Hubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble            by: Jennifer Jane Pope

 

Part Two - BUBBLE

‘I’ll not let anyone touch you!’ I declared, fiercely, a protective arm around Imelda’s shoulders. ‘They’ll have to get through me, first!’

‘Oh, they will,’ Aunt Dolly said. Now, I missed that inference, as well and Aunt Polly put a deflecting oar in before I had time to consider it.

‘Prenderghast Wildoak could frazzle you with a quick thrust of his staff,’ she said.

‘Who?’

‘Prenderghast Wildoak, Paramount Warlock of these parts,’ Aunt Dolly explained. ‘Very old, very powerful.’ Aunt Holly muttered something, half under her breath.

‘Pardon?’ I prompted. Aunt Holly look very fiercely at me.

‘I said: "He’s a runt!"’ she barked, with an air that simply dared me to challenge that.

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘He’s a small man, is he?’

‘Small-minded,’ Aunt Polly said. ‘And not very nice.’

‘He’s a bloody sex maniac!’ Aunt Holly stormed.

‘That goes with being a warlock,’ Dolly said, placatingly. ‘He can’t really help it.’

‘Bollocks!’

‘Pardon?’

‘He thinks with ‘em,’ Aunt Holly expanded. ‘They all do.’

‘But I thought witches did all that dancing around naked stuff,’ I probed. Aunt Holly gave a derisive snort.

‘Catch me prannying about in the nuddy at my age,’ she rasped. ‘Bloody knees are stiff enough as it is, without all that dew about. Besides, sex is all squishy squashy stuff, puff-pant and how the bloody hell was it for you then? Cobblers, all of it. Who cares how it was for anyone else. Time was, as long as I got mine, I couldn’t care less if the poor sod was left all night nursing a stiffy!’

All sorts of images flickered through my mind just then and it was all I could do to keep myself from laughing, but Aunt Holly was ahead of me.

‘You youngsters,’ she laughed. ‘Seem to think that just ‘cause a body gets to be three hundred they lose all their urges. That doesn’t happen for longer than that, believe me. And before you ask, I only stopped around the time that young queen came to the throne.’

‘Elizabeth?’ I suggested. Bloody hell, best part of fifty years.

‘No, not her, the other one.’ Aunt Holly waved an impatient hand. ‘Victoria, that’s her. married a kraut and had all those sprogs. Half of them ended up on thrones, though a lot of good that did ‘em. Kinging and queening ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, I reckon.’

‘Queen Victoria came to the throne in - eighteen thirty seven,’ I said, searching that part of my mind labelled "history". ‘That’s a hundred and sixty odd years ago.’ Aunt Holly nodded.

‘Not bad, sunshine,’ she said. ‘Know any more useful facts. @Ere, Polly, maybe we could challenge fart-arse’s lot to a Trivial Pursuit contest. If we win, they don’t get Immie. If they win, they can have me as well. That should be enough to make ‘em throw the game!’ She cackled in genuine merriment and, to my surprise, I realised I was beginning to warm to her.

‘Sex and Queen Victoria apart,’ I began.

‘Which they weren’t,’ Aunt Holly interjected, grinning evilly, ‘at least ‘til that kraut bloke snuffed it.’

‘Yes, well, Aunt Holly,’ I said, ‘timne’s getting on and we need to do something about these warlocks and Imelda. Obviously, from what you say, this Prenderghast fellow could eat me alive if I tried to face up to him fair and square.’

‘That he could,’ Aunt Polly confirmed.

‘So, why can’t any of you do anything? You are witches, after all.’

‘Well,’ Aunt Polly began, looking about to confirm that she was now acting spokeswoman, or spokeswitch, should that be, ‘it’s a bit tricky. Neither me nor Holly would stand much chance against that tricky sod, though Dolly could probably shrivel his balls to the size of raisins.’ Ha, I thought, I’d been right about Dolly. Very dangerous and also very powerful.

‘Then why don’t you?’ I asked, turning to the elegant witch. She sighed and puckered that sensuous mouth.

