The next day I called young Mr Langdown again and took the day off. I wanted to help Eva clear up, and paint the fence, and generally just get things sorted after the storm. Jem’s window was being mended later too so I had to be at home for the glazier.
First I went to the DIY shop at the edge of town to buy some paint for the fence. Rory had done a good job of fixing the hole, but as he’d said, the wood he’d mended it with didn’t match so I needed to paint the whole thing.
The storm had cleared now, leaving the sky blue though the temperature had dropped. October was just a few days away and the air smelled of approaching winter. I liked it. I wrapped up warm and headed off to the shop. As I was queuing to buy the paint, balancing the pot and some brushes in my arms, I spotted Mandy, the receptionist from the Haven.
‘Hello!’ I called. She looked over at me and waved – friendly enough – but she didn’t stop for a chat.
By the till was a rotating rack of cards. At the top was one with a picture of a black cat on it. On a whim I picked it up and added it to the shopping on the conveyor belt. The picture had made me think of how Rory had chuckled when I told him the story of Jem searching for an invisible puss that possibly saved her life.
‘We don’t know if there ever was a cat,’ I’d said. ‘Jem thinks she might have dreamt it. But whatever happened, I’m grateful to that mysterious moggy.’
‘Perhaps it was a ghost cat, come from another realm to warn Jem of danger,’ Rory had added gleefully.
‘A witch’s cat from the seventeenth century,’ I had suggested. And I’d told him about how our cottage had once been home to witches. ‘Jem’s doing a school project on them,’ I’d explained. ‘She’ll have to add in a bit about how their cat still lives here, more than 400 years later.’
‘It’s like a Stephen King novel,’ Rory had said, shuddering. ‘What’s that one about the demon cat? Cujo?’
I’d laughed. ‘Cujo is a dog.’
I thought vaguely that I could send him the card to say thank you for helping with the window and fixing the fence. Though I wasn’t sure how I’d get it to him, as I didn’t know where he lived. The invoice he’d posted through the door didn’t have an address on it.
Paint bought, I headed home and spent an enjoyable morning sloshing it about. When I’d finished, I stood back to admire my handiwork. It wasn’t half bad. And it really brightened up the front of the house. In fact, now the fence was gleaming white, it made the front door look a bit tatty. Perhaps I should paint that too?
But that was a job for another day. The glazier had messaged to say he’d be a couple of hours, so I had time to drop in and see Eva and check she was all right.
As she opened her front door, a van drove past and honked its horn loudly. Rory. He stuck his hand out of the window and waved, and Eva and I both waved back cheerfully.
‘Nice man,’ Eva said with approval. ‘Come in, Tess.’
Her back garden was a mess – full of bits of conservatory. But her back window had already been mended.
‘Apparently,’ she said, ‘I am a priority because I am elderly.’ She looked quite pleased with herself.
I tried not to laugh, but I failed. ‘What are you going to do about the conservatory?’
‘I’ve got a chap coming to dismantle what’s left and take away all the debris and then I might put a patio in. Perhaps in the spring.’
‘Sounds lovely,’ I said. ‘You could get some pots and put strawberries in them.’
As we talked about the ideas for Eva’s garden, I realized I was looking forward to seeing it. I clearly saw Thistle Cottage as home now. The thought made me smile.
Eva looked tired and when I commented that she seemed in need of a rest, she agreed.
‘I might go and sit down. Put the kettle on, Tess, will you?’
I busied myself in the kitchen, making tea and finding biscuits. I put them on a plate the way Eva liked them and took them through to the other room. Eva was on the couch, eyes closed. I felt a surge of alarm.
‘Eva?’ I said.
She opened her eyes. ‘Goodness, I’m tired today,’ she said.
‘Are you still catching up after the storm, or are you ill?’
She gave me one of her cheeky smiles. ‘I think I’m a little bit hungover.’
‘Eva Greenbaum,’ I said, laughing. ‘What were you up to last night?’
‘I had a couple of friends over last night for a few sherries,’ she said. ‘We were chatting until gone midnight.’
