Betty Sandcroft

“When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning or in rain?”

A slightly awkward silence followed. “Betty darling, have you been on the sauce again? Only there’s four of us here, five if you count Elsie’s cat” said Mrs Abernathy.

“I was trying to be all dramatic, mysterious and poetic” mumbled Betty

“Whilst factually incorrect” said Miss Marie

“Well we are three witches at least, that zombie and the cat can’t count surely?” persisted Betty

“And you stole that quote too” said Miss Marie, “You could at least try to be original”.

“Look, I’m trying aren’t I? The cauldron’s bubbling away, candles are lit, got my pointy hat on, broomsticks in the corner, got all my herbs hanging up, it’s all nostalgic and such”.

There was a brief pause as those present took stock of what Betty said.

“Having a spice rack from Tesco on your wall hardly counts as “herbs hanging up” Betty and your so called “cauldron” is just a bloody great stock pot full of what smells like cabbage! Your pointy hat is woolly and patterned with a bobble on and, to my recollection we never had or used “Autumn glow” Yankee candles back in the day either” said Mrs Abernathy. Elsie’s cat meowed in agreement.

“Bollocks to the lot of you” Betty said with a smile, “Same time next week ladies?”.

‘

Betty Sandcroft, as you may have already guessed was a witch. Unlike the others though Betty was a local and had been for over four hundred years.

There is magic in all things natural, humans, animals, plants, the elements, the land itself and the Island where Betty lived, the Isle of Wight was no exception. In fact, for some unknown reason it held a power different to other places. It instilled a sense of love and belonging to those born and those coming to live upon it. The Island would now forever be their “home”, the place they came back to if, for some reason they ever decided to leave, the place they felt at ease, comfortable and happy. The Islands effect was a subtle one but to those with power of their own, like Bettys coven it acted like a magnet.

Betty was born into a small farming community on the Island in the 1600’s. The fifth daughter from a family of seven she was, from an early age noticeably different from her siblings and the other local children. She had an affinity with the animals, had a tendency to daydream but, at the same time was attentive to what she was taught and had an eagerness to learn from her elders. She became well practiced in herb craft, medicines, the implementation of “old wives’ tales”.

Knowledge is a power in itself and Betty was a keen student. But along with her increasing knowledge an awareness also arose, and then a control. Realising the need and want for a certain herb or plant Betty found all she need to do was concentrate, hope to find it, will it into being and it would grow for her. With practice Betty learned she could control and will plants to do as she wished, affect and encourage their growth, their strength and effectiveness, could even make them move.

Whilst encouraging the plants to move another power, another ability made itself known to her, she became aware of the earth around her, could feel the deep rhythm that pulsed throughout it. Using the same ability that she had with the plants she found that she could encourage the earth to move as she wished. Only a little at first but with practice her ability and strength grew and then, something else, she knew of the water flowing under the ground, could feel that as well in a similar way to that of the earth. Slowly, Betty realised she could control all the elements, earth, air, fire and water. Her village flourished. There was no sickness or famine, crops grew in abundance. Betty located tin and copper within the earth and a mining community grew then prospered. Betty met and fell in love with the local millers son, they married, had three children. For years life was good. Happy.

Her villages and the Islands good fortune did not go unnoticed. Jealousy sprouted, suspicions were aroused, foul play suspected, witchcraft mentioned. Hunters were deployed. With the threat of the church behind them it wasn’t long before Betty was identified.

Her husband had made a stand at the door of their cottage, refusing the Witch hunters and the baying mob entry. They had cut him down in front of her, cries of “Witchcraft” and “Blasphemy” as they carried out their brutal work. Betty, grieving at the loss of her husband, hysterical at the threat to her children screamed, and in that scream let go of all her control.

The ground swallowed the hunters up to their knees, brambles and thorns snaked out, wrapping around them, squeezing them tight then shredding them bloody, flames danced from their eyes and dove down their throats, silencing the screams. The earth swallowed the crowd and the village, those that had aided the hunters as well as those that had not, the river flooded its banks, washing away all that was left save the cottage that Betty was in. Darkness descended.

Betty awoke. There was no longer the familiar, warm, comforting embrace from her husband, but she could feel her three daughters entwined around her. After all the turmoil, all the tragedy, she felt comfort, a purpose. She took her children away into the forest, created a new home for them, away from everybody, using the forests plant life to protect them from detection from the outsiders. She raised and taught her girls as best she could, herbology, literacy, numeracy but with regards to her arts sadly, none of them had her natural abilities with the elements or plants.

Tales of her exploits with the hunters and the village had spread far and wide. More hunters had been dispatched to find and kill the witch, but her fame also attracted those of a similar nature. Whilst her enchantments within the forest worked well with the hunters they acted as a guide for those with abilities similar to her own. Whilst curiosity might kill the cat it was a staple food group for witches, warlocks and alchemists and, with what Betty had achieved in her moment of rage and anguish they had questions aplenty. They flocked to the Island.

Most were not strong enough to breach her enchantments but those that could fortunately did so with honest intentions. They shared their knowledge, experiences and tragedies and slowly Betty began to heal, settle and, realising the need for her daughters to have their own lives began to lower her defences.