‘Dahling,’ she said, ‘there’s nothing I’d like better, believe me, but it’s not that simple There’s a matter of honour at stake.’

‘You bet there is!’ I retorted. ‘Imelda’s.’

‘That apart, obviously,’ Dolly continued, smoothly. ‘You see, oh, you explain it, Polly. You were doing the talking then.’

‘There was an agreement,’ Aunt Polly said, her tone flat. ‘Been going on for donkeys’ years. Every forty ninth Hallowe’en since anyone can remember, we witches have to offer those sex mad buggers either a virgin witch, a virgin fairy, or else any fairy that’s closely linked to us, same as Immie, us being her godsmother and all that.’

‘Every forty ninth hallowe’en?’ I repeated.

‘Seven times seven,’ Imelda spoke for the first time in ages. ‘It’s a witchy numbers thing. That’s how come there are forty nine numbers on the National Lottery.’

‘The Lottery?’

‘Well, you don’t think any human mind could come up with that peculiar arrangement, do you?’ Polly said, taking over again. ‘Anyway, tonight is a forty ninth and those bastards want to claim the jackpot.’

‘Why Immie?’ I bleated. ‘She’s not - ‘ And then I stopped, embarrassed. Imelda stepped in and saved my blushes.

‘Of course I’m not a virgin,’ she said. ‘And before you ask, in case you don’t know how to tell the difference, I wasn’t one before last night, either. Fifty one years would be one hell of a long time to wait.’

‘I suppose it would,’ I said. ‘So why you?’

‘Ever seen that film Zulu?’ Imelda asked. ‘The one with Michael Caine.’

‘With all the black fuzzie wuzzies all along the hill, wavin’ their spears and singing and banging,’ Aunt Holly interceded. ‘Bangin’ their shields, that is. I don’t think they went in for the other kjind of bangin’, not on the battlefield, anyway. Bit distractin’, I suppose.’

‘Yeah, I’ve seen Zulu,’ I said.

‘Well,’ Imelda began again, ‘there’s this bit where the young private looks up at the sergeant major - ‘

‘Whilst tryin’ not to look as if he’s about to crap himslef.’ That last helpful addition came, as if you needed telling, from Aunt Holly.

‘ - and he says "Why us, sergeant major? Why us?"’ Imelda continued, ignoring her aunt. ‘And the sergeant major looks down on him and smiles and - ‘

‘And says,’ I finished for her, ‘"Because there’s no one else, lad. Just us." I remember.’

‘Well,’ Imelda said, almost resignedly, ‘that’s my problem. There’s just me.’

‘Last virgin witch in these parts was Dolly,’ Aunt Holly said, ‘and that was a bloody good few years ago, I can tell you.’

‘Don’t remind me,’ Dolly sighed. ‘The years just seem to slip away, especially when you get past two hundred.’

‘Er,’ I ventured, ‘I know this isn’t very gentlemanly, but I wondered - ‘

‘Two hundred and thirty five,’ Dolly said.

‘Thirty nine,’ Holly corrected her. ‘An I’m something like six hundred now, but I’ve not bothered countin’, not since that weasly little kraut with the moustache and brylcreem set fire to himself over in Berlin.’

‘He shot himself,’ Dolly corrected her, but Aunt Holly was unabashed.

‘See?’ she cried. ‘That’s two of you’d be good at Trivial Pursuit. How’s about offering them out on that, girls?’

‘They wouldn’t accept, you know that dear,’ Aunt Polly said. Holly’s eyebrows twitched.

‘Too set on the thought of what’s in Immie’s drawers. That’s men all over.’

‘And there aren’t any virgin fairies, not in miles,’ Polly said.

‘An’ even if there were,’ Aunt Holly pointed out, ‘they ain’t likely to offer themselves to be shagged all night by those filthy sods, are they?’

‘I guess not,’ I had to agree. I took a deep breath and asked the question that had been on my mind for several minutes now.

