Witch Is Where
Magic Lives Now
Published by Implode Publishing Ltd
© Implode Publishing Ltd 2020
The right of Adele Abbott to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved, worldwide. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 1
(Author’s note: This is the first book of season four.
It picks up the story SIX YEARS after the previous book)
“Mrs V!” I had to shout in order to be heard over the noise of the vacuum cleaner.
“Sorry, dear?” She turned it off.
“The office is fine now, honestly. You don’t need to do any more cleaning.”
“I just want to do another dust over in that corner.” She grabbed the feather duster, went over to the filing cabinet and began to give it the once (or, as it turned out, the twice) over.
Ever since I’d told Mrs V that I was expecting a visit from Lady Tweaking, she’d been like a woman possessed: Vacuuming here, vacuuming there. Tidying here, tidying there. Dusting here, dusting everywhere.
“Honestly, Mrs V, the office looks fine now.”
“Alright dear. I’ll just get out the best cups and give them a wash.”
“Best cups? I didn’t realise we had any best cups.”
“I keep them for special occasions.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen them, have I?”
“Probably not. I’m not sure they’ve been out since your father died, but you can’t expect Lady Tweaking to drink out of those horrible mugs that you normally use, can you?”
“Err—no, I suppose not. Where do you keep these best cups?”
“In my super-secret drawer.”
“Where’s your super-secret drawer?”
“In my super-secret filing cabinet.”
“I didn’t know you had a super-secret filing cabinet.”
“That’s because it’s—”
“Super-secret. I get it.”
Mrs V glanced over at Winky, who was lying on the sofa, watching all the comings and goings. “What about him?”
“Winky? What about him?”
“What kind of impression will it give her ladyship when she sees him? Cats do not belong in the office environment. Shall I throw him outside for a while?”
I glanced out of the window; it was pouring with rain. “You can’t do that, he’ll get soaked. I’ll make sure he stays out of sight, under the sofa.”
“Very well. I’ll go and wash the best cups.”
“The old bag lady has finally lost it, wouldn’t you say?” Winky commented when Mrs V had left the room. “Super-secret drawers in super-secret filing cabinets? The woman is clearly nuts. You should get her locked up in some super-secret padded cell and throw away the super-secret key.”
“She’s only trying to help. I have a prospective client arriving shortly.”
“Lady what’s-her-face? So what?”
“Mrs V is doing everything she can to make sure we make a good impression on her ladyship.”
“Shouldn’t you be the one doing that?”
“I can’t see the point. I’ve always believed people should take me as they find me, regardless of who they are.”
“I can see that course you went on recently did you the power of good. What was it called again?”
“Developing a customer-focussed business.”
“That was it.” He laughed. “Is that attitude something they taught you on the course?”
“That course was a waste of time—they always are. I only went on it because Kathy twisted my arm. She said it helped her to grow her business.”
“Sounds like another epic fail to me.”
“Just make sure when Lady Tweaking arrives that you stay out of sight, under the sofa. Understood?”
“What’s it worth?”
“I’ll tell you what it’s worth. It’s worth not being thrown outside in the rain.”
Fifteen minutes later, Lady Tweaking arrived.
“This way, your ladyship,” Mrs V said in her Sunday-best voice. “Can I get you a drink? Tea? Coffee?”
“Tea would be splendid. Thank you.”
“We have biscuits too if you’d care for one.”
“Just the tea, please. A splash of milk, but no sugar.”
“Very well, your ladyship.” Mrs V practically curtsied as she backed out of the room.
Lady Tweaking wasn’t exactly what I’d been expecting. I’d assumed she’d be wearing designer clothes and lots of jewellery. Instead, she looked like a bag of rags tied round the middle, more charity chic than designer. In her late sixties, she had thinning grey hair and was wearing no makeup whatsoever.
“Mrs Maxwell, I assume?” Her firm handshake belied her frail frame.
“That’s right, but there’s no need for formalities. Please call me Jill.”
“And you may call me Caroline.”
“Caroline? I couldn’t possibly do that. It would feel disrespectful, your ladyship.”
“None of this ‘your ladyship’ nonsense either.”
“Sorry, I don’t understand.”
“The title isn’t real.”
“But I thought—”
“My ancestors have owned Tweaking Manor for centuries. Over that time, the locals have always referred to the owners as the lord and lady of the manor, but there’s no basis in law for them to do so. Some of my predecessors revelled in the title, but frankly I find it rather embarrassing, so Caroline will do nicely.”
“I see. Caroline it is, then.”
Lady Tweaking took a moment to study her surroundings and, if her expression was anything to go by, she was none too impressed.
By way of a distraction, I said, “I believe we’re neighbours, Lady—err—Caroline.”
“Neighbours?
