The Whitby Witches 3: The Whitby Child by Robin Jarvis

Author:Robin Jarvis
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2014-08-12T21:00:00+00:00

8 - The Fledgeling

Jennet awoke early but discovered that Miss Wethers had already been up for quite some time and was scuttling from room to room in her panic to be ready for the great occasion later that afternoon.

Her incessant squeaks of indecision brought Miss Boston from her room and she scowled at her old friend. "Do sit down, Edith," she cried as the woman blundered into her a third time.

"I can't!" she whined. "There's so much to do still! Oh Alice, am I doing the right thing? It's such a huge step to take at my time of life."

Miss Boston groaned and settled down to eat her kippers. "Personally I think the man's a complete dunderhead," she muttered, savouring the smoky scent of her breakfast, "but then so are you—you'll make a magnificent couple I'm sure."

When Jennet entered the kitchen Edith pounced on her.

"Have you tried the dress on today?" she simpered. "I think you'd better just to be sure it fits properly."

The girl pouted. "I've only just got up!" she protested. "And I refuse to put that hideous frock on until the last minute."

Aunt Alice waved a fork at her whilst chewing a morsel of kipper. "Now, now," she said, "don't be uncharitable—it is Edith's special day. We must humour her, no matter how aggravating she becomes."

"The cake!" Miss Wethers squawked. "I must nip round to Cicily Drinkwater's to see if it's ready to be taken to the hall."

Miss Boston glanced at the clock. "Isn't it rather early for that, dear?" she asked.

"I've got to do something!" Edith babbled. "Oh, my tummy's all upset—I feel quite quite dreadful."

Jennet buttered a piece of toast and fled the kitchen quickly.

"Where are you going?" Aunt Alice called after her.

"For a walk," she shouted on her way out. "I won't be long."

Hearing the front door close, Miss Boston lay down her knife and fork and clucked wearily. "Really, Edith," she chided, "if you're like this now how will you survive till the afternoon?"

Miss Wethers gave a pathetic whimper then hurried upstairs to make sure her hat was still in the box.

***

Upon the clifftop, Jennet hurried through the car park and made for the camper van.

"Hello!" she called. "Pear—it's me!"

There was no reply and as she drew up to the cream and orange vehicle she realised that no one was inside.

"They've started early," she mumbled. "They can't be playing already—I'd have heard them."

The girl waited several minutes more then decided to go and find her new friends.

Down the abbey steps she clambered, always listening for the cheerful melodies of the folk group, but that morning only the seagulls were singing.

Through the lanes and narrow streets she searched, yet there was no sign of the women and Jennet barged through the ranks of early shoppers crossly.

At Market Place she halted and wondered if she ought to wait there—even though it might be hours before the band were scheduled to appear.

Dejected and downcast, she moped around and leaned against the same pillar as the previous day.

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