Читать книгу The Chocolate Collection - Trisha Ashley - Страница 19

Grumps, needing little sleep, had already knocked out a chapter of Satan’s Child and was in the museum by the time I’d seen Jake off to college next morning (in Grumps’ Saab, with huge warnings about being careful and not driving too fast).

Although I’d managed to find the toaster and the Pop-Tarts, Jake’s current breakfast of choice, the whereabouts of the porridge oats and jar of honey was still a complete mystery to me. I think my box packing and labelling must have been getting a bit random by the time I got to the kitchen, because I kept finding the most unlikely combinations, but I sincerely hoped I’d screwed the lid on the honey tightly and it was the right way up, wherever it was.

I slipped silently through the door leading from the cottage into the museum. Grumps had his back turned to me, but even so he immediately said, ‘The removal men are here again already, Chloe, unpacking in the house.’

It’s always unnerving that he can tell who is behind him without looking – but equally unnerving that when he is completely absorbed in something he can be so totally unaware that even a herd of elephants stampeding through the room wouldn’t penetrate his consciousness.

‘Well, that’s good, Grumps and, going by yesterday, unpacking is much, much quicker than packing, so they should be done very soon and then you can get back to normal.’

Whatever normal is, in Grumps’ case.

‘Zillah is directing their activities.’

Zillah was more likely to be in the kitchen with Tabitha, smoking a roll-up fag, drinking tea and studying the cards, so I said, ‘Do you want me to go and help? I can tell them where to put things.’

‘Thank you, but I do not think that is necessary, for they seem to know what they are doing. But they are currently in the study, so I thought I would come in here for a time. They should not be long, since they need not unpack my books. Jake will help me arrange them tomorrow, it being the weekend, since he tells me he is eager to earn enough money to purchase a pair of firesticks. Interesting – he must demonstrate these weapons when he has them.’

‘Actually, I don’t think they are weapons, Grumps, just a form of entertainment, like juggling. One of his friends has been letting him use his, but he wants his own.’

‘Everything is a weapon when used the right way, Chloe. Do not underestimate the power of light or fire.’

I thought that was a bit of a sweeping statement, but let it pass because Grumps can be really weasely in arguments, so I often found I’d switched to his side without realising it and was arguing against my own original point. Jake was getting to be good at this too. Perhaps he could become the first Goth politician in the House of Commons? Or the post of Black Rod could become that of Black Firestick? That would liven things up a bit.

‘Those cleaners Felix recommended were extremely thorough,’ Grumps was saying approvingly, and it was true, because both the cottage and house sparkled, and here in the museum the glass display cases had been cleaned and polished inside and out, and the mahogany desk by the door shone like oiled silk.

‘Oak floors,’ Grumps pointed out, ‘very fortuitous for our meetings.’

‘Yes, I suppose if you can’t meet in an ancient oak glade, at least here you will have the equivalent under your feet.’

‘True.’

I would be able to stop worrying about him catching a chill, too. Performing magical rites totally starkers might sound kinky, but actually Grumps’ love of nudity harks back to a more innocent age of healthy naturism and has nothing to do with any Five-fold Kiss or Great Rite goings-on. In fact, when Granny was alive, she used to go and sit on the sidelines as a sort of indulgent chaperone, knitting, with flasks of hot tea to thaw everyone out afterwards. Zillah took over the role, but she told me these days she usually stayed in the car instead, smoking and reading magazines by torchlight, till the coven came back.

‘Well, if you don’t need me, I’ll go and start sorting out the unpacking in the cottage—’ I began.

‘Ah, but before you go, there is something I need your assistance with, Chloe. Here, take this compass and box of chalks and I will bring the maps and yardstick.’

It appeared that he wanted me to help mark out a huge pentagram on the floor at the far end of the museum, which he obviously deemed to be of much more importance and urgency than my unpacking.

But there was never any point in trying to deflect him from a course he was truly determined on, so I meekly took the chalk and did what he told me. Naturally, this involved a lot of measurements and constant references to a largescale map, on which he had drawn the conjunction of the two important ley lines.

Well, that was fiddly, but eventually it was done to his satisfaction and I promised to buy a huge roll of masking tape and some hard-wearing paint later that morning and make the pentagram permanent.

