“Oh, do shut up,” said Adrian in exasperation. “I’m not a demon and I don’t want your soul. Why don’t you come out and let me explain?”
“If you’re not a demon,” said the voice cunningly, “how did you rock the caravan?”
“It was my elephant,” explained Adrian. “She was scratching herself against the side.”
“A likely story,” said the voice.
“Well, if you open the door and look you’ll see her,” said Adrian.
“How would I know it was an elephant?” asked the voice. “I’ve never seed one.”
Adrian took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
“Madam,” he said at last, “I merely wanted to apologize to you for any inconvenience that my elephant may have caused by scratching herself on your caravan. If you cannot accept the apology in the Christian spirit in which it is offered, I’m sorry. And now, good day to you, I must be on my way.”
“No, no, don’t go, I’ll come out,” screamed the voice. “I never seed an elephant.”
There was a long pause during which Adrian could hear various spells being muttered in the interior of the caravan, and then the door was opened a crack and a face like a walnut peered out, surrounded by straggling grey hair. It belonged to one of the tiniest old ladies that Adrian had ever seen. She looked, Adrian decided, exactly like a minute witch. She was dressed in a faded black velvet skirt, a tattered scarlet blouse and the had a thick black woollen shawl around her shoulders. She looked Adrian up and down, mumbling with her toothless gums.
“Good morning,” said Adrian.
“Well, where is it?” enquired the old lady.
Adrian gestured to where Rosy was standing, endeavouring to uproot a gorse bush under the mistaken impression that it was edible.
“Eeeeeeeee!” said the old lady, expelling her breath in a long gasp of wonder. “Did you ever? The size of it . . . did you ever?”
“She’s quite tame,” explained Adrian. “She was just scratching herself against your caravan.”
“I never seed anything like it,” said the old lady. “A wondrous beast . . . truly wondrous.”
“You wouldn’t, I suppose, be wanting an elephant for your type of . . . er . . . work?” asked Adrian hopefully.
“Work?” said the old lady, bristling indignantly. “I don’t work.”
She stumped into the caravan and reappeared carrying a board which she hung on a hook by the door.
“That’s me,” she said proudly, jerking a thumb at the board. “Finest witch in these parts.”
On the board was written in slightly shaky capitals the legend:
BLACK NELL THE WHITE WITCH
SPELLS. INCANTATIONS.
THE FUTURE AND PAST FORETOLD,
WARTS CURED.
“Oh,” said Adrian, surprised that the old lady had in fact turned out to be a witch. “How very interesting.”
“Yes,” said the old lady, “I’m on my way to the Tuttle-penny Faire is that where you’re going?”
“No, I’m on my way down to the coast,” raid Adrian. “As a matter of fact I’m not altogether sure where we are at the moment. Could you tell me the best way to go?”
“Bite of breakfast?” said Black Nell. “You can’t walk on an empty stomach.”
“It’s very kind of you,” said Adrian, “but I just had some breakfast.”
“Cold rabbit pie?” asked Black Nell. “Bit of cold rabbit pie, home-made bread and a mug of tea, eh?”
The thought of cold rabbit pie made Adrian’s mouth water.
“Well, if you’re quite sure you have enough,” he said.
“Plenty,” said Black Nell. “You get the fire a-going under the kettle and I’ll fetch the pie.”
So Adrian, Rosy and Black Nell sat down to have breakfast together. The pie was delicious the crust melting in the mouth, the chips of rabbit meat, pink or coral, embedded in jelly as brown as amber, redolent with herbs. Adrian decided that he had never eaten anything quite so delicious in his life, not even at Fenneltree Hall. After his third piece of pie he even started to view Rosy with a less jaundiced eye. Full of pie and hot tea he grew expansive and told Black Nell all about the trials and tribulations he had had since Rosy bad entered his life. To his surprise Black Nell thought it was one of the funniest things she had ever heard, and at his description of the ball she laughed until she cried, and Adrian, against his will, was forced to laugh too.
“Oh, my! Oh, my!” gasped Black Nell, holding her sides. “I wish I could have seed that.”
“Looking back on it, I must admit that it was rather funny,” said Adrian. “But I didn’t think it was funny at the time.”
Black Nell wiped her eyes still giving shrill hoots of laughter. Then she delved in her pocket and pulled out a pack of stained and greasy cards.
“Come along, come along,” she said, “I’ll tell your fortune and let you know what’s in store for you.”
“I’m not altogether sure that I want to know,” said Adrian.
“Nonsense,” said Black Nell firmly, “’course you do, everyone does. Now, cut the cards and then pick out six rows of seven.”
Gingerly Adrian shuffled, cut the pack and then picked out the rows of cards. Black Nell turned them face upwards and pored over them, mumbling to herself.
“Ha, ha!” said Black Nell so suddenly that Adrian jumped and the hairs on the nape of his neck prickled.
“What is it?” he asked nervously.
“Nothing,” said Black Nell. “Your future’s very obscure, very obscure indeed.”
“Oh, well, don’t bother then,” said Adrian in relief.
“No, no, it’s coming,” said Black Nell. “I can see you going on a sea voyage.”
“A sea voyage?” said Adrian incredulously. “What, with Rosy?”
“And I see danger,” said Black Nell, lowering her voice to a hoarse whipser, “danger and a short, fat man. He’s going to cause you a lot of trouble.”
“Can’t you see anything nice?” asked Adrian plaintively. “I’ve had quite enough trouble recently.”
“Oh, yes, I can see something nice. But it’s very obscure, very obscure,” said Black Nell. “I’m glad all my clients don’t have such obscurity in their cards or we’d never got anywhere.”
She put the cards back into her pocket, took out a short black pipe and lit it.
“Tell you what,” she said, puffing out clouds of grey, chest-constricting smoke, “you’d better get a move on, young fellow. You’ve got a tidy bit of moor to cover and it’s as bald as an egg for hiding an elephant. Now, what I suggest you do is this. Go on along this road for a few miles, maybe six or seven, and you’ll come to a right-hand turn. It’s only a sort of rough track, really, but it goes through the dells and you’ve more chance of hiding there. Now, twenty miles or so along the track it crosses the railway line, see? And just after that it forks. You take the left-hand fork and presently you’ll come to a pub called the Unicorn and Harp, run by some people called Filigree. They’re the nicest people round those parts and very fond of animals. They’ll probably let you stay there until the hue and cry dies down. Tell ’em Black Nell sent you.”
“You’re very kind,” said Adrian warmly. “I’m most grateful to you.”
“Well,” said Black Nell philosophically, “if we what’s on the road don’t help each other it’s a sure and certain fact that no one else will.”
So Adrian hitched Rosy up to the trap again and said good-bye to Black Nell.
“Not good-bye!” she said enigmatically, “I’ll be seeing you again when wigs are in season.”
“What?” asked Adrian bewildered.
“Joke,” said Black Nell sardonically. “Cheerio.”
So Adrian and Rosy set off across the brilliant moorland and by midday they had come to the turning that Black Nell bad described. She had been right, for the track dipped and wound its way through gentle undulation, and offered much more chance of concealment should their pursuers catch up with them. They had their lunch by a small pond whose contents were the only liquid refreshment that Adrian allowed Rosy to have, much to her annoyance. Then they pressed on.