Chocolate Wishes. Trisha Ashley

course it won’t be dolls, will it? Silly me!’

      ‘The only sort of doll Grumps might have in his museum is a poppet.’

      ‘Poppet?’

      ‘An image of someone used in magic.’

      ‘You mean like a voodoo doll? Pins and stuff?’

      ‘Sort of. They can be used for good things as well as bad.’ I paused. ‘So, do you think perhaps a museum of witchcraft and paganism might not be quite what the Parish Council is hoping for?’

      ‘Well…no, not exactly. But I’m sure it will be hugely popular,’ she added hastily, ‘though I don’t quite know how Hebe Winter will take it.’

      ‘You mean that having been the only witch in the village for so long, she might take umbrage when Grumps arrives?’

      Poppy giggled. ‘Chloe, you can’t call her a witch. She goes to church and everything!’

      ‘But Winter witches do, don’t they? In any case, she’s a much whiter witch than poor old Grumps. I’m pretty sure he strays across the line into the grey bits from time to time, though always with the best of intentions.’

      ‘I think your grandfather is scary.’

      ‘You know he’s all bark and not a lot of bite, really.’

      ‘I can’t forget that when I was small he used to look at me as though he would like to turn me into something froglike. The fear has never quite worn off.’

      ‘He doesn’t see any point in babies and children until they’re old enough to hold a sensible conversation,’ I explained. ‘It isn’t that he doesn’t love us, in his own way.’

      ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Poppy said, not sounding totally convinced. ‘But your granny was adorable.’

      ‘She was, wasn’t she? And though Zillah couldn’t take her place, I’m very fond of her, too.’

      ‘Hebe Winter calls herself a herbalist, rather than a witch,’ Poppy said, reverting to the previous topic. ‘I’ve heard some of the potions, like the love philtre, really work – and actually, I bought one!’

      ‘Poppy! Who are you thinking of trying it on?’ I demanded, because although neither of us had been lucky in love, Poppy still hadn’t totally given up hope of finding Mr Right, and she was such a truly special person she deserved all the happy-ever-afterness going.

      ‘Oh, no one,’ she said hastily. ‘It was just an impulse, Chloe. You know me – I can’t love anything without four hoofs and a mane.’

      ‘I think that’s a slight exaggeration. You just haven’t met the right man yet, that’s all.’

      ‘I think I often have, it’s just that they don’t think I’m the right girl. And nobody at all wanted to meet me from that internet dating site I joined.’

      ‘Probably just as well, because you can’t tell what kind of men you’re in contact with. They could be really weird.’

      ‘I suppose you’re right and at least if you’re going to be living nearby we can meet more often, so that will be fun.’

      ‘And Felix too – we can be three singletons together,’ I agreed. ‘The Lonely Hearts Club of Sticklepond. Meanwhile, perhaps you’d better keep the news about who’s bought the Old Smithy to yourself for a bit, Poppy, if you think it might make an upset. Let it suddenly burst on Sticklepond as a fait accompli.’

      ‘But you’ll tell Felix, won’t you?’

      ‘Yes, I’m going to ring him in a minute, but I’ll swear him to secrecy too. In fact, the reason why I’m ringing you now is because I’ve arranged to get the keys to the Smithy from Conrad tomorrow, and I thought you might be able to get away and meet me for lunch in the Falling Star afterwards, so I can tell you all about it.’

      ‘Hang on, I’ll just ask Mum how we’re fixed.’

      She covered the phone, but I could still hear her shouting: ‘Mum! Chloe wants me to meet her for lunch tomorrow – could you manage? What…?’

      But although Poppy’s mother has an equally healthy pair of lungs (despite being a chain smoker), the other end of the conversation was just a faint noise in the background, so she must have been upstairs.

      Poppy came back on. ‘Mum says that’s OK. It’s a quiet day for lessons and the work experience girl can help her muck out and clean the tack.’

      ‘About twelve then – and you can tell me what you’ve been doing recently.’

      ‘Not a lot. Staying up all night with a pony with laminitis is about the most exciting it’s got lately,’ she said sadly. ‘Oh, except that at the last Parish Council meeting, before we started talking about the museum, Miss Winter said the bishop is still looking for a non-stipendiary vicar to take over All Angels, because the alternative is to amalgamate our parish with another one and none of us is keen on that. That’s what the last emergency Parish Council meeting was about, and there’s yet another one this evening, so perhaps he’s actually found us a vicar now – but I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.’

      ‘I can hardly wait.’

      ‘At least we will be back in the village hall tonight. We had to have the last meeting in the church vestry because the Scouts were clearing away their jumble sale, and it was freezing. Mr Merryman, the temporary vicar, seems a very nervous man, though I don’t think the fact that three of the council were already wearing Elizabethan dress for the Re-enactment Society meeting afterwards really helped – Miss Winter as Queen Elizabeth the First is quite terrifying! And then Mr Lees, the organist, was practising fugues all the way through, so that was really gloomy.’

      ‘I can imagine. And what did you say a non-stipendiary vicar was, again?’

      ‘Someone who has got ordained but doesn’t need a salary, basically.’

      ‘Oh, right – an economy vicar. And tell me again, who’s on the Parish Council as well as you and Felix and Miss Winter as chairman?’

      ‘I don’t think you ever listen to a word I say,’ she complained, but complied. ‘Well, there’s the Winter’s End steward, Laurence Yatton…’

      ‘Oh, I know – elderly, silver-haired and handsome, drives an old Land Rover.’

      ‘Yes, that’s him. And you’ve probably seen his sister Effie, too. She used to be a gym mistress in a private school but now she works off all that excess energy by running the Brownies, the tennis club and the Elizabethan Re-enactment Society. Then there’s the vicar and the village policeman, Mike Berry.’

      ‘I’ve met Mike a couple of times in Felix’s shop with his girlfriend, Anya, the one with red dreadlocks.’

      ‘Yes, she’s very nice, isn’t she? She’s an old friend of Sophy Winter, who inherited the Winter’s End estate the year before last and she runs the gift shop there when the house is open to the public.’

      ‘Is that everyone?’

      She counted up: ‘Me, Felix, Miss Winter, the vicar, Mike, Laurence and Effie…Yes, that’s it.’

      ‘Small, but perfectly formed,’ I commented.

      When I rang Felix he wanted to come over to the Old Smithy with me, but I wouldn’t let him. It was hard to explain, but I felt I wanted to be on my own this first time, especially when I saw the cottage where Jake and I would be living. He agreed to meet me and Poppy at the pub at twelve, though, to hear all about it.

      ‘In fact, I might as well shut for the whole day; the village is as quiet as a grave and probably will be until Easter, when Winter’s End reopens.’

      ‘Oh, I think it might get slightly livelier before that. Don’t forget, Jake will be moving in too.’

      ‘Oh