Rosemary and the Book of the Dead Read online

  Rosemary and the Book of the Dead

  Samantha Giles

  About the Author

  Samantha Giles is known and loved by millions of viewers for her popular portrayal of Emmerdale’s Bernice Blackstock. She has also been a regular character in three series of Where the Heart Is and Hollyoaks, as well as lead guest roles in many other well-known TV programmes.

  She started writing about four years ago, inspired by a dream she had about the four witch characters that feature in her debut, Rosemary and the Witches of Pendle Hill. Other than acting and writing, she also has her own website where you can find out more about Samantha and her books as well as purchase her spell kits:

  www.thesamanthagiles.co.uk

  Samantha is a big country music fan and is also a patron for Animal Aid charity in Liverpool, and PaganAid charity.

  Also by Samantha Giles

  Rosemary and the Witches of Pendle Hill

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this work, other than those clearly in the public domain, are entirely fictitious. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  Copyright © Samantha Giles, 2021

  All rights reserved

  * * *

  ISBN 978-1-914905-16-2

  * * *

  Cover Design By: Allison Li

  * * *

  First published in Great Britain in 2021 by Agora Books

  Agora Books is a division of Peters Fraser + Dunlop Ltd

  55 New Oxford Street, London WC1A 1BS

  * * *

  You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  Contents

  1. Position Vacant

  2. Mum’s Big Job

  3. Brightside (Bungalows)

  4. Paloma and the Pop Sock

  5. The New Nanny

  6. The Book of the Dead

  7. Adi’s Bombshell

  8. The Return of Mal Vine

  9. Holy Moly!

  10. The Tunnels

  11. The British Museum

  12. The Akashic Library

  13. The Visitor

  14. Busted

  15. The Tunnel of Eternal Darkness

  16. A Touch of the Darkness

  17. It’s a Kind of Magic

  18. A Sense of Urgency

  19. The Great Sphinx of Giza

  20. Anubis

  21. An Adventurer Prepares

  22. The Wandering Warbler

  23. The Riddle of the Sphinx

  24. Re’s Route

  25. Apep

  26. The Riddle of the Labyrinth

  27. Be Careful What You Wish For

  28. Sekhmet’s Temple

  29. The Last Challenge

  30. The Hall of Two Truths

  31. Dreams Do Come True

  32. The Leak

  33. Snake in the Grass

  34. My Magical Family

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  For Mum and Dad

  1

  Position Vacant

  “Ready, everyone?” Dad grinned, not waiting for an answer as he cleared his throat like he was a newscaster about to give us the most important piece of information ever. I pulled a slight cringy face while he continued to read:

  “Position Vacant.

  “Wanted: a fun-loving childminder with rules. Must have own transport. Must like children. And cats. Flexibility required and some late nights. Please reply to PO Box 22, Bootle.”

  Lois glanced at me and even she looked slightly puzzled. There was silence.

  Dad continued to grin expectantly.

  Mum bit her lip.

  Lois farted.

  I sniggered.

  “Lois!” Dad berated. “Well, come on, troops, don’t you think that’s a winner?”

  “Mmm,” Mum said doubtfully. “Surely you don’t need to say ‘must like children’, do you, darling? I mean, why be a childminder if you don’t like children?”

  “Haven’t you ever seen Mrs Doubtfire, Rae? I mean, it’s on all the bloody time!” Dad continued. “There’s a whole host of unsuitable people who apply to look after the children.”

  Lois nodded her head wisely. “And look at Nanny McPhee.”

  “No, Lois,” I corrected her. “Nanny McPhee isn’t evil. She’s kind and nice.”

  “Yeah, but she looks scary.”

  I sighed. “I don’t think it matters what the childminder looks like, does it, Dad?”

  “No, of course not,” Dad replied firmly.

  “Well, we don’t want some scary-looking individual looking after our children, do we, John?” my mother added cautiously.

  I tuned out as I heard them arguing over what did or didn’t constitute “scary-looking”, with Lois, I think, having the deciding vote that anyone with copious amounts of hair on their chin or more than one wart might not make the grade.

  If the Aunts and Uncle Vic and Mr Foggerty were still living with us, we wouldn’t be in this mess.

  It was now June, and we hadn’t seen any of the four witches and wizards who used to live with us since November last year.

  I thought back fondly to how Lois, Adi, and I had found Phyllis (one of the Aunts who had gone missing), and how together we had defeated the evil Mal Vine, who had turned out to be Phyllis’ brother and had been seeking revenge for something that had happened hundreds of years ago. Thankfully, once we had found her and my parents sorted out their differences, Mal was stopped from causing any more destruction, and his group had been disbanded.

