Trisha Ashley 3 Book Bundle. Trisha Ashley

sure he doesn’t, Chloe! I explained that you’d spent the last few years building up a really successful chocolate business and he’d actually eaten one of your Wishes at his welcome party.’

      ‘I wish it had choked him!’

      ‘You don’t really think that, it’s just his arrival’s temporarily stirred up all the hurt feelings again, that’s all. But I’m positive he’s an entirely different man from the one who let you down, a nice man.’

      ‘Can leopards really change their spots?’

      ‘Yes,’ Poppy said simply. ‘Even the blackest sinner can repent. And he must have done, or they wouldn’t have let him enter the Church, would they?’

      ‘I suppose not,’ I agreed reluctantly, only half believing in this metamorphosis from rock god to man of God. ‘Did he say anything else interesting?’

      ‘No, there wasn’t time, because Mum came back with the fresh tea and a plate of Bourbon biscuits and started flirting with him, which was hideously embarrassing. And she told him she was going to start attending church services, though I shouldn’t think she ever has, apart from the occasional wedding.’

      ‘She won’t be the first. He’ll have every woman in the parish drooling over him, just wait and see.’

      She giggled. ‘Except Hebe Winter! He’s going out to Winter’s End in the morning and then he said he thought he might visit your grandfather in the afternoon, since she’d made such a big thing of it and he was quite interested in the concept of the museum, anyway.’

      ‘Visiting Grumps might not be the wisest move he’s ever made,’ I said. ‘I have a feeling Zillah has told Grumps everything she knows about Raffy Sinclair. Look, I’ll have to go and see to the chocolate now – I’ll talk to you later.’

      It was late afternoon by the time I’d finished making Wishes and cleaned the workshop up again.

      I felt tired and drained, but I went through into the museum because I’d promised to help Grumps check the proofs for the guidebook. It was just a short brochure, but he was now thinking of using the same firm in Merchester to privately print his definitive guide to the history of magic, an old project he was suddenly keen to resurrect, and which had so far been rejected by every publisher he’d sent it to, even the one who published his book on ley lines.

      He had the proofs spread out on the desk and they didn’t take long to go through. Then, just as we finished, Zillah appeared with Clive Snowball, who was carrying an old cardboard wine box.

      ‘Clive’s got something for you,’ she said, with one of her gold-glinting smiles. She seemed to be on surprisingly friendly terms with the publican.

      ‘Mother sent these,’ he said, dumping the box onto the desk in front of us, then added, without showing any sign of curiosity about the strange objects that surrounded him, ‘I’ll be off then. There’s a delivery due at the Star.’

      ‘I’ll see you later at the tea dance club then, will I?’ asked Zillah.

      ‘No, I’ll pick you up and drive you, love: you don’t want to be walking the length of the village in those pretty silver sandals of yours, not in winter.’

      I won’t say that Zillah simpered, precisely, but there was more than a hint of sashay in her walk as she went off to let Clive out again.

      Grumps didn’t seem to have taken in any of this exchange but had folded back the lid of the box and was engaged in unpacking thick, greenish, old bottles, the sort that have a glass marble stopper hinged to the neck on a strong wire.

      They each seemed to have several objects inside them, but when I held one up to the light I could only make out a slip of paper and what might have been twigs tied together. ‘Witch bottles? Is that Mrs Snowball’s mysterious magical speciality?’

      ‘Of course. Florrie Snowball makes the best and she’s built up a large stock over the years, because we all felt they would be needed, sooner or later.’

      ‘Oh,’ I said thoughtfully, because the purpose of the bottles is to ward off ill-wishing, and they’ve been found hidden in many old houses. ‘Are these supposed to guard us against Mr Mann-Drake?’

      ‘The first line of defence,’ he agreed, ‘for as boy scouts say: be prepared!’

      I couldn’t imagine Grumps had ever been a boy scout, but something was puzzling me. ‘Grumps, I thought the bottles contained magic to keep witches out. So how come a witch is making witch bottles? And if she had boxes full of them in the pub cellar, then they can’t be working, can they?’

      ‘They work very well.’ He held one up and shook it gently and for a moment I thought I saw a glittering spark of light like a shooting star in the murky depths, but it must have been a reflection.

      ‘But if the charm works, then why isn’t it affecting you either, Grumps?’

      He looked at me in a surprised sort of way. ‘Because my heart is pure and my intentions good, though I confess to feeling the odd twinge, should I…er…inadvertently stray over the borders of white magic, even with the best of motives. A little revenge, for instance…’ He winced slightly. ‘It is like a sort of spiritual lumbago. Practitioners of the Old Religion can take two paths and this charm works against those who have taken the wrong one, and protects those of us who have not.’

      ‘Right,’ I said, thinking that at least if his coven believed that, then the witch bottles should keep them all on the straight and narrow – or, as straight and narrow as magic usually is: it seems a twisty sort of thing.

      Grumps handed me the bottle. ‘You’ll find a small ledge for that above the museum door, Chloe. In fact, you will find a place for them over every exterior door to the Old Smithy.’

      He was quite right, too – there was. I carried the box and he placed the bottles onto ledges above the lintels. ‘Made for the purpose, you see, Chloe. Very cautious women, the Frinton sisters. They will have taken their own bottles with them to set up at their new address.’

      In my cottage there was a tiny niche carved into the stonework over both my front and back doors, just big enough to hold a bottle. I’d already noticed them and put one of my ornamental angel figures in each. They seemed protection enough to me, but since Grumps showed signs of extreme annoyance when I said so, I placated him by relegating them to the windowsills among the scented geraniums, and replacing them with the witch charms.

      ‘Poppy tells me the new vicar intends coming to see you tomorrow afternoon, Grumps,’ I said casually, when that was done, but obviously not casually enough because he gave me one of his sharp looks.

      ‘If he is obeying Hebe Winter’s orders, then he is a fool. If he knows of our relationship, then he is a double fool.’

      ‘What has our relationship got to do with it?’ I demanded, but he didn’t deign to reply to that one. I can’t really believe in his omniscience, so it does look as if Zillah has told him something about my past relationship with Raffy, though I sincerely hope not all.

      ‘I’m not sure Mr Merryman ever recovered from his visit with you, Grumps. What on earth did you say to the poor man?’

      He looked faintly surprised. ‘Nothing that anyone could take objection to, I am quite sure! I was busy when he arrived, so perhaps it was what I was doing, rather than anything I said. Are you asking me to be kind to the new dolt when he comes to disturb my peace?’

      ‘No: you throw the bell, book and candle right back at him, if you want to,’ I told him callously.

       Chapter Nineteen In the Mix

      My Angel card reading the following morning suggested that I should resolve issues with another and let the balm