What People are Saying - Goodreads
What People are Saying
Sara Pascoe
Being a Witch And Other Things I Didn’t Ask For
Trindles & Green
Copyright © 2016, 2015 by Sara Pascoe. www.sarapascoe.net [email protected] ISBN: 978-0-9935747-3-3 (paperback) ISBN: 978-0-9935747-4-0 (epub) Published by Trindles and Green Ltd Loxwood House, 6 Alumdale Road Bournemouth BH4 8HX United Kingdom www.trindlesandgreen.com Simon Avery, Cover Design www.idobookcovers.com Lindsey Alexander, Editor www.lindsey-alexander.com Helen Baggott, Copy-Editor www.helenbaggott.co.uk Book design, www.wordzworth.com The right of Sara Pascoe to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988, UK. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the copyright holder.
Being a Witch
CHAPTER 1
THESE BOOTS ARE MADE FOR WALKING ‘Take this, Rachel, in case you need it,’ Jake said as he dropped something into the pocket of her cargo trousers. He’d slipped into her room while she was globbing on her mascara. She glanced at his reflection next to hers, surprised how young eleven looked to her now. The sun slashed through the windows this July evening, and the field behind the cottage made a chocolate-box setting. This was one of the nicest foster homes she’d ever been in. But she’d had more than enough by now – it was time to launch out on her own. ‘You know it’s Raya, you eejit,’ she said affectionately. She fished out the items from her pocket: a two-pound coin and a chocolate bar. ‘Thanks, mate, but I can’t take your money.’ She returned the coin but pocketed the Dairy Milk bar. ‘Don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I’ve got to get a move on, running late as it is.’ She went back to rimming her eyes with black eyeliner – ‘war paint’ he called it. They’d only known each other a few weeks, since Jake moved into Angie’s too, but as Raya often found with other foster kids, you either clicked or you didn’t and that was that. She and Jake got on ‘like a gut full of bacteria’ in his words, being quite the brainbox. Still, she’d kept her distance. This is goodbye anyway – I’m out of here. The boy gulped and nodded. Raya returned to the mirror and daubed on lip gloss. ‘Please don’t go, Raya. It’s not that bad.’ Jake looked down at his feet. ‘You’ll be fine. Angie’s all right, just a bit boring.’ ‘Yeah, but you show me things, and well…’ His lip trembled.
1
Being a Witch
‘Hey, don’t worry. I’ll text you – tell you all about it,’ she said absent-mindedly. ‘You will?’ She turned and looked him in the eye. ‘Yeah, but you can’t tell ANYONE.’ ‘Course I won’t.’ She could only worry about herself right now. She was determined to have her own life, at least while she was still sane. Her mum had a ‘bad case of schizophrenia’ as the social workers called it, which made Raya wonder if there was ever a good case. Over the last months, Raya had started hearing and seeing odd things. They didn’t match her mother’s description of schizophrenia – ‘like living in your own personal horror movie’. Instead, Raya got simple pictures or sounds: the colour orange when she thought about her current foster carer, Angie; the sound of church bells right before something changed in her life, like getting a new social worker last week. I’ll be happy to miss that circus. Raya didn’t tell anyone about these things she saw or heard, afraid of finding out she was losing her mind like her mother. Besides, having had a bellyful of being in care, this was one more reason to get out and have a life of her own – while she could. Tonight she’d meet her boyfriend Tony – he was in foster care, too – at eight o’clock in front of the petrol station. From there, they would sneak onto the train at Earlswood and stay with Tony’s cousin in Brighton for a night or two, until they got settled. Raya and Tony had fake IDs saying they were sixteen, only a year and a few months away for Raya, so they could work. Tony could fix cars. She’d get a job in a shop or something. They’d make enough to get by. Besides, Tony told her he had a surprise for her tonight. Maybe it was something they could sell.
2
Being a Witch
‘Hey, kids. Dinner,’ Angie called from the front room. Raya looked over her shoulder as Jake moped towards the table. A pan of macaroni and cheese steamed. Raya’s stomach gurgled. My luck – figures she’d make my favourite tonight. She grabbed her oversized second-hand black leather jacket and rucksack and threaded through the crowded front room towards the door. Angie, dressed as always in an embarrassingly bright top and leggings, stood with her ovenmitted hands on her hips. Jake slumped into his usual chair. Angie frowned. ‘You all right, mate?’ She patted the boy’s head with a still oven-mitted hand. He ducked, nodded, but didn’t say anything. At the front door, Raya hoisted on her jacket and swung her rucksack over a shoulder. ‘I’m going to Gemma’s for pizza and to work on our history project. Remember?’ ‘Tonight? I thought that was tomorrow.’ Angie popped into the kitchen for the salad. ‘No, it’s tonight.’ She had to get going if she was going to get there in time. Angie put the food on the table and made her way to the door. ‘Wait a minute. Let me say goodbye.’ ‘It’s not a big deal. I’ll be back in a bit.’ There was a knock at the door. Perfect – something to occupy Angie and let me slip out. Raya opened the door. It was her new social worker who appeared more surprised than Raya was. Her lumpy jumper was askew and it looked like she brushed her hair with a whisk.
