Wonderful magical wells and faerie springs

Well dressing used to be a very common practice especially at Ascension tide to mid August, it survived in many areas up until the start of the second world war. Unfortunately many customs were put to one side at this time and were never revived after the war.
It is especially associated with the Derbyshire villages. At Tissington and Buxton the wells were dressed with large framed panels featuring biblical subjects, at Buxton the whole town used to take part in the procession, the well was blessed and a Festival Queen was crowned. In fact Tissington used to boast that the festival had been held without interruption since the drought of 1615, although some say it is from the time of the Black Death, the wells never failed and farmers brought their cattle ten miles to drink at the wells. At Endon the two wells were dressed on the 29th May and the May Queen crowned on the same day, this was a blending of the ancient practice of well worship, may day rites and christian beliefs.
Well worship has been observed for centuries, the origin laying in Pagan traditions. According to some it originated in the pagan custom of making sacrifices to the Gods of wells ans springs to ensure a plentiful supply of clean water. Like many other folk practices it was later adopted by the church.
The practice of well dressing has in the last few years seen a revival.
Whaley Bridge Well Dressing, High Peak, Derbyshire will take place 28th June 8th July 2015 while the well dressing in Tissington and Endon start in early May.




There are many other wells and springs around the country that have myths surrounding them, for example the Holy Well at Roche, Cornwall was used for curing the insane. It had another use on Maunday Thursday ( the thursday before Good Friday) local women would throw pins into the water and from the bubbles that rose up through the water they would read their future.


St Madrons Well; on the first sunday in May parents would take their sick children to the well to cure ricketts. The child would be immersed in the water three times while they face the sun, the parents would then carry the child nine times around the well. A strip of the child's clothing would be left on a nearby tree as an offering.
This dated back to a  pre christian belief in the goddess of the wells  who was associated with earth motherhood, fertility, love and vegetation.
Menacuddle Well St Austell; people would drop pins into the water to cure stomach problems.
In Somerset however, there is a well that is used for a different purpose. The Devils Whispering Well at Bishops Lydeard, found behind the churchyard, is a cursing well. People would throw offerings into the water along with a curse aimed at a certain person. The recipient of it would have to visit the well and throw ina more valuable offering to remove the curse.



Somerset has quite a few interesting wells, St Agnes Well, Cothelsone is a pixies well and you must leave a pin as a offering if you visit it.
Pins that cross as they settle in the water of a well are unlucky, if they lie together it fortells a happy marriage and if they drift apart then so will you and your partner.
Nether Stowey Blind Well is also a faerie well, these waters have healing powers, Dulverton also has a well with healing powers, specifically for eye problems. When you visit this well remember to leave a red rag tied to a bush as an offering to the guardian of the well.
Skimmington Well, Rockhill, Curry Rivel; these waters cure rheumatism, the sufferer must bathe in the water at sunrise for three consecutive mornings for the cure to work. People have danced around this well on midsummer day for many years to cure their illness's.
In Dorset the waters of the Upwey well ( which is still there) have healing powers for eye problems. Take a few sips of the water and then throw the rest over your shoulder and make a wish.


At St Augustines Well, Cerne Abbas, newborn babies used to dipped into the water and at Easter it is said that the faces of people about to die can be seen in the water.
If you wish to make use of the power of the waters at St Candidas Well Stanton St Gabriel you have to visit it at daybreak. Bent pins are thrown in as offerings  while chanting ' Holy well, holy well
take my gift and cast a spell.
At the other end of the country in Scotland, on the slopes of Schiehallion 'The Faerie Hill of the Caledonians' is an old well. It is inhabited by faeries who grant wishes and can cure all sickness.
It used to be visited every May day by the local girls who would offer flowers to the faeries to bring them good luck.

Pixies, Elves, Faeries and Nymphs are common residents of sacred wells and springs, faeries also reside in St Annes Well near Trellech village in Wales. One story tell of a locale farmer who dug up a fairy ring around the well to prove that he did not believe in 'them silly tales.' However the next day when he attempted to draw water from the well for his cattle, it was bone dry. The strange this was that is was only dry when he attempted to get water. A tiny old man was seen on the wall of the well one day and told the farmer that he was very cross that the fairy ring had been destroyed and that he would never be allowed to draw water from the well again until the fairy ring had been restored. As soon as he had repaired the damage the water started to flow again.

Zombie Walk, Glastonbury

Beware!

The Dead will be roaming the streets in Glastonbury on 25th October.

The zombies will be gathering outside the Crown Inn at the Market Place from 3.30 pm. 

At 5pm they will be unleashed on the defenceless inhabitants of Glastonbury.

 All this blood and mayhem is in aid of the charity Martha Care, which helps the

 families caring for sick children.

Martha Care is a hospital based support and advice service for families when their child is admitted with a serious illness or injury.

Service is aimed at all families whose child is likely to need a longer in-patient stay, who have travelled longer distances, who are experiencing hardship, who are particularly vulnerable. Service provided to Bristol royal hospital for children & St. Michael’s Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit.

Martha Care aims to bridge a critical gap in social support, providing a Family Support Worker to support families when their child is rushed into hospital in the South West. We know that families deserve to be looked after and feel cared for themselves. We can’t take away how awful life suddenly becomes, but we can provide emotional and practical support; help families access available services, find accommodation, care for their sick child and other children, keep their employment, stay physically and emotionally healthy.

Will anybody make it out alive?!!

For more information visit the charity's website  http://www.marthacare.org.uk/

Glastonbury Wytches Market 2014

It's the month for all the witchey things happening, it started with the hugely 
popular Wytches Market held in the Guildhall, Sat 4th October.
The morning started very gloomy with lashing rain but it eventually 
cleared and the market soon became very busy.
Here are just a few pictures of the stalls etc.

I sold several of my dolls on the day one of which was Jazz:

She has been taken off to the USA by the new owner.

(I wonder what the rules are for transporting live faeries?)

Another doll that flew off the stand was Bluebird

So at the moment busy  creating more dolls for the coming season!

The Lavender Witch part 13

‘Silence!’ the Coroner Edward Foulstone shouted, banging his hand on the desk. ‘Any more noise and this room will be cleared.’

The angry muttering of the crowd subsided.

‘Now I’ll ask you again, what did you see on the night of April 9^th?’

‘Nothing,’ said Ava. ‘But I knowed he did it.’ She stared at the rigid form of Robert Beamish sat on the benches near the front of the room.

 Ava pointed at him, trembling and shouted, ‘He murdered her! I know he did. I saw him threatening Hannah before. Sir,’ she pleaded.’ you’ve got to believe me.’  Ava turned to look appealingly at the people in the room, picking out the familiar faces in the crowd.  ‘We all know he did it, he’s a bad man, Sir.’ She wiped the tears that were trickling down her face with her sleeve and stared at the Coroner.

He was staring at the papers on his desk and fiddling nervously with his watch chain, he cast a desperate look at Beamish sitting just in front of him, who stared quietly back at him, a slight smile on his lips.

‘Sir,’ he said quietly stroking the head of his walking stick. ‘If I may just point out that she is just an ignorant farm girl, young and foolish. I tried to discourage her friendship with the woman, who I believed to be a bad influence,’ he paused and glanced across at Ava. ‘And it seems that I was right. She is naturally upset that the woman died in this way and has become overwrought and judging by this outburst hysterical.’

‘Indeed,’ said the Coroner. He stared first at his paperwork and then glanced back at Ava. ‘You are very young and your emotions have made you lose any sense that you, I hope, previously had, Mr Beamish is a respected member of the community and to suggest that he would have had anything to do with this is ridiculous, and,’ he carried on warming to his theme. ‘You are fortunate that Mr Beamish has decided not to sue you for slander. Now.. .’ he went on staring at Ava’s parents.

But Ava jumped to her feet interrupting any further comments that he was about to make and shouted across the courtroom ‘He murdered Hannah and he murdered his brother as well, we all know it,’ and she pointed at the Coroner. ‘And you know it as well.’

‘That’s enough!’ Foulstone’s face flushed and he glared at the young girl and then around the room, quelling the mutterings with his stare. ‘Your testimony will be discounted, any more outbursts and you will be taken downstairs to the cells. It is clear to me, with my medical experience,’ he continued glancing quickly at Beamish, ‘that the woman Hannah Beamish died of water on the brain....’

The rest of his words were drowned by the groans and shouts from the onlookers. Beamish smiled slightly and stood up from the bench and walked quietly through the hostile crowd to the door. Ava could hear, even over the noise from the court room, the sound of his footsteps descending the stone steps to the street below.

