The Fen Blow and the Pumpkin Kings, 8

Bill is becoming jealous of Alison and Stephen and Ted North is feeling a bit better.

The Shadowed Eve
Shirley was finding it difficult to concentrate on ordinary things. Samhain was calling and the need to polish her broom and fly above the houses and trees was becoming overwhelming. She was irritable, her fingers were itching and when she looked around her she saw a green halo around the objects that attracted her. It was definitely time to fly.

The kitchen of her sister’s pretty cottage in Witchfordley ,was already thick with the scent of dried sage, woodsmoke, and the sharp, coppery tang of Autumn air leaking through the gaps in the leaded windowpanes. On the stone floor of the kitchen, sitting with an air of immense, ancient dignity, was Bast. He was a magnificent specimen of a familiar, a colossal black tomcat with shoulders broad enough to rival a small panther and eyes that glowed like twin pieces of polished amber. Bast gave a low, rumbling purr that vibrated through the floorboards, perfectly in tune with the restless hum of magic building in Shirley’s veins.

"I know, old friend," Shirley murmured, her voice breathless as she reached for her favourite broomstick resting against the pantry door. "Tonight looks promising and we’re going to fly."

With a flick of her wrist and a quiet incantation, she gave the bristles a final, brisk sweep to clear away the accumulated dust . The broom gave a faint, answering shudder, eager for the open sky.

Moments later, they stepped out into the deepening twilight. The North Sea was just a stone's throw away, rolling in toward the rugged Norfolk coastline with a steady, slate-gray majesty. Overhead, the sky bruised from violet to deep indigo, and the first hard points of starlight began to pierce the gloom. The air smelled intensely of salt spray, wet shingle, and decaying kelp, the rich, raw scent of the edge of the world.

Shirley swung her leg over the broom, settling comfortably against the polished grain. Bast leapt up with effortless grace behind her, his heavy paws planting firmly just where the handle met the brush. He wrapped his long, midnight-coloured tail securely around her waist like a living belt, letting out a deep, satisfied sigh that blew a stray lock of Shirley’s dark hair across her face.

"Hold on, then," she whispered.

With a sharp kick off the damp pebbles, they lifted.

There was no stutter, no hesitation, just the sudden, exhilarating rush of wind catching their faces as they soared upward into the gathering dusk. Below them, the familiar rooftops of the coastal villages shrank into jagged silhouettes, chimneys exhaling thin grey ribbons of peat smoke into the Autumn chill.

Shirley banked the broom sharply toward the beach, diving in a graceful arc that brought them level with the top of the crumbling chalk cliffs. The vast expanse of the Norfolk strand stretched out before them like a pale ribbon fading into the mist. Below, the dark surf crashed against the shore, throwing up white fans of foam that glowed faintly under the rising moon.

As they sped along the coast, the wind sang through Shirley’s cloak, carrying the wild, ancient energy of Samhain. The barrier between what was and what had been felt deliciously thin tonight. Across the marshes toward the Fens she knew the shadows were gathering and the old fires were beginning to breathe, but for now, there was only the cold rush of sea air, the steady weight of her familiar, and the boundless freedom of the dark sky.

The Debt Begins to Echo
That Halloween evening 2005, the spiritual unrest of the Fens settled heavily upon the young people.

Stephen sat upright in bed at 3 a.m., drenched in cold sweat, his heart thumping loudly. The rock stars adorning his bedroom walls seemed to glare at him in silent disgust.

“Not again,” he thought. “These dreams are getting worse. I feel as if I’m going mad.”

The dreams were always the same: a dark, enclosed space, the smell of decaying earth, and a man’s silent, burning rage. But lately, Alison had been in them too.

He found Alison waiting for Bill at the village pub later that afternoon. Stephen was so consumed by the need to talk that he ignored the danger of Bill’s looming jealousy and began to tell her everything.

“You were in the dream, Alli. We were… safe together, but Bill was different. He was out of character. The fun-loving, dare-anything Bill was gone. He was so cold, so menacing. Do you remember when we were in the church, how the Holy Water fizzed when he was standing by it?”

“Yes, I do. It was scary,” Alison admitted, twisting a lock of her black hair, which hung around her beautiful dark eyes like a protective curtain. “You’re right, he’s acting out of character. He used to be such fun, but he’s not anymore and there’s another thing too. He keeps going down to the crossroads late at night, like he’s going to meet someone.”

Stephen frowned, a sudden, protective concern for Alison overriding his fear. She looked so lovely today; he couldn't stop looking at her. He knew his feelings for her were escalating, a dangerous truth he had tried to keep buried.

“Do you go with him to the crossroads, Alli?”

“No, he always takes me home first, but then I see him from my bedroom window walking towards the well, the old one, at the junction.”

“Bill goes there in my dream too, Alli. He does meet someone, but I can’t see who it is. I always wake up before I can identify the stranger.”

Stephen leaned closer, their heads nearly touching as they conspiratorially lowered their voices. He could smell the faint scent of wild mint on her hair. His heart soared with the thrill of shared secrecy.

Then, a sudden, cold wave of recognition washed over Stephen. The pub’s bright noise vanished. In his mind, he saw an ancient stone wall and heard a panicked whisper: "Alice... he knows!" The names Alice, Brother Richard, and William flashed in his mind, sharp and terrifyingly clear, like a forgotten memory erupting into the present.

He stared at Alison, suddenly seeing not his friend's girlfriend, but a woman in a faded blue dress centuries ago.

Before he could react, the door swung open. Bill strode in, accompanied by Charlie. Bill’s eyes, already narrowed with suspicion, flicked between his girlfriend and Stephen, noticing their closeness, the intimacy of the shared secret, and the rapid flush on Alison's cheeks.

“Oy, what’s up you two? What are you talking about?” Bill’s voice was too loud, laced with an immediate, chilling possessiveness.

“Nothing, Bill, nothing at all,” Stephen managed, the lie catching in his throat. He saw the cold, familiar menace of his dream flicker across Bill’s face before it vanished behind a forced smile.

The Easing of the Old
Ted North’s shingles were clearing up slowly. His face still looked bruised and raw, but the intense pain was subsiding, and the terrible swelling around his eyes was subsiding at last. He felt more like his old self, the psychological stress of the competition and the betrayal finally lifting.

His mate Harold came to visit, taking with him a large bunch of grapes and some magazines.

“Much better than last week, Harold,” Mary said, welcoming him. “He’s still tired, but he’s enjoying the attention, and Pete is looking after the pumpkins for him.”

Harold sat down opposite Ted. “You never was a stunner, Ted, but you’re looking less like a horror film extra now,” he quipped.
Ted grinned. “P’raps I should say a horror film extra?”

“Yeah, that’s more like it.”

The easy friendship was a powerful balm. He felt lighter, realizing the shingles had been a painful but ultimately human reaction to the weight of ambition and betrayal.

Mary, too, had found peace after her visit to Shirley Midnight’s cottage. Shirley had welcomed her into the porch, a threshold between the world’s worries and the sanctuary within.

“Stand here for a moment in my porch,” Shirley had advised. “This is a crossing place. Let’s think about the people who cannot find the way into happiness, and wish that they soon find the key they are looking for.”

In the warm kitchen, sipping chamomile tea, Mary found the tranquility she needed to face the impending Halloween festivities with renewed strength.

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