The Language of Spells by Sarah Painter Read Free Book Online

Manners cost nothing, after all. ‘Do you live next door?’
    ‘Of course not. I’m Marilyn Dixon.’
    ‘Right,’ Gwen said. It was official; the people in this town were insane. She gestured to the stove. ‘I was just about to eat. Are you hungry?’
    Marilyn opened her eyes wide. ‘Will that help?’
    Gwen gave up on reason and took the chair opposite. ‘Can we back up a bit? Speak slowly; I feel like I missed a memo or something.’
    Marilyn’s fingers gripped her handbag on her lap, her knuckles bright white. ‘You are Iris Harper’s granddaughter, aren’t you?’
    ‘I’m her great-niece.’
    ‘Oh.’ Marilyn looked ridiculously disappointed. Her bottom lip stuck out like a toddler. There was a short silence, broken only by the soft popping of the simmering sauce.
    ‘Did you know my great-aunt well?’ Gwen tried for some polite chit-chat.
    ‘Not really. She kept herself private. Not a mixer.’
    ‘Right.’
    ‘But she always helped.’ Marilyn sniffed. ‘Wasn’t very nice about it, but she helped.’
    ‘I thought she was quite infirm herself.’ Gwen couldn’t imagine what Iris had been doing for Marilyn Dixon. Marilyn was no spring chicken, but she was easily thirty years younger than Iris.
    ‘Ha!’ Marilyn said and Gwen jumped a little. ‘She was as strong as a horse. Healthy as anything. Never got ill. Well…’ Marilyn paused and Gwen could almost hear her thinking ‘…until she died, of course.’ Another pause. ‘God rest her soul.’
    Gwen frowned.
    ‘I’m sorry. Should it be goddess rest her soul? I was never really sure on that,’ Marilyn said.
    ‘I’m still confused.’ Gwen shook her head to clear the fog. It didn’t help. ‘Can we start with the basics? Who are you and why are you here?’
    Colour flushed up Marilyn’s neck. ‘Your great-aunt was known for helping people. She said you were going to move in after she was gone.’
    Gwen frowned. That made no sense. ‘The last time I saw my great-aunt I was thirteen and she said no such thing.’
    ‘Don’t shoot the messenger,’ Marilyn snapped. ‘And besides, I would’ve thought you’d be a little more grateful.’ She waved a hand. ‘She left you her
house
.’
    ‘Does everybody know my business?’
    Marilyn looked at her in surprise. ‘In Pendleford? Of course.’
    ‘God help me.’ Gwen raised her eyes skyward.
    ‘Well, I can see I’m not wanted.’ Marilyn began to rise.
    ‘Don’t go. I’m sorry if I was rude. I’m just a little confused.’
And frightened
. Gwen took a deep breath. ‘Can you talk me through the kind of help my great-aunt dished out?’
    Marilyn sat back down. Her face softened in sympathy. ‘You really don’t know?’
    ‘I really don’t know,’ Gwen said, although she was starting to suspect. The secret room full of jars. The weird noises. The cat. Great-Aunt Iris had been a bit eccentric. And it seemed that the Harper family reputation for ‘weird’ was alive and kicking.
    ‘She was magic.’
    ‘I’m sorry?’ Gwen hoped she’d misheard.
    ‘She could help with stuff.’ Marilyn shrugged. ‘Like if your hens stop laying or you’ve got a cold that won’t go away. She’s got a brilliant medicine for that.’
    ‘Like homeopathy?’
Please let it be homeopathy
.
No flipping tarot cards.
    Marilyn’s face brightened. ‘Exactly. People are always using homeopathy or reflexology or having someone stick needles in their sore bits. Seeing Iris was no different.’
    ‘And you paid her?’
    Marilyn’s face fell. ‘It wasn’t like I didn’t try. She wouldn’t take it.’
    Well, that was different. Gloria had had a price list printed up.
Gwen got up and stirred the sauce. The motion was soothing and so was not having to look at Marilyn Dixon, who had popping blue eyes and a determined set to her mouth.
    ‘I always knew I owed her a favour, though. She didn’t take money, but you knew she’d ask you for something, some time.’
    Okay. Enough nonsense
. Gwen stirred the