‘Beamish wait!’ Edward Foulstone hurried after the figure striding up the street. ‘Wait,’ he repeated.

He turned around. ‘Well Edward, a good result don’t you think?’

Edward stared at him in dislike. ‘This is the last favour I will do for you. I cannot and will not be a party to any more of this; I have my reputation to think of.’ His face twitched as he said this hardly able to meet Beamish’s eye.

Beamish stared at him coldly.

‘Keep your voice down Edward; we wouldn’t want any of this to come out would we? And you should think of your poor sister, an unmarried woman with a baby, that wouldn’t do your family’s reputation any good either, would it?’ He looked him up and down ‘So protesting now is a bit late isn’t it?’ he pushed his face into Edwards and said softly ‘So I  think you had just better keep quiet and we’ll just jog along as we have been doing. After all we’re nearly family now.’ Beamish slapped the man on the arm and left him standing on the pavement outside the court house.

He strode up the street ignoring the hard looks directed his way from the people milling about in the market square and headed back towards the Inn where he had left his horse.

Just in front of him and walking slowly surrounded by her family was the young girl Ava. She heard his footsteps close behind and moved closer to her father.

‘You, Ava!’

The family turned to meet his furious gaze.

‘You brat, how dare you tell such lies in court, showing me up in front of the town and

Foulstone,’ he raged at her.

‘Twas the truth,’ she said boldly. ‘And you know it, we all know it.’

Beamish’s face became mottled with rage. ‘She was an evil old harridan and you’re just as bad, you little bitch,’ he shouted at her.

‘Now that’s enough,’ put in her father stepping in front of Ava. ‘You’ve no right to talk to her like that.’

‘Right! Right! I’ll tell you what rights I’ve got, you and your blasted family,’ he pointed his stick at Ava. ‘I’m warning you now Ava Marsh, if I ever you or yours ever set foot on my soil again, the devil take you! And that’s a promise; it will be the worse for you! Do you hear me girl?’

Gordon switched on the torch and led the way up the church path, past the porch and round behind the church where the majority of the graves were. It was very dark behind the building, a dog barked in one of the houses and they could just hear the sound of music coming from the pub.

Kitty shivered and stayed close to Gordon.  ‘I don’t know why I’m worried, after all what could be worse than Robert?’ she whispered.

‘Not a lot. Where is it?’ he asked Queenie.

‘It’s over there,’ she said gesturing towards the hedge.

They wound their way through the gravestones following the wavering light from Gordon’s torch and stumbling over half sunken kerb stones hidden in the grass. The dog barked again and in the distance a door slammed.

‘I hope nobody’s going to see us,’ said Kitty glancing nervously towards the village.

‘Nobody will notice us up here,’ reassured Sybil.

 William was walking closely by her side with a hand on her shoulder.

 ‘I hope not,’ he added. ‘I haven’t been up here for years,’ he said quietly.

‘Don’t you have anybody buried here?’ whispered Kitty.

‘My wife is buried in Colyton, that was where she was born.’

Queenie slowed and tugged at Gordon’s jacket.  ‘Stop,’ she whispered.

She pointed to the right. ‘Over here,’ she added ‘and be careful you don’t trip on the stones.’

They followed single file after Queenie who had stopped by a neglected grave near the hedge. The headstone had toppled over to one side and the writing was nearly illegible from weathering and the grey lichen that had grown on the stone.

‘Here he is,’ she said quietly.

Gordon knelt down on the grass and read the inscription.

 ‘Robert Beamish Died October 31^st 1910. Is that all?’ he asked surprised. ‘It’s not much of an epitaph is it?’

William snorted. ‘What else could we have said about him?’

Gordon stood up wiping the damp grass from his knees. ‘Sorry William, I didn’t mean to be rude.’

Kitty glanced around the graves nearby. ‘Where is his wife buried?’

‘His first wife was buried in Axminster and his second, my grandmother, is buried over there,’ William pointed back to the path. ‘Father didn’t want them together.’

‘I didn’t know he was married twice.’ Kitty said curiously.

 The sound of a zip opening behind her made her jump.

 Queenie pulled out the jam jar from her bag.  ‘Now who’s got the spade?’

‘I have,’ said William. ‘Where do you want me to dig?’

‘Just in front of the headstone will do, I expect the ground is going to be really hard but get as deep as you can.’

There was grunt as William put the spade into the turf.

 ‘You’re right, it’s as hard as rock.’

Gordon handed the torch to Kitty.

 ‘William, let me try,’ and held out his hand for the spade.

‘Okay,’ he said ruefully. ‘You have a go, you’re a bit younger than I am.’

 He stepped back and watched as Gordon began to dig a small hole in front of the headstone.

Kitty kept the torch trained on the hole. The sound of the spade hitting the ground seemed to travel far in the night air and she glanced back towards the village, expecting at any moment to see a curious person coming to investigate the noise.

‘Kitty, keep the torch still,’ hissed Gordon. ‘I can’t see what I’m doing.’

‘Sorry,’ she held it still and pointed it towards Gordon struggling to dig into the hard packed soil.

He straightened after a few minutes, panting and wiping the sweat off of his forehead.

 ‘Is this deep enough?’

Queenie peered forward in the dark. ‘I can’t see, how far have you gone down?’

He knelt on the grass and pushed his hand into the hole. ‘It’s about ten inches deep,’ he looked up at her. ‘That’s about as far as I can get, it’s too hard and rocky here.’

She patted him on the shoulder. ‘That should do.’

Queenie held out the jar to William. ‘I think you should be the one to put it in.’

He nodded and took it carefully from her hand and bent stiffly over the hole. She held his arm to steady him as he placed it in.

‘Do we need to say anything?’ William asked.

‘Let Gordon put the soil back first.’

William straightened, moved back to Sybil’s side and watched as Gordon refilled the hole.

‘It’s going to show where I’ve dug,’ Gordon sounded worried and glanced up at the two sisters. ‘Somebody is going to notice all this fresh soil.’

‘Nobody comes over this side of the graveyard so don’t worry.’

‘I’ll come up tomorrow and disguise it,’ added Sybil. ‘I’ll put some flowers on top of it or something, and Arnold isn’t due to cut the grass for another week.’

Gordon carried on reassured. ‘Okay if you’re sure, now what?’ he asked Queenie who was opening her bag again.

She handed him a bundle of short sticks. ‘I want you to push these in around the hole and get them in as far as possible.’

Kitty peered over her husband’s arm and directed the torch beam at his hands.

‘What are they?’

‘Rowan, holly, bramble, the same as the sticks I put around the jar. They are all magical protective trees which will hold his spirit in the grave and prevent it from wandering.’

‘Couldn’t his spirit have just been sent on to where he should be?’ Kitty hesitated. ‘It just seems a bit cruel to trap him in there forever.’

‘Are you feeling sorry for him?’ asked Sybil acidly. ‘Because we don’t, he deserves this.’

Queenie put her hand on her sister’s arm.  ‘Now Sybil don’t be like that,’ she said calmly and looked across the grave at Kitty in the dim light. ‘You see, I’m afraid our sympathies lie with Hannah, not Robert.

Kitty nodded ‘I know but,’ she hesitated and stared at them, their faces were unusually grim. ‘I’m sure you know best,’ she finished lamely.

‘Well, I for one agree with the girls,’ Gordon said firmly hefting the spade in his hand. ‘Is that it? I’ve pushed the sticks in.’

Queenie peered at the filled hole. ‘Push them down a bit farther, until they are level with the ground. I don’t want anybody spotting them and pulling them all up.’ she instructed.

Gordon tapped them down gently with the flat of the spade.

‘That’s better, now.’

Queenie stood over the grave of Robert Beamish and breathed deeply and extended her hands slowly over the grave. All around the grave yard the sounds of the night grew still, even the soft breeze dropped, it became so quiet that Kitty could hear the grew still, even the soft breeze dropped, it became so quiet that Kitty could hear the blood pounding in her ears.

Queenie began to quietly speak, the torch light casting strange shadows across her face.

‘When the witching hour rings true,

and the moon is burning bright above,

Let mine will be done this night.

Answer now my Pagan spell,

Lend thy power to these words,

Protect us and banish his spirit,

and let evil be no more.’

Kitty watched a chill in her heart as Queenie imprisoned the spirit of Robert in his grave forever.

Her words hung in the breeze for a while and then slowly all around them the usual night time noises started in the hedges and fields and an owl hooted in the trees. They all shifted and looked at Queenie.

