Research and the Author: Ye Olde Location

*Image from Unsplash, taken by Chris Chow*

In the first of this series on research, I wrote about the manly Kurt and the sweet Gwendolyn in three different settings. The first was a modern day romance, the second was Victorian vampire hunters and the third was a fantasy adventure, and I talked about how timings like sunset could vary and why keeping it consistent could support the plot. After all, if Kurt is escorting Gwendolyn through autumnal fallen leaves on Monday, it needs a very good reason for him to be meeting her under spring blossom on Tuesday.

In the second of this series, I had a quick browse around an unfamiliar location where Kurt and Gwendolyn could enjoy a gentle romance in a current setting. It’s unnervingly easy to find out menus for restaurants that are around 3000 miles away.

This time I want to write about the issues an author can have if they’re writing alternative history, such as steampunk. If you are an author writing an historically accurate work, then you already know far more about research than I do. In those settings, details matter. However, in alternative history, it’s not quite as important to be immaculately correct. Instead, the author can insist that the detail may not apply to our world, but it’s like that in his work of fiction. There are pitfalls, however, when writing about the past, and it’s worth being aware.

*Image from Unsplash, taken by Ivan Tsaregorodtsev* *and showing the dark, steampunk vibes even if it’s from a museum in Australia*

In the first article, our heroes were chasing vampires in the foggy heart of London in 1875, and I’ll keep to that. And the first important note is that modern maps can’t be completely trusted. If you look at an online map of London today, you can see all sorts of details about roads and houses and features. It’s a great resource if you are going to visit, and a lot of London is exactly the same as it always was. The Tower of London is in the same place that William the Conqueror left it, and Buckingham Palace is still suffering bad feng sui at the end of the Mall. However a lot has happened to the city between 1875 and now. London was badly affected by bombing between 1940 and 1945, but it was even more damaged by the reconstruction, urban renewal and modern architecture that followed. If a detail of a road or building is important to the story, it’s best to check that things were the same back in 1875.

Let’s set the scene. It’s 10^th November 1875. The fog is falling heavily and the streets are shrouded in a typical London Peasouper. Our valiant vampire hunters are stalking the bloodthirsty Count Dominic through the lamplit streets. Count Dominic sweeps his way out of a theatre where he has been charming the lords and ladies of high society and heads for the sordid slums of the East End of London. There are a number of contemporary maps around for London online but I’m going to use current Google Maps (other online maps are available) for ease of reference and to avoid getting sucked down my usual rabbit holes of research. I don’t know London well in real life, but I’m not letting that stop me.

Embarrassingly, I wasn’t sure where exactly the West End of London was in relation to the East End, so I put ‘West End, London’ into the search bar and found it. According to the map, it’s near the Ritz, the Savoy and the Embankment and includes Covent Garden and Soho. As this is not an exam under test conditions, I’m not going to stick rigidly to the area shown by the map, but it’s a start. I zoomed in and looked for theatres. The Garrick Theatre looked promising, but according to its website, it wasn’t opened until 1889. As this is fiction with vampires, I don’t have to stick to that. However, the reason I stick to things like dates is so that if I go back to theatres later on in the story, I don’t need to remember which ones I’ve made up, which ones I’ve opened ‘early’ and where I’ve put the dratted things. I can just quickly check online on the sites and move on. It’s laziness, but it’s also efficient.

*Image from Unsplash, taken by Gwen King. I couldn’t find a pic of the Lyceum Theatre, London, but I thought that this pic of Istana Budaya, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, looked very nice*

I scrolled around a little more and found the Lyceum Theatre. This was a little better, as it had been on or near that spot since 1765. I had a quick look at the website, then went on to Wikipedia. That’s when I realised that I had been lucky. Not only did it talk about the famous Victorian actor, Henry Irving, being resident at the theatre, but Bram Stoker was a business manager there. The author of Dracula worked at that theatre! Now that I know that snippet, I have to use the Lyceum Theatre. According to Wikipedia, Bram Stoker started work there in 1878, three years after Lord Kurt and Miss Gwendolyn are creeping through dark places, but perhaps he heard stories. Or I can fudge the dates as long as I remember what I’ve done. Looking around for locations has helped with plot and story ideas and that’s the useful side of research.

Back to the locations – how far is it from the Lyceum Theatre to, say, Whitechapel? It’s around three miles, which isn’t very far, certainly not for the vampiric Count Dominic. But if it’s a dark, foggy night with the cold creeping in, it’s quite a way for the intrepid Lord Kurt and the dauntless Miss Gwendolyn. They could get a hansom cab, but would a cab driver be willing to take them down Whitechapel Road at that time of night? If it’s useful for the story, then Lord Kurt and Miss Gwendolyn can absolutely rattle through the dark streets behind a horse and driver. But perhaps they take the Underground with trains running underneath London?

*Image from Unsplash, taken by Richard Horne and looking suitably Victorian*

Trains are tricky. Lots of people are really keen on trains and are willing to share their knowledge with the flimsiest of excuses. If you get details about trains wrong without a good reason in the plot, there may be complaints. The nearest underground station to the Lyceum Theatre is the Temple, and Lord Kurt could stride in and purchase tickets there without any problem as it opened in 1870. If he wanted to go to Whitechapel Station, however, he would have something of a wait as it didn’t open until 1884. It’s going to have to be a chase by hansom cab.

The slums of the East End of London were notoriously cramped, crowded and difficult to navigate, full of alleys and small yards. I personally wouldn’t try and use the exact streets of the East End in fiction. The chances of getting things wrong are a little too high for me even if I could find a decent map of the correct date, and it would take far too long to be completely accurate. Instead, I would focus on the things that I know that I could get wrong and that people would easily notice. That includes things like – is Whitechapel north or south of the River Thames? If Miss Gwendolyn is searching through documents in the British Museum (Reading Room opened in 1857), is it easy for Lord Kurt to hurry back to her from a meeting with a German professor, Dr Ernst Baum, at the Reform Club (the starting point of Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne, published in 1872).

*Image from Unsplash, taken by Hert Niks and looking almost as narrow as the East End slums but a lot cleaner and better lit*

And taking inspiration from Jules Verne, perhaps Dr Baum has news that Count Dominic has left London and travelled abroad for his own dark reasons. In the next article, I’ll discuss the pitfalls of charting Lord Kurt and Miss Gwendolyn’s journey away from the well-trodden paths of Victorian London and into the wider world.

*Image from Unsplash, taken by Andrew Neel* *and showing how the planning could be going*

I’d love to hear what you think, and if I’ve made any mistakes I would seriously love to know as it will help me learn. Thank you for reading and I hope that you enjoyed this

You can find the rest of the posts on this here – Research and the Author, Collected Posts

Websites used for this article

Wikipedia

List of London Underground Stations

Google Maps

Lyceum Theatre, London

The History of London

List of German Baby Names of the 1890s which I thought was near enough

Making Plans

You can read the story so far from the beginning here

Hilary patted Bracken’s arm. “It’s okay to sit down now,” she said. “All our guests have food and drink and the dining room has never been so comfortable.”

Bracken wrung her hands and looked around the dining room. Hilary was right, the room had never looked so good. Lamps glowed in the corners, their soft light gleaming on the polished wooden mantelpiece and the immaculate pictures. The table was covered with a pristine white tablecloth, an old-fashioned one with a damask pattern of ivy leaves, and the centre of the table held platters overflowing with snacks. The polished sideboard held thermos jugs of tea and coffee together with pitchers of iced water and some bottles of wine. “It is a responsibility!” she said.