  I knew it wasn’t necessarily forever, though. I remembered Phyllis’ words to me when I had asked her how we would stop Mal from reforming the “No-Laws” and potentially continuing his reign of hate.

  “It is down to each and every one of us to continue this fight in our own little lives. We do this by living each day with love and kindness and compassion . . . Where there is light, we can always defeat the darkness.”

  I hoped with all my heart I would never have to see Mal Vine’s cold flinty eyes again, or his two-fingered salute that made my skin prickle with fear.

  I glanced once more at my family. Mum was attempting to re-write Dad’s advert, Dad was patiently waiting for her to finish so he could ignore all her suggestions and just press “send” to the childcare website, and Lois was scratching her bottom with Bea’s nose. (Bea being her cuddly grey rabbit that she never goes ANYWHERE without.)

  How I longed to see the Aunts, Uncle Vic, and Mr Foggerty.

  All I had to remind myself that they had ever existed at all was just one measly postcard that Frances had sent from Egypt where they had been holidaying.

  I missed them so much.

  “I must admit, I’m worried about leaving this to you, John,” Mum frowned anxiously as Dad’s finger hovered over the ‘send’ button.

  “Rae, I’m more than capable. Remember, I’m used to interviewing people.”

  Mum raised her eyebrows at me and Lois, who had drawn a round smiling face on a piece of paper — presumably her contribution to the nanny debate.

  “Just be nice to them, John,” Mum added, knowing as we did that social skills were not one of Dad’s strengths.

  “Don’t worry,” he grinned, pressing “send” with a flourish. “I’ll find us the perfect person.” r />
  2

  Mum’s Big Job

  So, the reason my parents were looking for a childminder for us was mainly because of MUM’S BIG JOB.

  Mum and Dad had sat us down one evening — Mum bursting with excitement, despite trying to look like a serious grown-up in control — and Dad had uttered the words, “We want to tell you some exciting news about a rather big job that Mum might be doing.”

  We had fallen about in fits of laughter as, in our house, if anyone talks about a BIG JOB it’s usually a poo.

  After Lois’ hiccups had subsided (a direct consequence of too much laughter), we finally found out what the news really meant.

  “I’ve been offered three months’ work on a soap opera, girls!” Mum had squealed. It was so high-pitched that even Bob and Maggie, our cats, who were sleeping side by side on the couch, had folded their ears back and flicked their tails in protest. They had probably thought one of those dog whistles had gone off.

  “Mum, that’s amazing!” I’d shrieked.

  “What’s a soap opera?” Lois had asked simultaneously, with a quizzical look on her face.

  Mum had flicked a glance at Dad, who was looking proud.

  “Well,” Mum had continued, “it’s a programme that’s on pretty much every day, all year round. People get hooked on it, as they like to follow the characters’ lives, and they are usually set in fictional towns or villages and feature lots of regular characters who live in that place.”

  “Does this mean we’ll have to move to this programme’s village then?” Lois had frowned, her eyebrows creasing in confusion.

  “No, darling!” Mum had laughed. “It’s all pretend, silly. It’s a made-up village, and I’m going to be playing one of the regular character’s sisters who is just visiting for a few months. So, I’ll still live here, but it means I’ve got to travel quite a long way to get into work and might sometimes have to stay overnight.”

  “Oh!” Lois’ face had dropped at the mention of overnight stays.

  “Listen, darling, I haven’t even got any kind of filming schedule yet, so let’s not worry about something that hasn’t even happened. I might only be in for one day a week, and so you’ll hardly notice I’ve gone.”

  “So how long is this job for then?” I’d asked carefully, feeling slightly uneasy about the idea of Mum working ‘quite a long way’ from home.

  “Only three months, so it will fly by. But listen, the good thing is television work pays much better than theatre, so we might be able to afford a little holiday at Christmas or something!”

  “Oooh, we could go to India!” I’d blurted out, thinking of how my best friend Adi had plans to go with his family later this year for Diwali festival.

  “India?” My dad had looked puzzled. “I don’t think Miss Fussy Pants would be able to get her baked beans and digestive biscuits there, do you?”

  “Baked beans are in the university,” Lois had added smoothly.

  “I think you mean they are universal,” I’d corrected her, shaking my head.

  “You can get them everywhere, too,” she’d continued innocently.

  Dad had rolled his eyes. “Yes, sadly I think you might be right. Anyway, enough about holidays. You never know, Mum might end up staying there a while, and I could jack my job in!”

  “Why would you want to leave your job, Dad?” I’d asked, frowning, noticing my mum’s surprised expression.

  “I could be a man of leisure. Play golf, practise my guitar, do up the house.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen, John. And anyway, why would you not want to work? You’d be bored at home.”