 She sighed. ‘Well that should do it,’ and stared down at the grave for a minute only turning away when Sybil spoke.

‘A cup of tea now, don’t you think?’ Sybil put her hand on William’s arm making him jump.

He dragged his eyes away from Queenie. ‘What? Oh yes, a cup of tea, that would be nice.’ He glanced doubtfully across the grave at her sister. ‘I think it’s time we got out of here.’

‘Yes, let’s go,’ Gordon said shakily and took Kitty’s arm, they walked carefully back to the path skirting around the gravestones. A light autumnal mist had risen and swirled around their feet.

 ‘Careful where you’re walking,’ warned Gordon. He paused and stared back at Queenie who was still staring down at the grave. ‘Coming?’

She looked up blankly before replying, ‘Yes, yes, I’m right behind you,’ and followed her sister back to the path.

To their left the church still stood dark and quiet, a light wind whistling around the tower, rattling the rope on the flag pole. A slight noise came from the front porch and they paused looking nervously into the dark space in front of the church and out from the shadows strolled the grey cat.

Kitty sighed in relief, bent down and picked it up, welcoming the warmth of its fur.

 ‘Hello puss,’ she said. ‘What are you doing wandering around a dark churchyard?’

‘It’s probably thinking the same about you Kitty,’ whispered Gordon. ‘Come on let’s go, I have had enough fun for one night,’ and led her towards the steps.

Behind them they could hear the voices of the two women close behind them.

 ‘Have you got any cake Sybil? I am feeling a bit peckish.’

‘Rose brought me a fruitcake yesterday, so we can have that.’

‘Oh dear, well I hope it’s better than her sponges,’ she said acidly.

Sybil unlocked her front door and pushed it open.

‘Come in, William can you put the fire on? My feet are so cold and wet from that grass.’

She bustled about switching on the lamps around the room and pulling out chairs for everybody.  ‘Now, tea everybody?’ she asked.

‘Tea would be great, Sybil.’

‘Would you like some help?’ offered Kitty, putting the cat down near the hearth.

‘No, no, dear you sit down and relax for a while, you’ve had a long night,’ and disappeared into the small kitchen at the back of the house.

William knelt in front of the gas fire and fiddled with the ignition switch.  ‘Now, let’s see if I can get this thing to work,’ there were a few clicks and the flames flared up and started to leap up over the false coals.  ‘There, lovely,’ he said and looked sideways at the grey cat who had sat down next to him. ‘Well, well, I’m not getting hissed at,’ he said and struggled stiffly to his feet. He rested his hand on the mantelpiece and smiled at Kitty. ‘Come and sit here Kitty, you look quite done in.’ He shifted one of the armchairs closer to the fire, ‘There you’ll soon warm up.’

‘Thanks William,’ she stepped carefully over Nigel and the cat and settled into the chair.

Queenie sat down in the chair opposite and felt in her pockets.

 ‘Anybody seen my cigarettes?’ she complained staring around the room.

 William pulled up a chair and sat down next to her, he looked at her questioningly.

 ‘I thought you had given up?’

‘Bad night to quit smoking,’ she said seriously and leant back in the chair and sighed. She closed her eyes and a slight frown appeared on her face.

‘Are you feeling alright?’ asked Kitty.

Queenie was looking very pale and tired and there was big bruise turning purple on the side of her face. She opened her eyes and looked over at Kitty and gave a rueful grin.

 ‘Not as young as I used to be, and boy did I feel it tonight!’ she sighed and rubbed her forehead. ‘Well that’s over with anyway.’

Gordon had sat down at the small dining table and found Queenie’s cigarettes hidden beneath a church magazine.

He passed them over and said ‘Here you are I think you deserve one of these. Just finish it before Sybil gets back otherwise you’ll be in trouble again.’

Queenie pulled one out of the packet and lit it, taking a deep pull, she sighed and blew out a puff of smoke. ‘That’s better,’ she offered the packet around. ‘Anybody else? No? What about you William, have you given up?’

He looked sheepish. ‘I caved into the nagging I’m afraid.’

She grinned and winked at him. ‘She’s half your size you know.’

William laughed. ‘It doesn’t make any difference, she still bullies me.’ He shrugged his shoulders at Kitty as she laughed.

 ‘I’m sure Sybil wouldn’t call it bullying, it’s all for your own good you know,’ she said mockingly.

The cat opened her eyes on hearing Kitty laugh, stretched and delicately stepped over the sleeping dog and jumped up into her lap. She gently scratched behind its ears feeling the deep throbbing purr reverberating through her legs.

Sybil tottered in bearing a loaded tray.

‘Here, let me take that for you Sybil.’ Gordon stood up and put the tea tray onto the table.

In the middle of the tray sat a very pale flaccid looking fruit cake.

‘Well I have brought in the cake but don’t blame me if you get a stomach ache tomorrow, I didn’t make it,’ she said firmly handing out cups of tea.

William looked at the cake. ‘Rose’s is it?’ he asked. ‘Well I’m sure it’s fine.’ He took a slice from Sybil and bit into it, ignoring the snort from Queenie and chewed slowly. ‘Um yes I see what you mean.’ he said grimacing.

Sybil handed him a plate of biscuits ‘Have one of these instead dear.’ Sybil grinned and offered the sliced cake around. ‘Cake anybody?’

Her sister grunted in disgust. ‘What do you think she does to her cakes to make them taste like that?’

Sybil shrugged and put it back on the table.  ‘I have no idea. I’ll throw it out in the morning, she’ll never know.’

Gordon passed over the plate of biscuits to Kitty. ‘Would you like one?’

She shook her head ‘No thanks, I’m just thirsty.’

‘How are you feeling now dear?’ asked Sybil reaching over and refilling her cup.

Kitty sipped her tea and nodded slowly.  ‘Okay, considering,’ she smiled slightly. ‘It’s been an interesting night hasn’t it?’ Kitty looked across the room at her husband ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

He nodded and smiled reassuringly.

Queenie drained her cup and sighed ‘Well that was a good night’s work.’

‘Do you think Hannah will be satisfied with this? I mean is she going to feel that justice has been done, or will she still be haunting us?’ asked Gordon, he still looked worried. ‘I would like to think that was it.’

Queenie looked up from her contemplation of the cat that was still curled up and purring contentedly on his wife’s lap.

 ‘Oh I think so.’

The two sisters exchanged a strange look and Sybil smiled. ‘Definitely happy now,’ her smile became broader as the cat jumped down from Kitty’s lap and walked across to William. It fixed him with a stare from its pale coloured eyes then sprang up onto his knee.

‘Well I am honoured!’ he said quietly and put out a tentative hand to stroke it.

‘Well I think it’s all settled now, don’t you think sis?’ said Sybil.

‘William, if you don’t think I’m being nosey,’ asked Kitty quietly. ‘What happened to his first wife?’

Gordon snorted. ‘That is being nosey Kitty.’

‘No, no it’s okay Kitty, after tonight I don’t think I have any secrets from you,’ William smiled slightly. ‘Rachel his first wife died trying to give birth to his third child.’

‘Third? Oh of course,’ she exclaimed. ‘He had two other sons’ didn’t he?’ she turned to Gordon. ‘We saw that on the census form. What happened to those two boys?’

‘I’m not too sure, all I know is that they left home as soon as they could and nobody heard from them again. Although I’m sure my mother knew something, she kept it very quiet but I think she used to get letters from one of them. She never told grandfather about it of course,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Mother did let it slip once that one of them had gone into the army.’

‘And his second wife?’ prompted Kitty.

William smiled at the protest that came from Gordon.

 ‘I’m sorry William, you’ll have to excuse my wife, she never knows when to stop.’

Queenie laughed. ‘Don’t take any notice of him Kitty, ask away, I think you have earned the right.’

He sat back and raised his hands. ‘Okay,’ he laughed. ‘Just don’t give her your bank account number William, she loves shopping.’

William grinned at Kitty’s indignant face.  ‘Well if you want to know, my gran was born in Medbury, she was the daughter of Rose who used to work in the dairy at the farm.’ He sighed and looked thoughtful. ‘Why she married him I’ll never know, well actually I do,’ he admitted looking uncomfortable. ‘Let’s just say that my father was a seven month baby.’

Kitty looked baffled and glanced at Queenie.

‘What?’

Queenie started laughing. ‘He used his charms on her, dear and got her in to trouble!’

She winked at Kitty as it slowly dawned on her what Queenie meant.

