You can read the story so far from the beginning here

“I sent you the email last week with the report attached,” Hilary said. Away from the camera on her work laptop, a soothing scented candle was burning in her tiny home office. It wasn’t working. “I sent it last Thursday at 10.17am.”

Her boss still hadn’t got the hang of online meetings and there was far too much nose in the picture as he replied. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am perfectly sure, Gordon,” Hilary said, controlling her voice with an effort. “And I copied Alison in.”

Her boss looked at the other square in the zoom call. “Did you get it?” he asked Alison.

Unlike Hilary, Alison’s background was immaculately plain white and her hair and make up were sophisticatedly professional. “Yes, I got the report, read it and replied,” Alison said. “And I copied you into that reply on Monday at 11.23am.” She paused for effect. “And my ‘read receipt’ tells me that you opened it.”

Gordon winced as he lost his chance at denying that he’d ever seen the information. “Oh, now I see it!” he said. “I’m surprised that you didn’t remind me, Hilary. You know, with it being so time sensitive.”

Hilary fought to keep a neutral expression. “You’re usually on top of these things,” she lied. “I knew that you could handle it and I’ve been busy with the Darlington papers.”

Gordon winced again. Hilary and Alison both knew that Gordon had been instructed by higher management to deal with the papers himself as they included some sensitive content. He couldn’t blame Hilary for failing to get the report to him on time unless he wanted to risk her explaining her workload to his boss. He turned to Alison. “Didn’t you think that something was wrong?” he asked. “Weren’t you worried when I didn’t raise any questions?”

“I’ve been on leave until today,” Alison said. “I had to travel for a funeral.”

Hilary knew that Alison had actually been away interviewing for another job and she didn’t blame her colleague, not in the slightest. She had also guessed that Gordon would slip up on this and prepared. She didn’t have a lot of time to waste on covering for Gordon so she had been efficient. “If you look at the original email, I also attached the framework of a cover document and an analysis. I know how busy you are and I thought if I could put something together that you could correct the obvious errors and adapt it for your own use.” Hilary managed a bland smile. “It could be a basic starting point, right?”

“I’ll have to put some work into it,” Gordon said. “You’re still learning the ropes and unfortunately your lack of experience shows through.” He sighed deeply. “But thank you for thinking of me.” He checked his watch, ignoring the clock on the screen. “I had better get started. I’ll catch up with you two tomorrow.” He narrowed his eyes. “But before I forget, you’ll have the Darlington papers ready by then, won’t you?”

Hilary faked a grimace. “I’ll put the hours in,” she said. “It should be finished by tomorrow morning.”

“That’s good, I suppose,” Gordon said. “Alison, have you managed to break down the numbers for Dixon?”

Alison didn’t twitch as Gordon brought up yet another file that she and Hilary weren’t supposed to access. “I’ll get on it straight away,” she said.

“Good, good,” Gordon muttered. “Er, sorry to hear of your loss,” he said, belatedly remembering his manners. “Were you close?”

“It was a blessed release,” Alison said. “It was just their time to go, and they’re in a better place.”

“Glad to hear it, glad to hear it,” Gordon muttered. “Right, I’m off.”

Hilary waited a few moments, then grinned at Alison. “Does that mean that you got the job?”

Alison nodded, her smile lighting up her face. “I thought I’d have to wait for the news,” she said. “But they rang up this morning. I’m thrilled. I can’t wait to get away. I’m putting in my notice this afternoon.” She grinned. “I’d already sorted out the Dixon report, and he can have that as a parting gift. But I’m not doing a damned thing that’s not in my job description when I’m working my notice. I’ll let him sink.”

“Good for you!” Hilary said. “I’m looking forward to seeing him panic.”

Alison held up her hands. “You’re probably going to get a load of extra stuff dumped on you,” she said. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” Hilary said. “I’m sort of thinking of handing in my notice as well.”

“Really?” Alison said.

“It’s not as clear cut as your position,” Hilary said. “I’ve not got another job to go to. But I’ve got a big house now and I’ve taken in one lodger already. I guess I could take in a couple more.”

“I remember you sending me the pictures,” Alison said. “It’s gorgeous, but it took up most of your divorce settlement.”

Hilary shrugged. “It’s been absolutely worth it,” she said. “I got it at such a good price.” She leaned back in her chair. “But I’m not expensive to keep. I like my life simple, especially after all the trouble I had with my ex-husband. I wouldn’t need much to keep myself going.”

“Gordon is going to panic when I leave,” Alison said. “He’ll probably have a breakdown if you hand in your notice as well.” She grinned happily. “Send me screenshots.” She checked the time. “I have to go. I’ve got a meeting with their HR in five minutes.”

“Good luck!” Hilary said, and exited the meeting.

She stared at her laptop. Then, ignoring her work, she brought up the spreadsheets that she’d been working on. One tab was all the expenses, with allowances for inflation, costs, possible repairs and their costs, the potential cost of replacing her elderly car. All numbers were solid, either based on current costs or realistic projections. The other tab was a little less concrete. She didn’t know how long Tom would stay, and if Bracken moved on then keeping the house immaculate would be hard work. But she had a healthy cushion of savings, a few freelance gigs, and enjoyed a very frugal lifestyle. Now that her son had left home for a new job away in Birmingham, she didn’t need to worry too much about supporting him. Of course, if he needed her, she’d be happy to send money, but he would normally turn to his father first for money. Even if she didn’t have lodgers, her freelance work was expanding nicely.

