Clementine could hardly hear what Mike was saying with the tension in her head.

“But we can still work together”, she heard. As she breathed in she caught the smell of the delicious Boeuf Bourguignonne she had taken such trouble to  prepare for their anniversary dinner. She felt her knees weaken and sat down at the beautifully set dining table, and heard “… the information you  provide is so useful in preventing crime in the Midlands”.

She wasn’t able to look him in the face, she put up her right hand to support her head and try and control her trembling. She heard the clink of ice cubes in the glass as he drank his whiskey, which she always had ready for him when he got in from work. “So that’s it, no point prolonging it, I’ll be off”. Despite the pounding in her ears, she heard her own voice say “Yes, Mike”, in her usual meek tone, as he turned for the door.

As the door clicked shut and his footsteps receded, Clementine sat still in the fading light with her tattered dreams and remembered how happy she had felt when this man first came into her life. These memories now mocked her as the sense of desolation in her body grew. How could she have been so mistaken, she wondered. She remembered how her heart swelled with joy when he came into the office and singled her out, asking her to get him the information he needed, she, Clementine, the office mouse, and he the handsome Detective Mike Smith. How she rushed to get him the information he requested, helping him be the heroic crime fighter he was, gave her such a thrill. She didn’t even hesitate to give him the barracks stamp when he asked for it to “help an old neighbour who needed some papers stamped”, he said. She admired such loyal community spirit. When they started seeing each other outside the office and their relationship deepened, to Clementine, this felt inevitable and right and forever.

These memories tormented Clementine now and she knew she had to get away. Her first thought was to go to her Great Aunt Clem who was always a safe haven in times of strife. Leaving the apartment exactly as it was, she grabbed her coat and keys, and ran out the door, down the stairs, got into her Mini Cooper and was hurtling down the M7 in no time. Her only thought was to get to her place of safe refuge, her Great Aunt Clementine’s cottage in Togher, the place of so many happy childhood memories.

She was surprised when the sound of the tyres on the gravel of the driveway didn’t bring Auntie to the door with a welcoming smile as usual. So she turned the key in the back door and entered the kitchen. It was cold and dark, the stove had gone out, the paraffin lamp was burning low and there was no sign of Auntie Clem. Then she remembered, Thursday nights were Coven nights and those meetings could go on a bit. She decided not to wait up, but instead, she got out some blankets, went up to the loft and lay down in the spare bedroom. No sooner had her head touched the pillow than exhaustion caught up with her, her eyelids closed and she slept to the lullaby of the pattering rain on the roof.

It was late when Clementine woke the next morning, the house was warm, and Aunt Clem was humming as she pottered about the kitchen. The smell of coffee coaxed her out of bed and down the loft stairs.

“Welcome, dear, it’s so good to see you. So unexpected, I’d have been here if I’d known you were coming, sit down here, have something to eat and tell me all your news”, said Aunt Clem as she encircled her in a warm embrace. As Clementine relaxed in her Aunt’s arms, the tears came and she poured the tale of misery into her Aunt’s ear.

“Well, I never…he seemed so…do have something to eat, dear…who would have thought…”., her Aunt murmured as Clementine told her story.

“ I thought you would know what I should do Auntie”, she sobbed.

“What can I do to help? Let me think, a love potion perhaps?”

“No way, I want as powerful a curse as you can conjure, that snake deserves nothing but toil and trouble”, said Clementine with a snarl.

The change in her niece shocked Aunt Clem, she was amazed by the venom in her niece’s voice and face. “Let’s not be hasty, dear, these things have a habit of rebounding, maybe we could …”, and with that Clementine’s phone rang. It was her boss, Inspector Herriot, “Good morning, Miss Clementine, I’m looking for the barracks stamp, it’s not in its usual place. Do you know where it is by any chance?” It was on the tip of Clementine’s tongue to admit giving it to Detective Smith, but something gave her pause.

“Well I don’t remember seeing it actually, but I’ll get back with you if I remember, Inspector, is there anything else I can help you with?”

“You know, having people like yourself working from home because of COVID is a nightmare, no one to get us reports as quickly as needed, I’m putting in a recommendation to have that changed as soon as possible” she replied.

“Yes Inspector, goodbye Inspector”, Clementine said in her usual meek tone as she pressed the off button and looked at her phone thoughtfully.

So Mike hadn’t returned that stamp! She wondered why he would keep it.

“Aunt Clem, I need the coven’s help”. “Now dear, the coven will have nothing to do with a curse”, her aunt replied. “I know Auntie, but I need help with something more important. I lent the barracks stamp to Mike some time ago, he said he needed it to stamp the passport of some poor old neighbour, and he hasn’t returned it. My job is on the line if the boss finds out I gave it to him.”

“Ahh, well that’s different, I’ll send a message around to Imogen and ask her to call”.

Aunt Clem decided against involving the whole Coven as Clementine was not a member, and if they suspected she had grudge against this man, they couldn’t help anyway. It had been her dearest wish that her grandniece would follow in her footsteps and join the Sisterhood but young Clementine had other ideas and opted for a civilian job and lifestyle, also she was terrified of broom flying, which was a serious disadvantage in the Craft.

Jasper the Owl went round to Imogen’s with the message “stamp missing, Clementine needs help”. Now as it happened, Amelia and Justine, two Portlaoise Witches, were there when the message arrived. They had been out picking hazelnuts in Dysart Woods and had called in for tea.

“That’s a strange one, why wouldn’t she use email like us all”, said Amelia when she heard the message.

“And ‘Clementine needs help’, that’s a really strange one, she works for the Guards, doesn’t she?” said Justine. “ Well there is only one way to find out about it, let’s go”, said Imogen and the three ladies were on their brooms and down to Togher in a flash.

