The Whitby Witches

‘I can’t hear you,’ he wailed helplessly. ‘Stop it, stop it!’ The boy closed his eyes tight shut and struggled along the landing. He had to escape from this clamouring madness and he groped for the door to Jennet’s room. The throng of spirits parted before him like scythed corn.

There it was, the doorknob. He fumbled for a moment, opened his eyes and flung himself inside.

‘What’s up?’ asked his sister in mild surprise. She was reading one of Aunt Alice’s books in bed and had obviously not heard a thing. But once she saw how pale and frightened her brother was, she hastily put the book down and held out her arms to him.

‘Oh, Jen!’ he howled, throwing himself at her. ‘They won’t leave me alone, Jen, I can’t hear what they’re trying to say. Tell them to go away, will you? I’ve never seen so many of them before.’ He sobbed into the large T-shirt she used as a nightie and the rest of what he said was unintelligible.

Jennet stroked his hair and tried to soothe him. It was a long time since Ben had had one of his turns and she wondered that he should have one now – he seemed to be so happy here.

‘Are you . . . are you seeing things again, Ben?’ she ventured.

He nodded into her shoulder. ‘Mum’s here, too,’ he cried. ‘There’s so many, Jen.’

Jennet pushed him away from her and looked steadily into his eyes. For a moment all her old suspicions about his visions had flooded back, but no, he was really scared. ‘Don’t worry,’ she told him calmly, ‘I’ll take a look outside and make sure there’s no one there.’

She got up and crossed to the door but Ben sprang past her and slammed himself against it violently. ‘Don’t go out!’ he begged. ‘You’ll let them in!’

Jennet was beginning to get worried; he had never been this terrified before. She wondered if she ought to go and ask Aunt Alice’s advice. Would she mind the interruption? This certainly seemed urgent enough.

‘Don’t worry, Ben,’ she said, pulling him from the door. ‘I won’t let anyone in, I promise.’

The boy backed towards the bed as she turned the knob and opened the door. She could see nothing out there – but he could. On the landing the crowd of souls raised their arms and surged forward. Ben screamed and collapsed on the bed.

Jennet was horrified. She raced down the stairs, calling for Aunt Alice at the top of her voice. Up to the parlour door she ran and, without knocking, thrust it open and charged inside.

A red light fell on her. For a moment the girl was confused by it, but as she looked around to find its infernal source, the truth of the situation she had stumbled into was revealed.

Seated at the round parlour table was the ladies’ circle: Miss Wethers, Mrs Joyster, Miss Droon, Mrs Banbury-Scott and Aunt Alice. They were all holding hands and looked extremely startled by Jennet’s entrance. She had interrupted a seance.

For a second Jennet could only stare back at them. Miss Wethers made an uncomfortable squeaking noise and pulled her hands away from the table to reach for a tissue.

Aunt Alice sucked her cheeks in guiltily. ‘Oh dear,’ she began, but did not know what else to say.

Jennet was speechless. She watched as Mrs Joyster tutted at her inconvenient arrival and left the table to switch on the main light. Then she leaned over the small lamp which had been fitted with a red bulb and clicked it off. ‘We’ll get no more tonight,’ she huffed disagreeably, and fixed the girl with a withering glare.

Anger quickly replaced the surprise which Jennet had at first felt. All this time Aunt Alice had deceived her! She felt cheated and used – the old woman wasn’t interested in her at all, she just wanted Ben because of his gift. Her resentment welled up until she could contain it no longer.

‘I hate you!’ she stormed. ‘You’re nothing but a load of old witches!’

She slammed the door shut and stomped upstairs to pack her things and Ben’s. They weren’t going to stay in this house any longer; she didn’t care where they went just so long as they got away.

‘Who was that?’ asked the fat Mrs Banbury-Scott, as she reached over to a plate of scones and crammed one into her gaping mouth,

‘That young lady has completely ruined the sitting,’ repeated Mrs Joyster, snorting in disgust.

Another scone disappeared into the Banbury-Scott cavern. ‘Most disagreeable child. Mmmmm . . . didn’t I see her outside the post office yesterday?’ She paused to give her tongue an airing as it came across a most peculiar taste. ‘What did you put in your jam, Tilly darling – catnip?’

Miss Wethers stared at the closed door unhappily. ‘Oh my,’ the mouse whined. ‘She didn’t seem very happy.’

Aunt Alice wiped her moist eyes. ‘No, she didn’t, did she?’ And the old lady covered her face in shame.

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