She looked around her office. It had probably been a linen cupboard, once upon a time. It was small and lined with shelves with a single small window looking out over the fading garden. When she first came to Rowan Cottage and started updating the basics, she’d got the electrician that checked her wiring to add a couple of power outlets and replace the basic lamp with inset LED lights that could be bright or dimmed, depending on her mood. She’d hung protective charms at the window and on the door frame and added soft, deep blue curtains. And she’d brought in so many books.

These weren’t the romance books that were her guilty pleasure, nor the increasing stack of cookbooks that Bracken seemed to need. Instead it was all business. There were a couple of big files for her main job and a few more for her freelancing. There was another big file of personal papers and the legal nonsense from her divorce, securely locked away in a neat, two drawer filing cabinet. Hilary knew that she’d need a secure space if she had lodgers, and it fitted snugly under the deep shelf at the end of the room that she had claimed for a desk. The rest of the shelves were stuffed with her craft. Notebooks were crammed on the shelves, sometimes two deep, filled with records of her work. A few grimoires, painstakingly copied from originals under supervision, were in pride of place behind her laptop. Glass jars filled with rare herbs were carefully positioned out of the light. So were the stock of work candles suitable for the craft together with the tools that she needed. Wooden boxes were in careful order so that the crystals inside harmonised.

This was her sanctuary. If she had this space, she could do anything. And it wasn’t just this space. Tom would be home soon, filling the kitchen with his reassuring presence. Bracken was busy in the kitchen, practising with the meal that she had learned last week. Hilary could smell the scent of onions and garlic and all the ingredients of a sustaining bowl of chilli. Intermingled was the aroma of the fresh bread that Hilary had baked earlier and a hint of woodsmoke from bonfires burning garden rubbish two doors down. And over all was the soothing presence of the lavender candle, lit to keep Hilary calm during a tough work call. For a long moment, Hilary stared at the soft flame, mesmerised, with her mind stilled, allowing her deepest thoughts to rise to the surface.

Hilary nodded to herself, knowing that she had made the decision when Lord Peregrine first suggested it. She would hand in her notice, ramp up her freelance work and dig out recipes for cakes and biscuits for Lord Peregrine’s new stores. She could also pin a room-to-let notice on the board in the Farm Shop. The locals could spread the word from there, and there was no better advertising.

But there was no way that Hilary would be helping out at the new stores. She absolutely refused to do that.

You can read the story so far from the beginning here

Tom stared in disbelief at the mounting emails. “What’s going on?”

Across the open plan office, his boss was shaking her head. “I don’t believe this.”

“But they were supposed to be a reliable firm,” Kieran said across from him.

Tom’s head dropped. “You went and hired the Smiths, didn’t you? Even after I warned you.”

“They did great work for us over in Garforth,” Kieran said.

Tom could feel his fists clenching and made a conscious effort to relax his posture. “But that was before the old man retired. The father was brilliant, with reasonable rates, realistic time scales and absolutely no drama. His sons are the biggest pile of…”

“Remember, we’ve got a no swearing policy in the office,” Stella said.

“I’ll give them a ring,” Tom said.

“And don’t forget your contribution to the coffee fund,” Stella added.

Tom stared at her. “We have got fourteen units being flooded out because of shoddy plumbing that we should never have passed,” he said flatly. “That’s fourteen families who are getting their lives turned upside down and their possessions ruined because we got it wrong. Right now, I need to call around to get someone decent in to fix the pipes, arrange industrial dehumidifiers and I need to arrange on site visits to assess whether we have a legal duty to rehouse those families, some of them with young kids, while repairs are made. And you’re worried about the coffee fund?” Tom couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “It’s not even due till Friday.”

“I felt it important to remind you so that it didn’t get lost in the shuffle,” Stella said primly. “After all, you’re no longer doing the sandwich run since you’re bringing lunch in and I’m concerned that we’re losing you as a team player.”

“Seriously?” Tom said. “You’re upset because no-one else can be bothered to go to the sandwich shop fifty metres down the road?” He bit back his impulse to swear with an effort. “If it’s that much of a problem, I’ll fetch the stuff at lunchtime anyway. I’ll be glad of the walk as I’ll be spending my lunchbreak at my desk trying to sort out this mess.”

“Asking you fetch sandwiches for everyone else even though you bring your own lunch could be seen as creating a hostile environment.” Stella folded her hands on her desk. “I’m not prepared to start trouble with HR.”

“You should go back to buying sandwiches,” Kieran said. “It’s not fair that you get the good stuff. You even got home made soup in a flask.”

“It’s not appropriate to comment on another worker’s lunch,” Stella said. “It could be discriminatory.”

“How could him getting soup be discriminatory?” Kieran asked.

Tom ignored them and instead grabbed a notepad and started jotting down notes. “I’ll skip lunch in the office this once. I need to get out there anyway,” he said. “I can’t make sense of all the conflicting reports. I think some of the tenants are exaggerating, some don’t know what they should report and there’s a couple that I don’t think have noticed and they worry me as well.”

“That’s not acceptable,” Stella said. “We haven’t finished discussing the lunch issue.”

Tom stood and shoved the notepad into his pocket. “People’s homes are being affected, Stella. I am happy to abide by whatever you decide about lunch. Just make a decision and let me know.”

“I can’t impose my cultural values on you!” Stella called after him as he grabbed his coat and raced out of the office.

*****

The drive back to the village seemed to stretch out for hours. Tom could feel the tension in his shoulders setting in like an iron brace. First of all there had been an accident on the inner ring road which meant that most of the city centre had been gridlocked. Then he’d got stuck behind a bus on a stretch of narrow road so limped behind at barely walking pace as the bus halted at every stop, always far enough away from the curb to make overtaking unsafe. After he finally got away from the bus and he got closer to home, he found that someone had let out a pen full of sheep. His usual route had been jammed with livestock, sheepdogs and hapless farm hands. And it had all given him too much time to think.

