Doctor Who_ Daemons - Barry Letts [27]
'Then we shan't detain you long. This is Mr. Yates.'
Mrs. Anstey quietly left. She knew better than to tangle with Miss Hawthorne in this mood.
'Miss Hawthorne, please. I tell you, I'm not well. Please go away.'
'All in good time, Mr. Winstanley,' replied the white witch. 'We want you to sign something. Where is it, Mr. Yates?'
Mike reluctantly produced his poster. He had an uncomfortable feeling that this interview wasn't going quite right. He'd better try a little diplomacy. 'We were rather hoping, sir, that you might chair the meeting this evening'
The Squire immediately dug in his heels. Chair a wretched meeting, eh? He would have been prepared to sign anything, just to get rid of this pestilential pair, but not if it meant having to be chairman. Always bein' chairman, dammit! Worst job in the world. And him at death's door, too. 'Let's have a look at the blasted thing.' Taking it from Mike, he puzzled his way through it. 'What's all this about a heat-barrier? What the deuce is a heat-barrier?'
'Well, sir, we don't quite know. But it seems to be extremely dangerous.'
'Have the authorities been told?'
'Er... yes. I suppose they have.'
'Then it's up to them to cope. As for the rest of it, let sleeping dogs lie, that's my motto. Sorry about the Professor and all that, but still...'
Miss FIawthorne was exasperated. Silly old fool! Hadn't as much intelligence as Grimalkin. She raised her voice. 'Now listen to me, Squire...' The Squire winced and put a tender hand to his temple. At once Miss Hawthorne's voice softened. 'Why, Mr. Winstanley, I do believe you have a headache!' The Squire could only nod. 'Why didn't you tell me? I'm not a witch for nothing, you know.' And she started ferreting in her handbag.
Mike Yates watched her, fascinated. Was he really about to witness a demonstration of real witchcraft, albeit white witchcraft?
Miss Hawthorne surfaced, clutching a small glass phial filled with a golden liquid. She removed the stopper and proffered the phial to the somewhat anxious Squire.
'Now, wait a minute...'
'A simple potion, nothing more. Knock it back, like a good boy.'
Winstanley suspiciously accepted the potion. He glanced at each of them. 'Well... bung ho and all that...'
As soon as he had drunk it, Miss Hawthorne jumped to her feet. Placing a bony forefinger on the centre of the Squire's forehead, she started to mutter under her breath. The Squire was quite taken aback. Not daring to move, his eyes darted to and fro as if he were seeking a way of escape. Gradually, however, his face cleared, and by the time Miss Hawthorne had completed her incantation, if such it was, he was actually smiling.
'It's gone!' he said. 'My migraine, my headache, quite gone!'
'Of course; said Miss Hawthorne. 'Sign here, please,' and she held out the poster and a pen.
'With the greatest of pleasure, dear lady,' beamed the Squire, taking the pen and signing with a firm hand.
Two minutes later, having successfully fended off the celebratory drink the Squire had tried to thrust upon them, Mike and Miss Hawthorne were coasting down the long drive.
'Well,' said Mike, 'I really take my hat off to you. I can't say I ever really believed in magic before but...'
'Magic,' said Miss Hawthorne scornfully, 'that wasn't magic. I wouldn't waste good witchcraft on him.'
'What was it, then?'
'An infusion of a herbal analgesic—about as powerful as a couple of aspirin.'
'And the spell?'
'Pure suggestion to increase the placebo effect.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'He believed it was a spell too, you see. As a matter of fact, I was reciting—“Mary Had a Little Lamb”. So now you know all my little secrets, don't you?' And smiling archly, she sailed away down Box Hill with Mike desperately pedalling after.
Sergeant Benton and his partner had just executed a double natural turn into a hesitation running reverse. The applause was deafening. Finishing the quickstep with a ballet lift, the Sergeant tossed Mavis ten feet in the air and caught her neatly on the little finger of his left hand.
'Mr. Benton,' said the judge, as he handed