The garden was full of stone people – reminders of the perils attached to disrespecting the witch.
Charissa learned herbal lore from Mistress Effie. And assiduously avoided looking at the garden ornaments.
When a spate of rumour arose, traceable to the fat woman who ran the inn and sold patent medicines, Charissa worried.
Effie took to her laptop.
Two nights later a tap on the back door heralded the arrival of a heavy parcel.
The two women wrestled the stone figure of a fat aproned woman into a prominent place in the garden.
“What? How?”
Effie grinned her crocodile grin. “Amazon…”
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