Work was harder than it should be. He’d taken the job because his brother owed a favour to the firm and they wanted someone who could lift heavy things. That had been over a decade ago and Tom had since been promoted against his will into the office. His brother had insisted that he take the promotion because it was good for the family and the pack for him to have a responsible job with a pension. This had left Tom stuck in a job he loathed and with co-workers that irritated him. Today had been a case in point.

The problem with the plumbing had been easy enough to sort out. Half of the reports were exaggerated and the rest were easily dealt with. He’d had to physically throw the young Smith lads out before they could do more damage, but that had been a chance to work off some of his annoyance and they weren’t likely to come back. Not unless they were willing to hand over the money their mistakes cost. Tom tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, deep in thought. He could hear Lord Peregrine’s voice echoing in his mind. Would it be so bad to take up the job offer? He had no idea what was going to happen to the shop, and he was willing to bet real money that Lord Peregrine didn’t either, but at least he wouldn’t have the commute. He inched along slowly as the sheep were herded out of the way. And he wouldn’t have to put up with Stella who was so terrified of HR that you could never get anything done, at least, not at any speed. And Kieran had started acting like a spoiled brat once Hilary had started providing him lunch.

Tom sped up a little as the sheep were cleared out of the way. If things went wrong with whatever Lord Peregrine set up, he should still be able to manage. Hilary was charging a ridiculously low rent, and he’d always stashed money away to one side where his brother couldn’t get it. He’d have enough for a breathing space no matter what happened and, besides, he had enough contacts in the building and estates management field to pick up a new job. The thought of handing in his notice grew more tempting by the moment.

He drove over the old stone bridge and started on the road that led up the hill to Rowan Cottage. It already felt more like home than anywhere he’d lived since his parents died. It may just be a rented room with a flustered witch and an opinionated brownie, but it was safe. There were no crazed arguments, no slamming of doors or throwing of china. There was just Hilary, doing her bewildered best and Bracken who was slowly learning about life outside the confines of the brownies’ duty.

Of course, he would have to learn how to run a shop, but that couldn’t be too hard after everything else. Tom slowed down and then stopped, pulling over to the side of the road. His neighbour was standing on her front lawn, looking almost in tears as she clutched her yonng son to her. “Yvette, is everything alright?” he called out of the window.

Yvette turned around, her face pale. “Tom! It’s so good to see you. I’ve got a bit of a problem.”

Tom slid out of the car and jogged around to join Yvette on her front lawn. “What’s happened?” he asked. He ducked his head to try and meet the two year old’s eyes. “Hi there, Darius, how’s it going buddy?”

“The stream at the back has flooded,” Yvette said. “I didn’t think it was possible.” She looked at the soggy pile of towels dumped next to the front door and the precarious stack of electronics shoved inside the open boot of her car. “We’ve been here ten years and I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Can I have a look?” Tom asked. “It may just be a stray branch blocking the water. It’s funny how things can build up.”

“Could you?” Yvette said. “I’m trying to keep Darius away from the water. At first he wanted to play in it but now he’s just ready for his nap.” She shifted the lad in her arms as he drooped against her. “Gideon went into Leeds this afternoon to pick up some stuff and visit his mother and I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

Tom nodded. Yvette’s husband, Gideon, was a good man, but he got carried away when he got talking to his family and lost all sense of time. He might not get home until midnight. “Hang on, I may have some stuff in my car that will help. I’ll just see what the problem is.”

Around the back of the Victorian villa, the problem was obvious. The spring from the back of Rowan Cottage ran down the hill behind the houses and a fallen branch had got wedged across the narrow stream. It was now clogged with fallen leaves and general debris. Water was backing up and spilling over, already an inch deep past the stand of silver birches, through the painted fence and over the immaculate garden before seeping into their kitchen.

“It’s not really into the house yet,” Yvette said. “But it’s only a matter of time, and I’m not sure what to do. Do I turn the electric off at the mains?”

Tom eyed the thin layer of moisture on the kitchen floor. “What’s the cellar like?”

“We haven’t got a cellar,” Yvette said. “Gideon thought that we were too close to the water table.”

Tom frowned as he watched the water creeping slowly wider over the lawn and shook his head. “It should be fine for a few moments.”

One good thing about his job, Tom thought, was that he kept a lot of kit in his car. The wellington boots were perfect for wading over garden and through the small gate to the stream’s blockage, but it didn’t look good. Tom tried a few experimental tugs on the closest branches, but shook his head. “This isn’t going to move easily,” he said. He looked upstream and tried to estimate the flow. “Why don’t you take Darius around the front,” he said. “I’m going to have to change to get in there and use my full strength and I’m sure that you don’t want to encourage Darius to want to play in the stream.”

Yvette shuddered. “He’s into everything as it is,” she said, holding her squirming son close. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s go play in the front. And I’ll get out some biscuits,” she added in a desperate attempt at bribery.

Tom waited until they were out of sight at the front of the house and quickly stripped off his clothes. He shivered briefly in the damp November air but the heat of the change soon dispelled the chill. As his body twisted and reshaped, warmth flowed through and around him until he was in his wolf form, his tail high and waving gently and his ears erect. Shaking his fur out, he splashed back through the water to investigate.