“Please come and sit down,” Lord Peregrine said. “We need to start the discussion.” He glanced at Hilary who gave him a pointed look. “One of the main reasons I asked for this meeting to be at Rowan Cottage was the excellence of the food,” he added. “And you have surpassed all expectations.”

Bracken’s eyes widened. “I surpassed!” she whispered to herself as she took a seat next to Hilary.

“Of course, it would have been more comfortable in the library,” Lord Peregrine continued. “But that is obviously not available and I am happy that Miss Hilary felt able to give hospitality.”

“I went into the library this morning,” Hilary said. “It feels fine in there. We would probably have been okay.” She looked around the table. Lord Peregrine was poised but relaxed, almost hiding the wary light in his eyes. Magnus lounged in his hard dining chair, toying with his pen. Cabus was upright with a solitary shortbread finger on a plate in front of him next to his glass of water. Tom was leaning forward, a frown on his face as he turned a gingersnap over in his fingers. Even Bracken, sitting primly on a chair with an extra cushion to give her height, her hands folded neatly in front of her, was stiff with tension. “Whatever is in the cellar is… difficult,” Hilary said. “But we should be safe up here.”

“The cottage is so stacked with wards that it’s almost vibrating,” Lord Peregrine said. “I cannot imagine a safe place. However whatever is down there must be dealt with.”

“I’m not sure whether it’s a creature, a spirit or just some wards with a lot of side effects,” Hilary said.

“Some sort of malignant spirit or ward would be my guess,” Lord Peregrine said. “I’m not easily affected.”

Hilary thought back to some of their earlier tussles. Lord Peregrine was a powerful fae and yet he had been helpless in the cellar. “That’s one of the things that worries me,” she said. “It wasn’t exactly pleasant for me, but at least I could get out.” She looked around the table. “And whatever it was only reacted when we exposed the inscriptions on the wall. Potentially we could go down into the cellar and there would be no trace of anything more dangerous than a miffed cellar spider.” Hilary shrugged. “Or not. It’s like living on top of a landmine. Anything could be down there and I’m not sure that I could deal with it.”

“At least it isn’t Samgan down there,” Cabus pointed out. “Anything that affected Lord Peregrine would also affect him. He would have triggered something already as no pooka could resist twitching curtains. The script would have already been exposed.”

“That is very truthful,” Bracken said solemnly.

“We can’t ignore him,” Magnus said. “I mean, we can’t ignore Samgan. He’s causing havoc. We need to find him and, I don’t know, tell him to stop.”

Hilary looked at him blankly. “Since when has telling a supernatural to stop ever worked?” she asked. “In my experience, telling something like a fae or pooka not to do something is more like an incitement to riot.” She looked at Lord Peregrine who smiled smugly. “They get creative.”

“Sam Scorton lost a day’s money,” Magnus said. “And the smell of the sour milk is still hanging around. Something has to be done.”

“If we can track him down, we may be able to talk with him,” Cabus said. “I’m not saying that pookas are all creatures of reason and logic, but it feels like Samgan is angry about something and, if we can mitigate that, then we may be able to soothe his feelings and get some peace back.”

“We still can’t ignore what happened in the cellar,” Tom said. “Because if Samgan does get in and decide to poke around, anything could happen.” He looked at Lord Peregrine. “No disrespect, but if Hilary hadn’t been able to cover the wall and drag you out, what do you think would have happened?”

“Something was definitely manifesting,” Hilary said. “But I have no idea what. It’s nothing like I’ve ever seen.”

“Perhaps I could accompany you down there?” Cabus said. “I’m not fae.”

Hilary tried to find the correct words. “I don’t know…” she said. “Do you know, I think I’d like a glass of wine.”

“You’re a creature of darkness,” Lord Peregrine told Cabus bluntly. “You could be possessed.”

“I doubt it,” Cabus said coolly. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“I bet you do,” Magnus murmured. He turned to Hilary. “I wouldn’t say no to a glass of wine myself.”

“I’ll get it,” Tom said, jumping to his feet. “At least I’ll be doing something useful. I feel completely helpless here.”

“You were far from useless when we had to sort out Sam’s dairy,” Hilary said. “You got the cows back in the barn and pulled down that awful poppet that had been stuck in the corner.”

“That was odd,” Lord Peregrine said. “There was something distorted about it, something that I don’t think Samgan could or would do. I don’t doubt that he was responsible for the milk turning despite all the precautions in the machinery, but that poppet was wrong.” He pulled out his phone and opened it. “I took a picture.”

Cabus looked at it thoughtfully, ignoring Magnus hanging over his shoulder. “That looks like a perfectly innocent, protective dolly that you can find on any of a dozen farms but…”

Lord Peregrine nodded. “Something twisted this before Samgan got there.”

“Annie was supposed to be sorting out that milking shed,” Magnus said, shuddering and backing away from the picture. “Sam Scorton has had no luck in there at all. Machinery is always breaking, cows are not giving as much or drying up early. The vet has had to come round a few more times than you would expect.” He gestured at the picture on Lord Peregrine’s phone. “I suppose we know why now.”

“The milking shed is adjacent to one of the worst affected magical streams,” Cabus said. “The energy in that flow is twisted and difficult to predict. Annie may have placed the poppet in good faith and the local flow caused it to degrade.” He carefully turned his shortbread on his plate. “And that would have helped Samgan. He may even had subconsciously drawing our attention to the matter. Pookas are sensitive to magical flow.”

“We need the notebooks,” Hilary said. “This all started because we were looking for the notebooks for the cottage, because we are all concerned about the flow of magic being disrupted.” She smiled her thanks to Tom as he poured red wine into her glass. “There should be records of the poppet, and records of what she did to the walls.”

“The notebooks looked quite old,” Lord Peregrine said. “A little white wine, Tom.” He caught Bracken’s eye. “If you please.”

“Some looked old,” Hilary said. “And I may spend some time scanning and re-copying. The Council is always chasing old notebooks. But some of those notebooks were newer and there were some blank ones stacked to one side. I’d bet that Annie was taking notes.” She took a small sip of wine. “What was she like, anyway?” She looked around the table. “I heard that she was a little sharp tempered.”

There was an awkward silence before Lord Peregrine cleared his throat. “She had the temperament of a badger with toothache, the dulcet tones of a donkey with tonsilitis and the generosity of a butcher’s dog.” He spread his hands helplessly. “She was not particularly popular, but she did her duty. In places where magical flows are so active, you need to have a strong personality, which she did…”

“She really did,” muttered Magnus.

Lord Peregrine raised an eyebrow before continuing. “But Annie could be relied on to provide minor charms for anyone that had the courage to approach her.”

“Like the poppet at Sam’s farm,” Magnus said. “And she helped a few of the cubs out when they were going through their first shifts. It’s always a tricky time for them, but Annie helped out.”

“And was guaranteed to pick an argument with the mother, or cause problems between siblings, or knock over something breakable,” Tom added. “I remember when the only thing she did was compare our grandmother’s cooking to pig slop and we were all relieved.” He stopped suddenly for a moment and caught Magnus’ eye.

“We’ll speak later,” Magnus said gruffly. “But coming back to the point. We need to find Samgan and we need to work out what is going on in the cellar.”