‘Oh, you mean?’

‘Yes, that’s right Kitty.’ William said and gently stroked his hand along the cat’s backs. ‘I suppose he wanted an heir as the two boys had gone. Sad really, two sons and he drove them away.’

Kitty looked at the old man. ‘What a way to live, hating everybody and everybody hating you.’ she shivered and looked around the room. ‘He should be pitied really.’

‘Kitty!’ said Sybil.

William turned and looked at his friend sat at the table.  ‘No Sybil, she’s right, my grandfather had everything that he could want, a family, a good farm, a lovely home and he wasn’t happy. There’s many a man that would have given his right arm to have all that, so what went wrong with him?’

Sybil banged down her cup and glared at the back of his head. ‘Huh,’ she snorted. ‘He was a horrible evil man and I for one am glad that he got his just deserts.’

‘You won’t convince my sister that he deserves any pity, you know!’ Queenie grimaced. ‘I think the worst thing is that if Hannah had been still alive she would have been able to save Rachel and his third son, I wonder if that ever crossed his mind?’

‘Ah but,’ said Sybil firmly, ‘if she had saved Rachel then he wouldn’t have married William’s gran and William wouldn’t have been born. So there!’ she finished triumphantly.

Queenie nodded. ‘You are right Sybil, but I think you’re getting off the point a bit though,’ and lit another cigarette staring at her through the smoke.

‘Queenie, not in the house!’

The night air was quite cool, the mist had gone and the sky was clear and full of twinkling stars. Kitty shivered as she waited by the car outside Sybil’s cottage. They gathered around her talking in hushed tones, their voices carrying on the night air.

‘Are you going to spend the night at the house?’ William asked.

Gordon hugged Sybil and looked across at the old man. ‘No,’ he said. ‘We’ll go back to the guest house tonight and come back in the morning. We will start clearing up then and I’ll have to board that window up,’ he looked up at the cloudless night sky. ‘Doesn’t look like rain, thank goodness so I’m sure it will be okay for tonight.’

William nodded. ‘Well make sure you come and get me in the morning and I’ll give you a hand,’ he added thoughtfully ‘I’m sure there is some wood in one of the sheds that we can use.’

Kitty smiled at him and gave him a hug. ‘Thanks William.’

He gave her a kiss on the top of her head and said seriously ‘You’re welcome my dear.’ He turned to Sybil. ‘I’d better be off, it’s getting late. Queenie, will I see you in the morning before you go home?’

 She nodded, finishing another cigarette and flicked the glowing butt into the road.

‘I‘ll be off in the afternoon so we will drop in on you sometime in the morning, just to see how you are getting on with the cleaning, not that we are going to help of course.’ she grinned as Gordon reached forward and hugged her.

‘Thanks for all your help Queenie and you too Sybil, I don’t know what we would have done without you.’

Queenie gave him a kiss on his cheek.  ‘We should thank you, especially Kitty,’ she reached across and squeezed her hand. ‘It gave us a chance to finish this business and put it right, and without you we wouldn’t have been able to.’ She moved over to William’s side and patted him on his arm. ‘Sorry that you had to find out about it like this, we tried to keep you out of it, but I’m glad you were there William. You have been a good friend to us over the years and we appreciate everything that you have ever done for us,’ she looked around at her sister ‘Oh dear this is getting very mawkish isn’t it? I’ll shut up now,’ she laughed.

Kitty moved slowly over to stand next to Sybil. ‘Sybil,’ she started diffidently. ‘Tomorrow do you think you could come up to the cross roads with me?’

She looked at Kitty and raised her eyebrows. ‘The cross roads? What do you want to go up there for?’

Queenie heard the surprise in her sister’s voice and turned away from her conversation with William.

 ‘What?’ she asked.

‘Well I would like to take some flowers up there and put them on Hannah’s grave and I don’t know where it is,’ she went on quietly. ‘It just seems awful that she’s up there on her own.’

Kitty felt embarrassed that everybody was staring at her and cast an appealing look at Gordon. ‘Don’t you think that it would be nice to put some flowers up there for her?’

The two sisters started laughing.

‘Oh bless you, Kitty,’ said Queenie putting an arm around her and giving her a hug.

‘Hannah’s not at the crossroads.’

‘But Beamish had her buried up there,’ protested Gordon looking from one sister to the other.

‘Yes, him and the Vicar. But they weren’t going to leave her up there. That night, Michael Guppy and the Trevitt boys dug Hannah up and took her body down to the graveyard.’

Kitty sighed and closed her eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she said blinking back a few tears. ‘Do you know where?’

‘Of course we know dear,’ she smiled softly at Kitty. ‘They buried her with Samuel and her little baby boy.’ She patted Kitty on the arm. ‘We’ll show you where their grave is tomorrow.’

Kitty wiped her eyes and smiled in relief at her husband who had moved closer to her.

Gordon sighed. ‘Nowhere near Robert I hope?’

They both shook their heads.

‘Good,’ he put an arm around Kitty’s shoulder. ‘We’ll come down tomorrow and visit the grave,’ he reassured her. ‘And now I think it’s time we went. Kitty, I think you have had enough excitement for one day, I know I have.’

He opened the car door for her and helped her into the passenger seat. Gordon paused, his hand on the car door and stared at the two old women standing in the dim light in front of the cottage.

‘Would I be right in assuming that you both have the same abilities, as you call it, that

Hannah had?’

Queenie looked at him; a strange light flickered for an instant in the depths of her pale coloured eyes and she smiled slightly.

‘It runs in the family dear,’ they said in unison.

The End

Authors Note

The Lavender Witch is based on the true story of Hannah Henley who lived in the small remote village of Membury in Devon during the early 1800’s. She is now the most famous witch in Devon and was rumoured to have killed several people in the surrounding area. Hannah was believed to have been able to change form at will and would regularly be hunted by the local hounds. She angered several of the local farmers in Membury by constantly begging for food and money, when they refused and ill luck came their way Hannah was blamed. One of the wealthier farmers hired a white witch from Chard who spent a month living in the farmhouse trying to get rid of her. At four in the morning on Good Friday 1841 he went to Hannah’s cottage and found her body lying over the branch of a tree wound in a sheet. There was blood and glass inside the cottage and her body was also covered in bruises and cuts, looking as though she had been dragged through a window. It was widely rumoured in the village that she had been taken by the devil. Villagers had met her several days previously and noted that she had seemed frightened, stating ‘that he was going to come for her’. They assumed in hindsight that she had meant the devil but did she?

One hundred pounds at that time was a lot of money; was it enough to kill for?

The young servant girl who was friends with Hannah would often visit her before her death and the so called witch would give her food; the excellence of her cooking was well known in the village while in another account it stated that despite being poor she was known for keeping a clean and tidy house and was often seen around the village wearing a silk bonnet and clean white pinafore.

Despite the strange manner of her death the inquest found that she had died of water on the brain. There are no full records of the inquest as no coroners records have survived from before 1940 and there is no record of her death.

I would like to thank Prof. Mark Brayshay  Hon. Editor of the Devonshire Association for allowing me to quote from the Transactions Volume 14 concerning Hannah, however I have edited it slightly, for the full account visit their website www.devonassoc.org.uk

Faerie Dolls- MBS Fayre Axminster 18th Oct

I am getting my stock of Faerie Dolls ready for the Christmas rush!
I am taking part in the 
Mind Body Spirit Fayre at Axminster Devon,  Sat 18th Oct not the 11th as I previously put, sorry!
If anybody is in the area please come along to view the dolls in the 'flesh' so to speak!
It is an enjoyable event with psychic demonstrations, clairvoyants and many stalls selling an interesting array of goodies.


All the dolls are made with a felt body with a weighted bottom to ensure 
that they will sit securely.
Hair is made from wool, different fabrics are used for the clothes etc. 
Some detailing, i.e acorn buttons, ladybirds etc is formed using Sculpey.
All the dolls are unique one offs.
£30.00 each plus £5.00 p&p uk, for information on overseas postage
 please contact me.
I can take payment by paypal.

Oaken Bough, inspired by the myth of the Green Man myth.

