Robin Jarvis - The Whitby Witches

Jennet went into the kitchen and decided to make a cup of tea to await the old lady’s return. Just as the kettle began to whistle, there came a furtive knock on the front door.

‘You took your time, Ben,’ she began. ‘What happened to –’

But when the door opened she saw that the new arrival was not her brother after all. Another old lady blinked in surprise at her.

‘Oh dear,’ said the stranger. ‘I suppose you must be Janet.’

‘Jennet,’ the girl corrected.

‘Of course. I’m Miss Droon – a friend of Alice’s. Is she in?’

‘No, but she should be back soon.’

‘Shall I come in, then, and wait? Thank you.’ And she barged through to the kitchen, where the kettle was whistling for all it was worth and steaming up the windows.

Miss Droon was an odd-looking woman. Her hair was dark grey and very wiry, like a pan scrub. She wore thick black-rimmed spectacles and a chunky blue sweater which was covered in short, white hairs. As she passed by, Jennet noticed a strong whiff of cats. This was rather appropriate, because Miss Droon had whiskers; they stuck out above her top lip and bristled along her chin. It was quite a struggle to keep from staring.

Miss Droon made a pot of tea and helped herself to the Gypsy Creams. She planted her bottom on a stool and tapped the table distractedly; evidently there was something on her mind.

‘I’m sure Aunt Alice won’t be long,’ said Jennet, noticing the hairs that had fallen to the floor from Miss Droon’s sweater.

‘I hope you’re right, girl,’ she returned, ‘for Eurydice’s sake.’ She looked out of the window desperately.

‘Eurydice?’

‘Yes. She’s wandered off again and she could go into labour any minute.’ Miss Droon wrung her hands together anxiously.

Jennet had visions of some woman roaming round Whitby, ready to give birth. ‘Maybe she’s gone to the hospital,’ she suggested hopefully.

Miss Droon looked at her as if she were mad and opened her mouth. But at that moment, the front door opened and in came Aunt Alice with Ben. They had met in Church Street and Ben was giving her a detailed account of the morning’s activities. ‘Then we saw a statue of that Captain Cook and two huge whale bones made into an arch and I found a fossil thing on the beach – see?’

‘That’s an ammonite, Benjamin; there are lots of them round here.’

Miss Boston removed her hat before the mirror in the hall. ‘Sounds like you two have been busy,’ she said. ‘You and Jennet must be ravenous. Oh,’ and she paused in the kitchen doorway, ‘hello, Tilly. What can I do for you? I’ve just been over to Pru’s, looking for that wretched book she cannot find – said she’d seen you yesterday. Everything well?’

‘It’s Eurydice!’ Miss Droon burst out.

‘Again!’ whistled Aunt Alice. ‘How many this time?’

‘No, she’s gone off and they’re due any minute.’

‘How tiresome,’ tutted Miss Boston, winking at Jennet. ‘And you would like me to find her for you, is that it?’

‘Please, Alice – I’ve brought Binky along.’ Miss Droon pulled a well-chewed woollen mouse from her pocket. ‘I just can’t bear to think of her coping alone.’

‘She probably wanted to get away from your ham-fisted interference, Tilly dear. Do help yourself to biscuits, by the way.’

Miss Droon guiltily licked the crumbs from her moustache. ‘Oh, Alice,’ she pleaded, ‘there may be very little time.’

Miss Boston sighed and filled a jug with cold water. ‘Very well. Come into the parlour, Tilly – and don’t forget Binky. Oh, Jennet, could you and Benjamin stay here for a while and be very quiet?’ The children nodded, greatly puzzled. ‘Excellent. Now, in you go, Matilda.’

Ben looked at Jennet. ‘Who’s that, then?’ he wanted to know.

‘A friend of Aunt Alice’s, I think,’ she replied.

‘What have they gone in there for?’

Jennet brushed hairs off the stool lately occupied by Miss Droon and shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I think she’s a bit loopy.’

‘What did Aunt Alice want with the water, Jen? There’s no plants in the parlour.’

‘Maybe she’s going to pour it over Miss Droon’s head,’ she answered sarcastically. ‘How do you expect me to know?’

The sound of voices filtered through the parlour door, so the children kept quiet and listened.

‘Do shut up, Tilly,’ boomed Aunt Alice. ‘I need to concentrate.’

‘What can they be doing?’ breathed Jennet.

After a short while the door was opened and Miss Droon bustled out. Aunt Alice called after her, pulling back the curtains, ‘It’s either the old barn again or that empty house on Hawsker Lane – sorry, Abbey Lane. Yes, I’m certain she’ll be there.’

‘I must go to her! Poor little Eurydice,’ cried Miss Droon, fumbling with the front door latch.

Aunt Alice emerged from the parlour and remarked wryly, ‘I’d hardly call her “little” in her condition.’ But Miss Droon had fled from the house.

‘Oh, confound the woman,’ said Miss Boston. ‘It’s no good. I shall have to go with her. Do you children want to come? It isn’t far, but perhaps you need your lunches right away?’

Ben began to say that he did but Jennet elbowed him into silence and said of course they would go.

‘Good,’ said Aunt Alice, putting her hat back on. Jennet watched her and Ben leave the house whilst she put her coat on again. Then, on a sudden impulse, she ran into the parlour.

A sweet, heavy scent laced the air; on the table was the jug of water and an empty black lacquered bowl. Jennet went up to it and ran her fingers around the rim. It was wet.

‘So, Aunt Alice filled the bowl with water, drew the curtains, then poured the water back into the jug,’ she said slowly to herself. ‘But why? And what is that sickly smell?’ Jennet was mystified; how could all these things, not forgetting Binky, lead to Aunt Alice’s conclusion that Eurydice was in some empty house?

She left the parlour and ran outside, closing the front door behind her. Ben and Miss Boston were in Church Street before she caught up with them.

‘The Blakelocks used to live in the house but they moved out two years ago and went to live in Wakefield, I believe,’ Aunt Alice was telling Ben. ‘The house has been empty since then. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to buy it now, too run-down and probably overrun with fieldmice. Perfect for Eurydice, though.’

‘Why’s that?’ asked Jennet.

‘Oh, didn’t she tell you? Eurydice’s a cat.’

Jennet laughed. ‘No wonder she gave me an odd look when I mentioned the hospital.’

‘Yes,’ continued Aunt Alice, ‘Tilly already has twelve of the perishing things, most of them Eurydice’s offspring. Too popular with the local toms she is – Eurydice, not Tilly. But will she get her seen to? Not on your life. There’s hardly a stick of furniture in her house that hasn’t been used either as a claw sharpener or – well, a convenience. The place positively reeks.’

The empty house they were heading for was just off the lane that ran behind the abbey, so up the hundred and ninety-nine steps they had to go. Halfway up they encountered a breathless Miss Droon. She was finding the climb rather too strenuous.

‘Oh my,’ she wheezed, ‘I hope you’re right, Alice – I don’t want to have staggered up these ruddy steps for nothing.’

Finally they reached the summit and walked through the graveyard to get on to Abbey Lane. The stately ruin of the abbey towered up on their right as they followed the small road which circled round it.

‘There it is,’ said Miss Boston, pointing to a long, two-storied building. It was an ugly house with mean little windows, quite secluded. Jennet shuddered at the thought of living there; at night it would be pitch dark for there were no street lamps. It was a dismal, lonely place.