“You say that the library feels fine?” Cabus asked Hilary. She nodded. Cabus carefully realigned his shortbread before continuing. “The cellar is not important in itself. Right now, the important thing is the retrieval of those notebooks. I suggest that I attend late tomorrow evening, after I’ve fortified myself.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Tom asked.

Lord Peregrine shook his head. “Whatever was manifesting was pure evil,” he said. “And extremely powerful. I do not wish you to be possessed.”

“It is purely a matter of planning,” Cabus said. He picked up his wine glass and caught Tom’s eye. “I would be grateful if you could pour me a little wine – white, if you have it.” He watched Tom pour and took a small sip. “Hilary, you saw how many notebooks were stacked. Would it fill up more than one bag?”

Hilary exchanged a glance with Lord Peregrine. “I’ve got some big supermarket reusable bags,” she said. “I think that there were at least three bags full, if not more.”

“And those were the ones that we could see,” Lord Peregrine added. “It would be profitable to get as many out as possible. There may be more in the workroom.”

“I shall stand at the top of the stairs,” Cabus said. “I shall remain alert and venture down if it seems necessary.” He took a deep breath. “Hilary will go down the stairs carrying the bags and a rope. I’ll have the other end of the rope.”

“So you can pull Hilary out, just in case?” Tom asked.

Cabus shook his head. “My initial thought was that Hilary would fill the bags as quickly as she could. We would only retrieve the notebooks on the shelves on this trip, without searching for further information.”

“I’d be very surprised if there weren’t records in that workroom,” Hilary said.

“They can wait,” Cabus said. “As soon as a bag is filled, the handles can be tied to the rope, and I can pull the bags up – carefully!” The smallest hint of a smile flickered across his face. “I know how valuable and potentially fragile these notebooks are. I will untie the bag as soon as I pull it up to the top of the stairs, then I’ll throw the rope down for the next bag. That seems an efficient way to approach it.”

“I suppose it does,” Hilary said unhappily.

“You shouldn’t trouble yourself too much about keeping the notebooks in order,” Cabus said. “Just pack them carefully but tightly, empty the shelves and get back up as soon as possible. You say that you were unaffected in the living room?”

Hilary nodded. “But something may have leaked into it since then,” she said.

“Then the quicker you retrieve the notebooks, the better,” Cabus said. He turned to Bracken. “I would ask you and Tom to stay in the library, a little way back,” he said to the brownie. “You are the best chance of us quickly finding extra bags and baskets if they are needed.” He looked at Tom. “And I would appreciate someone with good reflexes and strength if things go wrong.”

“And because werewolves don’t easily fall under the control of vampires,” Tom said.

Cabus nodded. “That is true. I doubt that I could easily control anyone sitting around this table.” He smiled thinly. “That is a refreshing change.” He took another small sip of wine.

“And what about Samgan?” Magnus asked.

Cabus looked at Lord Peregrine. “You are the lord here,” he said. “I’m reluctant to make suggestions.”

“Please, suggest as much as you like,” Lord Peregrine said. “You seem to have plenty of ideas.”

“I suggest that our efforts are split,” Cabus said. “Hilary has mundane work to do, but outside of those efforts, she should concentrate on the notebooks and the issues with the cellar. I am happy to volunteer my aid.”

Hilary thought about the overflowing shelves. “Please, I’ll take as much help as you can spare,” she said. “And if you’ve lived in these parts for a while, the local knowledge will be so useful.”

Cabus nodded. “While we focus on the notebooks, Lord Peregrine and Magnus should pursue Samgan, perhaps starting by investigating the room under the new stores. I’m confident that you will know how to continue.”

“What about me?” Tom asked.

“And I is helpful,” Bracken added.

“I do not doubt either of you,” Cabus said. “Tom, you are busy with the opening of the new stores which can’t be abandoned. However, please keep your phone charged. I know how useful you are when things are unexpectedly dark.”

Tom shrugged and poured himself a cup of tea. “I’ll keep my phone on me.”

Cabus turned to Bracken. “Miss Hilary will be busy with work and the study of these old records, many of which will no doubt be obscure. She will need you to keep the house clean and to provide food.”

Bracken lifted her chin proudly. “I can be of use,” she said firmly. “And there will be plenty of food.”

“Which is just as well,” Lord Peregrine said. “The new lodger will be turning up tomorrow, probably in the evening.”

“What new lodger?” Hilary asked, her eyes narrowing. “What have you got me into? You’re not my lord, you know.” She leaned forward. “Keep pushing and I won’t make you any more brown butter biscuits.”

Lord Peregrine shrugged. “I thought that it was time that you had a new guest,” he said.

Research and the Author: Location, Location, Location

In the last post, I talked about Gwendolyn, our soft and sweet heroine, and Kurt, our strong jawed hero, meeting at a very variable sunset. You can read about it here, as I discussed the effect time could have on their meetings. Now let’s talk about place.

*Image from Unsplash, taken by Annie Spratt*

I feel more comfortable describing places that I know or are close to what I know. For the purposes of this article, however, I’m going to push outside my comfort zone and show how I pursue research in unfamiliar places. But let’s keep to the sweet Gwendolyn and the manly Kurt.

Starting with the modern day romance, let’s head to the United States. I’ve never been and I don’t expect I’ll be lucky enough to travel there in the near future, so I’m almost going in blind. I’ve picked up bits from films, tv, social media and books, so I have a place to start and it could be worse. This is a great point to find all the bits that I’ve got wrong and point them out in a kindly way.

*Image from Unsplash, taken by Keith Luke, of East Boothby, which is over a hundred miles from Machias and reminded me how unfamiliar I am with distances in the USA.*

I thought I’d pick a place in Maine and randomly chose Machias as a reference point. Because I’m unfamiliar with the area and don’t want to get into trouble, I’m going to give a fake name but use the town as a starting point to look up climate, sunset times, seasons, languages and all that fun stuff. I’ll use Morley as the name of the town, picked at random after a quick check on the internet to make sure that there isn’t actually a place called Morley, Maine, USA. As in the last article, we’ll use 10^th November as a starting point as Gwendolyn first meets Kurt at sunset. Sunset at East Machias (just down the road from Machias, and a point on the Time and Date website but with far fewer houses) on 10^th November is 4.06pm so Gwendolyn has just popped out from her work at the local library as it starts to get dark.

*Image from Unsplash, taken by Inaki del Olmo and misleadingly of a library in Bilbao*

The local library has been in existence since the early 1800s according to its website, with the first catalogue printed in 1843. As an author who breaks out in supernatural unless I’m very careful, having old and possibly haunted things around is useful. There doesn’t seem to be many staff according to the website but I’m writing fiction so Gwendolyn has left her good friend Becky in charge as she leaves to do something – but what? I’ve checked the map on Google (other internet maps are available) and there is a USPS post office right across the street. Gwendolyn is obviously picking up a parcel for the library. By checking the map I’ve given Gwendolyn a reason to be crossing the road around the time of sunset to bump into the manly Kurt, and the delay of their first encounter means that she misses the pick up time at the post office (closes at 4pm according to their website). This gives me conflict and interactions to play with straight away.

Kurt has just bought a local auto repair shop and has called into town. Checking on the map, there is a cemetery a little further down the road. Perhaps he was on his way there to visit the grave of an ancestor when he bumped into Gwendolyn for the first time and was dazzled by her loveliness. He may wonder if he could see her again and if so, where could he take her on a date? According to the local Chamber of Commerce, there are no festivals on in November (the Wine and Beer Tasting Festival in October looks fun, though) but there is a local Chinese restaurant that does Shrimp Lo Mein for $13 which may be good.