To view more dolls please visit my website or facebook page www.facebook.com/pages/Elizabeth-Andrews Artist

The Goose Fair

The annual Goose Fair takes place today, 8th Oct, in the 
stannery town of Tavistock , which is on the western edge 
of Dartmoor. It is one of the best known fairs in the west
 country and has its origins in the Michelmas fairs that 
started in the early 12th century. In 1105 Henry I authorised
 the monks of Tavistock Abbey to hold a weekly market on
 Fridays, later he issued a writ confirming the market grant 
and adding a three day fair which was to be held on St
 Rumon’s feast day which was from the 29th to the 31st 
August. It was then moved to Michelmas Day 29th 
September and with the introduction of the new calender 
 in 1752, and losing 11 days, it was moved again to 
October 10th. The fair is now held on the second Wednesday
 in October.
It was thought that many tenants of the Abbey would pay 
their rents in ‘geese,’ these would be then driven into the 
market and sold.



Known locally as Goosey or Goosie, this name probably
 came from the practice of buying geese at Michelmas to
 fatten for Christmas as at that time the goose was the more 
popular choice for the festive meal. The turkey had yet to
 arrive from America.



"Christmas is a coming and the goose is getting fat..."





The traditional auction of poultry is still held at the Tavistock
 Livestock Centre where they also hold an open day where 
you can see the cattle, sheep and Dartmoor ponies. 
Market traders also come from all over the country to sell 
their wares and provide entertainment, these stalls are set up 
in the centre of the town.

Written in 1912 by C. J. Trythall as a token of his love for Devon 

and was originally composed for vocals and piano.

 

Goosey Fair

 

Tis just a month come Friday next, Bill Champerdown and me, 

Us traipsed across old Darty Moor the Goosey Fair to see, 

Us made ourselves quite fiddy, us greased and oiled our hair, 

Then off us goes in our Sunday clothes behind old Bill's grey mare. 

Us smelled thic sage and onion 'alf a mile from Whitchurch Down, 

And didn't us 'ave a blow out when us come into the town, 

And there us met Ned Hannoford, Jan Steer and Nicky Square, 

And it seemed to we all Devon must be to Tavistock Goosey Fair,

 

Chorus: 

And its oh, and where be a-going, 

And what be a-doing of there, 

Heave down your prong and stamp along, 

To Tavistock Goosey Fair.

 

Us went to see the 'osses and the 'effers and the yaws, 

Us went on all them roundabouts and into all the shows, 

And then it started raining and blowing in our face, 

So off us goes down to the Rose to 'ave a dish of tay. 

And then us had a sing song and the folks kept dropping in, 

And what with one an' t'other, well, us had a drop of gin, 

And what with one an' t'other, us didn't seem to care, 

Whether us was to Bellever Tor or Tavistock Goosey Fair.

 

Chorus: 

And its oh, and where be a-going, 

 And what be a-doing of there, 

Heave down your prong and stamp along, 

To Tavistock Goosey Fair.

 

 Bob Cann singing ' Goosey Fair'around 1973

The Lavender Witch part 12

 William stood in the doorway.

‘I heard a scream, what’s going on?’ He paused, staring at the two sisters and then around the room, his gaze lingering on the smoking candles.  ‘What are you doing Queenie?’ he demanded advancing across the glass strewn carpet towards them.

She paused before answering and stared at him curiously. ‘So that’s what happened, well, well, I wasn’t expecting this.’

Sybil looked at her puzzled. ‘What do you mean dear?’

‘William, we needed William.’ They both stared at their elderly friend who was gazing at them perplexed.

‘It doesn’t matter now,’ Gordon put his arm around Kitty who was shivering uncontrollably and led her towards the door. ‘We’re leaving and this time we’re not coming back.’

‘You can’t go now!’

‘Queenie!’ he turned on her. ‘Look at my wife!’ he shouted.  ‘Look what you’ve done to her.’

‘Wait a minute,’ said William anxiously. ‘What do you mean you’re not coming back?’ he followed them to the door and laid a restraining hand on Gordon’s shoulder. ‘What’s going on here?’

Gordon looked across the room at Queenie. ‘She can explain.’

Queenie nodded. ‘I will explain but not here, let’s find some neutral ground to have a chat.  Come on Sybil.’ She gathered up the fallen jar and put it back into her bag. ‘We need to have a talk with William.’

The two sisters followed him out into the hall where Gordon and Kitty were waiting impatiently for them.

Gordon hesitated before opening the door. ‘Do you think it’s safe?’ and stared anxiously at the two old women.

Sybil nodded slowly and took William’s arm. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I heard an awful noise and then I heard screaming, was that you Kitty?’

William peered into Kitty’s tear streaked face, she stared blankly at him before managing a weak smile.

‘Are you alright?’ He took her hand in his work roughened one and squeezed it gently. ‘What’s been happening here?’ he asked anxiously.

Her face crumpled and she sobbed out ‘It’s Robert, he’s here.’

‘I don’t understand, Robert who?’

‘Your grandfather.’

He looked at her blankly and then looked at Sybil. ‘What’s she talking about?’

Sybil gently pushed the three out of the door. ‘In a minute William, we’ll explain outside.’  She turned to her sister who was following close behind. ‘Shall we go back to my cottage? I think that would be best don’t you?’

Queenie nodded in agreement and banged the door shut behind her.

They walked slowly along the drive to the lane; time had passed since they had driven up to Orchard Cottage and it was now dark, the night sky was filled with winking stars and high up on Castle Hill a fox barked.

‘Right, down to Sybil’s Gordon,’ Queenie said firmly.

‘No,’ he replied sharply. ‘That’s it! We’re out of here; we’re not getting involved in any more of this.’

‘Now let’s calm down a minute, I want to know what’s going on and what my grandfather has to do with this.’ The old man had stopped and stood in front of them determined to get an answer.

‘This is a story that shouldn’t be told in a dark lane William,’ said Sybil taking hold of his arm and pulling him towards the village.

‘Well let’s go into the farmhouse then,’ he said impatiently. ‘It’s closer.’

‘No,’ Kitty put in weakly. ‘Not in there, sorry,’ she apologised to the old man. ‘But you see it’s his house.’

‘Kitty is right we shouldn’t set foot in there.’ Queenie warned. ‘Sybil’s cottage will do. Come along.’

 She led the way along the darkened lane until they came close to the entrance of the farmyard. She slowed to a halt, from across the paved yard came the sound of approaching footsteps, footsteps that Kitty immediately recognised.

‘Who’s that?’ bristled William. ‘Hi,’ he shouted striding forward, pushing past Queenie who put out a restraining hand, but he brushed impatiently it aside. ‘Who’s there? You’re trespassing.’

 His voice echoed around the buildings but the footsteps did not slow, they drew closer and closer to the group huddled in the lane.

‘It’s him,’ whispered Kitty trying to pull away from Gordon’s tightening grip. ‘It’s him

Queenie,’ she hissed again.

Queenie nodded in recognition. ‘Yes Kitty it is,’ she said quietly. She raised her voice ‘Well Robert? What are you going to do now eh?’

William glanced at her quickly before returning his gaze to the entrance of the yard.

A dark shape slid into the shadows of the wall, and as they watched it gathered itself together pulling in the darkness of the night and becoming more solid.

 A figure walked slowly out from the shelter of the wall and stood in the middle of the lane and raised his head. Dark sunken eyes stared across the intervening space between him and his grandson.

‘Oh my God!’ whispered William in horror. ‘It is him.’

The old man staggered back and would have fallen if Gordon hadn’t grabbed his arm to steady him.

‘William, are you alright?’ Sybil whispered to him urgently gripping his other arm to support him.

‘What in God’s name is this? He’s dead!’ William’s voice echoed around the lane making the apparitions face wince.

Queenie took a few paces forward and peered at the shade of Robert Beamish.

‘So that’s it! William is the key,’ she said triumphantly. She turned back quickly to the others. ‘Back to the house, all of you.’

‘Are you mad woman? We’re not going back in there,’ Gordon shouted at her.                                      

 He stared at the figure in the lane and watched in horror as it approached slowly towards them.

Queenie pulled Kitty back towards the house. ‘You have no choice now, he’s not going to stop. He’ll come after Kitty where ever she is.’

‘You don’t know that,’ he shot at her.

‘Look at him!’ Queenie shouted at him. ‘He is on the road! This road doesn’t belong to the Beamish family, it never has done. He’s not on his own soil!’

They backed slowly away down the lane to the entrance of the drive, William last of all. He stood frozen to the spot staring at his grandfather’s form approaching along the road.

Sybil pulled at his arm. ‘Come on William,’ she shouted at him.

‘I thought I had forgotten him,’ he whispered. ‘But one look at his face and it has all come back.’

Clouds drifted across the night sky casting even darker shadows onto the road but the shadow of Robert Beamish was darker still as he paced slowly forward; the regular thump of the stick hitting the tarmac echoing off the buildings.

