12.3 The Shetland Witch
In which something is returned to the witches that should not have been taken.
Ishabel replied in her usual even temper.
‘We have heard your request, Alison Spence, and thank you for your courtesy in delivering this tae us in person. We also hear your observation, Grizel Simbister.’ She smiled gently. ‘I would like to know, however,’ and at this Maggie also began to smile, ‘what advice you would give to enable us to shift the storm? Do you have any spells in mind? A cantrip to chase away a god?’
Hazel could hear the coldness in Ishabel’s voice, and she shivered as if ice had dripped down her back. Mrs Simbister’s expression did not change, but Alison looked a little tempered.
Mrs Simbister shot back a reply. ‘I hae better than cantrips, Ishabel Inkster. I hae the Wird o’ the Lord, and hae been sent to dae the Lord’s wark.’
‘Are you going tae help us, Grizel? You can see we’ve reached the extent o oor powers here.’ Ishabel was smiling now at the older woman, who was sitting hunched over in the warm room as if she were feeling the cold.
Mrs Simbister’s voice was harsh. ‘I hae nae power. There is only the Lord.’
Ishabel laughed, ‘You hae power, Grizel, if you would only release it.’
‘The only power I hae comes fae God. I follow only His jurisdiction.’
Atropos had been looking at the tablecloth during the exchange of remarks, her fingers tracing the patterns in its embroidery. She did not seem to be listening. But on Mrs Simbister’s bitter words she raised her head.
‘Which god?’
Mrs Simbister glared at her.
‘Oh no,’ Hazel thought, ‘she thinks Atropos is laughing at her.’
‘Nae Indian god, or wherever you cam fae,’ she said with rising anger. ‘I follow the word o the Lord, and I –‘
Alison broke in, smoothly.
‘Mrs Simbister and I cam tonight because we hae something to bring you. It came to her during her prayers this morning, that you should hae it. Is that nae right, Mrs Simbister?’
Maggie opened her eyes wide but said not a word. But Hazel, standing a little to the side, could see that Mrs Simbister’s hands were fidgeting with her big black bag, and that Alison herself was sitting stiffly, as though she wanted to leave, but was forcing herself to stay in her seat.
‘Grizel,’ Ishabel said, ‘Hae you something that will help? Because we need help, if you will gie it.’
Mrs Simbister slowly opened the handbag’s clasp with a twist. She drew out a package wrapped in a white and orange plastic bag, and gave it to Alison, not looking at anyone.
Alison rose quickly and laid the package on the table.
‘We’ll away now. I hae nae knowledge of the contents o that bag, and I dina want ony.’
Mrs Simbister rose and stormed to the door, throwing angry words behind her. ‘I want it oot o ma hoose. I winna speak o it again.’
She left the room. Alison nodded to the witches and followed her quickly out into the hall. The front door closed as smartly as if the wind had blown it shut. Their car drove away at speed.
Maggie gave a crack of laughter. ‘If Grizel thinks she isna using magic she’s deluding herself. Alison couldna have driven here withoot Grizel gripping the road, as she says.’
They all looked at the bag resting on the table. It was a rather grubby white plastic, and the orange lettering reminded Hazel instantly of photographs from her parents’ wedding.
‘That’s a Fine Fare logo,’ Maggie said. ‘Early 1970s supermarket brand. That’s a vintage plastic bag too; it must be disintegrating by now. We’ll hae a terrible time recycling that.’
‘Shetland never had a Fine Fare,’ Ishabel said, ‘But I believe that Grizel has left the islands once or twice in her life.’
She held her hands over the bag and nodded. ‘There’s something in here that feels as if she should be worried about it, if she’s scared of touching magical items.’
She opened the bag and slid the contents out carefully.
They looked at it. It was the back end of a handwritten book, bound in green, with its ragged spine and bands fraying where it had been ripped in two.
‘Ah!’ Atropos said, and she took the book to look at its pages.
‘That’s why Mrs Simbister looked so furious,’ Maggie said. ‘Like I said, she is still a Shetland witch. I bet she stole that from the Haa, in the days when she used it like the rest of us.’
‘I wonder if Avril kent it?’ Ishabel said.
Hazel was wondering what Alison would say to her when she went back that night. Would she let her into the house?
‘It’s interesting that the book got torn, and that Mrs Simbister kept it. There’s a bit of history there that she’s not going to share, and I bet Avril won’t tell on her either. What a woman. As stubborn as a limpet.’
Atropos had sat down with the faded pages and was spelling out words to herself, running her long brown finger slowly across the page.
‘Atropos, is it any good?’ asked Maggie. ‘Does it help?’
There was a silence, and then Atropos raised her head. Her eyes were glittering with excitement.
‘Now I know,’ she said. ‘I have the key. I know the spell. I made the sphere, but I did not know what it was. I knew it was the right thing for what we need to do. But I did not know how it would work. But now I do. It is all here,’ she patted the pages in front of her. ‘Now he will see what power is.’
Hazel was washing up the glasses. Maggie and Atropos were tidying the kitchen.
Hazel thought, watching their reflections in the window in front of the sink, that Atropos had the air of a missionary learning the ways of a primitive tribe. She would solemnly open the cupboard drawer and place mats and napkins inside at Maggie’s direction, as if she were assisting at a ritual. Then she examined the mechanism of the drawer, and pulled gently at the handles, fingering their metal finish.
Maggie broke into Hazel’s reverie.
‘Tell me what the flaw is, Hazel.’
She looked at Maggie’s reflection in the kitchen window, startled. ‘What?’
‘I can see you chewing your lip. That means you’re not happy about the plan.’
Episode 12.4 will follow.
The Shetland Witch © Kate Macdonald 2024.
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