3
Being a Witch
‘Oh, sorry,’ the social worker said looking up at the name of the cottage. ‘I momentarily forgot you live here, um, Rachel. Didn’t mean to bother you, I’ve lost my cat…’ She poked behind a bush. Angie joined them at the door. ‘Hi, Miss Braxton, nice to see you.’ Miss Braxton snagged her sweater as she stood up. ‘Hi, Miss Reece. I’m ever so sorry to disturb you – my cat’s run off again, in this direction. I only live over there.’ She gestured towards an old stone cottage with purple trim and a turquoise door. Figures. It was beyond the field behind Angie’s cottage. ‘He keeps sneaking onto the trains heading for London. Thought I’d save myself a trip to whatever train station they throw him off at.’ And SHE’S supposed to sort out MY life? ‘Sneaking on trains? That’s pretty clever,’ Angie said. Bryony sighed. ‘I’ll give him that.’ ‘No, I haven’t seen any extra cats around. Have you, kids?’ Angie turned to look at Jake who sat at the table eating. He shook his head. Oh for God’s sake. I can’t miss my life because of some dumb cat. ‘No, I haven’t seen it. But, Miss Braxton – why don’t you use your powers to find him, being a witch and all?’ Raya gave an innocent smile: didn’t believe in all this witching stuff, thought it was a load of rubbish people made up to feel better about themselves. This woman certainly needed to. ‘Rachel… we all know Miss Braxton’s an “integrator”.’ A taxi rumbled past them at the end of the short, unmade road. Bryony laughed. ‘I don’t mind the old term. You’re right, Rachel, my skills aren’t helping at the moment – they’re not fail-safe, unfortunately.’ She looked behind some more bushes.
4
Being a Witch
Raya felt embarrassed for her. ‘Right, sorry. I was just leaving. Bye, Angie. Bye, Miss Braxton.’ She had to stop herself from saying ‘have a nice life’. She stepped away, but Miss Bryony Braxton, social worker and witch, or the more politically correct term, integrator, grabbed her arm. ‘Wait, I just saw something,’ Bryony said, squinting into the middle distance. ‘I’m only getting flashes, but Raya, don’t go…’ Bryony’s grip felt like a magnet stuck to her arm. Raya saw multi-coloured swirls. She yanked her arm away. ‘Sorry,’ Bryony said. ‘I’m only off to my friend Gemma’s. I’ll be fine.’ Without giving them a chance to respond, she crunched down the gravel road then ran to catch the taxi.
5
Sara Pascoe
Being a Witch And Other Things I Didn’t Ask For
Trindles & Green
Copyright © 2016, 2015 by Sara Pascoe. www.sarapascoe.net [email protected] ISBN: 978-0-9935747-3-3 (paperback) ISBN: 978-0-9935747-4-0 (epub) Published by Trindles and Green Ltd Loxwood House, 6 Alumdale Road Bournemouth BH4 8HX United Kingdom www.trindlesandgreen.com Simon Avery, Cover Design www.idobookcovers.com Lindsey Alexander, Editor www.lindsey-alexander.com Helen Baggott, Copy-Editor www.helenbaggott.co.uk Book design, www.wordzworth.com The right of Sara Pascoe to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988, UK. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the copyright holder.
Being a Witch
CHAPTER 1
THESE BOOTS ARE MADE FOR WALKING ‘Take this, Rachel, in case you need it,’ Jake said as he dropped something into the pocket of her cargo trousers. He’d slipped into her room while she was globbing on her mascara. She glanced at his reflection next to hers, surprised how young eleven looked to her now. The sun slashed through the windows this July evening, and the field behind the cottage made a chocolate-box setting. This was one of the nicest foster homes she’d ever been in. But she’d had more than enough by now – it was time to launch out on her own. ‘You know it’s Raya, you eejit,’ she said affectionately. She fished out the items from her pocket: a two-pound coin and a chocolate bar. ‘Thanks, mate, but I can’t take your money.’ She returned the coin but pocketed the Dairy Milk bar. ‘Don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I’ve got to get a move on, running late as it is.’ She went back to rimming her eyes with black eyeliner – ‘war paint’ he called it. They’d only known each other a few weeks, since Jake moved into Angie’s too, but as Raya often found with other foster kids, you either clicked or you didn’t and that was that. She and Jake got on ‘like a gut full of bacteria’ in his words, being quite the brainbox. Still, she’d kept her distance. This is goodbye anyway – I’m out of here. The boy gulped and nodded. Raya returned to the mirror and daubed on lip gloss. ‘Please don’t go, Raya. It’s not that bad.’ Jake looked down at his feet. ‘You’ll be fine. Angie’s all right, just a bit boring.’ ‘Yeah, but you show me things, and well…’ His lip trembled.