The windows, which were fortunately mostly at the back of the building, were to be hung with dark blue velvet, and a curtain of the same material would frame the pentagram end of the room, a bit like a stage, so that area could be shut off when the museum was closed.

‘The curtains are delayed. They should have been delivered today, but they have promised they will be finished by the end of the week – in good time for the full moon, you know.’

‘Oh? Well, I hope they do, because it’s a big job to complete so quickly, isn’t it?’

‘They will finish in time,’ he stated positively, then cast a satisfied eye around the room. ‘It will all work very well: the visitors will think the pentagram is part of the exhibition, since there will be an illustrated history of the Old Religion hung around the walls at that end.’

‘They have something similar in the hall at Winter’s End, Grumps – but mostly about Alys Blezzard, the family witch.’

‘She was little more than a herbalist, like Hebe Winter,’ he said dismissively. ‘But my history will be comprehensive and all-embracing.’

‘Do you know Hebe Winter, Grumps? I haven’t met her, though I have seen her about.’

‘Our paths have crossed once or twice in the past.’ He delved randomly into the nearest packing case and came up with a particularly scary-looking Balinese mask. ‘Now, why would that be in the Fetish box?’

My reply was drowned out by a thunderous knocking at the museum door, which proved to be two workmen with the freshly repainted museum sign.

We went out to see the board fixed into place over the entrance door, standing at the edge of the pavement out of the way of the ladders.

Across the road old Mrs Snowball, who had evidently just finished her daily paving stone purge, called ‘Coo-ee!’ and flapped a hand at Grumps.

He bowed in her direction, gracefully doffing his fez, before turning back to admire his sign:

GREGORY WARLOCK’S MUSEUM OF WITCHCRAFT A CELEBRATION OF ALL THINGS PAGAN

There was also a folding wooden billboard that would stand on the pavement outside the door when the museum was open, enticingly listing the delights to be obtained inside and also the charges for entry.

I hadn’t had any hand in this, so I read with interest that the museum would open from two until four on five days a week, from Easter to September, and weekends only off-season.

ADMISSION: FOUR POUNDS NO CONCESSIONS NO CHILDREN UNDER 12 YEARS OF AGE PARKING AT REAR OF BUILDING

‘We have plenty of time to get it ready if you mean to open in early April, Grumps.’

‘Yes, though all the exhibits need arranging, and a guidebook and perhaps some pamphlets must be produced. But I am sure it can be done in time, and then Zillah says she will be happy to take charge of the desk when I am otherwise engaged.’

‘I don’t suppose it’s that much different from reading fortunes at the end of a pier, so she will probably enjoy it. And I can help out too, of course, if you need me,’ I offered.

‘You have your own little business to run,’ he said graciously.

‘Yes, but I can still give you a hand if things are really busy in peak tourist season. I’ll set up the Chocolate Wishes equipment this afternoon and then Jake’s going to see if he can reconnect us to broadband when he gets back, so I can print off my new orders.’

That had to be the first priority, and then getting the cottage sorted out. But after that, finally, I could get at my potentially lovely walled garden!

‘Jake will work at the museum in his university vacations, I have spoken to him about it. For one day,’ Grumps added, with a magnificently sweeping gesture at the Old Smithy, ‘all this will be his. Except the little cottage, of course – I am arranging to have that transferred into your name.’

Stunned, I turned to stare at him. ‘In my name? You mean…I’ll own it? But Grumps—’

‘But me no buts,’ he said grandly.

‘It’s so kind of you, Grumps!’ I stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, which he suffered me to do rather in Jake’s manner, though I know they both quite like it, really. Then an unwelcome and probably unworthy thought struck me. ‘But what if Mum comes back? Won’t she expect—’

‘Your mother has chosen her own path and deserves nothing more from any of us. If she returns after I’m gone, then I would strongly advise you to send her on her way again. Any share of my inheritance she might think she deserves has already gone to pay off her debts.’

This was very true…and already I was feeling possessive about my little cottage! I was happy for it to be Jake’s home for as long as he needed it, but there was no way I could share living space with my mother ever again.