*Image from Unsplash, taken by Orijit Chatterjee*

Just by picking a location, having a rummage around and playing with ideas I have found all sorts of possible starts to a story. What is more, I’ve found out all this information without leaving my very comfortable chair at my home in Leeds. You should never put the research and detail before the story. If you feel that Kurt would like to take Gwendolyn to an Italian restaurant but can’t find one on the map – invent it! You are telling a story, not swearing an oath in court. The story always comes first. However, if you take time to look around a location, it can be a wonderful boost to the start of a story and a great store of inspiration.

I’ll go into historical locations in the next article.

Sites that I used for research

Google Maps

Machais Post Office

Porter Memorial Library

Machias Chamber of Commerce

Time and Date

Hing Garden Restaurant

Playing Safe

You can read the story so far from the beginning here

“You forgot your lunch.”

Tom turned around, nearly falling over the trailing wires covering the front of new stores. “Hello, Hilary. I didn’t realise.” He grinned as he took the lunchbox and flask from her. “I’ve a lot on my mind.”

Hilary looked around the dust-strewn chaos of paint buckets and drop sheets mixed in with drills and piles of unbuilt shelving. “I can see that,” she said.

“I would have come back to get it,” Tom said, taking the lunch through to the kitchen. “Come through here. It’s almost finished.”

“And this is where I’ll be working until I can persuade Bracken to take over?” Hilary said. “I hope that she’s not going to have a fit about being paid.” She looked around the kitchen with interest. The stainless steel counters gleamed, as did the huge fridge freezers and expanse of sink. “The cooker looks complicated.” She set her bag down on the counter and ran a finger over the controls. “It looks like it’s better at maths than I am.”

Tom chuckled. “It’s a straightforward piece of kit,” he said. “It’s just bigger.”

“I don’t have a ‘proving oven’ at home,” Hilary said. “When I make bread, I shove it on the shelf over the hot water tank.” She frowned at him. “And I’m not baking bread here. That would be too much. I’d have to be up before the crack of dawn, I’d have to spend my life cooking.” She stared helplessly at Tom. “I’m not that good at cooking.”

Tom chuckled. “I’ve put on a few pounds since I moved in,” he said. “Between the good stuff you make when Lord Peregrine turns up and Bracken’s practice sessions, I’ve never eaten so good.”

Hilary ran her eyes over him. “You don’t look like you’ve put on an ounce,” she said. “In fact, I’d say those jeans are looser on you.”

“Are you checking me out?” Tom grinned. He turned around. “I’ve gone from sitting at a desk to working fourteen hour days of physical labour getting this up and running.” He flexed a bicep through his well-washed t-shirt. “I’ve put on a load of muscle. And my point stands – I’m getting good food which is keeping me going.” He grabbed hold of the lunchbox. “What have I got today?”

“Lots of Bracken’s experiments,” Hilary said. “You’ve got two sausage rolls, a ham sandwich…”

“With the pickle?” Tom interrupted.

“Yes, with the home-made pickle,” Hilary said. “A cheese and bacon muffin, a slice of chocolate cake, an apple and a pear.” She smiled back at him. “And a nice, old-fashioned chicken soup in the flask.” She eyed his flat stomach. “I don’t know where you put it all.”

“That’s werewolves for you,” Tom said. “I’m about to take a break anyway and I’ve got some coffee on the go. Would you like some?”

“Yes, please!” Hilary said. She pulled another box out from her bag. “And I’ve got just the thing to go with it.”

Tom’s eyes lit up. “You made brown butter cookies?” he said.

Hilary nodded. “Bracken was looking stressed at breakfast so I sent her off to vacuum the mattresses and I took the chance to get ahead with baking.” She shook her head. “To get ahead with baking for the cottage, I mean. I’m ahead with stuff for the new stores.”

“Does that mean that when I get home, I can raid the snacks without worrying?” Tom asked.

“Don’t tell me, werewolf metabolism,” Hilary said. “Yes, you can eat as much as you like.”

Tom poured them both coffee as Hilary pulled out a couple of small plates and added the biscuits. Then they wandered into the tiny room that the Lesken sisters had used for storage but was now optimistically called the ‘Staff Break Room.’ Tom had set up a rickety camping table and found half a dozen elderly dining chairs from somewhere, but it was almost dust free and there was a view through the window to the overgrown garden at the back. “I’m going to get that garden sorted after I’ve dealt with yours,” Tom said, pointing at the tumbling mass of brambles and nettles. “I know that it’s not really worth the effort, with the Farm Shop being so good, but being able to have food available made with veggies and herbs from the garden at the back would be a great draw with the tourists in the summer.”

“Salads picked fresh from the garden at the back,” Hilary said. “It sounds great.”

“We don’t need to go too fancy,” Tom said. “I’m playing it safe with the stock, especially at first, and I’m happy to do the same with the garden. I thought if I could grow some bits of lettuce, nothing special, and perhaps a bit of parsley and basil, then it would save some time and trouble.”

“And you’d get the excuse to get out into the sun and nature even though you’re running the shop,” Hilary said. “But don’t worry too much about the garden up at Rowan Cottage. I know that you’ll be busy.”

“It’s the least that I can do,” Tom said. He patted his flat stomach. “I get the benefit from keeping you and Bracken happy. Is she still asking for a large vegetable patch.”

“She’s been going online and seeing the gardening shows on there,” Hilary said. “You’ll have your work cut out to keep up with her expectations.”

“That’s brownies all over,” Tom said.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Rain dashed against the window and the wind whipped through the dead weeds outside, but inside was warm and cosy, with good coffee and good food. Finally, Tom stood. “I need to get back to work.” He stretched. “I’m getting the first delivery of stock this afternoon and I need to get the shelves in place.”

“Would you like a hand?” Hilary asked. “Since I left work, I’m finding myself at something of a loose end.” She grimaced. “Okay, I have a stack of work that I need to do back at the cottage. I’ve got some freelance stuff that may not be urgent but it still needs doing, and I’ve got a lot of research to do. Plus Lord Peregrine is talking about extra lodgers so I need to try making listings.” She swallowed the last mouthful of coffee. “But I’m uncomfortable at home.” She looked helplessly at Tom. “I’ve placed wards everywhere, I’ve locked the library so you can’t get down to the cellar and, besides, there was nothing to get out.” She shuddered. “At least I saw to that. But it felt evil down there, really evil, and completely beyond my ability to survive.”

Tom put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I think you underestimate yourself,” he said. “You got yourself and Lord Peregrine out of there quickly enough. And, as you say, you’ve taken precautions. Did the Committee of Witchcraft get back to you?”

Hilary shook her head. “They said that they weren’t a police force and that they expected witches who were lucky enough to be allowed to buy a property under their trust to have the competence to deal with what comes with that cottage.” She picked up her cup and plate. “But I would never have risked coming here if I’d known about that cellar,” she said. “I don’t have the skills.”

“You’ll find a way,” Tom said, following her into the kitchen. “And next time it will be me going down there with you.”

“You don’t know what it was like,” Hilary whispered. “It wasn’t nature spirits or forces. It was all wrong.”

“You talked about there being a stack of books down there,” Tom said. “We need to get those out. That will be the best place to start looking. You’ll find answers in there, I’m sure.”

