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“What are we doing?”

Dorothy whispered once more, although, the way that the woman whispered was akin to setting off the fire alarm, and that was never a good thing inside a nursing home where the occupants could break a hip in the mad rush to the exits.

Angela shushed her for the tenth time since she’d arrived in her room that night to take her on their field trip. Field trip – it was more like a well-planned, badly executed bid for freedom, but Angela had promised Dorothy that she’d take her to where her heart had always longed to be – before she died.

Not that she feared the old woman was going to pop her clogs anytime soon. No, Dorothy was one of those creaky gates; she always seemed to have a little something wrong with her, but never enough to completely finish her off – not that Angela wished her gone, she didn’t – who would she play cards with if Dorothy bit the big one?

In truth, if either one of them meet their ancestors the other would feel bereft. They had been each other’s company for the last few years, and they might have managed to hyper each other towards insanity at times, but they were all they had.

“Escaping…” Angela reminded her, once they got by the big guy on the front desk that always seemed to have an air of a prison guard about him … as if he was there to make sure nobody mounted an escape from the sterile, disinfectant smelling, waiting to thy maker, hallways…

Well, that was exactly what they were doing. Bidding for freedom.

They were going on one last hurrah! One last girls holiday before they got too old to do it … and why not?

Angela was fed up with playing it safe and making sure that all of her medicines were in line for inspection – as if she was more forgetful than she actually was – she was sure that the mistrustful looks from staff was half of the reason most of the inmates became forgetful and just gave up and relied on the staff to regiment their days and nights.

Day trips out were something on a no-no, and she hated having the hairdresser come in and do her hair – she wasn’t too frail to go to the shop – or to cook the occasional meal, but heaven forbid they should trust her with a knife that wasn’t blunt, or a spoon that was bigger than mouth sized.

It was bad enough that she had to mount an expedition with Dorothy to be able to celebrate and mark the dates of the Wheel of the Year, because lighting one candle would, apparently, bring an end to civilisation as they knew it… Goddess only knew what they’d do if they ever found her Athame – probably think that she’d gone senile and was planning to murder every resident in their beds…

She’d sort of regretted the decision that she’d made in the heat of the moment to give up her home and move into the residential facility.

“Sounds good.” Dorothy whispered back… then there was the inevitable pause as she considered it. “Where are we going to escape to?”

“Who cares?” Angela whispered back, as she waited for the guard to start his rounds and check on residents – looking for the ones who had fallen out of their bed and were calling for help – no doubt…

“Can we get ice cream?”

“Sure…” Angela turned and pressed her finger to her lips to shut her friend up. The last thing that she wanted was for their adventure to be over before they’d even made it out of the side entrance…

The sound of soft shoes on the flooring and that squish, squish, squish, flared the annoyance within Angela and made her even more determined to mount their prison break … the moment that Stan-Stan the bedpan man, as they called him, walked on by – she wrapped a hand around Dorothy’s fragile wrist and pulled her along with her towards that wonderful word that read; EXIT…

 

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“You brought your medication with you?” Angela asked, and her friend frowned.

“Of course I did…” She berated her for asking, but since they’d met four years earlier, over the stewed apples and custard that the care home was serving as a suitable pudding for the elderly residents – which also annoyed her because she still had most of her teeth and felt penalised because some others didn’t – Angela had treated her as if she was slightly senile, which she wasn’t … at least, she didn’t think she was.

“All of it?”

“There wasn’t that much, you make it sound like I have half of a pharmacy in my damn bag…” Dorothy snorted.

“Well. You do rattle when you walk…”

“At least I don’t creak like your dodgy hip…” Dorothy smiled to herself.

“It does not creak … it…”

“Grinds?”

“Sometimes, sure, mainly when it’s cold…”

“There you go then – you creak and I rattle, and we’re … free,” Dorothy looked out of the window of the train at the beautiful scenery passing by. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes of it since they’d left the urban sprawl of the city with its dark and dank buildings.

She loved nature. She should have, being a witch meant that it was written in her DNA to respect everything about it – except spiders – she never much cared for them.