Gordon slammed and locked the door once they were all inside. ‘What the hell are we going to do?’

‘Calmly Gordon,’ Queenie urged him. Taking Kitty’s arm she pulled her back into the sitting room. ‘We’ll start again and this time we have William and we won’t fail.’

‘What difference is he going to make?’

Sybil pulled him and William into place around Kitty.

 ‘Don’t you see? This time one of his own blood will be casting him out.’

He looked at William’s shocked face. ‘Will he be alright to do that?’

‘Well, are you going to help Kitty?’ she asked William.

He shook himself and looked back at her.

‘That man was the devil incarnate, I will stop him,’ he said firmly. ‘He made my father’s life hell and I thought I was rid of him,’ he paused and added, ‘And this time I will be rid of him.’

He leant forward and gave Kitty an awkward hug. ‘I don’t know what the hell is happening but if Sybil and Queenie say that I have to do this then I will, they’ve been giving me orders since I was a child and it’s a habit hard to break.’

Queenie refilled the jar and placed three red berries in the salted water.

‘Rowan berries,’ she explained then gave the half filled jar to Kitty.  ‘Good for you William, now hold onto it this time Kitty and we’ll start again.’

‘What about the candles sis?’

‘No time for that now,’ she pushed her damp hair away from her face. ‘Surround Kitty you three.’

Kitty shivered slightly and held the jar tightly to her chest. Gordon was breathing deeply as he stared around the room. The lights were still high and bright and no shadows had appeared in the corners.

‘Perhaps he won’t come back,’ he said hopefully looking at Queenie.

She cocked her head listening to the noises outside; the sound of the fox barking on the hill was carried by the breeze that blew in through the broken window.

Slow footsteps approached the house.

‘He’s coming,’ she said calmly.

Sybil reached out and grasped Gordon’s hand and took William’s hand to form a circle around Kitty.

‘Remember to imagine yourself surrounded by the blue light.’

They nodded in response and gripped each other’s hands. Gordon looked at his wife’s face, it was very pale but she looked determined. She caught him looking at her and smiled slightly in response.

 ‘I’m fine.’

‘Okay, it begins,’ said Queenie.

The breeze blowing in through the shattered windows became colder and stronger, whirling around the figures in the centre of the room, whipping their clothes and hair around them. But their hands held firm and they stayed in place, surrounding Kitty.

 Her breath plumed out in front of her face and out the corner of her eye she could see a dark shadow rising in the corner of the room. As it grew, the lights dipped lower and lower until Kitty could only just make out Queenies face in front of her. Kitty gripped the jar firmly.

‘Now after me, Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle.

Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the Devil,

May God rebuke him, we humbly pray.

And do thou, O Prince of the heavenly hosts thrust into Hell

 Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl through the world

seeking the ruin of souls...Amen.’

The shadow wavered and flowed around the walls of the room as they repeated the prayer after Queenie. William’s voice rang out with each word and each word making the shadow tremble and shudder.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the bag of thorns.

‘Thou demon presence be no more,’ she called out against the buffeting wind and dropped a thorn into the water. As it hit the holy water a low groan rose from the ground beneath the house and grew in strength until it shrieked and raged around the room, homing in on Kitty, swirling around and around her until she could hardly breathe. The jar jerked in her hand and she clutched at it desperately.

‘Hold it tight Kitty,’ Gordon shouted at her.

Queenie reached across the linked hands and dropped another thorn into the water.

 ‘Thou demon presence be no more.’

The groaning and shrieking grew and Kitty’s shoulders slumped under a huge weight that began pressing on her and she fell to her knees.

‘Guardians of the spirit realm, hear us and guide us, remove all evil from our path and let your presence protect us, we beg you,’ Queenie shouted.

 She reached forward and tried to pull Kitty to her feet.

‘Stand up, come on,’ Queenie urged, but the wind continued to buffet her kneeling figure.  

Kitty cried out, ‘Help me I can’t do this.’

They stared in consternation at Kitty kneeling on the floor.

 ‘Get up,’ they urged her. ‘Come on you can do it.’

She shook her head weeping, terrified of the black shadows that were whirling and shrieking around her. Kitty closed her eyes in anguish and then felt a gentle touch on her hand, her eyelids flickered opened and she could see a pair of child’s hands over hers on the jar. The child smiled encouragingly at her and tightened her grip pulling Kitty to her feet. The tiny figure stood in front of her, insubstantial but yet she could feel her touch and feel the child’s breath on her face. The little girl smiled at her and nodded encouragingly, shadows moved across her face changing it subtly, aging it until Kitty recognised the lined face.

One that she knew so well.

Her face changed again reverting to her younger self. Ava smiled again and pressed Kitty’s hands tightly over the jar.

Queenie reached over their joined hands and dropped in the final thorn.

‘What is dark be filled with light,

remove this evil from our sight,

I bless this house in the name of God and banish all evil from this place,

 in the name of God.’

The shadows wavered; a shrieking groan echoed around the room and then faded sinking into silence.

The room was still dark apart from the shaft of light that was Ava. The rainbow colours that made up her form danced and flickered in front of Kitty. Her face came in and out of focus with just her eyes remaining steady, fixed on her great grand-daughter.

‘It’s great- granny,’ Kitty whispered, her eyes spilling over with tears. Without thinking she relaxed her grip on the jar and it began to tilt, the precious holy water draining out of the top. Ava’s spirit shook her head in warning and she realised with a start that he had not gone. If her great- grandmother was still with her and then so must Robert.

Kitty looked away from Ava and stared at the others. ‘Careful,’ she whispered.

Queenie nodded looking around the room.

‘Is he gone, is that it? Gordon looked across at Kitty. ‘Are you alright?’ he asked anxiously.

She nodded. The breeze had dropped but the room was still freezing, they were all shivering from the shock and cold.

William released his grip on Sybil’s hand and wiped a shaking hand over his face.

 ‘Thank goodness it’s stopped.’ He touched Sybil gently on the shoulder. ‘Are you alright?’

She nodded. ‘It’s okay William, we’re doing fine but,’ she said glancing across at her sister. ‘I don’t think it’s over yet, is it?’

Queenie shook her head. ‘No, look at the jar,’ she said quietly.

The water in the jar was still clear and empty apart from the rose thorns and the red rowan berries.

‘He’s proving to be a bit more difficult than I had thought,’ she muttered.

‘What are you saying?’ blurted out Gordon. ‘Can’t you deal with him?’

‘Yes, yes,’ she rushed to reassure him. ‘But we must be on our guard, he’s not finished yet.’

‘You’re right,’ hissed Sybil. ‘Look behind you!’

Just behind Queenie a black spot appeared hovering just inches above the floor, the stink of rotting flesh grew stronger and a low moaning and scratching noise came from the centre of the expanding shadow.

A low guttural voice whispered ‘Bitch...bitch...not on my soil....not here...slut of a child.’

Kitty gagged and began to retch as the foul stink grew stronger around her.

Queenie jumped at the first sound of the voice and turned to face it.

The shadow coiled and writhed growing in size until it reached the ceiling and then began to sink back down condensing into a cloudy figure.

‘Robert, you have no business here,’ she commanded him.

‘Witch....’ it muttered. ‘Witch...not on my soil.....slut...child’

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a jar of salt and scattered a handful across the carpet in front of him.

‘I bless this house in the name of God,

 I banish all evil spirits from this house, in the name of God.’

She raised her hand and threw the rest of the salt into the whispering shadow. It parted as the salt hit and then flowed back together; a hissing noise came from inside the mass of shadows and then the sound of chill laughter.

They all froze and Queenie staggered back as though hit by an unseen blow.

‘Bitch....old woman....stupid bitch....my soil.’

She backed slowly to the group behind her.

Sybil whispered to her ‘Are you okay?’

Queenie shook her head, sweat stood out on her forehead and her whole body was quivering.

‘Queenie,’ wavered Kitty. ‘What are we going to do?’

There was a second unseen blow and Queenie fell to her knees holding up her hands to protect her face as she gasped out, ‘I adjure thee, most evil spirit, by almighty God, begone!’

The shadowy figure did not halt; it slid slowly forward and flowed around her, engulfing her shaking body until she was almost hidden from sight.

‘No!’ wailed Sybil releasing her grip of the two men’s hands, she threw herself towards her sister on the ground.

‘Sybil!’ William shouted as the two sisters were lost in the shadow. A scream was heard from inside as they were thrown violently to the side of the room.

