What The Cat Dragged In (The Celtic Witch Mysteries Book 1) Page 5

  I chewed my lip. “Thank you. I am sorry if I say anything offensive.”

  “Sometimes it’s what you don’t say.”

  “Oh.” I felt worried and stupid again. “Like…?”

  “Like, you haven’t offered to make fresh coffee for hours now.”

  “You could do it.”

  “I’m a guest.”

  “You have been here more than three days. You’re not a guest. You’re family. Get up and make us a brew.”

  Maddie grinned at me. Her warmth engulfed me. My insensitive and blundering questions were already smoothed over. “Hey, look. There was something I was meaning to ask you. Somewhere I want to go…”

  ***

  I thought she was going to ask to visit some sacred sites or stone circles or holy wells or something.

  No.

  Maddie said she needed to “work out” and “feel the burn” and “expel some toxins”.

  She wanted to go to the gym.

  I laughed at first but she was serious. So, an hour later, well-wrapped up, we made our way through the frosty town and out to the sports centre.

  It was a typically sixties building of concrete with jagged random corners that were once considered the cutting edge of architectural design. “Yeah, sorry,” I said in apology as we stood at the edge of a puddle in the slightly flooded car park and surveyed the squat monstrosity. “It’s not quite in the same league as Harlech Castle.”

  “It’s got a fully working gym, though, right?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I have honestly never set foot in the place,” I told her. “Except when I was a kid and they made us come here once a week for a year so we could learn how to swim.”

  “There’s a pool?” she squealed.

  “There’s a small pit of cold water, and a lifeguard who stares a bit too long at people,” I said. “I wouldn’t dignify it by calling it a pool.” I sighed. “Come on, then. Let’s go and talk to them about memberships. You know, you can run up and down the stairs at home for free…”

  “You sound like my dad.”

  “What’s he like? Your dad, my uncle?”

  “Strict. But he’s funny. He’s the opposite to mom, but in a good way.” She turned away from me and I saw her rub at her face.

  “I miss them,” she said in a low voice. “I haven’t even been away a week! I guess it’s because I know I can’t just walk around a corner and be at home. It’s weird.”

  Her emotion was contagious. “I miss my mum, too,” I said.

  “I am so sorry.” She stopped walking and faced me.

  “Er, are you about to hug me?”

  “Don’t get your British knickers in a twist,” she said in a passable English accent. “I was about to ask you if you had brought any money with you. I forgot my purse.”

  I laughed. “Oh and if you are faking our accent,” I said, moving off towards the entrance again. “Don’t go for the Queen. You’re in Wales, remember. Try for Charlotte Church. Or Catherine Zeta-Jones. Hell, even Cerys Matthews will do.”

  “Who?”

  “Oh lord.”

  ***

  It’s funny how walking back into a place you used to frequent as a child makes you regress a little into how you used to be. I felt smaller as I stepped into the lobby.

  The lobby itself seemed smaller, too.

  Apart from the size change, though, nothing else was different. There was a long counter on the right hand side, peppered with posters and special offers. Just past it was a bank of vending machines offering sugary snacks for the post-gym binge. Ahead of us, between the doors that led to the changing rooms, was a small display about the opening of the sports centre, with some grainy black and white photographs of the barren hillside that existed before the builders came. There was a fragment of red ribbon in a display case, and the curious dream-catcher thing that no one could ever quite explain. It was a circular object, with a woven net in the centre, suspending a piece of white plastic or ivory or something. The sports centre had been built in the sixties when macramé and bobbin-work crafts had been popular and I imagined it had been made by the wife of the mayor or something.

  Maddie went to the right, to talk to the receptionist about joining fees and all the usual kerfuffle that gym staff went through to tie you into their contracts for half a decade or your firstborn get thrown into a fiery pit. I meandered to the left, away from the eager clutches of the other staff with their signing-up clipboards that were peering out of the office at the back, hoping to grab another victim alongside Maddie.

  There was a set of large boards showing a display of architectural drawings, artists’ visions and lurid mission statements.

  At last, it seemed, the sports centre was going to undergo a refresh and rebrand.

  I was not interested in the snazzy logos or the “vision” or any of that, but I pretended to be. I mooched along, not-quite-reading the displays.

  My act was too convincing. Rachel Harris, she of the power-hair, power-suits, and power-walking, popped up from behind of the boards, and smiled in a very practised way. I reckoned she spent hours in front of a mirror, getting her lips to rest on her teeth in a perfectly straight line.

  Yes. Yes. I was jealous of her, all right? Her hair held a style. Mine once held a comb to ransom for half an hour until I cut it free. Her waist was accented by her expensively tailored suits and my waist was the sort of accent that gets put over German vowels to make them bigger and louder.

  “Bronwen,” she purred. “What do you think to the fresh new ideas we’re having for the sports centre?”

  It was rare to see Rachel Harris at rest, so I did take the chance to stop and talk with her. Usually – like the last time I’d seen her, in town – she was rushing somewhere in a very important flurry of activity.

  “Why does it need a rebrand?” I said. “I’m sorry, that sounds more confrontational than I mean it to.”