1
Being a Witch
‘Hey, don’t worry. I’ll text you – tell you all about it,’ she said absent-mindedly. ‘You will?’ She turned and looked him in the eye. ‘Yeah, but you can’t tell ANYONE.’ ‘Course I won’t.’ She could only worry about herself right now. She was determined to have her own life, at least while she was still sane. Her mum had a ‘bad case of schizophrenia’ as the social workers called it, which made Raya wonder if there was ever a good case. Over the last months, Raya had started hearing and seeing odd things. They didn’t match her mother’s description of schizophrenia – ‘like living in your own personal horror movie’. Instead, Raya got simple pictures or sounds: the colour orange when she thought about her current foster carer, Angie; the sound of church bells right before something changed in her life, like getting a new social worker last week. I’ll be happy to miss that circus. Raya didn’t tell anyone about these things she saw or heard, afraid of finding out she was losing her mind like her mother. Besides, having had a bellyful of being in care, this was one more reason to get out and have a life of her own – while she could. Tonight she’d meet her boyfriend Tony – he was in foster care, too – at eight o’clock in front of the petrol station. From there, they would sneak onto the train at Earlswood and stay with Tony’s cousin in Brighton for a night or two, until they got settled. Raya and Tony had fake IDs saying they were sixteen, only a year and a few months away for Raya, so they could work. Tony could fix cars. She’d get a job in a shop or something. They’d make enough to get by. Besides, Tony told her he had a surprise for her tonight. Maybe it was something they could sell.
2
Being a Witch
‘Hey, kids. Dinner,’ Angie called from the front room. Raya looked over her shoulder as Jake moped towards the table. A pan of macaroni and cheese steamed. Raya’s stomach gurgled. My luck – figures she’d make my favourite tonight. She grabbed her oversized second-hand black leather jacket and rucksack and threaded through the crowded front room towards the door. Angie, dressed as always in an embarrassingly bright top and leggings, stood with her ovenmitted hands on her hips. Jake slumped into his usual chair. Angie frowned. ‘You all right, mate?’ She patted the boy’s head with a still oven-mitted hand. He ducked, nodded, but didn’t say anything. At the front door, Raya hoisted on her jacket and swung her rucksack over a shoulder. ‘I’m going to Gemma’s for pizza and to work on our history project. Remember?’ ‘Tonight? I thought that was tomorrow.’ Angie popped into the kitchen for the salad. ‘No, it’s tonight.’ She had to get going if she was going to get there in time. Angie put the food on the table and made her way to the door. ‘Wait a minute. Let me say goodbye.’ ‘It’s not a big deal. I’ll be back in a bit.’ There was a knock at the door. Perfect – something to occupy Angie and let me slip out. Raya opened the door. It was her new social worker who appeared more surprised than Raya was. Her lumpy jumper was askew and it looked like she brushed her hair with a whisk.
3
Being a Witch
‘Oh, sorry,’ the social worker said looking up at the name of the cottage. ‘I momentarily forgot you live here, um, Rachel. Didn’t mean to bother you, I’ve lost my cat…’ She poked behind a bush. Angie joined them at the door. ‘Hi, Miss Braxton, nice to see you.’ Miss Braxton snagged her sweater as she stood up. ‘Hi, Miss Reece. I’m ever so sorry to disturb you – my cat’s run off again, in this direction. I only live over there.’ She gestured towards an old stone cottage with purple trim and a turquoise door. Figures. It was beyond the field behind Angie’s cottage. ‘He keeps sneaking onto the trains heading for London. Thought I’d save myself a trip to whatever train station they throw him off at.’ And SHE’S supposed to sort out MY life? ‘Sneaking on trains? That’s pretty clever,’ Angie said. Bryony sighed. ‘I’ll give him that.’ ‘No, I haven’t seen any extra cats around. Have you, kids?’ Angie turned to look at Jake who sat at the table eating. He shook his head. Oh for God’s sake. I can’t miss my life because of some dumb cat. ‘No, I haven’t seen it. But, Miss Braxton – why don’t you use your powers to find him, being a witch and all?’ Raya gave an innocent smile: didn’t believe in all this witching stuff, thought it was a load of rubbish people made up to feel better about themselves. This woman certainly needed to. ‘Rachel… we all know Miss Braxton’s an “integrator”.’ A taxi rumbled past them at the end of the short, unmade road. Bryony laughed. ‘I don’t mind the old term. You’re right, Rachel, my skills aren’t helping at the moment – they’re not fail-safe, unfortunately.’ She looked behind some more bushes.
4
Being a Witch
Raya felt embarrassed for her. ‘Right, sorry. I was just leaving. Bye, Angie. Bye, Miss Braxton.’ She had to stop herself from saying ‘have a nice life’. She stepped away, but Miss Bryony Braxton, social worker and witch, or the more politically correct term, integrator, grabbed her arm. ‘Wait, I just saw something,’ Bryony said, squinting into the middle distance. ‘I’m only getting flashes, but Raya, don’t go…’ Bryony’s grip felt like a magnet stuck to her arm. Raya saw multi-coloured swirls. She yanked her arm away. ‘Sorry,’ Bryony said. ‘I’m only off to my friend Gemma’s. I’ll be fine.’ Without giving them a chance to respond, she crunched down the gravel road then ran to catch the taxi.
5
