None of us asked what Corey meant by that. I think we all just knew.
All of a sudden, there was chaos behind us. We looked back into the darkness to see four figures on bikes, all hollering. As they got nearer, I realised they were just kids. But they were shouting abuse – mostly at Fallon.
I couldn’t make out all of what they were shouting, but the odd phrase was clear. All right, retard? How’s your goats doing, Fallon? Hey, ugly girl! Butterface! Two boys and two girls, all younger than us. The eldest boy, no more than twelve, waggled his tongue at her as his bike sailed past. It was all over in seconds.
‘Who were they?’ said Max as the whoops died away in the distance.
‘Oh, just the Shaws. The boys go to that posh private school over in the next village. They’re idiots. They shaved a couple of our goats over Easter. And they write things on the farmhouse walls sometimes. They think Mum’s a witch who kills and skins people. You must have heard the rumours.’
None of us could deny it. We’d all heard the things people in Brynstan said about Rosie. The things we had all said. Things we’d laughed at.
‘Can we go and see the Witch’s Pool?’ asked Corey. ‘Just for old time’s sake?’
‘Uh yeah, if you like,’ said Fallon. ‘I doubt there will be any cats up there though. Never seen any animals round there at all.’
We were all looking at Max, as though it was up to him to decide whether or not we should go. He shrugged. So we carried on walking.
What had seemed like miles when I was a kid, actually took about ten minutes. Fallon suddenly veered off to the left where there was a weather-beaten sign saying Wit Po and she mounted the bank where some makeshift steps had been carved in the red earth. Max glanced at me then followed on behind her and Corey picked up the rear.
‘Do people still come here?’ I asked, as Fallon parted the overhanging branches to reveal a large overgrown meadow.
‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘The car park’s just through those trees on the other side and it’s all overgrown and people just tend to use it to dump old mattresses and oil drums. I don’t even think the sign’s on the main road any more. It’s hardly a tourist attraction now.’
I felt uneasy as we walked through those long grasses. I wasn’t actually scared – I guess it was a fear left over from childhood. A habit I hadn’t grown out of. I had no reason to be afraid of it now. And once we had reached it, I could see the place for what it was – an algae-covered, pear-shaped lake with a small broken bridge at one end. The rockery, over which used to flow the fastest little waterfall, was now just a pile of slimy green rocks. But for the midges clouding over the surface, all was still.
‘Is it really bottomless?’ asked Corey, peering over the edge to look into the murk.
‘Only one way to find out,’ said Max, nudging him forwards, making him stumble and grab for the ground. I pulled Corey back up, throwing Max eye-daggers.
‘No, it’s not bottomless,’ I said. ‘It was just a story.’
‘It’s based on truth, Ella,’ said Fallon. ‘Don’t you remember Jess telling us about it?’
‘I do,’ said Corey. ‘Well, some of it. I remember it was Halloween and we were sorting out all our sweets in the shed at Max’s.’
‘Ahem, you mean my compact private members club pirate den?’ Max corrected.
‘Yeah, and Jessica came to the window and yelled boo!’ said Fallon. ‘She couldn’t get inside with us because she was too tall. Oh and something about some guy in a black hat?’
‘I remember it,’ said Max.
‘So do I,’ I said. ‘Every word.’
*
BOO!
Jessica! Don’t do that!
Come on then, share out your spoils. Whatcha get? Ooh, Scream Eggs, my favourite.
Where have you been? Mum said you were staying in tonight.
Dad made me work late at the garden centre. Did you have fun trick or treating? I love the outfits. What are you supposed to be?
I’m a Pirate Zombie, Ella’s my Pirate Zombie Wife, Fallon’s the witch from Wizard of Oz, Zane’s Thor and Corey’s Hedwig.
Oh you are a very cute Hedwig, Corey. Look at those little cheeks!
Can you tell us a story, Jess? A spooky one.
Another spooky one? You still haven’t got over the last one, Zane. You just can’t handle the scandal, baby.
Aww, please! Please, I promise I won’t wet myself this time.
Yeah go on, Jess. Just a quick one. Tell us one about a witch!
A witch? Hmm, let me think. You live out near the Witch’s Pool don’t you, Fallon?
Yeah, but there aren’t real witches there.
Oh but there were. A long time ago. See in the old days, like the mid-1600s, there used to be a Witchfinder who stalked through these parts looking for witches to put to trial and death.
Why?
Well people just didn’t like witches. They thought they were evil. Any woman caught doing sorcery or something that couldn’t be explained, it meant they were probably a witch. And so people like the Witchfinder General who was this big tall man in a wide black hat and cloak, used to round up these supposed witches, put them into cages on the back of his wagon, and take them out to places like the Witch’s Pool at Cloud and test them in front of a crowd of witnesses, usually villagers and members of the church.
How did he test if they were witches?
He’d test their honesty. He’d tie a woman up inside a sack and attach a rope to it, then he’d throw her off the bridge into the water. If she bobbed back up to the surface, it meant she was a witch and so she was hauled out and burned alive or hanged. If she was struggling, he would realise she was telling the truth – she wasn’t a witch so she could go free.
Didn’t it just mean they were good swimmers if they came to the top?
Probably. Witchfinders didn’t really bother with little things like common sense.
Did any of them just drown accidentally?
Oh yes. Lots of them did. The Witch’s Pool is said to be bottomless, and many of the drowned ones were never found. That lake is said to be full of female skeletons. Their ghosts haunt it at night.
Zane’s scared.
I’m not, Fallon. You’re lying.
So if somebody’s lying, does that mean they float on water?
So the Witchfinder said, yeah. Why, Ella? You’re not lying about anything, are you?
No.
Are you sure?
Yeah. I always tell the truth.
Better not jump in the pool then or else we’ll find out, won’t we? Liars always float to the top.