With his wolf eyes, he could see a little clearer and his huge paws made short work of digging away the debris building up at the edge of the bank. It wasn’t helpful. The branch was jammed between rocks on either side of the stream, wedged firmly and resisting any movement. Leaves and smaller branches were now tangled up with it and barely any water was moving through. Tom braced himself and then bounced on branch, slamming down all the weight of his massive wolf. He bounced a few times, splashing wildly, but gave up as the branch remained solid. Tom didn’t know if it was the water or the extra debris cushioning his impact, but it wasn’t moving.

He leaned in closer and sneezed as the spicy, prickly scent of magic tickled his nose. He took a step or two back, wary. The scent wasn’t strong, and the trace was fading, so there wasn’t magic keeping it there. He tried sniffing closer and accidentally inhaled spring water. He spluttered and snuffled but it confirmed his guess. Magic put that branch in place. It was a while ago and it had taken time for the block to build up, but there was still that lingering faint scent. At least nothing was holding the branch now. He shook himself, took a deep breath and dived in with a satisfying splash. This branch needed werewolf strength to dislodge it.

*****

Hilary opened the kitchen door as soon as she heard a scratch. “Yvette rang me,” she said, then froze. She had seen a few werewolves in their wolf form but Tom was huge. He was easily up to her waste, with thick, dark fur and a gently waving tail. She took a deep breath. “And she was right. You are absolutely covered in mud!” She flinched back as Tom shook himself wildly. Mud spattered all over the porch and the narrow strip of kitchen floor behind Hilary. “Oh look at this mess!” she exclaimed. “What are we going to do with you?”

Tom’s tongue hung out as he panted, his front legs down and his back legs straight in the classic bowing position of a canine wanting to play.

“Don’t you start!” Hilary said. “You need to get cleaned up double quick. It’s sausages and mash tonight and Bracken is making a special onion gravy. You can’t sit down to eat looking like that.”

Tom pranced a little, bouncing around, his tail wagging.

“I’ve a good mind to set the hose on you,” Hilary said. “The last thing that I need is all that mud clogging my drains. You are filthy!”

Tom trotted away towards the hose.

“Are you seriously okay with getting hosed down?” Hilary asked. “The water is going to be freezing.”

Tom bowed again and then dashed off to come back with the nozzle of the hose in his mouth.

“Okay, if you insist,” Hilary said. “But don’t blame me when you catch cold.” She leaned back toward the kitchen. “Bracken, could you fetch a bundle of towels, please.” She turned back to Tom. “Just because you’re sparing me your muddy paw prints doesn’t mean that you get to drip water all over my house until you get to the shower,” she said. “I’ll towel you down first. There’s going to be enough mess as it is.”

Tom barked and dashed over to nudge the outside tap on.

Hilary turned the hose on and aimed it at Tom who was happily bouncing around in the spray. “And to think that I was worried about being bored here,” she muttered.

You can read the story so far from the beginning here

Hilary sighed with pleasure. They were still eating in the kitchen, as it was the warmest room in the house by far, but it was far from casual. A crisp, white cloth covered the kitchen table and Bracken had laid out four places with mathematical precision. “That looks beautiful,” she told the brownie. “You’ve done a lovely job.”

Bracken’s smile lit up her small face as she basked in the compliment. “Thank you, Mistress Hilary,” she said formerly. “And I is taking notes for improvement.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Hilary said. Bracken had started stashing a notebook and pen in the pocket of her apron and was recording everything. Hilary hoped that she could keep up. “This time next year, we’ll have home made pickles on the table, with arrangements of flowers from our own garden that we dried ourselves.” She couldn’t stop herself smiling at the thought. “We’ll have fresh flowers as long as we can manage, and dried for the winter,” she said.

“And lots of pickles?” Bracken said. “I is adoring pickles.”

Hilary nodded. “You’ll have to help me,” she said. “It will mean extra work, but it’s always worth it.”

“I is always ready to work,” Bracken said firmly. “And it will be learning.”

Tom came in, his dark hair wet from the shower. “Something smells good,” he said.

“Chicken tagine with apricots,” Hilary said. “It doesn’t take too long, it tastes amazing and it looks spectacular.”

“There is spices,” Bracken whispered, her voice full of awe. “Costly spices that do not grow in Yorkshire.”

“I thought that Lord Peregrine would appreciate a fancy meal,” Hilary said. “He’s insisting on paying a sum per month, so I thought I’d start out with this.”

Bracken nodded. “So many spices.”

Tom looked quickly around, trying to hide his grin. “Can I help with anything?”

“Could you get the butter and milk from the fridge, please,” Hilary asked. “I think I’ve got everything else ready.”

Tom looked over at the kettle hot and steamy at the side of the stove next to a prepared teapot and a mug with a solitary Earl Grey teabag. Homemade bread was on a wooden platter in the centre of the table and the sugar bowl was refilled and ready. He looked around at a beep. “A rice cooker?”

“It keeps rice warm and safe,” Bracken said. “For when we wait for Lord Peregrine.”

“It helps with the timing,” Hilary said. “And I’ll admit that I struggle to cook rice well. Mine always turns out soggy.”

“I’m sure that you make it better than me,” Tom grinned. “When I eat rice, it comes in microwaveable packets.” He sniffed at the pan gently simmering on the stove. “That stew smells amazing.”

“It is tagine!” Bracken said, outraged. “It is not stew. And it will be delicious.”

Tom grabbed the butter dish from the fridge and placed it correctly next to the bread before pulling out the milk jug. “Sorry, Bracken, and I’m sure that it will be extra delicious.” Tom said. “I hope that there’s plenty. I worked up an appetite on my run.” He took a seat furthest away from the stove. “How’s the knee?” he asked Hilary.

