Extract from The Life and Loves of Posey Bobbin

By Suzi Macdonald

The day she earned her freedom began like any other. Posey dragged herself out of bed at dawn and stood in the middle of the kitchen, trying to find the source of an elusive smell her stepmother had noticed the night before. She yawned and turned around slowly, trying to work out where it was strongest, but it seemed to be everywhere. So she decided on a general clean up first. She opened the cupboard under the sink and peered inside. Her stepmother had stuffed it full of a mess of old containers, and rags, and carrier bags with unidentifiable contents. It always smelled damp and mouldy under there, and Posey usually just took the antibacterial spray from the front. However she thought there might be bleach or disinfectant somewhere further back. Gingerly she pulled at one of the carrier bags, but it was stuck fast. She tugged harder, and suddenly it came away with a wet kind of rustle that knocked her backwards onto the floor and showered her with small white lumps. For a moment, she stared at them, uncomprehending. They wriggled slowly in the sudden light, and all at once she realised what they were. Maggots! A scream rose in her throat. She bit down on it so as not to wake her stepmother, but the maggots squirmed nauseatingly on her clothes and in her hair, and it escaped as a high-pitched whimper. She scuttled backwards on the floor, swiping frantically at the disgusting creatures with both hands. As they hit the floor they curled and cast about, seeking direction. Then they began to crawl determinedly back towards the shredded bag on the floor. Posey watched them with revulsion. Her breathing was ragged and it took her a few minutes to get it under control. She wanted nothing more than to stand under the shower until she felt clean again possibly for hours. But then the thought of her stepmother getting up and finding this mess in the kitchen was enough to urge her slowly forward for a closer look. Carefully she reached out and lifted a corner of the carrier bag. It was tattered and chewed, stained and foul-smelling. Gingerly she glanced under it and then dropped it as if it burned, choking back a sudden rush of nausea. A tuft of fur peeped out: the remains of a dead and maggot-ridden mouse. Posey reached out the whole length of her arm and gingerly lifted the dead mouse into a small plastic bag. Then she got a torch and shone it into the cupboard. At the back, there was a crumpled-up sheet which was also stained and chewed at the edges. Posey gently pulled it out and stuffed it in a bin bag. Underneath the sheet another dead mouse gleamed in the torchlight. This one was whole, and recently dead. She put it in beside the first, and carried on. It took her two hours to clean the entire cupboard, and in the end she had four bin bags full of rubbish and the remains of five dead mice in her little plastic bag. She finished by scrubbing the cupboard with bleach until it was spotless, and put back the bottles of

cleaning products. There was one last thing left on the floor. She picked up the box, and turned it over in her hands. Rat poison. Her stepmother must have set out poison for the mice, which had eaten it and then crawled into the cluttered cupboard to die. And naturally, Posey had been expected to clean up the mess. Her brow darkened. She looked out of the cottage window at the shed half-way down the garden. Inside were the tools of her stepmothers trade. The shed was kept locked, but long ago Posey had found out where the key was hidden. When her stepmother was out Posey would often creep into the shed and settle down in the big armchair next to the desk. Above the desk was a bookshelf with some very old, well-used books, and Posey had read them all. She knew the secrets of all the bottles and jars lined up on shelves against the back wall, and she had even experimented with some of them. She was well on the way to becoming as expert as her stepmother, as far as the books were concerned. What she lacked was natural talent, but she was determined to make the best of what little she had. Posey thought of the little brown bottle hidden in a shoe at the bottom of her wardrobe. It had taken her weeks to steal the ingredients to make up the potion in that bottle, and she was almost sure that she had got it right. But if not, there was always the rat poison. She smiled to herself. Sitting on the kitchen floor, with a bag of dead mice in her hand, Posey thought back to the night four years ago, when her father had disappeared. Her stepmother said he had gone to live in Spain. He had apparently signed everything over to her stepmother, with the exception of the cottage where they lived. This was only given to his wife on condition that she gave Posey a home; a fact which Posey knew irritated her stepmother beyond belief. And her stepmother had spent the last four years doing everything in her power to make Posey miserable. This had made Posey stubbornly determined to stay, no matter what. So Posey had become the unpaid maid, cook and cleaner, relying on her stepmothers charity for all of her needs. She looked down at her faded, hand-me-down dress, and her worn shoes. And then she looked again at the bag in her hand. And that was the final straw. She crept up to her room and closed the door as quietly as possible. She went into her wardrobe and took out the little brown bottle. She opened it and cautiously sniffed the contents. The liquid was clear and almost scentless, but there was a faint tinge of something she wasnt sure if she had got the formula quite right. She took a deep breath. It was time to find out. She made poached eggs for her stepmother, with toast and strong peppermint tea. And into the tea she tipped almost half of the contents of the bottle. She sniffed the liquid, and decided it was OK. As usual, she put the food and the cup on a tray and took it upstairs. She knocked on the door of the master bedroom, and waited for a count of ten before she entered.

