Page 15 of The Vanishing Bookstore
Mrs Pitcher didn’t look convinced and Sephy didn’t blame her. Ophelia had purposely clawed the woman’s calf when she had sat down on her favourite armchair. The scratch had bled, a long thin line of blood. Not today. Mrs Pitcher was prepared, wearing thick black corded trousers and a long-sleeved jumper. Sephy led her into the kitchen.
‘Please help yourself to anything, except the jars of tea in the end cupboard. They haven’t been labelled yet and the wrong one could give you an upset tummy. There is a box of store-bought tea bags in the cupboard and a jar of coffee. Lucine is fast asleep and probably won’t wake up before I’m home, but if you could make sure she’s okay and has everything she needs if she does, I will be eternally grateful.’
Sephy knew that the wrong tea could give Mrs Pitcher much worse than an upset tummy, but she didn’t want to scare her timid neighbour more than she had to. Smiling at her, she grabbed her bag, then untied her apron and hung it over the back of the chair.
As she walked past the lounge where the cat was sprawled out, she pointed at her, then was out of the front door and walking towards the white van she used when she needed to restock the shop.
Turning to look up at Lucine’s bedroom window, she felt better to see Hades sitting on the windowsill proudly preening himself. He never neglected his duties when it was getting near to the end. He could watch over Lucine better than any mortal could.
She climbed into the van with a swish of her cape, her pink boots glinting in the early morning sunlight, and Sephy felt an overwhelming feeling of both sadness and happiness. Their lives were always this way, the joy and the sorrow walked hand in hand with the English sisters and always had done. She longed to hold Dora close, she’d almost forgotten her smell. It had been so long since she’d cuddled her niece and sung her nursery rhymes.
She had the book of everyday English spells ready should they have to resort to giving Dora a helping hand remembering the past, but she wished, not for the first time, that she had the original. She remembered the leather journal of Lucine’s she used to hold in her hands, and the last time she had seen it. They’d been called out to the captain’s house as a matter of urgency to help his wife and had gone without question.
As they had entered the garden in front of the large, two-storey, stately home near to the common, all three sisters had stared up at the criss-crossed windows of the gables on the second floor. Each window bore a cloak of darkness over it that should not have been there. The moon was full in the sky and had illuminated their path all the way there, yet the house was shrouded in shadows.
Seraphina had put a hand on both Lucine and Lenora’s wrists. ‘I fear this is something that may be out of our control.’
Lenora had nodded in agreement; they heard the anguished moans of pain coming from the second floor and Lucine whispered, ‘We have to help her regardless of whether we can save the baby or indeed Sarah. We are here now and to walk away would be unforgivable.’
She stepped forwards and walked into the hallway. Seraphina glanced at Lenora, fear making her eyes wider and her lips so tight they were no longer visible. They followed their sister inside, unable to do anything else. They would not leaveher to do this alone, no matter how much the voice inside Seraphina’s head was telling her to run. Once they were inside, the house became unnaturally still, the painful moaning stopped and all three of them feared they were too late. As they rushed up to the large room that was Sarah’s, darkness filled the hallway behind them. Lucine pushed the door open and all three women saw Sarah standing in the corner of the room. She looked afraid, but she was not about to birth a child. Next to her was the captain, his hand on her arm, and standing in the corners of the room had been six of the men that Corwin used to round up his accused witches. But there was no sight of Corwin himself.
‘A trap,’ whispered Seraphina, fear making her voice tremble.
‘Where is the beast you answer to and why are you here?’ asked Lenora, her voice bold despite the desperation of the situation.
‘We’re here to take you women in,’ said the captain. ‘You have been accused of witchcraft by the afflicted girls and it is our duty to take you to the meeting house to be examined.’
Lenora pulled her shoulders straight and stared into his eyes. ‘On whose authority?’
‘Judges Hathorne and Corwin. The sheriff has the warrant.’
‘If you are here to take us, why do you not have it?’
The men looked at each other, they could not answer.
‘I shall ask again, where Sheriff Corwin is?’ Lenora stood tall with her arms crossed and Seraphina had never felt prouder of her sister. But it occurred to her that if Corwin wasn’t here, he was busy somewhere else, and she cried out, ‘Isadora.’
Lucine’s head snapped in her direction at the same time as Lenora’s and all three of them realised that the reason the despicable sheriff was not here was because he had gone after the most precious thing in their lives. The men pounced, two for each woman, manhandling them out of the door to the sound of Sarah’s heartfelt cries.
‘I’m sorry, this is not me, ’twas my husband who agreed they could bring you here. Please forgive me.’
Seraphina had managed to turn back to her and nod. What choice would Sarah have had? Men ruled this world, which was the reason she avoided them at all costs.
Sephy shook her head, pushing those memories out, they were too painful. Those following days in the dank dungeon of the jail had left Lucine unable to talk. Lenora had been angry, and had cried so many tears her skin had chafed, but it had done them no good. They had been doomed the moment they arrived in Salem town that night and now here they were, centuries later, still trying to put right the wrongs of that terrible time.
The spell book had been gifted to Lucine but they had never used it, too afraid of the consequences because it contained old, powerful magic. They had kept it out of sight, hidden from Dora, for what reason Sephy didn’t know because it hadn’t made a difference in the end. Even though they had never in their first lifetime been practising witches, they had still been accused of it.
Sephy’s blood had run cold when Lenny had sent the picture of the forget-me-nots. She couldn’t have been more disappointed when Lenny had phoned up to confirm that Corwin had found them again.
Some of their memories were happy, and some were terribly sad. Each time they lived it was different yet the same. This time, though, Sephy had known something was wrong. Lenny had ignored her warnings, brushing them off with indifference, perhaps believing it was easier to bury her head in the sand than to actually fix the problem she was hiding from. Now, though, they would put it all right because Lenny and Dora were on their way home, where they belonged. It was time to end it. The English women were stronger together than worlds apart and no one could deny that.
10
Dora followed Lenny off the plane, through the airport and customs with minimal fuss, as if they were invisible. She’d thought it would be a long, drawn-out process, but it wasn’t, at least not for them. She turned her head and saw the huge queues behind them, wondering how they had managed to get to the front so fast. Neither of them spoke, the row of cubicles with the customs agents sitting in them waiting to approve the arriving passengers’ entry into the US was the most daunting thing Dora had ever seen.
She leaned forwards and whispered into Lenny’s ear, ‘What if they don’t let me in?’
Lenny turned her head to face her and muttered, ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Dora, you’ve faced far worse than this. Just smile and don’t make any jokes. Unfortunately these people have no sense of humour.’