“Still sore,” she said. “But it was worth it to find the stones. I’ll have to go back there when I have more time.” She looked ruefully down at her clean clothes. “And when the weather is better. They have to have at least part of the answer to the problem of the magic around here.”

“You is very busy, Mistress Hilary,” Bracken said, looking anxious. “You have a job with work and computers as well as the cookery and magic.”

“Don’t worry,” Hilary said. “I’ll have plenty of time to teach you. Now, take a seat and we’ll wait for Lord Peregrine. I have a feeling that he’ll be here any minute.”

“Second sight?” Tom asked, impressed.

Hilary chuckled. “He sent me a text a few minutes ago to say that he was on his way from the tea rooms.”

“Auntie Olive and Auntie Ivy have decided to stay with Lord Peregrine,” Bracken said. “Just to have a little bit of a situation to keep his hall clean.”

“I hope he knows what he’s doing,” Tom said. “They’ll insist on everything being just so. He’ll have to behave.”

“You can’t make a fae lord behave,” Hilary said, gently stirring the tagine. “It’s not possible. They always find a way to get you back.”

Bracken shook her head, her eyes wide. “Auntie Olive and Auntie Ivy is very stern,” she said.

The kitchen door flew open and Lord Peregrine strode in, his dark hair tousled and his face pink from the cold wind. “I have arrived,” he announced.

“So I see,” Hilary said dryly, moving behind him to shut the door. “You can hang up your coat in the hall and wash your hands in the cloakroom.”

“Are you instructing me?” Lord Peregrine asked with a gleam in his sapphire-coloured eyes.

“I am merely stating what is possible,” Hilary said. “And once you have sat at the table, I will serve dinner.”

“So I don’t have to hang up my coat and wash my hands?” Lord Peregrine asked. “I could just take a seat and food would be served?”

“That is a course of action that you could take,” Hilary said, meeting his gaze without flinching.

“Hmm,” Lord Peregrine said. “But my movement will be easier if I remove my thick coat and I will overheat if I leave it on in this warm room.” He frowned. “And washing hands before a meal is a sign of healthy practices and good manners.”

Hilary raised a single eyebrow.

“The food smells exquisite,” Lord Peregrine said, heading into the hall as he shrugged himself out of his coat.

Hilary shook her head as she pushed the kettle to the centre of the stove to get it boiling before pouring the hot water into the teapot and mug. “I’m looking forward to this,” she said as she placed the teapot on its stand on the table next to the milk jug and the mug of fragrant Earl Grey at the place opposite Tom. “It’s a favourite of mine, and the recipe is something that I think would be known in medieval times. It might bring back good memories for Lord Peregrine.”

“But there are spices.” Bracken whispered.

Hilary nodded. “There were spices in Medieval England,” she said. “But it was only for the wealthy. That’s why I thought it would be suitable for Lord Peregrine.”

Lord Peregrine returned and dropped into the chair opposite Tom. “A commendable sentiment,” he said.

The food was a success. Tom devoured at least twice as much as Hilary and wiped his plate with a slice of bread to get the last of the sauce. Lord Peregrine barely spoke, concentrating on the meal and savouring each mouthful. Even Bracken ate a healthy portion. Hilary relaxed. “I didn’t make a fancy dessert,” she said. “But Bracken and I made an apple and ginger cake that will be nice with custard.”

Lord Peregrine held up a hand. “I think I will require a break before I eat any more,” he said, patting his lean stomach.

Tom nodded. “Even I’ll need a break.” He stood and started collecting the plates. “I think that it’s my turn to wash the dishes after such a splendid meal.”

“The dishes belong to my situation,” Bracken said, jumping to her feet. “I insist!” She glared up at the werewolf who was almost twice her height and three times her weight. “You will not take my situation.”

“I’m sorry,” Tom said quickly, holding up his hands.

“Entrepreneurial!” Lord Peregrine shouted. Tom dropped the plates.

“Look what you made Tom do!” Hilary scolded as she stood to get the dustpan and brush. “Bracken, fetch some old cloths from under the sink.  

“I was trying to remember the word all afternoon,” Lord Peregrine said without a shred of remorse. “And I remembered. Entrepreneurial!”

“You were doing a crossword?” Tom asked, stepping carefully away from the shattered china. “I’m really sorry about the plates.”

“It’s not a problem,” Hilary said, shooting a dark glance at Lord Peregrine, who ignored it.

“I’ve been thinking of ideas,” Lord Peregrine said, oblivious to the cleaning going on. “And I have purchased the tea rooms from the Lesken sisters.”

“I’m not cooking for it!” Hilary said quickly, tipping the broken china into the kitchen wastebin.

“Well, not exactly,” Lord Peregrine said.

“No, not at all!” Hilary said. “I’ve not got that much time!”

“You need more lodgers,” Lord Peregrine said. “That would cover more expenses, as would selling cakes at the new stores. Then you could give up that job of yours.”

“I am not giving up my job,” Hilary snarled.

“Why not?” Lord Peregrine asked, baffled. “Tom will as well.”

“What?” Tom said, surprised at the turn of the conversation.

“Tom, you shall give up your job and manage the new stores,” Lord Peregrine said. “You’ve never enjoyed your work in the city, and you hate the commuting. You will miss that and instead manage my new stores.” He leaned in closer. “The commuting is particularly hard, I know, and there was a traffic jam down by the bridge earlier. The traffic lights had failed and there were cars queueing for yards.”

“No, absolutely not!” Tom said.

“You no longer have to contribute money to the pack,” Lord Peregrine said. “And I will be paying a wage that is considered reasonable.”

“Who considers it reasonable?” Tom asked before he could stop himself. “No! I’m not doing it. What do I even know about tea rooms?”

