Page 25 of A Spell of Midlife Mayhem

A burst of anger rose from my gut. My mother had cheated me out of this family knowledge. She might have thought she was protecting me, but in the end, all she did was leave me oblivious to our family’s special traits.

And now I was finding out in unexpected ways. It was a midlife crisis with witchy phenomena thrown in, and I wasn’t ready to deal with this.

Thank the stars that I had Aunt Ruth for advice. Without her guidance, where would I be?

‘Heather? Are you all right?’

I swallowed and took a deep breath before exhaling slowly, giving myself time to return to equilibrium. ‘Yes, Aunt Ruth. It’s... it’s just such a shock.’

‘It’s come to most women in our family. Your mother was one of the few exceptions.’

‘What if I don’t want it? Do I have a choice?’

She inclined her head and pursed her lips. ‘No. It’s clear the witchy powers will come to you. You need to learn about them so you can control them. When and whether or not you use them is up to you. But I’ll help you, Heather. You can ask me anything. And you can stop calling me “Aunt Ruth”. You’re forty-four. Just “Ruth” is fine.’

‘You’ll always be Aunt Ruth to me.’ Just ‘Ruth’ would take some getting used to. I guess it was another reminder that change was hard for me. But here I was, in a new country, starting a new life. Change would be the only constant in my life for a while, so I had better learn to embrace it. But dropping the ‘Aunt’ prefix was perhaps a bit too soon.

‘Tell me more about these witchy powers, Aunt Ruth. What am I in for?’

She laughed. ‘That’s the spirit, Heather. And do you know something? I sense your mother is free now that you’ve accepted this truth.’

Chapter 10

THERE WAS PLENTY FOR me to do rather than have a holiday. Back at Aunt Ruth’s house, I phoned a bathroom modifications company and organised them to carry out the work Aunt Ruth’s occupational therapist had told me was required. They would come first thing on Monday. I checked the internal doorways to ensure they were wide enough for her wheelchair, and they were.

Also, I needed to get a job before my money ran out. Given that the cost of everything in the UK was way more than I’d expected, my funds would run dry sooner than I would have liked.

Though it was summer here, the day was overcast, and the grey pallor it cast over everything around me reflected my worry about Aunt Ruth and concern about finding employment.

After lunch, I went to the town, found a local job centre and went inside. In the small room, the stench of stale sweat and desperation assailed my nostrils. Job cards and encouragement posters lined the walls and stand-up panels. One panel had a fist-sized hole in it.

The place was almost empty. Only a couple of other people browsed the postings. Maybe that was a good sign. There mightn’t be much competition for job vacancies.

I was willing to do almost anything. Teaching didn’t appeal any longer, but I might return to it in the future. At the moment, doing something different would help me with my fresh start.

Most of the jobs advertised sounded tedious or the level of pay wasn’t stated or was abysmal. I groaned. This was no use. I was half way through the listings, and nothing appealed at all.

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