She still says nothing.
I lower the basket.
She makes a noise that is a cackle or maybe a cough, sending saliva dribbling down her chin, which she wipes away with her sleeve.
‘You never met an old witch before?’
‘Not many … well, not …’
My mumbling tails off as she peers closer at me.
She is bent almost double and has to lean back and turn sideways to look up at me. ‘Maybe you’re not so much like your father as I first thought. You certainly look like him, though.’
‘You know him … I mean … you’ve met him?’
She ignores my question and now takes the basket from me, saying, ‘For me? Presents?’
It’s as if her hearing isn’t too good, but I think she can hear fine.
She walks to the brook and sits on a patch of thin grass. I sit beside her as she pulls a jam jar out of the basket. ‘Is it plum?’
‘Apple and bramble. From our garden. My gran made it.’
‘That old bitch.’
My jaw drops open.
‘And this?’ She holds up a large earthenware tub, sealed with wax and tied with ribbon.
‘Umm … a potion to soothe aching joints.’
‘Huh!’ She sets the tub on the grass, saying, ‘She was always good at potions, though. I take it she still has a strong Gift?’
‘Yes.’
‘Nice basket too. You can never have too many baskets, I’ve found.’ She studies the basket, turning it round. ‘If you learn nothing else today, at least remember that.’
I nod stupidly and again stumble out my question, ‘Have you met Marcus?’
She ignores me and pulls out the final present, a rolled-up piece of paper tied with a thin strip of leather, which she slides off and puts into the basket, saying, ‘And a leather shoelace too. I am doing well, aren’t I? Not had a birthday like this for … for oh so long.’
Mary unrolls the paper, a pen drawing that I made of trees and squirrels. She studies it for some time before saying, ‘I believe your father likes to draw. He has a talent for it, as have you.’
Has he? How does she know this?
‘It’s polite to say “thank you” when someone pays you a compliment.’
I mumble, ‘Thank you.’
Mary smiles. ‘Good boy. Now, let’s get tea and some cake … ninety candles will be interesting.’
Much later we are sitting on the grass in silence with a picnic of tea and cake. The candles, ninety of them, counted out slowly by Mary, were placed on a small cherry cake by me, although I don’t know how they all fitted on. The candles were lit with a muttered spell at the snap of Mary’s fingers. Her spittle-laden blow wasn’t powerful enough to put out the candles so I smothered the flames in a tea towel. During all that I learnt nothing from Mary apart from the ingredients of the cake, where she kept her candles and how she wished someone would come up with a spell that kept slugs off her vegetable garden.
Now I ask her why she has invited me to her birthday party.
She says, ‘Well, I didn’t want to spend it on my own, did I?’
‘So why didn’t you invite my gran?’
Mary slurps some cold tea from her teacup and lets out a resonating belch.
‘I invited you because I wanted to talk to you, and I didn’t invite your gran because I didn’t want to talk to her.’ She belches again. ‘Oh, that cake was good.’
‘What do you want to talk about?’
‘The Council and your father. Though I don’t know much about your father. But I do know about the Council. I used to work for them.’
‘Gran told me.’
Silence.
‘What do you know about the Council, Nathan?’
I shrug. ‘I have to go for Assessments and follow their Notifications.’
‘Tell me about those.’
I stick to the facts.
Mary doesn’t ask any questions while I speak but she nods and dribbles occasionally.
‘I think they’ll kill me if I go to the next Assessment.’
‘Maybe … but I think not. There’s a reason they haven’t so far. And it’s not because they’re feeling kind and generous, you can be sure of that.’
‘Do you know the reason?’
‘I have an idea what it may be.’ She wipes her mouth with her sleeve and then pats my arm saying, ‘You will have to leave soon.’
The sun was behind the trees now. ‘Yes. It’s late.’
She grabs my arm in a tight claw-like grip. ‘No, not leave here. You must leave your home soon. Find Mercury. She will help you. She will give you three gifts.’
‘But my father …’
‘You mustn’t try to find your father. Mercury will help you. She helps many witches who are in trouble. Of course she will expect some payment in return. But she will help you.’
‘Who is Mercury?’
‘A Black Witch. An old Black Witch. Ha! You think I’m old. She is old. Her Gift is strong, though, very strong. She can control the weather.’