“But they won’t be a tea room,” Lord Peregrine said. “I spoke to Jed and I am opening a general store. I thought I would call it New Stores and I would sell things in general.”

“No more tea rooms?” Bracken whispered. “Auntie Olive and Auntie Ivy are going to be furious.”

“I decided to make a small nook, with a few tables and chairs,” Lord Peregrine said with an airy wave of his hand. “There could be decent tea and proper coffee with cakes that Hilary makes with the free time she has after quitting her job.”

“I’m not leaving my job!” Hilary snapped.

Lord Peregrine smiled happily. “Then it’s all settled. I’ll give you a call tomorrow, Tom, to hand over keys and papers and things.” He leaned back in his chair. “And why don’t we have a slice of that cake now, Hilary? We can test it out for the new stores.”

“I am not giving up my job,” Hilary growled.

Lord Peregrine just smiled.

You can read the story so far from the beginning here

Tom jogged easily along the road, picking his way through the drifts of fallen leaves along the pavement. Rain was forecast and he could feel the damp in the air as he turned off the main road and along the path to the woods. Despite everything that had happened, he could feel the tension in him easing as he started pushing his pace, sprinting up the slope to the wood proper and then slowing to follow the narrow, leaf-covered tracks between the trees. It was his favourite run, looping around several landmarks in the woodland and then back to the road. He grinned to himself. Except now he could cut past the holly and the stand of rowan trees to Rowan Cottage and be home.

He pounded along the track, around the half-fallen ash tree and down the slope to jump over the leaf-clogged stream. The spicy scent of the woods and the hush of the trees washed off more of the tension as he headed uphill to the old oak, skidding slightly on the muddy ground before catching his balance and turning along to the stones. He was looking forward to being home, and Rowan Cottage was quickly becoming more of a home than his brother’s house had ever been. There was a warmth there that had nothing to do with the temperamental central heating or the kitchen stove. Instead it was wrapped around good food and the quiet friendship growing between Hilary and Bracken and their calm acceptance of him.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!”

Tom speeded up towards the stones. That was Hilary’s voice and she sounded completely fed up. “Is everything alright?” he called.

“Dammit!” Hilary grumbled. “I’m fine.”

Tom reached the clearing and grinned at the sight of her sprawled on the woodland floor. “The leaves are slippery this time of year,” he said, holding out a hand.

Hilary, flat on her back and smeared with mud and leaves, glared at him. “Really?” she said sarcastically. She sighed as she took his hand and he helped her back to her feet. “Ow.” She rubbed at her knee. “I wasn’t paying attention and this stone was hidden by wet leaves.” She knelt down and brushed the leaves from the small stone. “I tripped, skidded and the rest you know. I slid halfway across the clearing and landed on my dignity.”

Tom chuckled. “It was well hidden,” he said. “And if you hadn’t been lucky enough to find the stone, it would probably have been me sprawled out there. It was an accident waiting to happen.”

Hilary tilted her head and bent back to the stone. “I was lucky to find it,” she said. “I’ve been looking for these points. This stone is one of many across this area. It’s pinned into the local magic, and there’s something going wrong.”

Tom paused. “I’ve heard a few people talk about magic being wrong,” he said. “But I’ve never really understood it. Us werewolves aren’t affected by magic.”

“That’s because you are magic,” Hilary said. “And I know a few things that will stop a werewolf for a moment, so don’t get too cocky.” She ran her fingers slowly over the stone, tracing its irregularities and the hints of carving. “This should be prime witch real estate,” she said. “The Committee set up all sorts of trusts because of the strength of the magic here, so whoever owns this has to be a witch. They have to have a way of reaching the magic.” Her fingers stroked over the stone, pushing back leaves and caressing the moss in its crevices. “But the magic here is all tangled and knotted.” She pushed herself to her feet. “In most places, the magic flows in ribbons across the landscape. It’s better when it can run freely so you’re more likely to find good magical flows in the countryside rather than in built up areas. You can find them on shorelines as well, depending on how much is built up around harbours and tourism.”

Tom looked around. “So it should be fine out here but it isn’t?”

Hilary nodded. “That’s why I got the cottage so cheap. No-one wanted to deal with the mess and the Committee have been getting a lot more active lately. They’re poking their noses into all sorts of places. Whoever took over this place was expected to sort it out.”

Tom raised his eyebrows. “That sounds like a big project,” he said, glancing warily at Hilary. “You must be pretty powerful.”

“Hah! I wish,” Hilary said. “I came late to the craft so while I have a few tricks up my sleeve and I’m not entirely clueless, my biggest talent is being able to trace the lines of magical flow.” Her shoulders sagged. “I didn’t realise how hard things would be. But where there should be a smooth flow, it’s all snarled and spikey and difficult to use.”

“I think I only met your predecessor once,” Tom said. “Annie kept herself to herself.”

“That’s the tradition of a long line of witches here,” Hilary said. “But it’s not really how things should be.” She started off towards the cottage. “The woods are technically part of the cottage grounds,” she said. “I’m going to come back and have a tidy up when I get a chance.” She smiled at Tom and then winced. “Ow! I think that I’ve wrenched my knee and it’s sore now.” She limped down the path. “I want to pick up any sticks and twigs for kindling when it’s not so damp, and perhaps cut back some of these brambles. I’ll look forward to their berries next year, but I don’t want them taking over.”