‘Early night tonight then,’ I said, mock-sternly.
‘It’s important to live a little,’ she said to me, equally sternly. She patted my knee. ‘That Rory is a nice man. Handsome too.’
‘He is.’
She gave me a sideways glance.
‘Why are you blushing?’ She frowned at me. ‘Or is it a hot flush? Are you menopausal?’
‘Eva!’ I couldn’t help giggling at her bluntness.
‘Do you like him? Rory?’
I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. She didn’t let anything get past her. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Well, yes. There’s something there,’ I admitted.
‘Sexual tension,’ Eva said in a manner more like Sid James than an elderly woman.
‘No.’ I could feel myself blushing again. ‘I just think he’s nice, that’s all. My divorce was very recent, Eva. I’m not sure I’m ready for a relationship.’
She shrugged. ‘I think you deserve to have some fun.’
I laughed. ‘Maybe.’
‘No maybe. You should put yourself first for a change.’
I shook my head. ‘Nope. Jem comes first.’
‘Well joint first, then.’
I leaned back against the squishy sofa. ‘Perhaps.’
‘You should ask Rory for a drink.’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Dinner then?’
‘Eva,’ I said, half laughing, half horrified. ‘Were you like this when you were younger?’
‘Like what?’
‘So bold.’
Eva laughed. ‘Oh, liebchen, I was much, much bolder.’
‘I am not going to go and ask Rory out,’ I said firmly.
‘We’ll see.’ Eva folded her hands in her lap primly. ‘I’m going to have a snooze. Could you turn the telly on before you go?’
I was being dismissed, it seemed. ‘Sleep off the hangover?’
Eva snorted and I laughed as I turned on the telly and gave her the remote control. I liked her enormously. I was very glad she was my next-door neighbour.
As I put on my coat, the newsreader on the TV reported on a politician who’d been accused of bullying his staff. Eva groaned. ‘They’re all as bad as each other, these men,’ she said. ‘This one, and that awful chap who did the animal programme, and the one from breakfast telly.’
I froze, halfway through tying my scarf. Eva was watching the television screen but it seemed to me she was unnaturally still – as if she was waiting for me to react to what she’d said.
With a considerable effort, I pulled a disgruntled face at her, holding tightly on to the ends of my scarf. ‘They’re all nasty pieces of work,’ I said vaguely and honestly. ‘Must go.’
I scurried down her path, and on to the pavement and stopped in horror as I looked at my newly painted fence. Where it had been bright, shimmering white, it now dripped with red paint.
‘Witch!’ someone had daubed across it in large letters.
I put my hand over my mouth, shocked at how brutal the word looked in the blood-like paint. My heart thumped painfully in my chest and I felt slightly light-headed. Did someone know who I was? I’d been called ‘witch’ a lot when the social-media hate campaign was at its height. Witch and hag and harridan and old bag and dried-up old crone and that was just the less-awful insults.
I took a few deep breaths, gulping for air, trying to steady myself. This was nothing to do with me, I thought rationally. We knew everyone called our cottage the witch’s cottage. Cassie had even told us cheerfully that people used it as a landmark when they were giving directions: ‘Go past the church, and the witch’s cottage and then turn right …’
This was just kids having a laugh, I told myself. Playing a Halloween prank a few weeks early. This wasn’t personal.
I touched the W with the tips of my fingers. Damn, it was dry already. Whoever had done it must have got busy as soon as I went into Eva’s house. We’d not noticed anyone outside, but we had been at the back of the house for ages, looking out into the garden and talking about her plans for it. There was no chance of washing it off now it had dried on, and another coat of white paint wouldn’t cover that deep red colour. I looked at my watch. I had a little while before the glazier arrived, and Jem came home from school. I didn’t want her to see this – it had been a strange, unsettling couple of days and this would just make things worse. I would go back to the DIY shop now, buy some dark brown paint and cover it over. And I’d add a load of extra sweets to the online shopping for the local kids at Halloween. Seemed it would be a good idea to keep them on our side.