‘Sybil, no!’ he pulled Gordon forward and thrust him towards Kitty. ‘Look after her,’ and staggered forward to the two still figures lying on the carpet.

Looming over them stood Robert Beamish, fully formed and visible.

William faced the spectre of his grandfather.

To one side the spirit of Ava appeared and slowly on the other side of the old man another flickering shape appeared. He was hardly aware of the two figures flanking him, he stared into Robert’s face, a mirror image of his own but so different in nature.

‘No,’ William said firmly. ‘I can’t allow you to do this. Go! You’re not wanted here.’

The form of Robert writhed in the face of his accusing stare and mouthed silently at him.

‘No I won’t listen to you,’ William shouted. ‘You were an evil old bastard, and damn it you still are! Go away and leave us in peace.’

‘Mine.. .’ he whispered glaring malevolently at William. ‘Mine....mine,’ it got louder with each word until it was shrieking ‘Mine... mine...’

‘You stupid old man, this isn’t your land, it’s mine! Mine! Do you hear me?’William shouted into his grandfather’s face. ‘You do not belong here, you are not welcome. These are my friends; I will not allow you to hurt them.’ William paused as Robert’s shade writhed under the hail of his words. ‘Now go!’ he commanded.

Robert’s body shook and trembled, the cloud forming his body began to dissipate into a fine mist that floated slowly up getting thinner and thinner before descending rapidly back to the floor.

Kitty pushed Gordon off and threw herself and the jar under the falling stream of mist before it disappeared back into the soil from where it came. The essence of Robert’s spirit was sucked inside by the age old magic of the thorns and the rowan berries and was imprisoned in the Holy water.

Gordon grabbed the lid from the table, slammed it on and screwed it down.

Inside the black shadows writhed and twisted against the glass, in constant motion searching for a way out of its prison.

 ‘Did you get him?’ a shaky voice asked from the floor.

Queenie and Sybil were sprawled across each other in a tangle of arms and legs. Sybil half rolled off of her sister and sat up groaning, she pushed a curl out of her eyes and stared shakily up at them. ‘Has he gone?’

Kitty held up the jar. ‘Look,’ she said triumphantly.

Queenie lay back on the floor. ‘Oh thank God,’ she said weakly. ‘What a bugger!’

‘Queenie! Language,’ said Sybil primly struggling to get up.

William hurried over and helped her up. ‘Sybil,’ he said ‘What can I say? All this trouble from him,’ he blinked back a tear. ‘I thought you had been hurt.’ He looked at Queenie who was still lying on the carpet. ‘Are you hurt?’ he asked suddenly worried.

She grinned at him. ‘No dear just getting my breath,’ she extended her hand. ‘Wouldn’t mind a bit of help though.’

He smiled and pulled her to her feet.

Queenie looked at him and gently patted him on the arm. ‘You shouldn’t feel guilty, this isn’t your fault, you don’t have to carry his guilt you know.’

He nodded and pulled a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and blew his nose.  ‘But he was family Queenie; I do feel responsible for all this.’

‘Well you shouldn’t dear,’ Sybil put her arms around him and kissed his cheek. ‘You’re a good man William, you’ve nothing to feel guilty about,’ she added firmly. She looked down at Kitty who was still knelt on the floor with the jar held in front of her; she was staring fixedly at the writhing black shadows trapped inside.

‘Umm, Queenie,’ she nodded at Kitty and raised an eyebrow.

‘Oh yes,’ she replied and quickly took the jar from Kitty’s hands. ‘I’ll have that dear.’

Queenie walked away from her and put the jar carefully on the table. ‘There, it can sit there for a minute.’

Gordon picked up the chairs and pushed Kitty into one. He knelt down in front of her and stared into her glazed eyes.  ‘Kitty? Are you okay?’ he lifted a hand and smoothed her tousled hair back from her face. ‘Kitty?’ he repeated.

She blinked and looked at him blankly for a minute before smiling faintly.  ‘I’m fine Gordon.’

‘Thank goodness, I was getting worried,’ he said relieved. ‘Sit here and I’ll get something for us to drink; I need one after all this!’

Queenie and Sybil joined her around the table.

‘What a good idea Gordon. Whiskey if you have some.’

‘Sherry?’ asked Sybil.

‘I’ll have a look, it’s not something we usually drink but there may be some in the cupboard.’

 He looked nervously at the black shadow in the jar. ‘He will stay in there?’

Sybil nodded and looked at William who was still hovering over her.

‘Come and sit down,’ she pulled out a chair for him and patted the seat. ‘Come on dear.’

He sat down slowly, still looking very shocked. He stared across the table at Kitty who was sitting hunched over, with her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. She was still staring blankly at the jar.

He looked at the swirling mass inside.

‘Will somebody please explain now?’

The two sisters looked at each other. ‘You or me?’ said Sybil.

‘I’ll do it, I’ll be more succinct. You tend to waffle dear. Well,’ she started ‘I suppose you’ve heard about Hannah?’ she looked at him raising an eyebrow. William nodded. ‘Hannah was accused of being a witch by a local farmer.’

He nodded impatiently. ‘Yes, yes. I know that, Kitty told me.’

‘It was Robert who paid the white witch to get rid of her.’

William stared at Queenie. ‘That was my grandfather?’ he looked across at Kitty. ‘You didn’t tell me it was him.’

‘We didn’t know then, Sybil told us yesterday.’

William rubbed his chin. ‘Go on,’ he said.

‘Robert spread a lot of nasty tales about her, killing animals, blighting crops that sort of thing. Now whether he killed her or the white witch did, nobody really knows for certain but for myself I think he did it. But the man, Evans I think his name was, was paid one hundred pounds, which was a lot of money in those days. Anyway, to cut a long story short Kitty’s great grandmother Ava worked for Robert when she was young girl and she was friends with Hannah.  At the inquest Ava testified that she had seen Robert threatening to kill Hannah but her evidence was discounted. It seems the whole matter was hushed up, Hannah’s death was put down as water on the brain. Robert never forgot or forgave Ava for standing up in court and denouncing him and Robert’s spirit took exception to Ava’s descendant returning to live on his land.’ Queenie looked at him calmly. ‘And you saw for yourself how he felt about it.’

William still looked confused. ‘Is this why you were asking all those questions about Hannah and Samuel?’

Kitty nodded.

‘Oh,’ he stared at his hands clenched on the table. ‘And you think Hannah was murdered?’ he asked the three women.

‘I know this has been a shock William,’ Sybil leant towards him in concern. ‘But the circumstances surrounding her death were very strange.’

‘Yes,’ interrupted Kitty. ‘Her body was found hanging over a branch of a tree, and there was blood inside the cottage. In the account we found it was believed that she was killed by the devil himself.’

‘By the devil himself,’ he repeated quietly to himself looking blankly at the wall.

Sybil gently took his hand. ‘Now nobody is saying that Robert was the devil. Ah Gordon,’ she said looking towards the door. ‘That’s well timed; I think that William could do with a stiff drink.’

Gordon came in with a tray of glasses and a full bottle of whiskey. He looked at William’s pale face and poured a tumbler full of whiskey and put in front of him.

‘There you go, now,’ he said turning to Sybil. ‘No sherry I’m afraid, it’s going to have to be this.’ He filled four glasses and handed them out.

He lifted his glass. ‘Thank goodness that’s over with.’

‘Indeed,’ agreed William sipping his whiskey, he coughed slightly. ‘I’m not used to drinking whiskey.’ He took another gulp. ‘But this is going down well.’

Queenie drained her glass in one gulp and waved the empty glass at Gordon.

‘Nice, could do with a bit more though Gordon.’

Kitty was nursing her glass in clasped hands and staring blankly at the wall, Gordon looked across at her anxiously and put his hand on her shoulder. He squeezed it, ‘Are you feeling okay?’

She didn’t answer but suddenly leant forward and chinked her glass against the jar.

 ‘Up yours Robert!’ she said firmly. She looked up and met Queenies quizzical gaze. ‘Well?’ she asked defiantly.

 There was a stunned silence for a while until the two sisters started laughing.

 ‘I agree with that,’ said Gordon grinning slightly. They started laughing and all raised their glasses in the toast.

Gordon knelt down next to her and put his arms around her. ‘Thank God that’s all over, I’ve been so worried about you.’

She didn’t answer, just put her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder.

‘A witch though! How ridiculous,’ said William after a while.

Gordon straightened up and gave Kitty a kiss on the top of her head. ‘Yes and apparently she could turn herself into a hare!’ he said with smile.