Inside, heavy red curtains were drawn over the window, so the room was dim and gloomy. Carefully Posey placed the tray on the bedside table, and made to leave. Wait a minute, girl. The voice from the bed was rough with sleep. Posey stopped. I need you to go shopping this morning. Ive made a list. And I want all the floors scrubbed and the rugs cleaned. I have some fool customers coming round at four oclock, so youll need to be finished by then and ready to serve tea. Yes, all right, Posey answered. Her voice came out unnaturally high and she bit down on it quickly. However, it roused the woman on the bed. She sat up and examined the girl. You look different, she said suspiciously. Posey knew her cheeks were flushed with nervous anticipation but she just shrugged. Her stepmother stared at her for a long moment, but let it go. Posey had never been a threat. She picked up the tea and sipped carefully. Posey always made it too hot. The list is on the kitchen table. Get on with it. I saw it. Ive got to pick some veg from the garden first, Posey answered brusquely. She turned on her heel and marched out, slamming the door behind her. Outside, she leaned against it for support. Her eyes were bright and she found it hard to breath. If she had got her potion right, she would never have to listen to that voice again. True to her word, she went into the garden with a basket. A stray cat lurked under the window and she glanced at him as she passed. Deep in her own thoughts, she strode to the vegetable patch at the end of the garden, near the back fence. The cat followed, unnoticed. Once there, however, instead of pulling up vegetables she picked up a spade and began to dig. She dug up tiny carrots and half-formed potatoes, putting some in her basket and carefully preserving the others. She worked for an hour or more, until she had made a shallow pit about three foot by four. Her arms ached, and so did her back. She stopped and stretched, feeling all the muscles in her spine object to the unaccustomed exercise. She leaned on her spade and surveyed the mess she had made of the vegetable patch. She looked back at the house. There was no sign of life. Her potion should have begun to work by now, but the hole was still too shallow. She picked up the spade but pain stabbed through her hands and she was forced to drop it. The rough wood of the handle had rubbed huge blisters on her palms and some of her fingers. For a moment she felt overwhelmed by what she had done, and panic fluttered nervously in her stomach. If she wasnt finished by four, she would be found out. Her imagination furnished the rest. Suddenly she was certain that her situation was hopeless. How stupid had she been, to think that she could carry out something this momentous? She felt hot tears prick behind her eyes, and covered her face. The salt sting on her wounded hands felt like punishment.

Suddenly an unfamiliar voice broke into her despair. May I help? She spun around in fright, and was confronted by a slight, dark-haired young man. Although it was hard to judge his age, Posey thought he was five or six years older than she. He smiled hesitantly and indicated the spade. I, er... Posey was lost for words. His smile widened and he took the spade. Then he began to dig where she had left off. Feeling slightly surreal, Posey watched him for a few moments, sniffing away her tears. For all his slight build he was strong and fit, and dug easily into the black earth. His skin was darker than hers, and his eyes, when they flashed a quick glance at her, were a strange yellow colour which she found somehow attractive. Eventually she asked, What are you doing here? He shook his head without stopping. You need my help. The old woman is unkind, not like you. I saw you put out food for the stray cat, when the old woman kicked it away. I am Paulo. Posey smiled uncertainly. Im Posey. The old woman is my stepmother. Yes. I think she is unkind to you, too. I know many things about you. Like what? Posey scoffed. Well, I know about the mice, he said softly. How could you know? Posey took a step back from him. He stopped digging for a moment and turned to face her. He blinked slowly and deliberately. Finally, he smiled a cat-like smile and whispered, "I have been watching you. Startled, Posey stumbled backwards, tripping over her basket. He laughed, and went back to digging. She picked herself up, suddenly realising how alone she was, in the garden with this, well, strange young man. She took a few steps back and leaned against the fence. She judged that this would give her enough time to run away if he tried anything unexpected. She watched him in silence, admiring his fluid movements despite her better instincts. Every now and then he glanced up at her, but neither of them spoke again. It became oddly comfortable to watch him work, and she began to relax. In time, the sparrows in the hedge began to chirp and an odd sort of nervous peace stole over her. Then all at once the harmony was shattered by a screech from the house. Posey Bobbin! You wicked little witch!

