Witch Silenced in Westerham

When Will invites Lily to meet his grandmother at the Saint Catherine Laboure care home for witches, she learns the residents have been dying at an alarming rate. Will’s grandmother is scared she’ll be next—but they put it down to the paranoid ramblings of a dementia patient. Until Will’s grandmother dies unexpectedly for no apparent reason….

To find the killer, Angelica volunteers to go undercover, being one of the only older agents in the PIB. Lily’s magic reveals her mentor is in mortal danger, but despite Lily’s arguments, Angelica takes the assignment.

Can Lily use her witchy skills to unravel the mystery before someone she loves becomes the next victim?

The cloying odour of disinfectant did its best to overpower the stench of human waste lurking somewhere in the building. Somewhere close. The smell forced its way past the inadequate protection of my vigilant hand. I had to remind myself I was here to support Will, and running back the way we’d come wasn’t what a good support person would do. It wasn’t even the behaviour of an adequate support person, and surely, I could at least be adequate. That’s the spirit, Lily. Aim high.

Will’s fist hovered in front of the door before dropping to his side for the third time. His inability to knock on the door was starting to worry me. I squeezed his hand but didn’t offer any words. I’d never been faced with the tragedy of having a loved one with Alzheimer’s, and I had no right to tell him it would be okay. If it were easy, we would have been in with his grandmother already, rather than standing in the corridor of the Saint Catherine Laboure Care Home for over five minutes, breathing in its unfortunate bouquet.

I took my hand off my nose and mouth. “Do you want me to go in and see how she is first?” Argh, the stink. I was such a baby. I put my hand back again before I gagged. It was hard having a sensitive nose.

“No. I’m sorry. It’s just… I have no idea how she’ll be. Two weeks ago, she knew who I was, but last week and a month ago, she thought I was her husband.” He sighed. “My grandfather died twenty years ago.” I’d learned a lot about Will in the six weeks we’d been dating, and even though I hadn’t met his parents yet—I was putting that off as long as possible—he insisted I meet his gran, which made sense because who knew how much longer she’d be around. She was ninety-two, after all.

This time, I left my hand over my nose and mouth and mumbled through it. I was sure he could see the emotion in my eyes. “I know it hurts, but even if she doesn’t know who you are, at least you’ve made her happy. She probably enjoys having company, even if she doesn’t really know who it is. You’ll regret it if you don’t go in and make her happy.”

Will looked down at me and snorted. “You’re such an idiot.”

I widened my eyes in fake horror. “Oh my God, who told you?”

He laughed, which meant my work here was done. I hated seeing him sad. “Okay, then. Let’s get you out of this corridor before the fumes kill the few brain cells you have left.” He knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for a “come in.”

The room was small but not tiny. It was what you’d expect if you walked into a hospital room: white walls, a metal bed, a side table that looked like a mini filing cabinet, and two metal chairs with beige vinyl over the seat and back—not very attractive, but if someone had an accident, the chair would live to see another day.

His grandmother was a slender, long-limbed woman. Sitting on top of the covers of her neatly made bed, her legs were stretched out in front of her.  She watched the TV that hung on the opposite wall. Her bedspread broke with the clinical theme of the room and added a splash of colour with blue and yellow flowers and multi-coloured butterflies. She wore light-grey slacks, with a distinct straight crease down the front, a fuchsia button-down shirt, and a stylish scarf around her neck with more vibrant butterflies.

As soon as she laid eyes on her grandson, her face blossomed with joy. “Oh, Frank, you came to see me!”

Will’s shoulders sagged, but he quickly turned his frown into a tight smile, his forehead lines firmly in place. I guessed today was not a good day for her. “Of course I came to see you.” He went to the side of the bed, leaned down, and kissed her cheek. 

She gently patted his face. “I get so few visitors. It will be wonderful when I can get out of here. I’m so glad you could come.” She turned to me. “And who’s this?”

“This is my friend, Lily. We work together. Lily, this is Edith.” He probably couldn’t introduce me as his girlfriend because Frank, whoever he was, was probably married. We didn’t want to upset her.

“Hi. Lovely to meet you.” I gave her my brightest smile. Her skin was wrinkled, her hair white, but her eyes were the same blue as Will’s, albeit a bit duller.

She returned my smile. “Please, have a seat.” Other than not recognising Will and thinking she was going to leave here soon, she seemed fine. Her accent was suitably British and refined, her speech clear. She picked up the TV remote and switched the TV off.

Will sat in the chair closest to the bedhead, and I sat in the chair next to him. Edith fussed with the scarf. “So, Lily, what do you do at the factory? Are you Frank’s new secretary?”

“Ah… yes. I am. He’s lovely to work for, when he isn’t grumpy.” I winked at her. She laughed, and Will gave me a “you’re going to cop it later” look. I did wonder if Frank was his grandfather or a cousin, maybe an uncle.

She turned to her grandson. “How are Elspeth and the boys?”

“They’re doing well, thanks. What about you? Have you been okay?”

“Other than the terrible food, and the ward against magic use, I’m fine. I don’t know why they won’t let us use our magic. And why can’t I go home? They healed my pneumonia as soon as I got here.”

“They’re worried it might come back. The weather’s been terrible, and so many illnesses are going around.” He avoided answering her question about the ward against magic use. I could just imagine the disasters a bunch of demented witches could conjure. It was sad she didn’t even realise why she was here. Or maybe that was a good thing. Ignorance could be bliss.