Hilary started running hot water into the sink. “You can’t come down there with me,” she said. “Whatever’s down there almost destroyed Lord Peregrine, and he’s not exactly a weakling.” She added washing up liquid. “I’m not sure, but I suspect that the stuff down there is lethal to supernaturals like you and Lord Peregrine. And it’s why Bracken can’t be allowed anywhere near there. Not that I could stop her, but at least she’s listened.”

Tom handed over his cup and plate. “You’ve locked the door and warded everything,” he said. “Bracken can’t even get near it.”

Hilary rinsed her plain blue plate. “Brownies can get anywhere,” she said. “Seriously, they can get into sealed tombs and hidden vaults. Most of the time they won’t bother, the rest of the time, they’re more interested in dusting than looting, but they’re a menace if they think that they haven’t cleaned somewhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if I went into the locked, warded library and found the cellar untouched but every bookcase dusted, front and back, and all the books arranged in some sort of order that made sense to brownies.” She set the plate onto the draining board and ran the dishcloth over her cup. “Thank goodness brownies have a strong sense of what is right and what isn’t. Otherwise nowhere would be safe. Pooka are the nearest thing to brownies that don’t have that moral compass. Sometimes they’re fine, but sometimes…” She rinsed the mug and set it next to the plate on the draining rack. “They can be dangerous.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Lord Peregrine told me that he was absolutely definitely coming to dinner tonight, so there’s a good chance that he’ll be there. Afterwards, perhaps we can make a plan.”

Tom held up his hand. “Your phone is ringing,” he said.

“Of course, I left it in my bag. Excuse me.” Hilary wiped her hands quickly and rushed towards the shop.

Tom frowned. He had an uneasy feeling that Hilary was right and that a supernatural would struggle down in the cellar. That didn’t mean that he felt happy about it. It went against his nature to have someone else walk into a dangerous situation while he stayed safely behind. He picked up a plate to dry.

“Tom! We need to go!” Hilary called.

Startled, Tom dropped the plate and rushed into the shop. “Is it Bracken? Has something happened at Rowan Cottage?”

“We’re needed up at Sam Storton’s farm!” Hilary was checking for her keys. “All the milk in the milking shed has turned and the cattle are acting wild.” She rushed out of the shop and waited impatiently for Tom to lock the door behind them. “It sounds pretty bad. Lord Peregrine said that there was over a hundred litres of milk spoiled and the cows had knocked down some fences. He needs my craft to get the charms off the milk and put some basic wards up and he needs your muscles to help Sam out.”

“We can take my car,” Tom said. “I’ve got some extra kit in there.”

Hilary slid into the passenger side as soon as the car unlocked. “It sounds like the work of a pooka,” she said. “And one that’s very angry indeed.”

“As if we didn’t have enough to do,” Tom grumbled.

Research and the Author: Timing is Everything

*Image from Unsplash, taken by Dan Dimmock*

This article was first published in 2023

The reason for doing research is so that you don’t look like an idiot.

The reason that you stop doing research is to avoid boring your reader and losing your sanity.

You should only research when it makes life easier for you.

In my opinion, when you are starting a piece of fiction, when should be a question that is asked early in the process. If you nail down that time then you make life a lot easier for yourself.

Let’s consider a sweet and gentle heroine, Gwendolyn, and a strong jawed hero, Kurt. They first meet during a magical moment at sunset. In the soft glow of the fading light, they smile and perhaps their hands touch as they part and go their separate ways towards… towards what?

*Image from Unsplash, taken by Josh Couch*
*It’s a picture of Kirkstall Abbey which is in Leeds but nowhere near the end of my street*

I live in Leeds, UK. If they met today, 21^st June, at the end of my street (possibly the least romantic place in the world), sunset would be 9.40pm. She could be wearing a floating dress and cute sandals while he would be wearing jeans and a tight t-shirt that of course showed off his manly muscles. They would part and go towards their separate beds. However if they met, say, on March 21^st, then sunset would be 6.20pm and they would be going back to their evening pursuits, perhaps in snug sweaters and waterproof jackets. Gwendolyn will be embroidering a picture for a friend and Kurt will be rebuilding a motorbike. And if that first, tingling meeting was on 21^st December then sunset would be at 3.46pm and they would be rushing home for their evening meal. They are wearing warm boots and scarves. Gwendolyn’s meal probably involves a cupcake while Kurt is definitely having steak.

Most readers will probably not go around marking in pencil the different times of day and keeping track. On the other hand, those who notice that Gwendolyn and Kurt are suffering from irregular sunsets will find it incredibly annoying. Having a sunset at 5pm one day and 8pm the next isn’t great continuity and could jar if it’s noticed. It may not only stop them reading the book, it could stop them recommending the book and, worse, stop them buying more of your work.

It doesn’t matter if you are on the exact second. To a normal mortal like me, I couldn’t tell you the exact minute that the sun sets as I’m going about my daily life. I just know that the sun sets later on some days than on others and hang out my washing accordingly. When I’m writing, however, I know that I can use a rough rule of thumb to know whether the exciting chase through the woods is in dappled sunshine (which makes it harder to spot the dropped clue in the light and shade) or in darkness (which makes it easier for the dastardly ambusher to creep up on them).

*Image from Unsplash, taken by Rosie Sun*

Setting the time based on the present is one thing, but how about having Gwendoline and Kurt battling Victorian Vampires. They are creeping around 19^th century London, valiantly stalking the bloodsuckers. If the vampires struggle with daylight, knowing when the sun is likely to set is really important and, fortunately, sunrise and sunset times stay roughly the same for millennia. You can look up the times for this year and apply them whenever. In this scenario, the year is the important detail.

Queen Victoria came to the throne in 1837. She died in 1901. That’s roughly 64 years, or the difference between 2023 and 1959. A lot of stuff happened in science, industry and politics and many people know enough about that time to quibble. If the characters are huddled together under a streetlight, is it powered by gas (from the 1820s) or electric (in general use from around 1878)? And as Lord Kurt has one manly arm around the fainting Miss Gwendolyne, does his other hand hold a Colt Walker (introduced 1847), a Colt Peacemaker (1873) or a Colt New Service (1898). While someone in 1898 could absolutely be using a well-maintained Colt Walker or even a blunderbuss, it’s slightly harder to have a Colt New Service in 1847, but that depends on the plot.

In general, on the whole and by and large, it doesn’t matter too much. If you are getting complaints, you can look the critic firmly in the eye and tell them, ‘It’s like that in my world.’ After all, vampires aren’t real, so what does it matter if a young Charles Dickens is using a commercial typewriter? If you want to give your story authentic bones (with room to fudge a year or two if the plot needs it – plot comes first) then if you pick a date at the start then you can always look up information as you feel you need it. Perhaps Bram Stoker writes Dracula after learning about vampires in a chance encounter with Gwendolyn and Kurt. Dracula was published in 1897, so let’s have the story set in 1875. That means that Kurt can have a shiny new Colt Peacemaker and Gwedonlyn will be wearing rigorous corsets and a bustle. And as you rattle through their amazing adventures, if you are in doubt, you can just have a quick look to see what was around in 1875, fiddle with stuff to make the plot work and carry on.

Fantasy writing is not too different when it comes to time. You may be creating a new world that is stuffed with elves and goblins and magic, but if you do a little bit of research at the start, you can make life a lot easier for yourself.