‘So,’ I said, ‘where do I come into all this. I presume I must do, seeing as how Immie has gone to a lot of trouble to get me here.’

So they told me and for several very long seconds I just sat there, completely unable to move a muscle and suddenly very, very sober indeed.

‘Let me get this right,’ I said, after a few minutes, when everything had sunk in as far as it was likely to at that stage. ‘You want me to take Immie’s place?’

‘Yes, dahling, got it in one,’ Dolly said, evenly.

‘As a fairy?’ My voice had crept up more than half an octave. ‘A female fairy?’

‘It’d have to be,’ Dolly said. ‘Prenderghast’s crowd are a lot of things, but only one of them was ever remotely gay and he went off to live with a public school games master.’

‘Um,’ I said, ‘you don’t mind if I ask, but when you say "crowd", just how many of these warlock guys are there?’

‘Thirteen,’ Imelda said. I should have guessed.

‘Thirteen?’

‘Yes, but,’ Dolly added, hurriedly, ‘at least four of them are too old to, well, you know -’

‘Get it up!’ Aunt Holly cackled.

‘Oh, well I guess that’s something to be glad about!’ Irony, eh? Don’t you believe it!

‘Not since that viagra stuff came along,’ Holly crowed, gleefully. ‘That and a bit of ground salamandar skin works wonders - or so they tell me,’ she added, maybe just a little too hastily.

‘So, it’s likely to be thirteen,’ I said, gloomily. Unlucky for some; no, correction, unlucky for me! ‘And how many times -?’ I began again, as another awful thought struck me.

‘Oh, they’re only allowed one go each, dear,’ Aunt Polly said, in what I’m sure she thought was a reassuring way. ‘That’s in the rules.’

‘Oh well, that’s all right then, isn’t it!’ I burst out. ‘I just get -’ I hesitated.

‘Shagged,’ Aunt Holly said, helpfully.

‘Yes, I just get shagged thirteen times and that’s all there is too it.’

‘I’d have taken ‘em all on twice over in me tea break, a few years ago!’

‘Thank you, Holly,’ Dolly said, sternly. ‘I’m sure Simon doesn’t want to know about your sex life.’

‘Just lie back and think of China,’ Holly continued, unabashed.

‘Don’t you mean England, Aunt Holly?’ Immie said. The old witch cackled even more gleefully, if that were possible.

‘China’s a buggerin’ sight bigger,’ she said and squinted down the neck of her milk stout bottle.

We were interrupted at that geographical point by the sound of the iron door knocker. I started at the booming noise, but Aunt Polly turned towards the passageway.

‘That’ll be Ron from the off licence,’ she said. ‘About time, too.’

‘Goodie!’ Aunt Holly exclaimed. The Murphy’s bottle hit the carpet. ‘Guiness! Mafeking is relieved!’

I recognised Ron from the big off licence just down the road from my flat, but if he in turn recognised me, he didn’t show it, as he staggered in carrying two large crates. He then staggered out again and returned with a similar sized load and Aunt Polly passed him a small roll of bank notes, which he stuffed into his shirt pocket without even bothering to count.

‘Hang on a mo’, young Ron,’ Aunt Polly said, as he turned to go. ‘Got that little something I promised you.’ She turned to the mantleshelf and took down a small, dark blue bottle.

‘Put a few drops of that in her cocoa and everything’ll work just fine,’ she advised. He smiled, took the bottle and thanked her and then was gone.

‘Wife’s having a bit of trouble conceiving,’ she said, after the outer door had banged behind Ron. ‘I promised him a little recipe that would do the trick.’

‘You mean he knows you’re a witch?’ I said, disbelievingly.

‘No,’ she said, firmly, ‘he just thinks I think I’m a witch, which is different, totally. He actually thinks I’m a dotty old bat, but then that won’t stop him putting that stuff in his missus’s cocoa as soon as he gets home.’

‘It won’t?’ She smiled, knowingly and tapped her temple with one finger.