“Let me take over some of that,” Tom suggested as he followed her down the path. “I like to be useful and Lord Peregrine was keen that I should help out.” He hesitated. “I was in a bad spot, and I didn’t think anyone would take me in.” He tried not to smile as he took in the muddy streaks over her jeans and the leaves still stuck in her hair. She may be mostly unhurt but she showed all the signs of a spectacular fall. He could feel Hilary’s curiosity as she slowed down, picking her way across a series of tree roots, but she was too polite to ask. “I’d be happy to repay your kindness.”

“You’re a very welcome paying guest who is no trouble at all,” Hilary said. Don’t worry about having to do labour in the house or garden.” She skirted past the fading patch of ferns. “Why didn’t you stay with Lord Peregrine at his court?” she asked. “That’s what I’ve seen in other parts of the world.”

Tom thought for a moment. “This court isn’t very big, perhaps because of the problem with the magic,” he said. “The one in Leeds is massive, and whenever I’ve visited a new city, I’ve had to present myself and they’re also usually quite big, but our court is tiny.”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Hilary said. “I know that there’s you and Bracken.”

“The local pack is quite small,” Tom said. “My uncle runs it and it’s really just his wife and kids these days, with a family who moved up from Chesterfield and joined us. There’s the Lesken sisters who run the tea shop, and I think that there’s a vampire over towards Sam’s farm, but I’ve never met them. Lord Peregrine’s court is basically a big room with a fireplace.”

“No wonder Bracken was complaining that there wasn’t any cooking,” Hilary said, following the path around a stand of silver birches and out into the cottage’s garden. She stepped onto the gravel path, thick with weeds, looked around the dismal garden and sighed. “And all this needs sorting out as well,” she said.

“Perhaps Bracken has some relatives that can help out,” Tom said. “Even if you have to pay them to do the first clearance, it would be worth it.”

“I’ll ask later,” Hilary said. “We’re going to be busy tonight. Lord Peregrine is definitely coming over so Bracken and I will be busy cooking for the rest of the afternoon.” She looked down at her muddy clothes. “After I get a shower.”

“Then you take the first shower,” Tom said. “I don’t want to delay that feast for anything!”

You can read the story so far from the beginning here

The farm shop was almost empty as Hilary bustled in. “Good morning!” she called.

Jed looked up from the papers spread over the counter next to the till. “Good morning, Hilary,” he said. “You’re early.”

“Well, she has to stock up for her new lodger and Lord Peregrine,” Marlene said, from where she was dusting a shelf of tinned beans. “How are you managing, dear?”

Hilary blinked. “You heard, then?”

“Everyone knows,” Marlene said. “It’s on the village group chat. I think it’s lovely that you took in Tom. He’s such a sweetie and he didn’t deserve what happened.”

“Why? What happened?” Hilary asked. It was worth calling into the farm shop just for the gossip, picking up some bread or milk as an excuse to hear what was going on. “Is everything alright?”

“We don’t like to talk about it,” Jed said firmly, shooting a quick look at Marlene. “But if you’re talking about feeding Tom, he’s not very picky.”

“The thing about feeding werewolves is that you need to concentrate on quantity,” Marlene said. “They’re not fussy creatures, and they’re happy with something warm at the end of the day.”

Hilary was still getting used to talking openly about werewolves and brownies, but the mortals at Praydon Farm Shop had been farming this area since before the Romans, according to the locals, so it wasn’t too surprising that they knew about the small community here. “I want to send him in with lunch as well,” she said. “He’s a paying guest, and I don’t like the idea of him stuck in the centre of Leeds eating those expensive lunches.”

“That will be a help to him, not having to pay city prices for lunch,” Marlene agreed. “And he’ll be glad to save money after…” She broke off and glanced guiltily at her husband. “Lord Peregrine is a different kettle of fish, of course,” she said, quickly changing the subject. “I can’t imagine what he’ll be like.”

“He’ll be a nuisance, like all the Fair Folk,” Jed said. “But if you’re feeding Tom, I’ve just put together some nice, juicy burgers fresh this morning.” He waved his hand at the butchery counter. “They’re not like the frozen rubbish that you get in supermarkets, but they’re the good stuff.”

“They do look nice,” Hilary said. “How is your son doing? Is he still dating Suzanne?”

“Daniel’s supposed to be picking up half a dozen sheep for the small pasture,” Marlene said. “He should have been back over an hour ago but Suzanne will be there and you know how youngsters are…”

A visit to the farm shop was never quick. Hilary’s haul for the week included more meat than she normally cooked in a month, a very fine cabbage picked from the fields at the back, an absolute bargain haul of lentils and a full briefing on all the local area’s gossip. “This is great,” Hilary said. “I’ll probably be back in a day or two for more.”

“I’m sorry that we don’t carry everything you wanted,” Marlene said. “There’s not really enough call for it.”

“It’s not worth our while,” Jed added. “It would sell, but what with the farm and the butchery, plus all plants that we’ve started selling, we don’t have a minute. You’ll have to go to one of those supermarkets.”

“Maybe someone will open a general store,” Marlene said. “The Lesken sisters are closing down the tea rooms. Someone could take over that.”

“I didn’t know the tea rooms were closing,” Hilary said. “I went there last week.”

“Then you’ll know why they’re closing,” Marlene said.

“It’s easy to be harsh,” Jed said with a look at Marlene. “But the sisters have been running that tea shop for years. They deserve a break.”

“They must be eighty if they’re a day,” Marlene said. “My grandmother used to go there when it first opened, when she was a girl.” She moved over to the shelf with the farm jams. “And through all that time it’s been Rington’s tea, coffee out of a jar, jam tarts and scones. They haven’t even tried selling sandwiches.”

