The Witch and the Watcher

Six

Six“Please, Mummy. I will put my coat on,” Jasper said, pleading.

“You should be wrapped up warm on the sofa, Son,” Vicky said as she cut crusty cobs on a wooden chopping board. The kitchen under-lighters bathed the room in a warm glow as the sun's rays began to lengthen.

“He'll be alright, love,” Mike said calmly. “I'll make sure he's wrapped up. Twenty minutes, Jasper. Okay?”

“Okay, Grandad. I'll get the football.” Jasper headed out of the kitchen, returning quickly with a leather ball and a blue fleece jacket.

Karen called him over. “Come here, young man,” she said, taking the fleece off her grandson. She zipped the front up to the neck, pulling it down at the back. “Twenty minutes. Okay, buster?”

Jasper kissed her on the cheek. “Okay, Nanny. We promise, don't we, Grandad?”

“Scouts honour,” Mike said with a mock salute.

The ball sailed into the blue sky, bouncing just before the fence. It careered off the railing, rolling back towards Mike, who was trying his best at being a goalkeeper. “Nice shot, Jasper. You put plenty of power behind that one.”

Jasper ran towards the ball, his breath clouding in front of him. The tepid afternoon was quickly turning cool as the sun's rays left the garden for the evening. “Watch this, Grandad.” He trapped the ball with his foot, flicking it up onto his knee. He kept his eye on the ball as it dropped, striking it cleanly. It sailed past Mike, over the fence, into the Lickey Hills beyond.

“Whoa. Easy, Ronaldo!” Mike said, clearly impressed. “You caught that one well too.” Jasper scooted through the fence, running after the retreating ball. The older man rested his elbows on the fence rail, looking at the cottage. He could see his wife and daughter fussing over the soup. They were laughing at something, Karen, wrapping her arm around her daughter's shoulders. Mike smiled, enjoying the spectacle. His eldest daughter had always been close to her mother. His youngest daughter was too, just not quite as much as Vicky. Sarah, the younger sibling lived a few miles to the south, with her husband and son. He knew they had busy lives, but wished his daughters spent more time together. Mike knew why though. He remembered the drunken altercation between his two son-in-laws. b****y football, he thought. How can something so trivial cause so much division?

“On your head, Grandad,” Jasper shouted, untangling Mike from his thoughts. He turned around, just in time to see the ball sailing towards him. The man took two steps back, heading the ball back towards his grandson, a wet smear, plastered across his forehead. “Wow! That was great,” the boy said as he changed direction deftly to retrieve the ball.

Mike smiled, wiping a hand across his hairline. A noise to his left caught his attention. He looked towards the conifers that separated Vicky's garden from her neighbours. The old man stood still, trying to catch the noise again. He didn't have to wait long. A low, distant drone drifted towards him. The sun's receding rays were suddenly blanketed by darkening clouds, the temperature dipping quickly. Mike walked over towards the tree line, his grandson momentarily forgotten. The noise came again, raising goosebumps across his arms. “Where the b****y hell is that coming from?” he said to himself as the ball bounced behind him.

“What's wrong, Grandad?” Jasper said as he jogged towards him.

“Not sure. I heard a funny noise. It sounded like, whale calls? Did you hear anything?”

“No, Grandad,” the boy said, slightly confused.

A knocking noise from the cottage made Mike turn around. His wife was signalling that the food was ready. “It's probably nothing, Jasper. Come on. Grab your ball. Tea's ready.” His grandson headed towards the cottage, dribbling his football expertly. Mike stood for a moment, listening. Above them, the sun broke through the clouds, bringing much-needed brightness to the darkening garden. He turned and headed for the cottage. His pace, slightly quicker than normal.

* * *

“Night, Mummy,” Jasper said as he climbed into his bed. He gripped the Marvel duvet, pulling it up to his chin as Vicky walked into the room in a pink dressing gown and matching pyjamas.

“Ni ni, Jaspy,” she said as she bent down, kissing him on the lips. “No adventures tonight. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jasper said, drawing the word out slightly to emphasise his point.

She ruffled his hair before turning towards the window. The sky had darkened fully, plunging the rear garden into an inky blackness. Vicky suddenly felt a chill run through her, noticing how cold it felt. She reached down, grabbing the top of the radiator. Hmm, she thought. Why's it so cold in here? Vicky looked to her left, noticing the air vent set into the plaster. A cool breeze was permeating through it into the bedroom. Reaching up, she closed it before heading for the bedroom door. Jasper was curled up, his eyes closed as the main light was flicked off. The sundial clock on his chest-of-drawers offered limited illumination against the night. “Sweet dreams baby bear,” she said, closing the door.

The light from the fridge spilled out into the dark kitchen as Vicky reached inside for a bottle of wine. A few minutes later she was sat on the sofa, a glass of ice-cold Sauvignon Blanc on the table in front of her. Beads of perspiration formed on the glass, heading slowly towards the stem. She picked up her iPad, scrolling through the various forms of social media that she had accounts for. After a few minutes, Vicky reached forward, taking a sip of the wine. Nodding in appreciation, the woman set the glass back onto its coaster. She clicked into the gallery, swiping through until she found the picture that she could not stop looking at. It had been taken the previous summer, during their family holiday to Majorca. Steve and Vicky sat in the middle, arms around each other. Jasper stood behind them, smiling serenely, a baseball cap hiding his curls. Lucy and Brett stood on either side, their hands resting on Jasper's shoulders. All five of them were smiling as the Mediterranean sun bathed them in warmth. Palm trees and the blue expanse of sea could be seen in the background. Tears spilled from Vicky's eyes, deep wounds inside her opening up once more, flowing freely. Barely a month had passed since the accident, with Vicky feeling a constant guilt at not being able to grieve properly. She wanted to, but Jasper needed her, and she him. She'd never been in this situation before, not knowing how to react. I'll find my way through it, Vicky thought as she took a large gulp of wine.

* * *

The bedroom was silent. Light shone through the windows, casting the moons glow onto the bed. Jasper lay still, the rise and fall of his chest, the only indication he was alive. His eyelids started flickering, a low murmur escaping his lips as he started to dream. The room became darker, the moon's glow obscured by a yellow cloud pulsating against the glass. Two tendrils of yellow mist appeared from the boy's nose, drifting over to the window. It writhed against the cool surface, mirroring the larger form outside. Jasper coughed in his sleep, causing the mist to shoot off towards the top of the window. It hung there before drifting back towards the bed. The boy opened his mouth, drawing in a deep breath. The yellow tendrils allowed themselves to be pulled into Jasper's body once more. Lying dormant. Waiting. Watching.