A Fantasy Book Series Set In England
Nature Of The Witch Trilogy by Helen T. Norwood
Series Excerpt
After waking, Jack immediately retrieved Kitto's card from the bin. He was disappointed to see that all that was on it was an address in Cornwall. What was Kitto thinking? That he'd travel all the way to Cornwall to speak to him? It was five or six hours from Coventry which was a long journey to make to see someone he met only yesterday.
What kind of person doesn't leave a telephone number? He sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands and remained that way for several hours. He didn't move and he didn't notice the cold. He replayed the events of his dream over and over. It had felt so real, the sensations and emotions, and it took a while for his heart to stop racing.
Kitto had told him that he would remember her. How had he known? Was it just a strange coincidence? How could he be sure they were even real memories? But in his heart he knew. He had spent years trying to recall his parents' features and he knew it was them. He held their image in his mind for a moment; his mum smiling at him, a face that was familiar because it was so much like his own. He had her big brown eyes and dark hair. He pictured his dad, fair haired and slim built; he could see him looking relaxed and happy as he chatted animatedly to mum.
His chest felt heavy as he thought of them. Perhaps it would be better not to remember. After all, wasn't that why he'd forgotten in the first place? Because it had all been too painful. But back then he had been a little boy. Now he was a fully grown man and he needed to find out what had happened that night.
When he finally rose from the table his joints were stiff. He stretched and headed for the shower. He put the water on full power and lifted his face to feel the force of the spray. Perhaps he was hoping it would knock some sense into him. He stood perfectly still until it felt as if the hot water had completely enveloped him and the small bathroom had filled with steam. He stayed there until he had reached a decision.
Then he slowly dried and slipped into some clothes. All the while he thought about what he needed to do. He packed a few things into a small overnight bag . Then he took a deep breath and asked himself a philosophical question. If a crazy stranger says random things about witchcraft and a guy's destiny and then the aforementioned guy travels for five hours to see the stranger again to ask questions he probably won't know the answers to about people who died over fifteen years ago, which of them is in fact the crazy one? With that question in mind he headed to his car and hit the road. He should be in Cornwall by lunchtime.
Jack drove straight to Cornwall without stopping. He contemplated stretching his legs and grabbing a bite to eat, but had a feeling that if he stopped he would come to his senses and turn back. Traffic was light and he made it in just over four hours.
However, he did stop once he'd crossed the border. He drove past the 'kernow a'gas dynnergh' sign (Welcome to Cornwall) and an inexplicable sense of peace settled over him. He took a deep breath and, as his lungs expanded and cleared, so did his head. For the first time since he'd left the house that morning he felt confident he was doing the right thing and that he was where he needed to be. Although he was aware that that in itself made no sense, because what he was doing was completely bonkers.
He found a newsagent and bought a map, a sandwich and an apple. He also used a phone box to call one of his workers, who was relieved to hear from him. He apologised for not being in touch and told him that something had come up and that they could take a couple of paid days off, which was news well received.
As he got back in the car he wondered whether it might be a good idea to purchase one of those mobile phone things he'd heard about recently but then shook his head. It would probably be a waste of money. He spread the map over the steering wheel and munched on his sandwich as he examined it. Kitto lived just outside of Truro and Jack had plotted a route in no time. Then he sat back and took in the views as he finished eating.
He had never been to Cornwall but then again he had never been to many places. There wasn't much opportunity as a child and after that he'd just been too busy working. He'd been building up his business and hadn't really thought about getting away. The first holiday he'd had was with a previous girlfriend. They'd spent a week in Egypt. He wasn't sure why but he'd felt slightly uncomfortable until he got home again.
This, however, was different. He knew it as he gazed around at the beautiful and rugged landscape. It was the strangest feeling, as though there was no rush to get home because he was already home.
Finding Kitto's address wasn't an issue, it was finding the house that was the problem. It seemed as though he drove up and down the road for an eternity before he finally noticed a little dirt track. He managed to get his car part of the way up before it became too overgrown and he was forced to stop. He climbed out and frowned at the dense shrubbery that was blocking him.
