Nearly Almost Somebody

Hubble, Bubble, the Witch is in Trouble

*** Please note this is NOT a new  book to Wattpad. It's the edited, published version of my book 'Distraction'. I'll be posting a three chapter taster here. ***

  

Maggie hung up her coat and pottered upstairs, too tired to bother with the glass of elderflower wine she'd promised herself.

'Night, Hyssop,' she said to the tabby cat curled up on the landing.

He flicked an ear.

With the full moon illuminating her bedroom, Margaret padded across the room, humming as she unfastened her pendant and dropped it into its silver bowl. But the pendant hit wood. The bowl wasn't there.

Hyssop, the little imp, must've knocked it off again. Stepping back, she glanced around the floor, expecting to see the bowl, but instead, glinting in the pale light, were the worthless trinkets she kept in her jewellery box. She grabbed the pendant and clutched it to her chest.

Had she been burgled?

Her hands shook as she tugged open the dresser drawer and when she saw nothing more than rifled through knickers, Maggie gulped back a sob. The blue velvet box containing her diamond earrings was gone. A burglar, nothing but a common little thief, had stolen her earrings. They, along with the emerald pendant, were the only pieces of jewellery she had worth wearing, irreplaceable gifts from her only love.

Don't cry, Maggie. Don't let a bloody little hoodie who thinks he can help himself to other people's property make you cry.

She raised her chin and took a slow breath, allowing anger to kick aside the threatening tears. Now, she'd have to ring the police and wait up, just to have them treat her like a doddering old fool and lecture her for not locking the back door. Of course, if they had the odd copper patrolling the streets once in a while, she wouldn't need to. In the hallway, she paused, shaking her head at Hyssop.

And you're a useless guard-cat.

A floorboard creaked. What was that? Maggie's stomach contracted and she held her breath as she turned to the spare room. A dark figure stood silhouetted against the moonlight.

Get out. Run. Scream.

But she couldn't. Maggie shrank back against the wall, her heart racing, her legs rigid.

Oh please, no. Take the jewellery.

She held out the pendant, but the burglar stepped forwards, hands on hips, tutting in disapproval. Margaret had made a terrible mistake. This was no hoodie.

'Why don't you just die, you stupid old cow?'

Maggie lurched towards the stairs, treading on Hyssop. He hissed and darted between her legs, tripping her. She screamed, flailing as she tried to grasp at the handrail, doorframe, anything to steady herself but two hands pressed firmly against her back. Maggie tumbled down the steep cottage stairs and landed in an undignified tangle on the tiled floor, banging her head but feeling surprisingly little pain.

How many times had Zoë said not to let Hyssop sleep on the landing? Now that's what I'd call ironic, Miss Morissette.

Maggie closed her eyes.

* * *

  

After tugging the emerald pendant from Maggie's fingers, the thief paused, watching for signs of life. It was an unnecessary task. No one could survive with their neck at forty-five degrees to their body.

'Ding dong, the witch is dead.'