to come.”
“Alan,” Sarah Jane said as she joined them from across the
road. “I’ll come in with you, if you don’t mind. There
was something Mrs Hanley said to me a day or two ago, and I’d better
check…. Anyway, Luke and Clyde are up in the attic playing computer
games. They’ll be all right for a bit…”
Sarah Jane was obviously upset, too. She was usually more coherent than
that when she talked. They waited until the ambulance drove away, followed
by the police car. The neighbours dispersed now there was nothing to see.
The three of them walked together up the garden path to the house.
As soon as Alan closed the door behind them, the cats all made themselves
known. Four of them, apart from the one Maria was still holding rubbed
up against their legs and meowed loudly. Maria looked at the name tag
on the collar of the white and black one and noted that it was called
Molly.
“Hello, Molly,” she said, scratching the cat’s ears.
“I bet you’ve missed your meals today. Come on, let’s
go to the kitchen and get you and your pals something to eat and drink.”
The milk had been in the shade and it was a cold day anyway, so it was
still relatively fresh. Maria divided a whole bottle between the five
bowls on the floor and the cats lapped it up appreciatively while she
opened several tins of cat food and put that down as well. The cats were
happy. She wondered what else she could do, and decided to put the kettle
on. There was still plenty of milk left and it would only go to waste.
Mrs Hanley wouldn’t be needing it….
She didn’t mean the thought to come out like that. It seemed cold
and mean and that wasn’t how she really felt.
It made her cry. She stood by the window, looking out onto the back garden
lawn with one single cat toy in the middle of it and cried. Then she heard
the electric kettle click off as it boiled. She dried her eyes and made
coffee for three and brought the tray to the living room.
A house where one old lady and lots of cats lived ought, by all expectations,
to be smelly and unpleasant. It wasn’t. It was actually a really
nice room with a faint smell of furniture polish and roses. The remains
of one of those scented candles that turns to oil in the metal container
sat on the coffee table where Maria put the tray.
Sarah Jane was obviously looking for something. She went through all of
the drawers in the sideboard and didn’t find it. Then she turned
to the glass cabinet full of the more valuable china and crystal ornaments.
There was a small drawer at the top of it. she opened it carefully.
“What are you looking for?” Maria asked.
“Not looking, found,” she answered. She turned and came to
sit on the sofa. She had a small, slim, leather-bound notebook in her
hands. She opened it and showed Maria what was written on the first page.
“Sarah Jane Smith, I know you can be trusted. You and I were always
two of a kind. We were both people who know there is more to the world
than can be seen with ordinary eyes. That’s why I know I can trust
you to carry out my instructions when I’m gone.”
“She left you a message… for in case…”
“Not in case… for when. She knew it was going to be soon.
Last week… I was walking by, and she told me… to look for
the notebook. I didn’t like to ask why at the time. I hadn’t
had a lot to do with her in the last year or so. I used to visit more
regularly. But I’ve been so busy lately. I’m sorry I didn’t
pay more attention. But anyway, Mrs Hanley and I understood each other.
She knew there was something about me. And I knew there was something
about her.”
“What?” Maria asked.
“She was a witch,” Sarah Jane answered.
“She… what!” Alan looked upset by that. “I mean…
come on. She lives in Bannerman Road, suburbia! Lived, I mean….
Sarah Jane… it’s not really good taste. The poor woman is
barely cold and you... I mean… broomsticks and…”
“No, that’s all just silliness. Real witches don’t do
that. She wasn’t the sort to go dressing up and chanting around
bonfires at midnight. She just cast the occasional spell and read the
future… tarot cards, palms, tea leaves, that sort of thing. She
didn’t do anything to harm anyone. Mostly she used her spells in
her cooking, to get a sponge to cook right or her home made bread to rise
properly.”
“But… she didn’t look like a witch. This doesn’t
look like a witch’s house.”
“Well, it wouldn’t, I suppose,” Alan pointed out. “If
she was a… what is it? White witch?”
“I’m not sure,” Sarah Jane answered. “I think
some of that sort of thing is just fantasy. I think a witch it a witch.
It just depends what you do with the power.”
Alan still didn’t look happy about the idea that he had been living
next door to a witch, even if she only used her powers for cooking. He’d
eaten a lot of her bread and cakes since they moved around here.
“Well, anyway, what’s in the message?” Maria asked.
“What does she want you to do?”