Having finished their job the workmen packed up their tools and departed and Grumps fell back a bit, so that he could admire the sign again. The weak late February sunshine gilded his long, silver hair under the fez and shone off the bald patches on the seat and elbows of his quilted velvet robe. For the first time I noticed he had only thin, red leather Moroccan slippers on his feet and I was about to urge him to go back in, since the cold from the pavement would be striking upwards, when there was a screeching noise from the road behind us. A small white Mini had jarred to an abrupt stop and was quivering by the pavement.

A tall, silver-haired, imposing woman unfolded herself from it and confronted Grumps: Hebe Winter, soon to be not the only witch in the village. Though actually, going by the way old Mrs Snowball had been carrying on, Hebe may have had company all along without realising it. Perhaps she was the only solitary witch in the village.

‘Hello, Hebe,’ Grumps said, doffing his fez again, as he had done to Mrs Snowball.

‘You?’

‘Yes, me,’ he agreed, quite mildly for him. ‘How are you, my dear? Still dabbling in the shallows of alchemy, turning herbs into money?’

She didn’t appear to register what he had said, for she’d now spotted the museum sign and an expression of outrage appeared on her patrician features. ‘Can it be possible that it is you who have bought the Old Smithy – that you intend to live in Sticklepond?’

‘It can and it is. We moved in yesterday.’

‘We?’ She acknowledged my presence for the first time by favouring me with an unimpressed stare, but of course I was wearing old jeans and a fleece for unpacking and moving things, not dressed to receive august and slightly scary visitors.

‘With my family,’ Grumps explained. ‘This is my granddaughter, Chloe.’

That didn’t even merit another glance – she had weightier matters to get off her narrow chest now she had spotted the new sign. ‘You cannot seriously expect to open such an ungodly museum in Sticklepond, nor introduce your dubious ways into my parish, and think that I would do nothing to prevent it?’ she demanded. ‘I felt the threat coming, yet I thought it concerned our lack of a permanent vicar to guide and protect us, not the establishment of a Mecca to the Dark Arts in our midst!’

‘Oh, come off your high horse, Hebe,’ Grumps said testily. ‘You know I am not a threat to anyone, even if I am opening a museum of witchcraft. Does it not seem a good idea to you? I had thought you would approve.’

‘Approve of you bringing your dubious practices to Sticklepond? I think not!’

‘Then you may be pleased to learn that some of what you would prudishly consider to be my more dubious practices have, unfortunately, currently been curtailed by cold weather and old age.’

This was all very interesting and there was obviously some history between them. In an unusually expansive moment Grumps once let drop that when he first moved to Merchester and started his coven, one or two local witches he had invited to join him had taken exception to the nudity aspect of his rites. I expect it was an innovation too far, even though they must have seen that he was a scholarly, rather than an any-excuse-to-have-an-orgy type of warlock.

‘Be that as it may, I cannot approve of your ungodly ways,’ Hebe said firmly. ‘And there is nothing to celebrate in paganism!’

‘It would have been far worse if Digby Mann-Drake had bought the place. He wanted it, you know – only I clinched the deal with the Frintons while he was unable to act, due to a septic appendix. Dear girls, the Frinton sisters – we sorely miss them at our meetings.’

Her bright blue eyes widened. ‘The Frintons? You mean they were…?’

‘If you will practise in solitude, it is hardly surprising that you don’t know these things, Hebe,’ Grumps chided, but she didn’t seem to hear him, because another thought seemed to have struck her.

‘What was that you said about Mann-Drake?’ she asked sharply.

‘You have heard of him, then?’

‘Of course. He’s an even bigger charlatan than you!’ she said rudely.

‘You must not underestimate him, my dear Hebe – nor me. He is not just a harmless exhibitionist, but uses what powers he has for unworthy ends, corrupting and debasing impressionable young people.’

Hebe was now looking worried. ‘A Mr Drake snapped up the title of Lord of the Manor when it came up for auction – for a hugely inflated price, even though it confers no benefits whatsoever – and he has purchased an isolated house at the edge of the village, Badger’s Bolt. Drake is not an unusual name and I thought nothing of it, but now I wonder if it could be Mann-Drake?’

‘It is quite possible, for though the Old Smithy is in the most fortuitously powerful position, the whole village is, as you might say, magically wired,’ Grumps said thoughtfully. ‘That would be very bad news for us all, believe me, Hebe. My presence would be the least of your problems.’