She’d missed nature. Watching the squirrels and birds that sometimes frequented the gardens of the home from her window or the bench outside just wasn’t the same as seeing it in earnest, reaching out and touching Nature, being a part of it.

She still sometimes thought of herself as sweet sixteen and rolling down the hill among the wildflowers with James Bellows … that boy was a wild one in anyone’s book, even a novice witch’s, and she couldn’t believe how quickly time had flown by to where she found herself – old – shrivelled – and waiting to meet the ancestors to take her rightful place among them.

She wasn’t ready to die. She still felt the need to kick up her heels and have one last adventure in life. Not that she’d be doing much kicking up of her heels, she’d leave that to her more nimble friend.

“Free…” Angela agreed with a nod. “All I can say is; I’m sort of going to miss playing tricks on the staff…” she gave a small chuckle.

“Well, what else was there to do with our magic than cause a little … mischief,” Dorothy gave a half shrug back.

“Hunt the remote control as the channels turned over and over…” Angela grinned, remembering the annoyed look on poor Stan’s face … the man had taken a lot of stick from them over the years, and yet he’d kept going back for more.

She guessed he really wasn’t that bad … she might even miss him … but, probably not.

“Exploding stewed apples and combusting custard…” Dorothy turned her gaze towards her friend. She gave a moment’s pause for thought…

“It’ll be fine.” Angela assured her…

“We don’t even know where we’re sleeping tonight…” Dorothy said back in hushed tones so that nobody could overhear her. That had been a must in the care home when they were being … mischievous.

“With me…”

The voice rang out from the seat behind them, and both women would have pushed up to take a look out of pure curiosity had the train not have been pitching a rolling along the tracks. Neither woman wanted to end their adventure flat on their prides and heading to hospital…

Dorothy frowned at Angela and the woman shrugged her shoulders. Neither said a word in case that voice wasn’t speaking to them…

Sarah MacKenzie did push up to her feet, and she turned towards the older witches and watched as they eyed her with something approaching curious suspicion…

“Nut job?” Dorothy said out of the corner of her mouth and Angela rolled her eyes.

“That’s not very nice…” Her friend berated her and she scowled.

“I don’t need to be nice. I’m old. I don’t need to be murdered in my bed either…” Dorothy tossed back.

Sarah walked around the seat and stood at the end of the bolted down table that divided the woman. Then she lifted her hands, palms facing each other, and drew a breath in as the small fiery orb formed between them – shooting out little bolts of orange charged energy towards her fingertips…

Both friend’s turned to look at each other as slow to boil grins took their lips. Sarah let the magic slowly dissipate in her hands.

“Looks like we found a new friend…” Angela said.

“A third…” Dorothy wiggled her eyebrows.

“Let’s not go that far, ladies…” Sarah said as she motioned to the seat beside Angela and the woman nodded. Sarah slipped in beside her. “But, I did just inherit an Inn in the mountains that I’m planning to refurbish, and I could use the company for … a few days…?”

“Maybe a little longer if we like it?” Dorothy pressed and Angela rolled her eyes once more as Sarah giggled.

“We’ll see how much trouble you cause…” Sarah said, unsure what the women were about, but she was kind intrigued to find out.

She’d heard their chatter and put two and two together and come up with … witches in need. She’d felt their magic, and it was strong – if not a little rusty – so much so that she’d been able to push through their shields without much of a problem, still, they wouldn’t need those on the mountain – she hoped…

“Trouble’s her middle name,” Angela said with a nod of her head towards Dorothy.

“Tis not, it’s Celia, as well you know – Marjorie…” Dorothy bit back.

Sarah had to wonder, as the two women eyed each other across the small divide, if she was doing the right thing … maybe they had family somewhere that was missing them … maybe they were senile and lost in their own little world and she was taking on more than she could chew … or maybe, just maybe, they just needed to find themselves again.

“Don’t call me Marjorie … you batty old bat…” Angela bit back.

Whatever happened, Sarah didn’t think things would be dull with the two of them around.