Page 84 of A Spell of Midlife Mayhem

‘We’re close, I’m sure. But we’ll never get there if you keep trying to jump his bones.’

I gagged. ‘I’m doing nothing of the sort.’ I was, but I was damned if I would admit it to my aunt at the moment.

She inclined her head in a noncommittal gesture, which I took to mean that she didn’t believe me and that this part of the discussion was over for now.

‘What’s the other thing?’ I asked.

Aunt Ruth pushed her plate and cup aside. She leaned forward on the table. ‘I have a problem. I’ve only got a certain amount of time to live.’

I drew my breath in sharply, my head reeling with this thunderstrike. ‘You’re terminally ill? What is it? What has the doctor said, exactly? What treatment options are there?’

She contemplated her fingernails. ‘A doctor can’t help. Well, maybe a witchdoctor could, but I don’t know any of those guys.’

‘I don’t understand.’ My head was now pounding in time with my heart.

‘I’m not going to give you all the details,’ she said. ‘It won’t help. I have a few weeks left. Then...’ She left her sentence hanging and gazed at me.

‘Weeks? Shit. Oh shit. Wait. What’s wrong exactly?’

She sat back in her chair. ‘All I can say is that I’ve got until early September. The third of September, to be precise. Then... no more me.’

I struggled to get my head around this. ‘You know the exact day of your death? For real?’ And it was only three months away!

‘Yes. You see why I want to get you started on your witchy learning.’

‘Forget the learning. What about you? There must be something I can do or someone I can call for help or advice. Isn’t there?’

‘My situation is unique, and it’s a consequence of a terrible decision I made a long time ago. I don’t want you to get involved.’

‘I am involved. I’m your niece, and I live here with you. Oh, Aunt Ruth, now I’m really afraid for you.’

‘There’s nothing you can do, Heather. The only thing I want you to do is concentrate on learning whatever witchy things you can, once your correspondence course arrives, and ask me about everything you want to know before September. Oh, and don’t worry about your future. I’m leaving you this house and everything I have.’

I sat in stunned silence, trying to take all this in.

Aunt Ruth rolled towards the hall. ‘You’ll be late for work, dear. You’d best get ready.’

I went after her, but she’d shut herself in her room. I waited outside, debating whether to knock or not.

If she’d wanted to continue the discussion, she would have. There was no point waiting. I’d have to corner her later and get the details out of her somehow.

***

I GRABBED MY BAG AND the car keys and headed out to work. Dark clouds swirled, blocking the sun. A storm could be on the way. My head ached. I opened the windows to see if fresh air would help, but it wasn’t fresh—it was full of exhaust fumes. I swore, shut the window again and drove on to Chirtlewood.

A police car sat parked by the entrance. I drove around the back and parked, trying to be positive. Maybe they had good news. Maybe they’d found the murderer, and it wasn’t any of my colleagues after all.

I went inside through the back entrance and turned into the office. Lydia, Melissa and Penny sat at the table, silent. The atmosphere was foreboding. Inspector Pentecost stood, her legs apart, her arms folded. Her eyes bored into mine.

‘Hello,’ I said. My voice squeaked a little.

‘Good morning, Ms Nicholls. I need to talk to you about something.’

‘You do?’ I glanced at the others. None of them returned my gaze.

‘Your colleagues know about this. In fact, I’m here because one of them made a call to the police last night about being followed home.’ She glanced at Penny.

I swallowed involuntarily.

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