‘Now that is ridiculous,’ agreed Queenie taking another sip of her whiskey. ‘A hare of all things, in the country as well. Is it jugged hare or jugged rabbit that they are so fond of around here?’ she asked her sister.

Sybil thought for a while. ‘Both, I think,’ she said rather muzzily. Her cheeks had gone a delicate shade of pink.

 ‘Are you alright Sybil?’ asked Queenie grinning.

‘I’m not used to whiskey you know. Nice bit of meat on a hare,’ she continued. ‘Makes a good pie. She wouldn’t turn herself in to a hare.’ Her eyes were slightly out of focus and Queenie prudently took the glass away from her.

 ‘I think you’ve had enough, Sybil.’

Gordon thoughtfully stared at Queenie while toying with his glass.

‘Why didn’t he just arrange an ‘accident’ instead of trumping up anything as ridiculous as that, accusing her of witchcraft of all things!’

Queenie glanced across the table at Sybil who was staring blearily at him.

 ‘Well... what do you call a witch? Black pointy hat and broomstick?’

He stared at her and smiled but his smile faded when he saw the serious expression on her sister’s face.

‘What?’ he asked flatly.

‘It’s difficult to explain but Hannah had certain abilities, shall we say, and she used this power to heal and her knowledge of herbs was well, amazing. Some people would view this as witchcraft I suppose.’ Queenie looked Gordon sternly in the eye. ‘She was a good woman and never harmed anybody and until Robert started all this fuss it was never a problem, they were grateful enough when they needed her.’

‘I think they just turned a blind eye. I say Gordon do you think I could have a coffee, that whiskey has gone straight to my head,’ asked Sybil.

‘Yes of course,’ he seemed confused for a minute, gathered his thoughts and got up slowly from the table.  ‘So you mean after all this,’ he said indignantly. ‘She was a bloody witch?’

‘Gordon!’ exclaimed Sybil in distress. ‘She looked after so many people in the village and beyond, they used to come from miles around to get her advice. It was a black day when the village lost Hannah, in more ways than one.’

He looked apologetic. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that Sybil. Look I’ll just go and make some coffee, I’m having problems thinking straight,’ he hesitated and tried to speak calmly ‘I think the milk has gone off so it will have to be black.’

‘That will be fine.’ she turned to William who had been unusually silent while they talked. ‘Do you need a coffee?’

‘Oh yes I think I had better, I’m having problems thinking straight as well.’ he frowned to himself and went on slowly ‘Kitty, do you remember you were talking about Samuel’s death? How he drowned?’ He stared across the table at Queenie. ‘Did Robert have a hand in that as well?’

 She looked uncomfortable and took another sip of her drink before answering.

 ‘Oh dear, I’m sorry William, but yes I think he probably did.’

He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes for a minute. ‘No wonder father never said anything about his death, mother never mentioned it either, the bastard,’ he added feelingly. ‘His own brother. What a monster.’

‘I wonder why he was like that?’ mused Kitty. ‘What made him become so ...well,’ she hesitated.

‘Evil?’ added William.

‘Sorry, but yes.’

He shook his head. ‘Bad blood, but there was nobody else in the family like that, so why he would turn out like it... strange,’ he mused sadly.

Gordon returned with a tray of coffee. ‘I’ve made coffee for everybody,’ he said. ‘And I found some biscuits as well.’ he placed the tray on the table and glanced around the table. ‘You’re all looking very glum, what have I missed?’

‘We were discussing Samuel,’ said Kitty.

‘Oh,’ he said thoughtfully and looked across at William. ‘I’m sorry.’

He looked up. ‘That’s alright Gordon, but I just never knew about any of this’ he stared at the jar on the table. ‘And what are we going to do with that?’

Queenie stirred a couple of spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee.

‘Well,’ she said staring about the rubbish strewn room. ‘I need my bag for that.’

Kitty eventually found it behind the sofa, she handed it over after giving it a vigorous shake.

‘Be careful it’s covered in little shards of glass.’

Queenie took it carefully and opened it, a shower of window glass scattered over the table.

‘Oh dear look at all this,’ she looked around the room. ‘I’m afraid your front room is in a bit of a mess.’

The window frame had splintered and was hanging half way into the room, the curtain rail had come down and there were strange scorch marks on the carpet. Gordon looked around at the mess.

 ‘Never mind,’ he said slowly. ‘It’s nothing that can’t be fixed, and,’ he added brightly ‘I didn’t like the carpet anyway.’ Gordon looked apologetically at Kitty. ‘Sorry dear.’

Kitty shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter.’ she watched Queenie pull out a bundle of small sticks from her bag. ‘What are those for?’

She separated the bundle and pulled out one of the sticks.  ‘Well,’ she held it up. ‘This is rowan.’ She found another. ‘This is holly and this,’ she held up one covered in thorns. ‘This is bramble.’

‘And?’

‘They are all very effective in holding evil at bay.’ Queenie started spacing the sticks around the jar and tying them on with red thread. ‘This will hold him inside the jar.’

Gordon sipped his coffee and watched.

‘Don’t look like that Gordon,’ she said without looking up.

‘I didn’t say anything!’ he protested but he carried on. ‘What happens if the jar breaks?’

‘We’re going to put it somewhere really safe.’

‘Where exactly?’

‘We’re going to put him where he should be,’ she said firmly with a wicked glint in her eye.

Sybil nodded. ‘I hope the village will be quiet, we don’t want anybody watching us.’

Gordon looked at them and winced slightly. ‘Oh dear, what have you got in mind?’

‘We’re going to put the jar into his grave,’ Queenie said firmly. She looked at William. ‘Any objections?’

‘Not from me,’ he said quietly.

Kitty sipped her coffee thoughtfully. ‘And he’ll stay in the jar?’

She nodded. ‘Oh yes he’ll stay trapped in there.’

‘For all eternity,’ added Sybil. ‘It doesn’t seem like a very nice thing to do to him but,’ she looked around, ‘I don’t think we want to go through this again do we?’

They nodded in agreement and Gordon reached across the table and squeezed Kitty’s hand.

‘I wouldn’t want you or the girls to have to experience this again.’

‘You’ll be able to move back into the house and know that everything will be okay,’ Queenie smiled at them both and nodded in satisfaction. ‘Although you will have to do a few repairs.’

‘I can help with that Gordon,’ William held up his hand when he started to protest. ‘No, no, I insist, it’s the least I can do for you both.’

Kitty smiled at him. ‘That is so kind of you, and we would be happy for you to help, wouldn’t we?’ she looked at her husband for confirmation.

‘I wouldn’t want to lose you as a neighbour, either of you.’ William smiled at Kitty as he spoke.

She impulsively got up and went round the table to give him a hug.  ‘William, if it hadn’t been for me moving back in you wouldn’t have known about any of this. It must be so upsetting for you.’

William patted her on the back. ‘That’s alright Kitty, this isn’t your fault.’

Queenie looked at her watch ‘It’s getting late, let’s get on with it shall we?’ She picked up the twig covered jar and put in her bag. She slung it over her shoulder and helped Sybil to her feet.  ‘Okay Sybil, sobered up yet?’

‘I’m fine now,’ her sister straightened her clothes and smoothed her hair carefully. ‘I’m just not used to strong alcohol.’

‘Me neither,’ said William taking her arm. ‘Come on dear, we can hold each other up.’

Gordon helped Kitty put her jacket on then patted his pockets.

 ‘Where did I put the keys?’

‘The kitchen?’

He headed back into the kitchen and called through a few minutes later.  ‘Found them, next to the boiler.’ He took his coat off the end of the banister and shrugged it on.  ‘Right, so it’s down to the graveyard?’

Queenie nodded and opened the front door.

Do you remember where his grave is?’ asked Sybil suddenly. ‘Because I can’t and I don’t fancy wandering around there all night trying to find it.’

Gordon paused in the doorway looking out into the dark night.

 ‘I have a torch in the garage,’ he looked outside. ‘And it’s pitch black out here now so I think we’re going to need it. A dark graveyard isn’t my idea of fun you know,’ he looked at his wife. ‘Does Kitty need to come? Perhaps it would be better if she waited in the car.’

Queenie walked over to his car and opened the back door.

‘Stop fussing Gordon and yes I do know where it is Sybil, and yes, a torch would be a good idea and a spade if you have one. There,’ she sighed. ‘Did I answer everybody’s question?’

She looked around enquiringly. ‘Yes? Good let’s go.’