‘S’called headology,’ she explained. ‘No magic in that, just knowing about people.’

‘I’ve heard that word before, somewhere,’ I said. ‘In a book - Terry Pratchett.’

‘Yeah, he knows about headology, that one,’ Aunt Polly said. I started.

‘You’re not trying to tell me he’s a witch too? Or warlock, should that be?’ I stared at her, but she shook her head.

‘No, I don’t reckon he is,’ she said, ‘but I do reckon he might know one or two who are and I’m saying no more.’

‘We’d better get back to the business in hand,’ Dolly said, staring pointedly at the old clock above the fireplace.

‘Agreed,’ Aunt Holly said, with some enthusiasm. ‘Get those crates open and pass me a bloody Guiness! A witch could die of thirst in this house!’

‘I don’t suppose there’s any lager in there?’ I asked, mournfully. ‘If I have any more lager -’

‘Poofs drink, that,’ Holly piped up again. ‘Poofs, lager louts and bloody Australians. If you want to know where lager gets you, just watch Australian soap operas. Mind you, I did know this Australian wizard once and he had the most -’

‘Thank you, Holly.’ Again Dolly cut her eldest sister off in mid reminisce. ‘I’m sure we could find some lager for Simon, if that’s what he wants. After all, he’s here to do us - Immie especially - a very big favour.’

Oh was I indeed? I hadn’t agreed to anything yet and the thought of thirteen perverted, sex crazed old reprobates - well, it didn’t bear thinking about, let alone anything else.

So why was there this little voice telling me I should do it? And why wasn’t I telling that self-same little voice to butt out of it and now?

‘These warlocks,’ I asked, as Dolly almost pulled a lager can out of mid-air. I say "almost", but I was beginning to get used to this now and I saw - only just, mind, but I did see - the incredible sleight of hand, for the can actually came from a box that had been standing behind the other armchair all along. It had been there all along, hadn’t it? It must have been.

‘These warlocks,’ I said again, ‘just what exactly are they like? They sound like a bunch of demented Hell’s Angels, the way you all tell it.’

‘They’d like to be,’ Holly said. ‘But when it comes down to it, they’re not quite what they used to be and they weren’t even what they used to think they were anyway.’

‘How’d you mean?’ She gave me a leering smile.

‘You ever heard that song, Sex and Drugs and Rock’n’Roll?’ she asked. I was surprised at just how in touch she seemed to be with the, well, real world. I nodded and she cackled that raucous, paint-stripping laugh yet again.

‘Well, old Pranny Prenderghast’s lot are more sacks’n’bugs’n’sausage rolls,’ she wheezed. ‘Bunch of old fools.’

‘That’s not a great deal of comfort,’ I said, reasonably enough. She became serious for once.

‘No, you’re right, sonny Jim,’ she said, ‘so think how Immie feels about it and think how we all feel, too. We’re her flamin’ godsmothers, ain’t we? It can’t happen.

‘But it will happen to me,’ I said, ‘and that doesn’t seem to worry you, but then I’m not your godson, I suppose.’

‘Snot that, you daft plank,’ Holly said, though not unkindly. ‘It won’t actually be your body they’re shaggin’, will it? We’ll sort out this female body for you and Bob’s your wassname.’

‘Except I’m not a virgin and not that close a connection to you, so surely that’s breaking the rules of this so-called agreement?’ I pointed out. Holly grinned and for the first time I noticed how even her teeth were. I thought witches were supposed to have - oh hell, I didn’t know what I thought any more.

‘That’s the cunnin’ part,’ she said, with an air of definite superiority. ‘We gets ‘em on two technicalities here. Number One, the body we gives you will be a virgin body. Any nookie you’ve done as a fella won’t count, see?’

‘And number two?’ I asked.

‘Well, number two,’ she said, ‘is easy. You’ve done the business with Immie now, so that means you’re like her fiancé. Here, I’ve got a ring here somewhere, so you can make it official. Can’t ever be doin’ with cheatin’.’ She fiddled around and out came a little diamond solitaire, glittering in the lights like - well, it was very glittery.