Kurt the Barbarian may be meeting the sweet Gwendolyn the Healer in the fabled city of Tarsh, but unless you feel like worrying about planetary physics, you can use the same rules for their daylight hours. Are they meeting as the sun sets and the gates of the city are closing? You can absolutely use the prosaic timings of Leeds. Perhaps it’s winter, and the sun dips below the Virnoth Mountains early and Kurt the Barbarian, resplendent in his furs, wraps a warm woollen cloak around Gwendolyn the Healer before leading her to a sustaining meal in a local inn. Or is it later in the year and the hot summer winds are swirling up from the plains of Redumar as the incense rises from the temples on the soft evening air.

*Image from Unsplash, taken by Sultonbek Ikromov*

By the way, did you know that sunrise and sunset are different depending on where in the world you are? Let’s take a sunset on 10^th November. In Leeds, where the modern day romance between Kurt and Gwendolyn is progressing nicely, the sun sets at 4.16pm. If you are being extremely detailed, the Victorian Vampire Hunters in London have sunset at 4.18pm on November 10^th(and the chance of those two minutes being significant is extremely small). But perhaps Lord Kurt and Miss Gwendolyn have followed the vampires across Europe to the capital of Romania. Sunset at Bucharest on November 10^th is at 4.54pm. But wait, the fanged fiend has fled to an unexpected lair in Hong Kong. As they scull across the bustling harbour on that fateful 10^th November, the sun sets at 5.41pm. Alas, they miss their chance, and the bloodthirsty Count is now in Santiago, Chile. November 10^th is late spring or early summer in the Southern Hemisphere and as Lord Kurt escorts Miss Gwendolyn into the International Exposition in the Quinta Normal grounds, they fear that the sunset at 8.18pm will awaken their nemesis.

*Image from Unsplash, taken by Andrew Neel*

This may all seem like a lot of research, but it’s just a few clicks on the internet and then you have some bones to hang your story on. If you choose 10^th November in Leeds for the modern romance between Kurt and Gwendolyn then you can use the run up to Christmas with the city Christmas lights, the displays in Roundhay Park and all the Christmas shopping events as easy ways to frame their encounters as the story progresses. And if Lord Kurt and Miss Gwendolyn are searching Victorian London, it’s so much easier to know if a London Underground station would be open in a particular area if you can just check the history pages of a website for 1875 rather than worrying about making something up and then contradicting that two chapters later. And surely it’s easier to remember if Kurt the Barbarian and Gwendolyn the Healer are battling ice or heat waves if you have nailed down an equivalent real world date. After all, you don’t want the heat of the summer sun shining on the gilded domes of Tarsh if you’ve described the snow storm two paragraphs and three hours earlier.

My opinion is that a reader wants to know about the characters and the plot. The most important thing is absolutely the story. I believe that it’s easier for a reader to savour your wonderful writing if those minor, background details work together, support the story and help things flow. And if research gets in the way of the story – junk the research!

Happy Writing!

Unexpected Discoveries

You can read the story so far from the beginning here

Lord Peregrine was impressed. “This is a splendid hidden stair,” he said. “I can’t believe that I’ve got the chance to see it.”

“It’s not my first choice,” Hilary grumbled.

“Bracken needs to stay upstairs,” Lord Peregrine continued, magnificently ignoring Hilary’s comment.

Bracken looked relieved. “I will watch the time, keep the kettle warm and have food ready for your return,” she said.

“We’re only going into a cellar,” Hilary said. She glanced over at the doorway. It may be brightly lit, but cold radiated from the stairs down. It didn’t look like she would find a small room at the base. It looked like it could take her anywhere. “We probably won’t be more than a few minutes.”

“I couldn’t comment,” Lord Peregrine said. “There are a lot of wards down there. I couldn’t tell you anything.”

“The Committee are going to be furious,” Hilary muttered. She checked her phone and grabbed the flashlight that she had insisted on getting out. “I know that there’s lights on the stairs, but I don’t know what to expect once we’re down there.” She squared her shoulders. “This was absolutely not on record when I bought the cottage.”

Lord Peregrine shrugged. “Lead on, Miss Hilary.”

Hilary took a deep breath and stepped through the doorway.

At the back of her mind, Hilary knew that she was overreacting. It was just a staircase that no doubt led to an old coal cellar with nothing more alarming than a few desiccated spiders. But with the issue of the missing notebooks, and a complete lack of evidence that Annie had ever been a witch, it was hard to rule out finding something a little more interesting. And the thought of finding a pooka, a being with a natural knack for magic, that had had a chance to study a witch’s notebooks and pick up a few new skills, made her feel sick. She started down the stone steps. “It’s so cold,” she said.

“The stairs aren’t that scary,” Lord Peregrine said. “They’ve even got a handrail.”

“Great, we have a safety-conscious monster waiting for us at the bottom,” Hilary said, but without much conviction. The second lamp at the foot of the stairs shone brightly enough to show that it opened out into a large space that had plenty of light, at least near the foot of the stairs.

“You must have an idea of what to expect,” Lord Peregrine said. “After all, you’re a witch yourself.”

“Not all witches are alike,” Hilary said, reaching the bottom of the stairs and stepping away to allow Lord Peregrine to join her. “And I would never dream of doing this.”

Lord Peregrine flicked the light switch next to her and stared. “It seems a little…”

“It’s claustrophobic, that’s what it is,” Hilary said. “We’re in a cellar and someone made it their home from home.”

The low ceiling forced Lord Peregrine to stoop, but otherwise the room looked like any other windowless living room out there. Most of one wall was covered with deep shelving stacked high with notebooks. Across from there was a desk, with a stack of unused notebooks, a tub of pens and a series of candles that were gathering dust. There was even a cosy armchair next to an electric heater.

Well aware of her breath hanging like steam in the cold, Hilary strode over and switched on the heater. “We might as well be comfortable,” she said. “Annie obviously was.”

“Agreed,” Lord Peregrine said. “She enjoyed her creature comforts.” He wandered over to the far corner. “She had a sink fitted in here,” he said. “Look.”

“She’s not exactly got a full kitchen down here,” Hilary said. “But it’s not bad.” A tiny sink unit sat next to a table with jars of teabags and sugar next to a china cup. Hilary eyed the mini fridge under the sink with distrust. “I’ll work up to seeing what’s in there,” she said. “I’m not in a rush to find out what milk looks like if it’s left for six months.”

“It’s very dry down here,” Lord Peregrine said. “It’s even more noticeable now that things are warming up.” He glanced over at Hilary. “Putting on the heater was true inspiration.”

“It’ll take a while to warm up properly,” Hilary said. She opened a door next to her. “I can’t believe this.” She pulled on the cord at the door and the room lit up.

Lord Peregrine leaned over her shoulder. “Whoever put this together was thorough,” he said. “Putting a bathroom in a cellar isn’t necessarily easy.”

“It’s not a big bathroom,” Hilary said. She shook her head. “What am I saying. Having a toilet, a sink and a shower down here is amazing.”

“And I cannot imagine a workman being thrilled to lug a bath down those steep steps,” Lord Peregrine said. He eased past Hilary and tried the taps. “It’s a little stiff, but they work,” he said, fascinated by the unexpected swirl of water running through the taps and into some unsuspected drain. “There’s even a fan up there in the corner.” He looked around and flicked a switch. The fan started, drawing warmer air from the main room into the tiny space.

Hilary reached past him and turned the tap off. “Let’s not waste water,” she said, turning and going back into the main room.

Lord Peregrine looked again at the fan, then turned it off and followed Hilary, closing the door behind him. “Two more doors,” he said. “Do you think that one of them is a bedroom.”