  Dad had shaken his head. “Wouldn’t have time to be bored.”

  “Mmm, well, this is the first I’ve heard of this ‘jacking in the job’ nonsense.” Mum had raised an eyebrow. “Plus, I don’t think with all the time in the world you’d get round to repainting the bedroom or fixing a lock on the bathroom door.”

  “We don’t need a lock on the bathroom door. It’s dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” we had all chimed.

  “Yes. What if you got locked in there and couldn’t get out?” Dad had looked very pleased with himself at this suggestion.

  “Dad, we’re nearly ten and six, not two and three.”

  “Anyway,” Dad had added, looking down for a moment, “maybe it’s time for a career change. You know, to find a job I really like …”

  Mum looked like she had swallowed a snail, and I swear when Dad had started talking about his job that the greeny-blue colour around him had dulled. (Did I mention I could see colours around people that show how they are feeling or give clues about their personality?)

  * * *

  And so, only a few days after this discussion, Mum had toddled off down the M6 for costume fittings and make-up tests and medicals for her new job on the popular soap Brightside.

  She’d had to leave at 6.30 a.m. in order to get there on time but assured us she would be back to pick us up from school. As we only had one car, Dad had walked us to school and then had to cycle to the station so he could get his train to Manchester, a journey that I know he HATED.

  “Those bloody trains are a joke. Never on time, always overcrowded. Some snotty-nosed individual with a cough spluttering into your face or tickling your cheek with the edge of their newspaper,” Dad had moaned as we reached the school gates.

  As we had said our goodbyes, I flicked my eyes up to the space above his head. No, it was okay. His cloud most definitely hadn’t returned.

  Phew. That was a relief.

  When Dad was feeling low, a raincloud would appear, hovering above his head. Sometimes it was white, sometimes it looked grey and threatening, and other times it was full-on pouring with rain.

  No one else could ever seem to see the colours I saw around people. I didn’t dare tell anyone — except, my mum knew. Apparently, she had the same thing when she was my age. She said it disappeared when she became a teenager, so I never want to turn thirteen. I don’t want to lose my gift. It makes me feel special, and even though it makes me odd and an outsider in some ways, I’d rather be different.

  My best friend Adi understands me quite well, considering he’s a boy. I guess we did go through a lot together last year when we went on our quest to find Phyllis after she had mysteriously disappeared.

  We used to have a “portal” via a mirror in our house, which is a kind of gateway to another dimension where our witch and wizard houseguests would go. Adi cleverly found a way for us to access it, and that’s how we got ourselves the job of finding Phyllis.

  The sad thing is, since the witches stopped living with us, the portal is no longer there, so that’s another thing that’s changed, along with our houseguests disappearing, and Mum getting this new job.

  Sometimes I wish things could have stayed the same.

  So, at break time, I had been sitting in the “apple”, which is the contemplative space in our playground, telling Adi about Mum’s trip to Birmingham. Adi had listened to me droning on intently, every now and then pushing his oversized glasses further up onto his nose. He’d recently developed a new habit of wrinkling up his nose, as if that would hold his glasses up. I was fascinated by the wrinkling and wanted to tell him to stop, because I could see right up his nose, but didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

  “So why aren’t you pleased about your mum doing this job then, Rosemary?” Adi was the only one of my friends who called me by my full name.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” I’d answered him. “Mum will be away from home. For ages, I expect. First, we lose our houseguests, and now we’re losing Mum all over again.”

  “You haven’t heard any more from any of them then, since the postcard?”

  I’d shaken my head sadly. “Frances promised us she would see us again. Why is it that grown-ups are always breaking promises?”

  I had been exaggerating slightly there for effect, as my parents usually were pretty good at keeping promises. Although I had b
een very suspicious when Mum had said that we would hardly notice that she’d gone.

  Adi looked thoughtful. “Well, if Frances said she would definitely see you again, then you have to trust her and wait for the right time. ‘We can’t change the direction of the wind, but we can adjust the sails.’”

  It was another of his Indian sayings. I had looked at him for clarification.

  “It means you may not be able to change the way things are, but you can change your mindset.”

  I’d pulled a face.

  “If Frances said she would see you again, she will. So, start believing that, Rosemary. Come on!” Adi had said, dragging me up by my arm. “Bell’s gone.”

  I’d followed him back into class thinking about how right he was. Frances had made a promise that she’d see us again.

  I had to stop worrying and have faith she would return to us when the time was right.

  3

  Brightside (Bungalows)

  A few days later, having spent two days after school with Mrs Sykes in the office while waiting a WHOLE HOUR on the first day and TWENTY MINUTES on the second for Mum to collect us, we had all realised the current arrangement wasn’t going to work.