“Take her cats to new homes,” Sarah Jane answered. “She
made a list of names and addresses. Five of them. One for each cat. “taken
to Mrs Anne Grey of Rose Cottage, Teddington Lock. Bessie is to stay with
Miss Minnie Lipton of 41 Pearly Avenue, Acton. Penny is to go to Lou Thomas
of 23 Bow Lane, Putney. Sukie goes to Mrs Bridget Armitage of Shaw Road,
Guildford. And lastly, Molly, should be taken to Mrs Patricia Jackson
of Marsh View House, Peasmarsh, East Sussex.”
“What!”
“What!”
Maria and her dad both shouted out at once. Sarah Jane was startled by
the sharp tone in both their voices.
“What’s the matter?”
“That’s my gran,” Maria said.
“My mother,” Alan confirmed. “Why is she… listed…
among those other women… as… as… recipients of a cat…
a… witch’s cat?”
“Because…” Sarah Jane chose her words carefully. “Alan…
Maria… these women… well… they must all be witches,
from the same coven as Mrs Hanley. Alan, your mother… Maria….
Your grandmother… must be a witch, too.”
Sarah Jane watched their expressions in the silence that followed. She
wished she had thought of a different way of saying it. Alan’s face
especially went through several shades of pale. Maria was having trouble
with the idea, too. Despite her experiences of aliens and other strange
things, the possibility of her grandmother being a witch was astonishing.
Looking at Alan, Mrs Jackson’s son, the most ordinary, down to Earth…
Sarah Jane ran out of words to describe him. Ordinary was about the only
one. Mr Ordinary Alan Jackson. Looking at him, it was difficult to believe
his mum was anything out of the ordinary.
But then again, Maria’s grandmother had sent her a doll for her
birthday that came with a Cavean Entity to protect her. Sarah Jane had
assumed that was accidental. But perhaps it wasn’t. Perhaps the
old lady had sent her granddaughter that strange and initially misguided
guardian angel.
“Isn’t it possible that they’re just people who like
cats, who Mrs Hanley knew she could rely on?” Maria asked. “I
mean… well, it could be that, couldn’t it?”
“Yes, Sarah Jane answered, grateful for that normal explanation
that made Alan’s expression relax into relief. “Yes, of course
that’s possible. It’s probably all there is to it. Yes.”
There was a knock on the door. Alan went to let in the man from the RSPCA
who brought with him a stack of flat-packed cardboard cat boxes. Strangely,
as soon as he entered the house the cats all went quiet. Maria looked
in the kitchen. They had cleaned the food bowls. She looked out of the
window and caught sight of Molly, the white and black one, disappearing
under a bush.
“There’s been a change of plan,” Sarah Jane said to
the RSPCA man as Maria came back to the living room. She showed him the
notebook with the addresses.
“Well, he said. “If these ladies will take the cats, then
that’s all right. Rehoming adult cats is difficult enough. Five
of them at once puts a lot of pressure on the cattery. Perhaps you could
take some leaflets about identity chipping to give to the new owners.
And I can let you have the boxes... usually we charge for those, but you’ll
be saving the RSPCA a lot of money if you can make these arrangements.”
“Well, that’s all right then,” Sarah Jane said. “Thank
you very much.” She saw the RSPCA man out of the house and closed
the door behind him. As she did so, there was a meow from Molly and there
were sounds from the kitchen as if the other cats had all come back.
“Clever cats,” Maria said. “They didn’t want to
go with that man. They want us to do what Mrs Hanley wants.”
“I can do the first three, tomorrow,” Sarah Jane said. “I’ll
drop Luke off at Clyde’s. They’re going skateboarding or something.
Then Acton, Putney and Teddington are no problem. Guildford and Peasmarsh….”
“We’ll do those ones,” Alan decided. “Guildford
is on the way down towards East Sussex. Maria and I will go. We can talk
to my mum and find out what all this is about.”
Maria smiled happily. A Saturday drive to the countryside, to see her
gran, was fine by her.
“Isn’t it a coincidence that we moved into a house right next
door to somebody who knows my gran?” she said. “And we never
even knew.”
“Yes,” Sarah Jane said. “Yes, an amazing coincidence.”
Or was it? She wondered about that for a moment. But she couldn’t
think of any way that Alan and Maria moving into Bannerman road after
the divorce could have been contrived by any force, even magic –
black or white.
“Well, we know what we’re doing tomorrow,” she said
brightly. “Perhaps we should tidy up in here now. Alan… could
you put a board on the back door and clean up the glass. Maria, you get
meter readings for the gas and electric and turn off the gas at the mains.
And the water. We’ll do the electric after we pick up the cats in
the morning. I’ll make sure all the upstairs windows are locked
and the house is secure. And that’s all we can do for now, I think?”
Practical, ordinary matters to take their minds of the strange, the extraordinary,
the shocking and puzzling.
For now, at least.
To Be Continued...
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