“I can’t imagine why anyone would want a bedroom down here,” Hilary said as she wandered back towards the notebooks. “Not when there are so many good bedrooms upstairs.”

“A bedroom down here would be useful if someone was hiding,” Lord Peregrine said.

Hilary wasn’t paying attention. “Some of these notebooks are really old,” she said, picking a thick notebook with a faded blue cover. “I wonder how long this has been a witch’s cottage.”

“Do you think that Samgan is hiding behind one of these doors?” Lord Peregrine said. “If he is, he’ll probably be getting desperate as we’re between him and the exit.”

Hilary put the notebook down sharply. “I thought pookas were able to get in and out of places unseen.” Lord Peregrine shrugged and opened the nearest door.

“This is amazing!” Hilary edged into the room and looked around. “I’ve only ever imagined something like this.”

“Hmm?” Lord Peregrine said. He stopped at the door and picked up a jar of bismuth crystals from the shelf next to him, enjoying the play of colours on the iridescent mineral.

“Look around,” Hilary said. “Some of this stuff must have cost a fortune!”

Lord Peregrine glanced around and then looked again. Shelf units were stacked with candles of all different hues and sizes. Jars filled with incense of all types were ranged neatly next to them. The shelf next to him had a wide array of crystals, including small jars of what looked like unpolished sapphire and amethyst. And in among the mystical supplies were the pragmatic matches, candlesticks, cleaning supplies, and utensils. Above all there were herbs. “No wonder it’s so dry down here,” Lord Peregrine said. “It’s almost like a business.”

“It is a business,” Hilary said, pointing at the small box of mailers and blank labels. “And it looks like it was doing well.”

Lord Peregrine nodded. “I don’t know how many of these you recognise,” he said. “But some of these herbs, naturally dried, are expensive.”

“I’m recognising yarrow, agrimony, woodruff, lady’s mantle, hyssop, willow herb…” Hilary’s eyes were wide as she took in the bundles of plants hanging from cords strung across the room. “It’s a really wide selection.” She stepped over to what looked like a drying rack. “There’s red clover, cleavers, and I think that’s raspberry leaf,” she said.

“It will be interesting to see what grows in the garden next spring,” Lord Peregrine said.

Hilary left and paused in front of the third door. “I wonder if this is a bedroom,” she said. “I can imagine that there was a lot of work with the herbs and being able to take a quick nap without breaking off too much must have been tempting.”

“It’s only one flight of steps,” Lord Peregrine said. He grinned at her with mischief. “It could still be the hideout of Samgan.”

Hilary pushed the door open, flicked the light switch and stepped in. “Of course, she said. “It’s the work room.” She shivered. “And it’s even colder in here.”

“I feel chilled and I don’t feel the cold,” Lord Peregrine said. “But I can understand why.”

The room was almost as big as the original, with cupboards lining one side of the room and thick, black velvet curtains covering the walls. In the centre of the room was a large, ornate, and meticulously engraved pentagram. The glare from the overhead light was pitiless and exposed every detail. Candlesticks with part-burned candles were placed at their appropriate places around the circle. The altar in the centre was wide and laid out as if ready for the next ritual. Unconsciously, Hilary drew closer to Lord Peregrine. “Not all of this looks like witchy stuff,” she said. “The circle, it doesn’t look right for anything that I’d do.”

Lord Peregrine shrugged. “Like you said, not all witches are the same,” he said. “But I agree. I don’t recognise the circle, but I do feel uneasy. There’s something very wrong.”

Hilary tried to work out what was going on. “This is full of that spiky magic,” she said suddenly. “You know, the stuff that’s causing problems around here. I wonder if there’s some sort of crystal amplifying it in here.”

Lord Peregrine’s teeth began to chatter. “I don’t think that it’s a good idea for me to stay here much longer,” he said. “This is not a safe place for my kind.”

Hilary took a look at his pale face and grabbed his arm. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Lord Peregrine swayed and brushed against one of the velvet hangings. As it swayed back to reveal a sigil-painted wall, Lord Peregrine froze. A demonic roar echoed around the room and the temperature plummeted. Darkness started to swirl in the corner.

“Oh no you don’t!” Hilary snapped. She dragged Lord Peregrine, rigid and icy, out and propped him at the foot of the stairs before diving back to the store room. Mentally thanking whoever kept this room so organised, Hilary grabbed the large jar of salt next to the incense and rushed back to the work room. “Get out!” she yelled, twitching the hanging back in place and then flinging a large handful of salt at the shadow in the corner. There was a hiss, a growl, and then silence.

Hilary wasted no time. Shutting the door on the workroom, she half helped, half carried Lord Peregrine up the steps and back into the welcome warmth and daylight of the library. Bracken screamed.

“Bring in tea, with plenty of sugar,” Hilary ordered. “And then call Tom.”

Lord Peregrine slowly shook his head as he allowed Hilary to guide him to a sofa near the window. “That was a fierce attack.”

“It really wasn’t,” Hilary said. “That was a hint of one because the sigils were half uncovered without any extra magic involved.” She eased Lord Peregrine down onto the cushions. “That was a tiny fragment of what would hit you if we pulled down those hangings and there was active magic in the area. And it’s not something that a witch should be involved in. It’s all wrong!”

Bracken scuttled back in with a large mug of Earl Grey tea and a plate of macaroons. “What happened?” she asked. “What are you going to do?”

Hilary looked over to the ominous staircase. “I think I’ll start by calling the Committee,” she said.

Secret in the Library

You can read the story so far from the beginning here

“I’d love to stay and help,” Tom lied. “But I have to get down to the new stores. I’ve got a lot of deliveries coming today.” He sat down at the table with his triple portion of instant oats and a large mug of coffee.

Hilary wasn’t fooled. “And unloading twenty trays of cat food is a lot easier than going through all the books in the library,” she said. She slid the stack of sandwiches into a bag and slotted into his lunchbox.

“I wish it was something as straightforward as cat food,” Tom said. “It’s all the paster and paint we’ll need to cover up the mess the electricians are making.”

“I’ll tell them that you said that,” Hilary said, sliding in a couple of tomato and bacon muffins.

“I’ve already told them that myself,” Tom said. “They’re a good lot, and there won’t be too much damage, but you know what it’s like.”

Hilary had no idea of what a building site was like, but she nodded and added an apple and a banana. “Is there much left to do?” she asked.

Tom added a generous helping of honey to his instant oats. “The electricians have pretty much finished,” he said. “After that it’s tidying up before we start to set up.” He took a mouthful of oats. “Ow! Hot!”

“You have no patience,” Hilary said, rinsing out the flask with hot water from the kettle. “You’re not running late, are you?” She tipped the water into the sink.

Bracken wandered into the kitchen. “Good morning,” she said. “All the main rooms are dusted and swept except for the library, and I’ve cleaned the bathrooms and mopped the porch.” She stretched lazily. “May I have breakfast?”

Hilary gestured to the table. “It’s all ready for you. I put it out when I heard you put away the duster.” The microwave beeped and Hilary pulled out the jug of homemade soup. “I’m looking forward to going through the books,” she said. “I’ve no idea what we’ll find there.”

“Aren’t they your books?” Tom asked.

Hilary shook her head. “My personal books are in the bookcase in my bedroom,” she said. “Just as my personal diaries are stacked in my office.” She poured the soup into the warmed flask. “The books in the library belong to the cottage.”

“Doesn’t the cottage belong to you?” Tom asked and risked another mouthful of oats.

