Free Witch Silver by Anne Forbes Page A

fickleness of the weather.
    “We’ll be going through Greenlaw,” John MacLean looked up from the menu. “The roads are okay, are they?”
    “From round about there, are you?” the waitress enquired.
    The MacLeans looked at one another. “We’re relatively new to the Borders,” John MacLean admitted. “We’ve just moved into a house outside Coldstream.”
    “Aye, well, just be careful as you go,” the waitress cautioned. “There are places where the snow’s been awful bad.” She seemed to be about to say more but glancing at the two children , just nodded and went away to get their soup.
    “She was going to tell you something else, Dad,” Neil said, watching her cross the lounge towards the kitchens.
    “Yes,” Clara agreed. “She didn’t want to say anything in front of us.”
    “I’ll have a word with her when I pay the bill,” her father said, looking thoughtful. “There must be something odd going on,” he lowered his voice, “probably the witches again. The locals in the pub in at Norham were just the same. Looking over their shoulders and whispering in corners.”
    “And remember that old shepherd we met near Swinton …” Mrs MacLean added. “He believed in witches all right.”
    “They’re close to the earth, the shepherds,” her husbandnodded seriously, “and they know when nature’s out of kilter.”

    “Well, Dad,” Neil asked as the car swung out onto the main road again, “what did she say?”
    “Nothing specific,” his father answered. “Apparently there’s been a lot of snow and the farmers have had to bring their sheep in from the fields.”
    “There isn’t much up there on the moors,” Mrs MacLean frowned, “apart from a few odd farms. Muriel took me to visit some friends of hers who live up there. What were their names again?” she frowned, trying to remember. “Nice people. We had tea with them.”
    The road started to climb through the fields and as they passed farm after farm, the weather became positively icy. “Look, the snow’s starting,” Clara said as white flakes swirled around the car.
    “Have you got the heater on full, John?” Mrs MacLean asked and as he nodded she shivered and drew her coat tighter. “It certainly doesn’t feel like it!” she grumbled.
    “Let me concentrate on the driving, Janet,” he said irritably, peering forward through the windscreen as huge snowflakes slid down the glass. “The snow’s getting worse.”
    “Thank goodness we’ve got a 4x4,” Neil said thankfully. “They can take pretty much anything.”
    There was silence in the car as the snow grew heavier. They were now on the long road that ran across the moors and as the snow thickened to a blizzard, John MacLean reduced his speed to a crawl. A line of pine trees stretched in a straight line to their right and further on, to their left, a glint of light shone from a farmhouse window. Bent forward over the wheel, he concentrated on a road that had, by this time, almost disappeared altogether. As long as he didn’t land in a ditch, that wasthe main thing, he reckoned.
    “There’s a farm coming up, John,” his wife said, rubbing her breath from the car window so that she could see through. “Aren’t you going to stop?”
    “I can see people outside in the snow,” Clara said excitedly. “They’re all dressed in white.” She frowned. “That’s a bit odd, isn’t it?”
    Her father looked undecided for a moment. “Maybe I
should
stop and pull into the farm,” he said, braking carefully and putting the car into reverse. “I’m sure the farmer would look after us until the storm passes. Blast! I can’t even see the turning.”
    “Do you want me to get out, Dad?” Neil asked.
    “No, stay where you are just now, Neil,” his father said, opening the car door and climbing out. “I just want to see if we’ve passed the farm road.”
    “Can you see any witches?” Mrs MacLean peered through the open door.
    “Not one,” he said, scanning the sky