  Her eyes were hard but she smiled anyway. “A lot of people ask that,” she said with slightly gritted teeth. “We feel that a new focus on what this can offer the community will prompt a resurgence in uptake of the use of the facilities. It’s about bringing people together, and also improving health, which will have a positive effect on the lives of all of us. And save the health service money, too, obviously.”

  It all sounded very fine and very pat. I dearly wanted to say, “How much is it costing and will it be worth it?” But she would have had an answer for it, and anyway, I didn’t actually want to cause a fight.

  Suddenly Maddie was at my shoulder. She must have caught quite a bit of Rachel’s spiel, because she said, “Oh my gosh, that sounds amazing! I can’t wait to get started on my new fitness programme here, and what you’re doing is just great. I love the energy that you have.”

  For a moment I thought that Maddie was playing up a stereotype of over-enthusiastic American but then, when I looked at her, I saw that she was genuinely keen on the whole thing. I shook my head in amusement.

  Rachel, too, couldn’t hide her natural British cynicism when Maddie spoke. “Uh … yes. Thank you. And you are?”

  I made the hasty introductions and just as hastily dragged Maddie away. She was bouncing along, already looking forward to the induction session that had been scheduled for the following day.

  “So don’t you do any exercise at all?” she said, and began to conjure up a plan for me, right out of thin air, using words like “cardio” and “gains” and “I glory in the pain and humiliation of the body and I want to see you on your knees, crying and broken.”

  All right, so I made that last one up.

  Then she spoke just as warmly about Rachel, and I couldn’t help but get a little annoyed.

  “You don’t see what we see,” I told her as we walked back into town. “She’s everywhere. Always. She appears in the local newspaper every week for one reason or another. The youngest businesswoman. The best runner in her age group. The highest achieving working mother. She literally exists to make everyone el
se feel inadequate.”

  “Now, hey,” Maddie said, linking her arm through mine. I knew immediately that she was going to reprimand me, and was trying to soften the blow with her charm. “I’ve been trying really hard to not criticise anything here that seemed strange to me. You know, like your faucets being designed to cause third-degree burns. The way you hold your forks. That string dangling from the ceiling to turn the bathroom light on. Oh my gosh, and those traffic circle roundabout island things. These are all sweet and idiosyncratic things.”

  “They are normal things and the way it should be,” I told her.

  She huffed slightly. “Whatever. It’s not for me to come and tell you any different. But, and this is a real big but, why don’t you guys celebrate success? Why do you all have to hold each other down? That lady was clearly a big deal, and I loved her passion for what she was doing. I mean, I know you’re not really a socialist country and all, but there really is a whiff of the old communist about it. Assimilate, all be the same, don’t put your head above the parapet … why do you have to be so suspicious of achievement?”

  “We’re not,” I said, and I felt angry because I was lying, and I knew that everything Maddie said could very well apply to me and my feelings. “Why do you have to be so keen on exercise and healthy things?”

  “So I don’t get sick and die? You know?”

  “Come on,” I said. “You’ve been in Caffi Cwtch to buy cakes before. Let’s have a proper sit down and a brew there.”

  “I’m guessing there won’t be a healthy option, will there?”

  “Nope.”

  I glanced behind. Something was nagging in my mind and I thought at first that Harkin was calling me, but when I probed, he did not reply.

  There was nothing following us but a shadow.

  Which was odd, as the day was blankly overcast and there was no sun to cast any shadow.

  I glanced to Maddie at my side. What did her charm mask?

  Then I felt like a horrible person for even thinking that.

  Eight

  Alston glowered at us as we entered the café. It was a bright, clean place and always felt cosy and welcoming in spite of the gremlin owner behind the counter. The wooden tables were covered in red and white checked cloth, and the walls were decorated with twee pastoral scenes. Each table had a wooden spoon sticking up from the pot of condiments, with the table number written on it. The place was soaked in whimsy.

  Mrs Ceri Jones and her good friend Mrs Kathy Jones (no relation to Mrs Ceri Jones) were sitting at a table and they both waved in delight at us.

  They were ladies in their late middle age, but they had had hard working lives, large families and not much money throughout the years; they looked older than they were. Ceri Jones called out, “Shwmae, bach! And this is the Madison we’re all heard about, is it? Come here, child, let me have a look at you.”

  I prodded Maddie in the back. “Sorry about this. But the sooner you get it over with, the sooner we can sit down to eat cake.”

  Unlike my reluctance, however, Maddie bounced her way over to the two women, and spent a good five minutes chatting with them. She basically charmed the socks off them. Just as she’d done with me when she first met me, and with Dilys, and Dean, and even Rachel.

  I could learn a few things from her, I thought. Such warmth could be useful.

  But then, I knew everyone in my home town, and they knew me, so I didn’t need to make an effort to be nice, did I?

  Even so, when Alston grunted, “Tea? Coffee?” I replied in a friendly tone.

  “One tea and one coffee, please. How are you today?”

  “She won’t like our coffee,” he muttered, ignoring my polite question.

  Honestly, why did I even bother?