He left the car and walked a little further. He trampled his way through to a patch of trees and was about to give up and turn back when he spotted a house set against a dramatic backdrop of rolling hills and open expanse of land dotted faintly with animals. At that moment a violent gust of wind blew and Jack gripped a tree to steady himself. He was struck by a sense of remoteness; there were no fences, no front or back garden, someone had just plonked a house in the wilderness. He moved closer but on seeing the state of the building he sighed, this wasn't it. The place was a dump; no way anyone lived in it.
He could see potential though. Not only did it have breath-taking views but the house itself looked large and full of character. It was made from granite and had probably been built in the early 1900's or possibly late 1800's. At that time it would have looked very grand but neglect now meant that the brickwork was dingy and chipped, with dry, brown vines creeping up the walls at various places. There was a large withered bush at the front of the house that was so overgrown it looked as though it were conducting a sneak attack on the building and in time would encase it in its twisted branches. The windows were boarded up and there was a hole where the front door should've been. Judging by the level of disrepair, it hadn't been lived in for years.
He was about to leave when to his surprise Kitto emerged smiling and signalling for him to enter. Jack hesitated but only for a moment, then he took a deep breath and followed him in. The inside of the house was even worse than the outside. He was hit by a strong, musty odour, probably caused by the damp which made the walls a mouldy grey colour. Someone had sprayed a rude word along the hallway and he had to be careful where he trod as the exposed floorboards were rotten and broken in places. He followed Kitto through to what he supposed was the living room although a significant lack of any furniture made it hard to be sure.
A blanket had been spread out in the corner with a pillow so maybe Kitto used it as the bedroom. He wouldn't blame him, he hadn't seen them yet but he couldn't imagine the stairs were particularly stable.
The windows were boarded up which blocked out the sunlight so there were various candles dotted about the room, some teetering rather precariously and violating any sensible fire regulations.
“Are you squatting here?” Was the first thing Jack asked.
“This is my home,” Kitto replied proudly, “beautiful, isn't it? Did you find it okay?”
“No of course I didn't find it okay; you live at the end of a well concealed dirt track in a derelict house.”
“It's not derelict,” Kitto corrected him amicably, “derelict is an abandoned building which this house isn't because I live here.”
“Okay,” Jack said, wondering what on earth had possessed him to come and see this man who was so obviously a sandwich short of a picnic, “do you live here legally?”
“Of course,” Kitto said indignantly, “I own it. I only bought it recently and, granted, it needs a little work…”
Kitto ignored Jack's snort, “but it'll make an excellent base.”
“Base?” Jack repeated. “Base for what?”
“For us of course, for your training,” Kitto sat down on the blanket in the corner of the room, “now do you need a hand bringing in your stuff or shall I make us a cup of tea?”
Jack was aghast at the misunderstanding, “Oh I'm not staying long, it's just a brief visit. I mean I have to get back to work…I wanted…” he paused, “actually, I'm not entirely sure why I'm here, just for a chat I suppose. You see, you were right.”
“About your mother?” Kitto asked quietly.
Jack nodded, “I was there like you said and I can remember it. I just thought we could talk and then I'll get back on the road and head home, I won't stop long.”
Kitto smiled at him knowingly and Jack wasn't sure whether to feel annoyed or sorry for Kitto who genuinely seemed to believe that he would be moving in with him.
No way I'd spend a night under this roof, Jack thought.
“So tea then,” Kitto got back on his feet and clapped his hands together, “before you hit the road.”
“Please,” Jack said politely although he dreaded to think what state the mugs might be in, “you have a kettle?”
“Of course I have a kettle. I'm not completely uncivilised.”
“Shall I give you a hand?” Jack asked courteously.
“No need,”Kitto gestured at his blanket in the corner, “why don't you take a seat? I'll look for another chair, I'm sure I've got one somewhere.”
He wandered out and Jack loitered for a moment before deciding that if he wanted answers from Kitto he needed to keep him on side so he gingerly sat down on Kitto's blanket. He shifted uncomfortably as he felt the coldness of the floor seep through to his backside.
He was surprised when Kitto returned carrying two pristine white porcelain tea cups and saucers. He handed one to Jack and there was a rich tea biscuit next to his cup.
“Thanks,” he said, “so does this mean you have electricity?”
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