Aunt Clem arranged the chairs in the orchard to ensure social distancing and while she served tea, Clementine told of her fears of losing her job if the barrack’s stamp wasn’t recovered. She never mentioned her bust-up with Detective Mike Smith. The ladies did wonder why she couldn’t just ask him for the stamp back but they refrained from prying. They realized that Clementine losing her job would be a loss for them all, as her ability to provide them with information regarding Garda checkpoints allowed them to evade detection while flying. Some of them still had provisional flying licences.

After a bit of discussion, the following was decided on: They would set up a surveillance operation using Imogen’s magpies, as they were terrific tails. Imogen would call to his house and ask him to stamp the “off the road “ form for that tractor she hadn’t taxed for years, and see if she could find out where he kept the stamp.

“Let’s go and stay safe ladies. You’d better bring that mobile tracer detector with you, Clementine”, said her Aunt. Clementine’s mouth went dry, she was terrified of broom flying, but she realized there was no alternative, so with her heart pounding in her chest, she gave a little run and jumped on her aunt’s old broom. She found it difficult to keep her balance, but she hung on gamely and followed her aunt’s lead.

Hovering over the Detective’s house, Clementine watched as Justine swooped and slipped a tracer on the Jeep parked outside. A few moments later, as Detective Mike was about to get into the car, he was startled by Imogen’s sudden appearance seemingly out of nowhere, waving a form. “Hello there, Detective, can you help me and stamp this “Off the road” form for my tractor.”

“Afraid not Miss, you’ll have to go to the station”. As he spoke, Imogen could clearly see the stamp on the dashboard. He got in his car and sped away.

Imogen gave the signal to Clementine to follow the car, and Great Aunt Clem got off the broom, saying, “you follow, dear, I can’t keep up with that speed, but you can do it, hurry!”

Clementine was petrified, but hanging onto the broom for dear life, she followed that jeep as it sped up the M7, keeping it in sight. The vehicle turned north and sped along the M50, passed all the exits she knew and on towards Dublin port. Suddenly it pulled off the motorway, at exit 13 ½, passed houses and farms and came to a field with an open gate, it turned into it, where there was a red sports car already parked. There was a dark-haired man, in his thirties, she guessed, wearing a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket. He was smoking a cigarette while leaning against the bonnet. Terrified she would be spotted, Clementine managed to park in the ditch. She called one of the nearby magpies, fitted a camera to its leg and told it to film the goings-on in the field. A few minutes later the red car drove slowly out of the field and turned north. She got the registration number. She stayed crouched in position until Mike Smith’s jeep left the field. When the magpie returned, she retrieved the camera, thanked him and screwing up her courage, she got on the broom and headed back to Togher.

She managed to evade detection on the way home and found Aunt Clem in the garden serving tea. “Just in time, dear, have some tea and tell us all,” she said, pouring her a cup. “Just give me a minute, to catch my breath,” said Clementine. The ladies were agog to hear her news. She sipped her tea, got out her laptop, inserted the chip from the camera and looked at the footage. She said nothing as she watched Mike Smith take the stamp out of his pocket, and stamp a passport for the other man, who then handed him a large wad of banknotes, which Mike put in his pocket together with the stamp. She watched the vehicles leave the field. The video clip ended.

Aunt Clem and the others had been watching the clip over her shoulder. “So, at least we know where he keeps the stamp, but do you think that young man looks like a poor neighbour?” said Imogen. Clementine’s mind was in turmoil, yes, she was angry with this man who had used her and dumped her but still, the culture of silence and looking the other way regarding the behaviour of colleagues ran deep in her. Nobody in the force ever shopped a colleague as far as she knew. But she also knew that there was no innocent explanation for what she had just seen. On top of that Clementine dreaded owning up to her own foolishness and yes, she was worried about losing her job, but she knew she couldn’t leave things as they were. She had to sort it out.

Clementine knew that the old saying: “Follow the money” was probably the best approach in this case and the money came from the slim, dark-haired man in the leather jacket. She could identify him and she knew his car registration. With a sigh, Clementine got out her phone and rang the office and asked for Inspector Herriot.

“Inspector, I have some information concerning that missing barracks stamp” and she told the Inspector the whole story. Inspector Herriot was silent for a minute, “Forward me that video clip and I’ll have that young man checked and we’ll see where that leads, in the meantime please continue your surveillance of Detective Smith. Get back to me if you notice anything suspicious.”

Click. Nothing about Clementine giving him the stamp! A reprieve! But she wasn’t out of the woods yet. She put the phone down and went back into the garden to update the others. “So, keep watch is the watchword,” said Imogen with a smirk. “Well, this is exciting, guarding the guards, such an adventure!”

Clementine knew that there had to be more to this than just stamping passports, otherwise why would Mike ring her so often looking for information regarding Garda checkpoints. Why did he need that information and who was he passing it on to, and how could she find out? She pulled out her phone and noted the dates he had rung her at work looking for such information, she then checked his social media profiles to see if she could find a clue, and there it was hidden in plain sight. On each of those dates, he had a message on his profile: “bad weather expected tonight, practice cancelled” and there were the same six names tagged to the message each time. Well! Clementine knew that the surveillance operation needed to be extended to the six people in question. She had no difficulty persuading the others to help, together with the magpies of course.

It wasn’t long before they had enough information on the activities of the six to give Inspector Herriot a good reason to come calling on all of them one Monday morning with the officers of CAB. They seized papers, bank books, phones, cars, vans and assorted other assets including the barracks stamp!