“None of us are getting any younger,” Jed said placidly. “And they’re brownies, so they live a little longer. But if you ask me, they look like they’re at the time of life when they should take things a little easier.”

“If you’re doing all the cooking at your house, perhaps the tea room would suit you,” Marlene said, grinning at Hilary. “You could give it a revamp.”

“Absolutely not!” Hilary said quickly. “I’ve got a job, thank you very much, and I’m not messing around with a tea room. It looks like it would be endless washing up.”

Jed chuckled. “You’re already running a guest house with Bracken and Tom staying with you,” he said. “And I know how big that house is. When I was a lad, I helped carry the carpets in to redo the whole thing and I remember how many rooms there were. You should list yourself as a B&B.”

“As I said, I already have a job,” Hilary said, shaking her head. “Besides, Bracken is technically an employee and Tom is a werewolf. I’m not sure I want to risk taking anyone else in as goodness only knows who else I’d end up with.”

Sam Scorton wandered in. “You won’t believe who I just saw talking to the Lesken sisters,” he said.

Jed looked blank. “Everybody talks to the Lesken sisters. They’re they only tea room for miles.”

“I mean, talking,” Sam said. “I’d just finished sorting out that slip on the hill…”

“The one that happened the same night as, you know…” Marlene asked.

“Yeah, the night it all went wrong with the Lowgills. I didn’t even notice the damage for a couple of days after all that drama.”

“Tom’s staying with Hilary at Rowan Cottage,” Marlene said, nodding at her.

Sam nodded. “That’s good news. Tom deserves some luck after what happened,” he said. “And none of it his fault. No, I saw Lord Peregrine talking with the Lesken sisters about the tea rooms. I wonder if it’s him that’s going to buy it.”

“That would be a turn up,” Marlene said. “I can’t imagine Lord Peregrine wearing a frilly apron and serving up scones like the old sisters did.”

“Let’s not be disrespectful,” Jed said mildly. “And I’m sure it could have been about anything.”

Hilary grinned. “I love that image of Lord Peregrine in a pink frilly apron with a plate of scones, but he’d never take any orders, not even for a cup of tea.”

Jed laughed. “That I can believe,” he said.

“He’d be telling people how to take their tea and whether they should have jam or cream on the scone,” Sam chuckled. “No, he was talking, like outside the tea shop and pointing up at the rooms above.”

“There’s not an inch of space in that place,” Marlene said. “I went to help out once when Ivy had the flu, and I stayed on a few days when Olive caught it next. I saw the whole place while I was there and there’s hardly room to swing a cat.” She caught sight of Jed’s expression. “I wasn’t going to miss the chance to look around, was I? The tea room is big enough, but the rooms upstairs are full of stock and cooking things. I know that the sisters had a room, but being brownies, that didn’t take much space and it was just as well.”

“Anyone who takes that over will have some work to do,” Sam said, leaning on a freezer full of turkey legs. “I don’t think that it’s been painted since they took over.”

“But it will be clean,” Marlene said. “It’s always been very clean.”

Hilary wished she could stay and hear all the speculation, but time was ticking on and she had a dinner or two to prepare. “Could you help me carry my bags to the car, please, Jed?” she asked. “I’m not used to shopping for more than one.”

“Of course, lass,” Jed said, stepping around the counter. “And when you shop for a werewolf, you have to shop in bulk.”

The wind hissed coldly over the car park as Hilary hurried across the concrete and over to her elderly Ford. “Thanks, Jed,” she said. “Next time I’ll be more organised.”

“It’s not a problem, Hilary,” Jed said, lowering the bags as she unlocked her Ford Focus. “Hang on!”

Hilary jumped at the unexpected shout and then stared in horror as a sudden gust of the chill November wind rattled the ash leaning over the farm gate. With horrifying slowness, a huge tree limb cracked, slowly drooping with an unnerving groan and tearing through lower branches towards the road, just as a small, open backed truck approached. “Stay back!” she yelled, dropping her bag and racing towards the lane. “Stop!” She waved her arms frantically, hoping that she’d be seen.

The truck slammed on the brakes, just in time. The branch crashed heavily down, thrashing through the tree and landing a hand’s breadth in front of the truck. For a moment, everyone froze, waiting for a crash, before breathing out as the truck rocked violently at the sudden halt and its tailgate flew open.

“Oh bloody hell!” Jed said, “Pardon my language,” he added automatically as he raced over. “Daniel, are you okay?”

His son was still gripping the steering wheel, white knuckled and frozen at the shock of the near miss. He took a deep, shuddering breath and forced himself to look up at Jed. “Dad!” Then he slowly turned as half a dozen sheep bleated their glee as they bounced out of the truck and headed wildly back down the lane. “Oh heck.”

Hilary reached the tangled mess of branches in front of the car. Thanks to Daniel’s quick reflexes, there wasn’t a scratch on the truck but it was incredibly close. Hilary reached out to pull the branch back, but the bark was slick and it was too heavy for her to try and move. It was certainly heavy enough to do damage to the truck, and Daniel with it, if he had gone a metre further forward.

“Come on, lass,” Jed said from behind him. “We won’t get this moved any time soon. Sam will give you a lift home in the tractor, taking you over the back fields, and you can come back for your car later.” He tugged at one of the side branches of the huge tree limb blocking the road. “This will take some shifting, and you need to get your meat home before it gets too warm.”

Hilary shivered as the icy wind whistled around her and thought the meat would be as cold out here as in a fridge, but a lift was better than waiting around. “Thanks, that would be kind,” she said. She gathered up her bags, then looked back to the blocked road. She had touched the branch and felt the magic curling around it. It hadn’t fallen by accident and she wondered what that meant.