Helen Speaks

Lucy Skylark Entry 23, 18th August.

Dear Vera,

My friend and fellow teenage witch Olive Framley has been a bit distant lately. We don’t always spend time together, but sometimes it feels important to me, at least, to make sure we’ve had the chance to speak and talk about magic things. There are some things that only a fellow witch understands – even Teddy’s still learning, and he’s my familiar.

I try to wander to her cottage at least once or twice a week, and Mrs Webfoot tries to get her around for Sunday lunch as often as possible, but every time I’ve seen her lately, she’s been dashing in or out, and she turned up at the end of Sunday lunch with some flowers for Mrs W, then dashed off again.

Then later on, Firenze her familiar – he’s a Chinese Water Dragon with powers of teleportation, if you didn’t remember – appeared in the living room. I was sketching, Teddy lounging on a sofa looking very comfortable for someone who’s non-corporeal, and Mrs Webfoot had some household mending she was doing.

Teddy noticed Firenze first. “Hey – hey Lucy – it’s Olive’s lizard.”

Firenze was pacing around the coffee table, as if he was in some stress. “Mrs Webfoot – look, Firenze is here.”

“Oh! I’ll never get used to that,” she said. “He’s a clever thing, though, isn’t he. Does he ever talk?”

“Not as far as I know,” I said. “Do you think he’s all right?”

He’d started chewing at a footstool. Mrs Webfoot shooed him off, and he made a strange little growl at her in response.

“Well we can’t help you,” she told him. “You’re Jenny – I mean, Olive’s familiar. Why would you come so far from…”

She trailed off and I had a cold feeling. I crouched down, and he paced in a circle. “Is there something wrong with Olive?” I asked him.

In response, he grabbed my sleeve and pulled.

“I ain’t no animal expert,” Teddy said. “But I think he wants you to go with him.”

There was a shimmer in air, and one of his portals opened. Mrs Webfoot gasped. “It’s safe,” I told her. “I’ll follow – you could come too…”

“Not into that,” she said, with entirely understandable apprehension. “But I’ll come down to Crag Cottage – I hope that’s where you’re going…”

“I’ll see you there,” I said, and I followed Firenze.

Teleportation is not for the weak of stomach, Vera! I felt like my insides had been turned upside down. But luckily, we were at Crag Cottage – and I found Olive huddled on the sofa, curled up under a blanket.

“Olive?” I patted her gently. “It’s me, Lucy. Firenze seemed to think something was wrong.”

She opened her eyes, slowly. They looked puffy and red. “Oh – no, please don’t. I’ll be all right – just go…”

“Are you ill? Or injured? Has something happened?”

She groaned, and curled up even further so the blanket obscured her face. “No – no I’m fine. Firenze must be confused. He gets like that when he’s near shedding.”

I didn’t believe her at all. How could you? But how can you make something better if someone won’t let you help?

“If you are ill,” I said, “I have something that might help. I know a witch with powerful healing magic…”

“No – leave me alone,” Olive said, sounding impatient despite her hoarse voice.

I looked at Firenze. Teddy hadn’t come – oh, of course, I would have needed to bring his case.

I went to put the kettle on. That’s what Mum does whenever there’s a crisis. It’s a good starting point.

Crag Cottage looked messier than usual. Olive has a housemaid, so that isn’t usually a problem. And in the kitchen, Pompom was mewling for food. I found some cat biscuits and put them down for her, freshened up her water.

Just as the kettle was boiling, I heard a thump and a serious of scuffles outside, and opening the door to check what was going on, Mrs Webfoot came in, triumphantly holding the ear of…

Some kind of fairy? A wood elf, perhaps? It looked both like a person and like a tree.

“Found this one skulking outside,” she said.

“Ow – let me go, you witch!”

“Oh, I’m not the witch here – but I have two you can meet…”

“And that trap was a nasty trick!”

I glanced through to the little living room to see that Olive was sitting bolt upright. She jumped up, leaving the blanket in her wake. “It’s the intruder! Hatty said there was someone…”

She stared at the person-tree in clear surprise. “What are you?”

“What am I? Not a how-do-you-do, is it?” said the creature. “Leaves a nasty rune for me and demands what I am. Well, what are you?”

“I am the witch that made that rune,” she said. “And this is my cottage. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, cottages. The flesh and bone always think they own the place, even though they’ve barely been here a breath of time! And this one pinches!”

“I’ll pinch even harder if you’re here to hurt my niece,” Mrs Webfoot said, with that hard voice she has. It cowered a little.

“Not in the business of hurting anyone, not like the flesh and bone,” it said. “I’m at work in the wild places – while they still bloom… Let me go…”

Mrs W looked to Olive for her next move – Olive nodded slowly. “My aunty will let go of you in a moment – but say you’ll stay. We won’t hurt you.” Her voice sounded softer, now, with a gentleness I wasn’t used to hearing from her. “We just want to know you. We know so little.”

With obvious reluctance, Mrs W let go of the ear and the creature rubbed it where she had pinched, reproachfully.

“I thought you were a person,” Olive said. “One of the flesh and bone, is that what you call us? I’ve been having problems with reporters. But you’re not one of those, so we don’t have a quarrel – I’d just like to know why you’re here.”

She seemed to have this in hand, so I made the tea. Poor Mrs W looked out of her depth.

It turned out the visitor was a Summer Sprite, Vera. They go from place to place in the summer, helping flowers bloom and insects buzz, bringing the cooler breezes with the summer sun. But obviously everything’s changing too fast. We’ve had so many hot summer days. It told us how animal friends were disappearing, how old trees were struggling.

Olive looked at me and sighed. “Sounds like a job for Lucy,” she said. She gestured the Summer Sprite towards me. “Lucy listens to trees and makes friends with animals. She’s the witch you need…”

And she went back into the living room.

Maybe Olive was right. Her magic always seems to be spells and incantations, and magical objects! But suddenly I wished she wasn’t right – because she seems to need to feel needed.

I know I can’t solve every ecological crisis, but I thought that perhaps I could help along some rewilding. That’s how I got started as a witch, after all. I turned to Mrs Webfoot. “I think Olive needs help from us, somehow, but she wouldn’t tell me anything. I think I can help our guest, though…”

“Go,” she told me. “I’ll stay here – hopefully I can get something out of Olive.”

I went out with the Summer Sprite, and we found litter, which I gathered, and a struggling copse of birch trees that I managed to revive with magic. Together, the Summer Sprite and I managed to bring a little rain to a parched corner, bring out some flowers that had faded. “We can’t interfere too much,” it told me. “But a little help from a magical flesh and bone – that should be allowed. We hold back the crumbling for another day.”

This gave me a warm glow. I wish Olive had come with us. I know this isn’t her sort of magic, but she’s clever with her different spells. She’s smart at coming up with solutions to things. Except it seems she’s run into something she’s struggling to solve.

When I got back to the cottage, Mrs Webfoot had tidied up a little, and Pompom the kitten had curled up next to Olive, who was back in a ball on the sofa.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Mrs Webfoot told them. Firenze made one of his funny noises. “Tomorrow – look after my niece in the mean time,” she told him.

I’m worried about her, Vera. I never thought I’d be worried about Olive.

Your friend,

Lucy.