Page 20 of The Book of Unwritten Stories

‘What do you mean?’

‘She’s the meanest old busybody I’ve ever come across. She had been in here ranting once more about us selling Satan’s tools and doing the devil’s work. Honestly, she would have been one of the main accusers back in 1692, if she had been around then.’

Morana nodded. ‘She wasn’t a nice woman, but what a terrible thing to happen to her.’

He didn’t answer and busied himself boiling the water to make their tea. He passed her a mug of plain old English Breakfast Tea, which surprised her.

‘I thought you’d make some herbal tea.’

‘Nope, the best thing for shock according to my gran who was English is good old builders’ tea. She swore by it. Do you need sugar?’

She shook her head. The sirens outside stopped and she felt bad for the driver; he was going to be in a real mess. Eventually a cop came inside to talk to them.

‘Did you see what happened?’

Ethan nodded. ‘I did. She ran into the street right in front of him.’

‘Yeah, that’s what the other witnesses said. Where had she been and do you know why she was running?’

‘She had been in here for her daily screaming session, like clockwork every other day at 11.15.’

‘What was she screaming about?’

‘She hates just about everyone, and she thinks this store has a direct link to Satan out the back, who we call up every day to ruin her life.’

‘Was she mentally unstable?’

Morana couldn’t help it, her eyes met Ethan’s and they both nodded in unison.

‘She is my neighbour. She had been to my apartment first for my daily threats that she was going to get me evicted.’

The cop looked as if he’d been doing the job forever. He sighed. ‘Jeez, some people huh. Sounds like she isn’t a nice lady, can’t see anyone being sad about her accident. The mess she’s in she’ll be lucky to survive.’

‘She has a daughter, I think she will be,’ whispered Morana.

He shrugged. ‘If she gave her neighbours grief for no good reason, imagine the hell she puts her kid through. Some people have a nerve. Can you show me her apartment? I need to look for some ID.’

Morana stood up. ‘Yes, thanks for the tea, Ethan.’

He winked at her. ‘Anytime.’

The cop told her he was called Frankie as he followed her across the now empty street that had been cordoned off and the crowds dispersed by another two cops who were guarding the scene. Morana let him into the entryway and pointed at Mrs Danby’s front door.

It was ajar.

‘Thanks, are you okay? Which one is yours?’

She pointed upstairs. ‘The one directly above hers and, yes, I think so. Thank you.’

She left him to it, her hands trembling as she gripped onto the hand rail to steady herself. She had to get rid of the spell stuff and the book. If the cop found it, she’d be arrested and taken away in cuffs before she could say abracadabra. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t just banished Mrs Danby, she had hurt her badly, so much so that if she ever recovered, Morana didn’t think she’d be able to live on her own without someone to care for her.

The book of spells was far more dangerous that she had realised. She wished she had someone she could confide in, someone who would know what to do next.

SIXTEEN

SALEM, PRESENT DAY

The meeting room was decorated like the cabin of an old sailing ship and for a moment Dora saw the image that sometimes haunted her dreams, of her and Ambrose standing on the deck of a clipper with two young children. She now knew they were named Thomas and Bridget. Maybe she would see if she could get hypnotised or a past life regression done so she could bring all these hidden memories back.