“Yes and no,” Hilary said, slipping the flask and the lunchbox next to Tom and pulling out a bowl. “I sort of own it but under conditions.”

Tom thought as he devoured his breakfast. “Like covenants?” he asked. He caught Bracken’s confused gaze. “Legal conditions that restricts what can happen to a house.”

“Sort of,” Hilary said. “It’s something like…” She tried to frame her thoughts as she poured a generous portion of cereal into her bowl. “Only a witch can own this house,” she said. “And I have a duty of care. I could throw out every stick of furniture but it came with the house and when I die, the house will be sold on to another witch and it would be…” Hilary poured milk over the cereal as she struggled for the right words. “It would be bad manners to leave the house with nothing. I can change things around and make alterations. Annie had the place rewired, for example and I think it was her predecessor that installed indoor plumbing, but I couldn’t demolish it or sell it to someone who wasn’t a witch.” She took a seat as Tom scraped up the last of the instant oats.

“What would happen if you tried?” Bracken asked.

“I’m not exactly sure,” Hilary said, sitting next to Bracken. “I suppose the Committee would get involved.”

Bracken looked up from her toast. “I has heard of the Committee of the Witches,” she said. “But I has never heard of what they do.”

“They do as little as possible,” Hilary said tartly. “Do you want a bacon muffin? There’s plenty left over and it looks like we’re going to have a long day.”

Tom drained his mug and put it and his bowl in the sink. “I’d better get down there,” he said. “I’m trying to work out where to put all the shelving and every time I think I’ve got the perfect layout, I spot a problem. I want to use the time before the electricians get there.” He grabbed his lunch. “Good luck with the books,” he called on the way out of the kitchen.

“Thanks,” Hilary replied. “I think we’ll need it.”

*****

Hilary stood at the end of the library and looked at the rows of books. “There’s hundreds of them,” she said.

Bracken touched a tentative finger against the nearest polished bookcase. “There may be thousands,” she said. “Some of the books are very small and some are stacked two deep.”

Hilary nodded. “And there’s all the bookcases in the rest of the house,” she said. “There’s a bookcase in the parlour, but I think that’s just fiction.”

Bracken shuffled a little in embarrassment. “I has already read those, Mistress Hilary,” she said. She avoided meeting Hilary’s eyes. “They are not witch’s notebooks.” She thought for a moment. “At least, they are nothing to do with real witches and Mr Tom would never behave like that.”

Hilary decided that it wasn’t worth asking questions. “Let’s start at the window,” she said. “We can organise the books as we go along.” She smiled at Bracken. “But I think we need to keep a place separate for where we put the books we want to read next.”

Bracken pulled out a well-read book. “And we can read them privately,” she said.

Hilary looked at the cover. A man without a shirt was looking fierce while holding a sword while an extremely underweight woman who was almost wearing a dress was draped at his feet. “Yes, I think we should absolutely read them in private,” she said.

It was surprisingly hard work. A small, slim volume of poetry wasn’t hard to dust off, quickly check for enclosed papers or notes in the margins and place to one side, but there were some weighty reference books and encyclopaedias which took a lot longer to check. Hilary sagged, sitting cross legged on the floor as she finally emptied the lower shelf of one of the bookcases. “I’m already exhausted.” She checked the clock on the mantelpiece. “We’ve been working for a couple of hours already. Perhaps we should take a break.”

Bracken dropped down next to her. “We have done a quarter of the work,” she sighed. “And a brownie’s way is not to take a break. At least, not on a straightforward job like this.”

“It’s not exactly a straightforward job,” Hilary said. “I’m worried that I’m going to miss something. There should be hundreds of notebooks around somewhere. I’ve nearly filled one already since I moved here, and Annie was here for decades. And there should be records of witches before her.”

“Annie was a very angry lady,” Bracken said primly. “She was angry all the time. She could have done anything to notebooks that annoyed her.”

“That’s not a comforting thought,” Hilary said. “Why don’t we take a break, for my sake,” she added hurriedly. “We can have a drink and a snack and I can come back here with more energy.”

“That is a reasonable idea,” Bracken said, pushing herself onto her feet.

Hilary rolled her neck and then paused. “Did you put that there?” she asked, pointing at a hefty wedge that was firmly stuck under the bookcase.”

Bracken looked embarrassed. “I is sorry, Mistress Hilary, but I did not. I just polished it.” She wrung her hands. “I is aware of the situation that I’m and the agreements, but I haven’t had time to dust behind the bookcases, no matter what.” She hung her head. “Though if I had worked more in the mornings…”

“Stop that!” Hilary said. “I think that you work harder than you need to for the wages already. And you’re studying how to cook. Besides, nobody bothers to dust behind bookcases.”

Bracken pulled herself up to her full height. “Brownies dust and polish everything.” she said.

Hilary frowned and then tapped the wedge. “But why put it here?” She looked around. “None of the other bookcases have wedges.”

Bracken shrugged. “The house is old and old houses are usually uneven,” she said. “The wedge may stop the bookcase from falling forward.”

Hilary rolled to her knees and crawled forward, tapping at the back of the bookcase. “It sounds hollow,” she said. “I wonder if there’s an old fireplace behind here.” She frowned. “I’d like to get it checked if there is. The chimneys were badly neglected when I moved in. They were all clogged with old soot and birds’ nests. The last thing I need is something trapped behind here.” She wiggled the wedge. “I can get the wedge out without any trouble,” she said. “But can you hold the bookcase up, please, just in case the wedge is stopping it from wobbling.”

“I would have to clean a fireplace, even if there’s a bookcase in front of it,” Bracken said. She braced herself against the bookcase. “I is ready.”

The wedge pulled out easily and Hilary stood and put the wedge on the table. She whirled around as she heard a creak behind her, but the bookcase wasn’t falling. Instead the entire bookcase had pivoted on a well-oiled hinge and then opened out. The gap behind it was almost completely dark, framed by a cobwebbed doorframe and oozing chill air. The light from the library managed to illuminate a small square of grey tiles and the hint of a stair but nothing more. “It’s a secret door,” Hilary said. She swallowed. “I wonder if the notebooks that we’re looking for are down there.”

Bracken wrinkled her nose. “It feels dry enough, but it smells of too much dust. I’ll fetch a duster and the vacuum cleaner.”

“And a flashlight,” Hilary said.

“Perhaps you should have a cup of tea and some biscuits first,” Bracken said, looking concerned. “We don’t need flashlights.” She reached into the dark and flicked a light switch. A strong LED light hung in at the top of a flight of stone stairs. “You must be tired if you didn’t see that.”

“Does every house in this village have a secret cellar?” Hilary said, looking at Bracken. “First there’s one at the new stores, and now this.”

“They is not the same,” Bracken said soberly. “I think Annie knew about this and went up and down.” She looked thoughtfully at Hilary. “But you have been here for a few months and Samgan hasn’t had a place to stay for a while. It would have been an undisturbed bolt hole.”

Hilary shook her head. “There are wards all over the house and I’ve been renewing them every full moon…” She paused. “I’ve been warding the places that I know about,” she said slowly.

“I will go and put the kettle on the stove and fetch some of the chocolate shortbread,” she said. “Then I will call Lord Peregrine. I think that he will be very interested.”

“No,” Hilary said. “There may be stuff down there that’s private to witches.”

Bracken looked serious. “There may be witch stuff and there may be more than witch stuff,” she said. “If there is only witch stuff at the bottom of the stairs, then we is lucky.”