She relocated to a seaside fishing town on the Island, spinning the tale that she was recently widowed on the mainland, resettling to the Island with her girls. This time around she was much more careful with how she used her abilities. Tides and winds were somehow more favourable with the local fishermen, subtle suggestions to them reaped more prosperous catches. She opened a fishmongers but with an apothecary attached. She still attracted a fair share of her magical brother/sisterhood but this time it was better controlled, far less suspicious. Her daughters worked for her, became a valued part of the community. They married into it.

One of Bettys visitors to her shop was an alchemist of mythical renown, Nicholas Flamel. He spent the summer with her and, having shared a few secrets of her own he divulged one of his. Immortality.

Nanny Bet ran the fishmongers for many more years, her family flourished but gradually questions of her longevity began to arise. Realising this early on and wanting to protect her family she passed from the public eye, feigning death, passing on the business to her girls whilst subtly maintaining her magical aid so that her family continued to prosper.

Moving into a remote country cottage Betty established an impressive herb garden, making ointments, poultices and salves that she would sell on. She grew an oak tree in her garden. From the initial trunk sprang three branches signifying her daughters, from these three branches further branches grew in accordance with her grandchildren and then her ever growing family. As her line and the years continued so the branches grew in accordance and after over four centuries growth the tree was truly immense.

Throughout the years Betty maintained contact with all her family. With the gift that Nicolas Flamel had bestowed upon her Betty could alter her physical appearance, make herself younger and, with this trick she’d managed to maintain a relationship with her family as a distant cousin or aunt without raising suspicion. Although still dabbling with herb craft and medicine being immortal Betty found she needed something a bit more fun and varying to do. Considering the size of her family now spread across the island and the fact Betty maintained a relationship with the majority of them she now had access to an incredible network of information and contacts, information and contacts she could use to settle wrongs, right grievances and, just for fun, cause a little mischief.

One of Betty’s favourite pastimes was picking on the gentry, the Lords and Ladies that spent the majority of their time living up their own arses and talking down to people. The easiest and most enjoyable way of doing this was to bugger about with their hobbies, fox hunting in particular. It became far too common an occurrence for branches to suddenly appear taking riders out of their saddle, for horses jumping a hedge to suddenly land in a massive, foul bog that certainly hadn’t been there previously plus the fact they never seemed to get anywhere near the bloody fox anyway. It gradually disheartened them to the point where they just didn’t bother anymore.

She also acted as an unofficial auditor to the courts. With judges at the time not exactly being the most honest and fair of people plus being fairly easily bought she took it upon herself to mete out her own brand of justice, from organising the odd freak accident to people quite simply disappearing.

But, as the years went on and the population of the Island grew Betty found it more and more difficult to maintain her standards, her order and control. She needed help. She reached out. To Mrs Abernathy.

Those with power and abilities can recognise and are aware when others with similar gifts are near. Through her relationship with the earth and the Island Betty knew the moment Mrs Abernathy set foot on the Island. In all her years she had never met anyone who could rival her in power or strength, until now. For the first time in centuries Betty felt nervous.

But how to initiate contact? Simply turning up on her doorstep might seem to be aggressive, a letter suspicious. A gift then.

Mrs Abernathy awoke at dawn, literally sensing the earth moving around her. She had been wondering when and if an attack might come, after all she was technically encroaching upon another witch’s territory and she knew from early on that the main resident of the Island was an extremely gifted one. But as soon as the attack came it stopped, hastily dressing Mrs Abernathy cautiously looked outside. A small orchard and vegetable patch had appeared in her back garden and dozens of brightly coloured and fragrant flowers had bloomed. Her lawn was perfect, vivid green, immaculately trimmed, an extensive and impressive herb garden stretched along her fence and a well had appeared close to the house. Stepping outside she marvelled at the beauty of it, then wondered how she was going to explain its sudden appearance to all her bloody neighbours.

Mrs Abernathy sensed Betty’s approach some time before the knock on her door came but it gave her enough time to get the kettle on and lay out some posh biscuits.

She opened her door to a woman that appeared to be in her early thirties, exchanging polite greetings she invited her inside. Introductions were made and they settled down to their tea and biccies.

“So, what can I do for you Mrs Sandcroft?” enquired Mrs Abernathy.

“You can start by getting out of my bloody head” replied Betty, smiling sweetly, “It’s impolite to go snooping”.

Realising she’d been caught out Mrs Abernathy hastily withdrew, further admiration and wariness of the skills of the woman in front of her grew as it was rare that she was ever detected.

“If you want to know anything please just ask” continued Betty, “I’d rather we be honest from the outset with each other, don’t want this degenerating into a pissing contest do we?”.

“I’m sure an accommodation could be made” replied Mrs Abernathy “What exactly do you have in mind?”.

“It’s become a bit of a chore maintaining order and control of the place as it’s grown, I’d like someone to share that burden, someone with a similar mindset and view on how things should be done. Sound like something you could be interested in?”

“Well it’s been a while since I’ve involved myself in current affairs” replied Mrs Abernathy “The few times I’ve dabbled in the past tended to, shall we say, have mixed results”.

“I wouldn’t so much call it getting involved, more a case of keeping an eye out, making sure the locals don’t bugger things up too much, dealing with unwanted visitors, just keeping a lid on the place basically”.

“What sort of unwanted visitors are we talking about?”

“The mischievous kind”

Mrs Abernathy smiled, “Mind if I phone a friend?” she asked.

And so the Wight Witches Neighbourhood Watch began…..