Posey had almost forgotten the purpose of their digging. She flashed him a quick horrified glance, full of meaning. Paulo nodded and stepped back into the bushes, out of sight. Poseys stepmother came crashing out of the house and down the garden path, pulling at her collar with both hands as if she were choking. Tears streamed down her face from reddened eyes. When she reached Posey, she grabbed at her, clutching her dress and pulling the girl towards her. She made to slap her, but missed and her nails raked down the soft cheek, leaving streaks of red blood on Poseys pale skin. She pushed her face into Poseys and screeched, I know what you put in my tea, you little bitch! Lucky for me youre as useless with herbs as you are at everything else. So its not going to kill me. But youre going to wish it had! There was vomit in her hair, and it turned Poseys stomach. She twisted the cloth of Poseys dress in her hand and gave Posey several hard slaps, holding her up as she staggered under the force of the blows. But as her hand drew back for more, there was a flash of light behind her, and the spade connected solidly with the side of her head. She staggered and fell to her knees, pulling Posey to the ground with her. She twisted her head and saw the young man for the first time. Surprise and recognition flickered over her face and she raised her hand, whether to strike him or beg for mercy Posey didnt stop to wonder. Full of rage, she groped in the dirt and found a heavy stone. She heaved it out of the earth and with a burst of strength she didnt know she possessed, she hauled herself upright and smashed it against the womans skull. There was a dull, nauseating thud, and her stepmother crumpled to the ground. Her grip on Posey loosened, and blood oozed onto the black earth. Paulo swung the spade, and Posey covered her eyes. She started to cry. The spade connected with a wet cracking sound, again and again, and when she finally looked through her tears, her stepmother was an unrecognisable bloody heap at the edge of the hole. Is she? Posey asked shakily. He nodded. Now help me, quickly. Working as one, they eased the body into the hole, forcing her limbs to fit. With trembling hands, Posey put the dead mice in beside her. Then Paulo shovelled in the earth, and Posey re-planted some of the dug-up vegetables on top. It didnt look perfect, but it would pass from a distance; and anyway, who was likely to come looking? Paulo straightened up and stretched, fixing Posey with his gleaming yellow eyes. She felt her colour rise and looked away. Her face was streaked with dirt and blood, and her eyes were red and puffy. Carefully he reached up and wiped a smear from her cheek. Even in her anxious state, her skin flamed under his touch. Are you OK? he whispered. She swallowed hard. I think so...

It was her or you, he said softly. And I chose you. She raised her eyes to his face. In it she read only compassion. We should clean up, he suggested gently, gesturing towards her muddy, blood-spattered dress. Yes agreed Posey. She was surprised that her voice sounded so normal. Calm, even. In some distant part of her brain she wondered if she was in shock. She wiped her dirty hands on her dress and smiled tentatively at him. Come into the house. He followed her into the cottage. Once inside, he explored every corner fastidiously, and Posey watched him, fascinated by his graceful movements. She followed him around the house, feeling an unfamiliar sense of ownership, knowing that everything she looked at, everything she touched now belonged to her. Paulo seemed to feel the same. This will do very well, he said with satisfaction. Eventually he found his way to the bathroom, and went in to shower. She sat on the hall floor listening to the water running, feeling strangely peaceful. Before long he came out wrapped in a bath towel and very clean indeed. Your turn, he said gently, and Posey went into the bathroom, pleased to see that he had left it as tidy as before, except for a small pile of grubby clothes in the corner. The hot water in the shower stung her blistered hands and scratched face, but she made herself stand there until the water ran clear. When she stepped out of the shower she felt almost renewed. She reached for her stepmothers dressing-gown and put it on slowly. The mixed scents of body oil and lavender rose from the cloth and filtered into her mind. All at once she was struck with the reality of what she had done. Her legs refused to hold her and she sank on to the floor. A mixture of emotions swilled around inside her, and she struggled to put them in order. But one thing she was sure of remorse wasnt one of them. She never knew how long she sat there, but when she eventually came back to herself, she found Paulo sitting beside her, wearing only his towel, and her uppermost feeling was one of relief. Gently he took her wounded hands and dressed them with sticking plaster. When he had finished, she felt lighter, somehow, and close to laughter. She just wanted to move and sing. She stood up and took two or three wobbly dance steps across the bathroom. Paulo stood up and followed her, smiling. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Even her face had changed. Gone was the careworn, resigned look she had seen this morning. Instead a bright, pretty girl with high colour in her cheeks looked back. It took Posey a moment to realise it was herself. Paulo appeared in the mirror behind her. Looking directly into her reflected eyes, he gently eased the gown off her shoulders. Still gazing at her, he massaged her shoulders softly and for the first time in her life Posey felt a glow begin deep inside her. As if he knew what she