  Maddie joined me, and smiled winningly at Alston as she chose a cream-filled cake.

  “Your health fad was pretty fleeting,” I told her.

  “I am allowed to lapse. That’s not the same as a relapse,” she told me. “We all need to pamper ourselves, isn’t that right?” She addressed that last part to Alston.

  Finally, we had found the one person that her charm did not work on. He lifted the corner of his lip and said, “And that’s what’s wrong with the country, isn’t it? This sense of entitlement. Oh, we deserve this, we deserve that. None of us deserves nothing, see. But a life of toil. And then death. Milk? Sugar?”

  Even Maddie was somewhat taken aback. We retreated to a table as far away from the serving counter as possible. On the way, we passed Billy who was coming in. He went up to get a cup of tea, and then followed us, placing himself on the table next to ours. There were plenty of unoccupied places in the café. He didn’t need to be so close.

  But he craved company and I understood.

  Maddie smiled at him. I hadn’t told her about Billy but she could probably guess his lifestyle from his many layers of shabby clothes, his fingerless gloves, and his stale smell. There was some condition on his bedsit that meant he wasn’t supposed to be there during the day. It seemed cruel to me.

  I smiled at him. I liked Billy. “How are you doing? The weather’s not been kind lately.”

  He shrugged. “Oh, I get by. You know the Davies at Blue Hill Farm? I’ve been doing a bit of work for them, see. Long hours but they pay me in food.”

  Maddie’s mouth fell open. Before she could express her horror, Billy said, “Oh, don’t you worry yourself, miss. It’s for the best, see.”

  “Yes, but …”

  “I get by,” he said again. He turned his attention to his large mug of tea.

  Maddie stared at me, like she was trying to communicate telepathically. I just gave her a small smile. I’d have to explain to her later that Billy had battled many addictions, and money was not always the best thing for him. He himself was well aware of his failings.

  “I need to ring Adam,” I said, musingly. “I want to know what they’ve found out about that body.”

  “Here, borrow my – oh.” Maddie pulled her phone out then stopped. “Damn! I don’t know how you survive,” she said.

  “Quietly,” I told her.

  Billy obviously hadn’t been as interested in his tea as he’d made out. He interrupted again. “Ha, and even I have a mobile I can use,” he said. “Some people really do have it worse than me.” He grinned and winked.

  Maddie looked from him to me, confused. She was trying to work out if he was serious.

  “It’s the British sense of humour,” I said.

  “Oh.”

  “Anyway, tell me about this body on your land,” Billy said.

  Now everyone in the café – from Alston to the two Mrs Joneses – was listening intently.

  “There’s nothing to tell. He’d been dead for a long time.”

  “Murdered?”

  “Perhaps,” I said, and a chill went through me. It wasn’t something I’d properly thought of before. The cold finger came to rest on the back of my neck again.

  Everyone else seemed utterly delighted by the prospect. Even Maddie’s eyes had lit up. “Have there ever been any murders here?” she asked.

  “No,” Billy said. “I’ve been here since I was born. Near on sixty years, I reckon. Never been anything worse than Ted lamping his missus with a baler spike that one time.”

  “Excuse me?” Maddie said with a giggle.

  “Um, domestic abuse,” I said, and her giggle faded.

  “Right. Oh. No.”

  “No, nothing like this has ever happened before,” Billy said. “You’d think there would be something, you know?”

  “Why?”

  “Well, it’s …” he tailed off, and looked at me.

  “There are some curious energies in Llanfair,” I said, dropping my voice. “Things don’t work out the way they should do, sometimes.”

  “Take the sports centre,” Billy said, and Maddie straightened up.

  “What about that? We’ve just been there. I didn’t feel any strange energies there.”

  “Oh
, they had dreadful trouble building it, they did. Just like with the dragons, wasn’t it?”

  “Oh come on,” Maddie said. “I’m from America not outer space. There are literally no dragons anymore.”

  Billy leaned forward and tapped his head.

  “The dragons of the mind.” He stared very fixedly at Maddie. “I can see you know what I am talking about, bach.”

  She swallowed, and leaned back, away from him.

  He abruptly returned to his cup of tea. We ate in silence and quickly left.

  Nine

  “The dragons of the mind,” I said to Maddie as we headed home. “What was that about?”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  I didn’t believe her for one moment. “There is a magic about you, Maddie. A strong one. I don’t just mean the stuff you do in your rituals. There is something older. You wanted connection, didn’t you? I think it’s something we should explore. You could really work with it.”

  She shook her head and changed the subject right away. “What about this dead body, though? Have you felt a … presence?”

  “I have. Have you?”

  She seemed to breathe out a long sigh of relief. “Yeah, I did. Like, do you think it’s the ghost of the body?”

  “I think so. It has to be. Do you think it seems malevolent at all?”

  “I’m not sure of its intentions. It wants something, that’s for sure.”

  “Well, yes. I would imagine it wants to be laid to rest properly rather than having to linger down at the bottom of my garden for goodness knows how long with nothing but rotten marrows and overgrown ivy for company.”

  “There’s more to it than that,” she said. “There’s an urgency about it now.”