Page 50 of Potions and Proposals
Mrs Crawford considered Lucy’s idea, while Mr Lark waited to see who to side with.
“Certainly a different approach, but I like the idea,” Mrs Crawford said finally. “Then we can use the field by the college for the Ferris wheel, and we won’t have to worry about keeping everyone in the heart of town. It does get rather crowded until everyone leaves for the fireworks.”
Lucy had expected some hostility for missing yesterday’s meeting, but it had never come up. Maybe it was because Benedict hadn’t made it today.
“Are you sure it won’t feel too dispersed?” Mr Lark asked, looking at the new layout Lucy had drawn up hastily.
“Not if we plan it right. And we could give the options for stores to remain open – then they won’t need stalls,andpeople get to experience everything the town has to offer,” Lucy suggested.
“We’d reduce costs, as we wouldn’t have to rent extra stalls from Willow Valley,” MrsCrawford mused, tapping her long, manicured nail against the map. Willow Valley was the closest sanctuary town, and they often provided each other with whatever they needed as a way of supporting each other.
“There are some who’d prefer not to have to lug their wares through town,” Mr Lark agreed. Lucy suspected he was one of those stores; he sold hand-crafted pottery.
“That’s settled, then. The stalls will lead from town to the festival grounds in the fields behind the university. People can eat and shop no matter what direction they head in, rather than be clustered in town,” she reiterated, hoping to get back to the library soon.
“But are you sure the food vendors won’t mind setting up in the side streets and alleys?” Mrs Crawford asked.
Lucy resisted the urge to groan. She was never going to get away! The clock behind the counter told her it was almost eleven. However, it was a valid question – most of the profits they made were from food and drink.
“I think it’s a better idea. That way, those who sell vintage clothes, handcrafts and furnishing won’t have to worry about their goods smelling like food,” Mr Lark said.
“Good point.” Mrs Crawford nodded, though her beehive of bright orange hair failed to move.
Lucy raised her eyebrows as they agreed. Oscar Lark and Lidia Crawford had hated each other ever since Lidia had ‘accidentally’ turned his prize-winning pumpkin patch into lollipops during the annual Glorious Gourds competition. Oscar believed it was intentional, because he was often known as the lollipop man; he ran the sweet shop and had a rather large head compared to his pencil-like body. It wasn’t said to offend, butonce you heard the nickname, you couldn’t unsee it. Lucy was relieved to see them make amends. Then again, he’d already got his revenge by turning her prized rose bushes into oranges. You only needed to look at Lidia’s hair to know why– no explanation needed.
Pettiness was rife in Foxford. Add magic to the mix, and the usual small-town drama escalated quickly. Lucy and Benedict were a prime example. However, it was an unwritten agreement that no matter what happened between individuals, they’d always put the town first.
“I can finalise the map, and talk with the vendors to see if they’d like to rent a stall or keep their doors open,” Mr Lark offered. As he was on the board of small businesses, there was no one better to handle it.
“Perfect. I’ll talk to the dean of the university about the carousel and the ferris wheel being set up on their back fields. I know we usually use the space by the woods, but this way people don’t have to walk so far, and we won’t have to hire as much security to make sure no visitors wander off.” Mrs Crawford loved cutting costs.
“The lights of the carousel and Ferris wheel will highlight the architecture of the university beautifully, and make it more accessible to those with mobility issues,” Lucy pointed out, delighted they liked her plan. With everything else feeling so out of control, the small win had her glowing.
“Brilliant! Benedict had a similar plan. Gwendoline was right when she said you’d make an excellent pair for leadership,” Mrs Crawford said, ever his champion.
Slightly deflated, Lucy nodded weakly in reply.A lesser person would’ve advised an alternative plan to rival Benedict, to show she could stand on her own two feet. However, if she was going to be the leader she needed and wanted to be, picking what worked best for the town was the right option. She rubbedher palms against her thighs, wondering if Gwendoline had been right about the binding after all.
“It’s a pity Benedict couldn’t join us this morning. He told us how busy you were at the library yesterday, so we understand that you might not both be able to make it to every meeting. It only adds to the positives of your union; if one isn’t available, the other can be. The burden won’t weigh too heavily on either one of your shoulders,” Mrs Crawford pointed out happily.
Lucy’s eyes widened. She’d assumed Benedict had taken the opportunity to throw her under the bus; instead, he had defended her. She touched the amulet he’d given her, wondering why he was doing so much to help. It only made her feel worse about the potion not working.
“Thank you for your understanding. Since we’ve decided on our plan, we should adjourn for now. I’m sure both of us will be able to make the next meeting,” she said, trying to conceal her surprise.
After some brief goodbyes, she snuggled her scarf under her chin as she walked out in the brisk air. If she was going to make it through the rest of the day, she was in desperate need of more iced tea.
“Ishouldn’t have let you talk me into this,” Benedict said, climbing out of his car. “I didn’t miss a meeting about the Autumn Festival to get lost in the woods with you.”
“Relax. The crone can smell fear, and we aren’t lost,” Peter said, leading him down a narrow path between abandoned cottages. “You should be thanking me for making enquiries, since you and Lucy failed to fix your elements.”
Benedict locked the car, even though it was pointless. There was no one around for miles. If they wanted to get into his car, something as simple as a lock wouldn’t stop them.
He guessed they were about an hour or so from Willow Valley, the closest magical village to Foxford. They didn’t abide by the same rules Foxford did. Magic, of all practices, was allowed, and the woods between were lawless and filled with all sorts of creatures. They didn’t fear Hunters or the Order, andpreferred to run the risk of bloodshed. Benedict didn’t know how anyone could live in such fear.
The siblings lingered outside the crone’s hovel. She was famous for her lack of morals and the strength of her magic. She had been in the woods longer than anyone could or wanted to remember; not even the Order tried to come after her. It was the last place Benedict wanted to be, but the cool wind brushing the back of his neck reminded him of Lucinda’s element stirring in his veins, and he knew he had to do something.
“I always knew Lucinda would be the death of me.” He noted the totems made of small animal bones hanging from the overgrown porch: a warning to those who wished harm upon the dweller.
They didn’t even need to knock before the door creaked open.
