your superiors. Do I make myself clear? ”
He leaned his forehead against the public telephone booth. “Yes, Sir Alec. Sorry. Ah-there was one thing I thought you might like to know.”
“ Yes?”
“Errol was contacted early this morning. I don’t know who by, but the conversation upset him.” Oh Mel, please be right about this. “He was angry and afraid, and that’s very out of character.”
“ I see. Anything else?”
“No, sir.”
“ Then return to Wycliffe’s at once, Mister Dunwoody, and make sure to keep both eyes on our quarry. Thanks to Mister Dalby the destructive hex was contained, and we’ve been able to ascertain without a doubt that it was authored by Haf Rottlezinder. It is now imperative that we either establish a link between him and Haythwaite or discount that avenue of investigation once and for all, thus freeing our resources.”
Thanks to Mister Dalby? Him? That stringy, bruised-looking chap had managed to foil a Rottlezinder hex? Gosh. Nothing about him had suggested that kind of power.
In other words, Gerald, books and covers. You shouldn’t need to be reminded of that.
“ That’s good news, sir.”
“ Indeed,” said Sir Alec. “ Now follow my instructions, Mister Dunwoody, and in future curb the temptation to meddle. I am not new to this tea party, which is why you should be less concerned with doing my job and more concerned with doing your own. ”
“Yes, Sir Alec,” he whispered, wincing. “I’ll-ah-I’ll get back to Wycliffe’s, then.”
“ Please do. And bear in mind that I did not supply you with this telephone number for the purpose of engaging in cosy chats.”
Gerald stared at the buzzing telephone receiver for a moment, then replaced it.
Gosh, that went well. I can just imagine how my first mission debrief is going to play out.
Especially when he told Sir Alec about his crowd dispersal techniques…
“So?” said Reg, flapping back down to his shoulder. “What now?”
“Now it’s back to Wycliffe’s,” he said, hiding in the shadows again. “Are you coming with me, or don’t you want to risk it?”
“I’ll risk it,” she said grudgingly. “I’m supposed to be on duty in the employee garden, and madam’ll go spare if I’ve missed any important gossip. But when this romp is over, sunshine, you and I are going to have a serious talk about finding you a few less mad-as-hatter friends!”
Thanks to the appallingly tyrannical Miss Petterly, Melissande was forced to work through nearly all of her lunchbreak, painstakingly uncorrecting all of Tantivy Tourist Extravaganza’s corrected orders. When the last mistake was re-made, certainly guaranteeing Wycliffe’s yet another massively dissatisfied customer, she dumped the pile of purchase orders on Miss Petterly’s empty desk.
Miss Petterly, of course, was indulging her own long lunchbreak, as she did every day.
As she rushed downstairs, lunch box in hand, determined to have at least five minutes in the fresh air to clear her head and stave off imminent starvation, she heard a familiar voice at the front reception desk. Instead of turning left, to leave the office block via the staff entrance at the back of the building, she turned right and hovered around the corner, straining to hear the conversation.
“Yes, that’s right, Eudora Telford,” said the familiar voice. “Here to see Miss Permelia Wycliffe on a personal matter of the utmost urgency. She sent for me, you know. Personally. I am Miss Permelia Wycliffe’s Baking and Pastry Guild secretary, you know. Highly trusted. Highly valuable. I am the person she calls upon when something important must be done.”
“Yes, Miss Telford,” said bored-sounding Miss Fisher, the receptionist. “Miss Wycliffe has just stepped out for a moment. If you’d care to wait…”
Melissande eased back from the corner before somebody saw her. What was so urgent that Permelia Wycliffe would send for a wet hen like Eudora Telford to take care of?
It’s probably nothing really important. That’s just Eudora puffing herself up. It’s definitely none of my business. But it’s certainly curious…
It was so late now the employee garden was empty of everyone save two of the R amp;D wizards, and they never deigned to speak to any of the gels. Just as she sat on a sun-soaked bench, desperate to devour her lunch, she heard a rattling of tail feathers in the garden’s bushiest ornamental fig-tree. Ignoring the wretched bird, she opened her lunch box. One mouthful, just one, and then she’d find out what Reg wanted.
“ Pssst. Pssst! Oy! Are you deaf?”
No, but very soon now she was going to starve to death. Abandoning her lunch, she stamped over to the nearby garden bed and bent over, pretending to admire the pansies. “ What? Can’t this wait? I am famished beyond your wildest imagination!”
“Never mind about that, ducky,” said Reg, almost hidden amongst the foliage. “Last time I looked you weren’t anywhere near skin-and-bone. Have you heard about the Central Ott portal?”
She felt her rumbling stomach lurch. “Yes.”
“Well, I’ve just come back from there and thought you might like to know there’s nobody been hurt. It’s all under control.”
She looked up, startled. “Oh, that’s wonderful, Reg. But what were you-”
“I went for a little look-see with Gerald. He was all het up about it, convinced you were right and he was responsible for more death and destruction.” She sniffed. “You know, you really want to be a bit more careful, madam. My Gerald takes things very much to heart.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I will. Listen-” She bent again to the pansies, just in case anyone was wondering why she was talking to an ornamental fig tree.
“What?”
“It’s probably nothing, probably I’m just being nosy, but how about you go perch on the sill of Permelia Wycliffe’s office window and see if you can hear what she and Eudora Telford are talking about? Eudora’s claiming Permelia’s sent for her, some desperately urgent and important errand that needs doing. I think I’d like to know what it is.”
“Hmm,” said Reg. “I thought we weren’t investigating our own clients?”
“Well, yes, but-that was before we found out about Gerald and why he’s here. I think it’s our duty to investigate anything that smells fishy. And I’ve already overheard a row between Permelia and Ambrose.” She stood up straight. “And d’you know, it was just after she found out about the latest portal accident.”
“Gerald said that Sir Alec said Ambrose Wycliffe wasn’t involved.”
“Sir Alec could be wrong,” she said. “Men have been known to be wrong from time to time, haven’t they?”
Reg snorted. “Not to hear them talk. All right. I’ll go and have a stickybeak into Permelia Wycliffe’s business.”
“Yes, do that. Only be careful, Reg! They both know who you are, remember?”
Another snort. “Good. Yes. Thanks for that, ducky. Are you finished? Or would you like to teach your grandmother how to suck eggs while you’re at it?”
Shaking her head, Melissande watched the wretched bird flap away. Then she returned to her lunch. Finally, finally, something to eat.
“Miss Carstairs! Miss Carstairs! What do you think you’re doing, Miss Carstairs? Lunchtime is over for gels, Miss Carstairs!”
Incredulous, she turned. And there was Miss Petterly standing at the employee garden’s entrance, a skinny black-clad scarecrow with her fists on her hips and a face like peevish thunder.
Her gurgling stomach rumbled a fresh protest.
If I throw my lunch at her she’ll make sure I’m fired… and that’ll be it for Witches Inc. Curtains. Coda. Dead in the water before we’ve barely begun swimming.
She let her chin drop to her chest. Swallowed her pride, which wasn’t anywhere near as satisfying as a ham and cheese sandwich.
“Yes, Miss Petterly,” she said, trudging towards the horrible woman. “I’m coming, Miss Petterly.”
And somehow, sometime, I’ll pay you back for this.
