He’s coming to…

The Bingergread Cottage

Deaths in the family are never convenient. Most especially if they are distant relatives but to whom one owes respect and living on the other side of the world.

Great Aunt Sarah had moved back to the States to be near “the boys” a long time ago, leaving me in rural isolation in France which suited me just fine. We aren’t a close family, as happens when some emigrate and others, like me, tend to the hermit persuasion. My only companion was Woody the golden labrador.

It’s a common mistaken assumption that all witches’ familiars are cats. Many are, of course, and all of us have one but mine is Barker Woods. I’ve also had a snake, a bat, and a few mice but then even by witch-standards, I’m a bit of a fruit-loop. Nobody in the village would take him in, although, as village-witch, I command a lot of…

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