‘Used to be mine,’ she said, examining it and touching the stone fondly. ‘Thought I’d lost it centuries ago.’

No, that was your virginity, dear,’ Polly said, showing a side to her I’d never have guessed was there. ‘I kept that ring safe for you for decades - same you didn’t do the same for yours!’

‘Now look you here, Polly Lanesend,’ Holly snapped back, palming the ring - the diamond ring, that is, ‘you don’t want to call no kettles black around here. You ain’t quite the sweet and innocent you tries to make out and I’ve never made no secrets about my enjoyments.’ She flipped the ring into view again and sniggered. ‘Shame they only stretches to Guiness these days!’ she muttered.

Feeling just a bit daft, I went down on one knee and proposed to Imelda, who, of course, accepted and slipped on the ring. After all, that was what I was there for, wasn’t it?

‘So, I’m now engaged to a fairy,’ I said, solemnly. ‘Does that make me a fairy prince, honorary, or something?’

‘Something,’ Holly muttered, but everyone else seemed to be ignoring her now, so I did the same.

‘No, but this whole thing will actually make you a real fairy, near enough,’ Dolly said, stepping forward and kissing us both in turn. ‘After you change back to being a male, you’ll still retain a lot of fairy characteristics and advantages.’

‘Including?’ I asked, not daring to hope. Dolly knew exactly what I was crossing my fingers for and nodded, smiling warmly.

‘Including the fact that you’ll live to be a good few hundred years old and age proportionately. Which will give you and Imelda a very long and happy life together,’ she added, and then, ‘We don’t have divorce in our circles. Witches never marry and fairies can’t fall out of love with their chosen ones.’

‘Can’t as in not allowed to?’ I asked.

‘Can’t as in can’t,’ she replied, firmly. ‘Can’t happen, physical impossibility.’

‘More chance of having a shag standing on one leg in a hammock,’ Aunt Holly added and there was no arguing that sort of definity.

‘Well, I’ve got no problems with that,’ I said, happily, taking Imelda into my arms and kissing that beautiful mouth.

‘Me neither,’ she said, coming up for air. ‘But I am a bit worried about tonight - about you,’ she added. ‘I hate having to ask you to do this for me.’

‘But I want to do it for you,’ I said, vehemently. She sighed.

‘Oh, I know that,’ she said.

‘You do?’

‘Since before you did,’ she said.

‘Like, since when?’ I demanded, curious at her confidence. She looked just a tad more than a trifle guilty.

‘Since we had sex last night,’ she whispered, in a voice I could barely hear.

‘Is that so?’ I said. ‘Well, it was pretty great, but -’

‘It’s a wish thing,’ Dolly cut in. ‘Any human does the old rumpty stuff with a fairy, sweetie, he has to honour her every wish for the next forty eight hours.’

‘Really?’ I could feel my eyebrows trying to hide under my hairline. She nodded, very much the vamp.

‘Quite useful, really,’ she said. ‘Porche, Aston Martin, nice little motor cruiser and a holiday villa in Nice. I could go on, but I won’t.’

‘Hang on a minute,’ I said. ‘You’re a witch, not a fairy.’ She let her suave facade slip for just a fraction and grinned.

‘Bit of both, actually,’ she said. ‘Quite useful, but that’s an entirely different story and time’s starting to get short. The point is, the wish thing holds good whatever.’

‘So I don’t have a choice?’ I said, as the full realisation began to strike me. Four pairs of eyes fixed upon me, but it was Imelda who spoke.

‘Maybe you do,’ she said. ‘I could release you from the bond, but then we could never marry.’

Now that was a real bummer! Hardly fair at all. Okay, release me from my bond, restore a bit of the old free will and I don’t have to play whore for a bunch of old creeps, but then I lose the girl of my dreams, plus the chance to live for several hundred years, mostly without growing old.

Go on, tell me you’d have done it different! Bloody liar if you do.

* * *

 

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