‘It may not be him and so we will deal with that situation if it arises,’ she said, rallying. ‘But even if it does prove to be true, although you may be the lesser evil, we still do not want you or your museum in the village. But I expect our new vicar, when he arrives, will know how to deal with you!’

‘Bell, book and candle?’ he smiled. ‘My dear Hebe!’

‘Wait and see. I myself am not entirely without power around here, dabbler in alchemy or not,’ she snapped, so obviously that barb had pierced her armour.

‘Same old Hebe – and what a very angry aura!’ Grumps said admiringly as she drove away after some clashing of the gears. Then he turned back to the matter in hand. ‘The signs are satisfactory, so let us go back indoors, Chloe. I have work to do.’

‘But Hebe Winter, Grumps – won’t she make trouble for you? I mean, she’s very important in Sticklepond, isn’t she? She seems to run the place, according to Poppy. Poppy and Felix are on the Parish Council and they tell me about things.’

‘The museum will be good for the village and, in any case, she has no teeth in this matter. Nor does the vicar, if he should try to interfere. They will have much more to worry them should their Mr Drake turn out to be Mann-Drake.’

‘Is Mann-Drake his real name?’ I asked curiously.

‘He was plain Drake when we were at Oxford, but I believe he later hyphenated it with his mother’s maiden name.’

‘Jake mentioned that he was researching him for you and he didn’t sound like good news.’

‘He was always a nasty piece of work, though his great charm of manner initially fools many people. But do not fear: I know how to protect my own,’ he assured me, and then went off to see if the removal men had finished with his study so that he could reoccupy it.

I went back to the cottage, plugged in my radio, and began sorting out my chocolate-making supplies and stock. All the little drawers and cupboards were really handy for storing moulds, packaging, sacks of couverture like big, richly fragrant chocolate buttons, ribbons and Wishes.

I’d printed out a fresh copy of the Mayan chocolate charm Grumps had given me, with the new part added, and now Blu-Tacked it to the front of one of the cupboards over the Bath. If Grumps and his Spanish friend ever manage to translate the last bit, I might frame the whole thing.

I stacked my entire stock of gold boxes of Chocolate Wishes on the shelves around the shop area, along with the empty boxes for the large chocolate angels with personalised readings inside, which I made to order: it was lovely to have enough room for everything, at last!

All the time I was working, my mind was still running on the conversation between Grumps and Hebe Winter, so when everything was shipshape I got out my Angel oracle cards and shuffled them.

They seemed to indicate major problems to overcome, but that success would be entirely possible.

Felix closed his shop in the afternoon and came to offer any help I needed – he is so sweet! I’d been out for masking tape and paint by then, so I got him to help me finish the pentagram on the museum floor.

I told him about Grumps and Hebe and he said the sparks would probably fly. Already Hebe had called an emergency meeting of the Parish Council tomorrow, now that the cat was out of the bag.

Grumps wandered back in just as we’d almost finished our task and regarded Felix with approval. While we were children Grumps tolerated his presence around the house, just as he had Poppy’s, but now that Felix goes to huge lengths to find the obscure volumes he wants, he has moved up several rungs in Grumps’ estimation.

‘I came to tell Chloe that Zillah has a huge pan of stew ready and Jake has rung to say he will eat at a friend’s house and be back later.’

‘He didn’t ring me!’ I said suspiciously. ‘And which friend? I hope he isn’t going to drink when he has to drive back, and—’

‘There is no need to panic, Chloe. He did try to call you earlier, but there was no reply, so he left a contact number with Zillah. I don’t need the car tonight and he is a sensible boy. You,’ he added to Felix, more in command than invitation, ‘may join the rest of us for dinner. We don’t dress.’

‘Not at all?’ Felix blurted, and then went pink.

‘He means you can come as you are,’ I explained, and he stopped looking aghast, just scared but gratified. He’d often eaten with Jake and me in the flat, of course, but had never before been invited to dine with the whole family.

But if he was expecting some kind of Addams Family frog stew, he must have been very pleased to discover that it was just a solid lamb hotpot with suet dumplings, followed by sultana-stuffed baked apples and custard. In my opinion, the baked apples would have been better for a little grated chocolate in the stuffing; but then, as far as I am concerned, almost anything would.