Description

Wild Witch

The white wooden gate latch clicked behind Josh as he left his Aunt Sarah’s neat little garden. He was having what his parents said was a holiday whilst they were away. He didn’t think much of it so far; Aunt Sarah had no children which meant she did not know how to amuse a teenager of nearly sixteen, which in turn meant Josh was left to investigate the area for himself.

He strolled aimlessly along the stony sand path edging the marsh, alongside the tidal river near to the sea. The tide was out leaving some very interesting objects protruding from the greenish brown smelly mud; old drift wood from wrecked boats, bits of iron in weird shapes, lumps of concrete, odd plastic flip flops and cartons of every description. Josh picked up a handful of stones as he walked along the shingle shoreline, throwing them one by one into the squelchy mud to see how loud they would plop; that pastime proved boring. Picking up a grubby plastic yoghurt carton he knelt by the side of a pool of water left on the tide line. Dropping it into the pool to his amazement and delight it floated. Prodding it around several times Josh suddenly became aware of two legs in torn jeans much dirtier than his.

A voice said, “You’re too old to be playing boats.”

Josh looked up to see a girl looking down at him laughing.

“Does playing with boats mean you need to be a special age?”

“No of course not; I just thought as it’s going to rain soon you might like to come over to our boathouse. There’s a very old boat in there. Would you like to see it?”

Josh answered, a little unsure of him self. “I s’pose so there’s not much else to do.”

“I’m called Bel, my real name is Isabella but no one ever uses that. I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I’m Josh, I don’t live here I’m staying with my boring Aunt Sarah for a few days,” he pointed to the white painted cottage in the distance, “She lives over there.”

“That’s Sarah Montague’s place I know her. In fact every one around knows her. She’s not boring she’s very kind and helpful.”

“Maybe so, but she’s not used to anyone living with her, and she has an ancient TV, no computer and one old fashioned phone. How sad can you get?”

Bel grimaced “Come on then it’s starting to rain, let’s go to the boathouse it’s dry in there.”

He followed the skinny confident girl. She was dressed in scruffy jeans and loose khaki tee shirt, old worn trainers that used to be white slopped on her wet feet. Bel’s face and arms were brown from the sun and wind, her hair was very short, a sort of yellow colour. Was this is his lucky day? Her invitation had possibilities.

The rain got heavier as the two teenagers ran laughing along the edge of the marshland to a large tumble down boathouse. The open end of the wooden building had tipped into the shingle, obviously neglected for many years. Bel partly opened a small door that was hanging on one rusty hinge; she squeezed through the small space beckoning for Josh to follow. Flicking a switch on the wall turned on a single light; the fly spotted grime covered bulb hanging from a cobweb covered wire looked sad. Josh blinked to get used to the strange dullness. Grey daylight could be seen through the open end of the building. Between the daylight and Josh stood a boat resting on chocks made from old tree trunks. It was small as seafaring boats go; its hull was painted a blue black colour. The small cabin once red with little portholes had faded to a strange orange colour. Where paint had peeled from the vessel, bare wood stared out. On its side, now barely visible, were two intriguing words ‘Wild Witch.’

“This is great, can I get in it?” he asked.

“Yes, I love the Wild Witch even if it’s old and battered. I sit in this cabin very often and imagine I’m off on an exciting voyage. Be careful as you climb in the old rope around it is still very prickly. I use these old tea chests to stand on; it’s quite easy when you know what to do.”

Josh tentatively stood on one tea chest then climbed onto two placed one on top of the other. The boat moved on its old wooden chocks, he turned in panic.

“Its OK, she soon settles down.”

“How old is the Wild Witch?”

Following Josh into the small cabin she answered, “Old Jacob would know, he says there’s lots of the Old Girl missing. She used to run on a little motor now gone; at one time she had a mast and sail. She was pulled under cover about fifteen years ago. He would know who it belonged to if anyone does, but Jacob’s not well enough to be out at the moment so we can’t ask him.”

“That’s a pain.” Josh felt comfortable in the cabin which contained box like seats either side with flat brown leather cushions on them. The hull of the Wild Witch seemed to wrap around him like a favourite sweater; it was a strange sensation.

Bel looked thoughtful. “Your Aunt Sarah will see Jacob, she calls on him several times a week to take him some of her famous home cooked food to cheer him up. Perhaps she will know something about the Wild Witch.”

Josh pulled a face. “I daren’t ask her, we find it difficult to have long conversations.”

Bel thought for awhile. “I’ll come back to hers with you one day; I get on fine with Sarah. I expect she’s a bit nervous about having a young boy around. How old is she Josh?”

“Very old I should think, my dad’s thirty eight and she’s his older sister and ready to fall off her perch.”