was feeling Paulo dropped a kiss on her shoulder, then he lifted her hair and kissed the back of her neck. Posey shivered under his lips and he turned her around and kissed her slowly and softly. She responded instinctively, losing herself in the sudden rush of unfamiliar feelings. When he broke off the kiss, she still clung to him, and he held her just as tightly. First kiss? he whispered. She lowered her eyes in embarrassment, but he lifted her chin and kissed her again. She knew that he wanted her, and although she was nervous she wanted him, too. He unfastened her robe and let it drop to the floor. Then he led her to the bedroom. He was gentle and careful with her, and although Posey would later be grateful to him for it, at the time his caution drove her mad. She tried to hurry him, but he took his time, so that when he eventually entered her, she was more than ready. And all the time, despite her raging emotions, Posey knew it was the best day of her life. Later they slept, and later still, he ran her a fragrant bath and poured her the first glass of wine she had ever had. Then he kissed her again, and left her to soak. Posey knew her life had changed forever. Lost in her thoughts, she took her time in the bath. Eventually the cooling water and the unfamiliar silence in the house brought her back to herself. She got out and wrapped a towel around her damp body, tossing her wet hair over her shoulder and scattering drops all over the floor. Expecting Paulo to be waiting, she swung open the bathroom door and looked out with anticipation. He was nowhere in sight. Paulo? Her voice echoed in the empty hall, and there was no answer. She moved slowly from room to room whispering his name at every door. But he was gone. Disappointed, she wondered where he could be. Perhaps he lived nearby, and had simply gone home. She went into the kitchen. Lying on the counter was the remains of her stepmothers breakfast. Posey lifted the tray quickly, tipped the whole lot into the bin and slammed down the lid. The back door was slightly open, and although it was spring, the air was still cool. As she went to close the door, Posey tripped over a damp towel lying just behind it. She picked it up with a frown. The image of the young man walking naked through her back garden rose in her mind, unsettling her. She closed the back door. She wandered over to the window, still musing. To the left of the window as she looked out was a Dicentra in full bloom, its bleeding heart blossom contrasting pleasingly with its pale green leaves. From under the plant a large black cat stared at the window. Posey recognised it as the stray she had been secretly feeding for the last few weeks, but now his steady yellow gaze unsettled her. She opened the back door and the cat ran to her, with an odd questioning sound somewhere between a purr and a miaow. She picked him up and he

rubbed his face against hers, purring loudly. He put a paw against her cheek and gazed into her eyes and Posey realised that the yellow eyes were very familiar. Laughing out loud with the absurdity of it, she stroked the soft fur and kissed the top of his head as sweetly as she had kissed her lovers mouth before. The kitchen clock chimed the hour, and she was startled to see that it was four oclock. She put the cat down and fled to her room. As quickly as possible she put on her best dress and smoothed down her damp hair. While she was looking for shoes, the doorbell rang, loud in the empty house. She took a moment to compose herself with a few deep breaths, and raised herself to her full height. In the mirror she looked calm and confident, and changed forever. Barefoot, she went slowly downstairs and opened the door to the two women who had come to consult with her stepmother. They looked surprised to see her there instead of in the kitchen where she usually hid. But Posey drew on all her new reserves of confidence, and assured them that she would do just as well as her stepmother. And after a slightly nervous start, she did. *** When she closed the door behind them, the cat was waiting. Are you hungry, puss? she asked softly. He wrapped his lithe body around her legs as she raided the fridge for left-over chicken, and drooled and paddled the air for her amusement as she found a saucer and put it on the floor. She looked at him fondly as he ate. She thought about how nice it would be to wake up in the morning to his serious yellow eyes and perhaps that hypnotic purr, to someone who loved her and needed her; and she thought, why not? After all, every witch needs a familiar.
She was fifteen years old.

This is an extract from the Life and Loves of Posey Bobbin, available as an ebook on Amazon.