Page 32 of The Witch

“But—”

“I’m not even sure if I have the key anymore.” Ethel glances at her watch impatiently. “Aren’t you supposed to be searching for a job right now? I didn’t know you came here to sort through our attic.”

She folds her arms across her chest, challenging me to press the issue. I get the feeling that when she was younger, Ethel was the queen of staring contests.

“Never mind,” I mumble.

Ethel gives me one last long look. Finally, she turns and walks down the stairs, leaving me to stumble the rest of the way to the bathroom on my own. Clearly, Ethel does not want me rummaging around in the attic.

Which means I’m going to have to be very careful while I search for the key.

24

There is no key to the attic anywhere.

By the time six o’clock nears, I have searched every nook and cranny of this house. I have opened every drawer and every cabinet, which hasn’t been easy because Ethel has been in and out the entire day. Gram was hanging around the house too, but she seemed to have little interest in what I was doing. Mostly, she watched the television with a vacant expression on her face, which made me decide that tomorrow I should take her on an outing.

There was something nerve-racking about searching the house. Every time I opened a new door or drawer, I half expected something to leap out at me. But all I found was a bunch of dust.

Either there is something in the attic that they don’t want me to find, or else there’s nothing there, and I’m making a big deal out of absolutely nothing.

Henry Ziegler will be here to pick me up in about fifteen minutes, and I’m relieved as hell to get out. I don’t think I can stand another evening of Ethel glaring at me across the dinner table.

I still have a bit of time left, and Ethel took off in her car about an hour ago, so I decide to do one last sweep of the kitchen before Henry comes. Except when I get there, Gram is sitting at the kitchen table, sipping something from a white mug. At first, I panic at the thought that she might have used the stove to make tea, but when I get closer, I can see that it’s orange juice.

I linger at the doorway, not sure if I should abandon my plan. “Hi, Gram.”

“Hello, dear.” She looks me up and down, a smile crawling across her lips. “Don’t you look nice. Are you going somewhere?”

I dressed up for my dinner out with Henry. It’s not a date, but I absolutely hate when the man I’m with is better dressed than I am. So I put on a skirt and blouse, and a few dabs of makeup. Not enough for him to notice, but it makes me feel better.

“I’m going out to dinner,” I say.

“With whom?”

“With Henry Ziegler. From the museum.”

“Oh.” She gives me a meaningful look. “I understand.”

I don’t bother to explain that this isn’t a date. She won’t believe me anyway. Besides, while Ethel isn’t around, there is something I want to talk to her about.

“Gram,” I say, “do you by any chance have a key to the attic?”

She reaches into the neck of the yellow nightgown I laid out for her this morning. She rejected the skirts and pants I picked out, insisting on the nightgown. At least it’s freshly washed, since I did a quick load this morning, scooping up the big pile of dirty clothes in her closet. I didn’t notice before now that the chain hanging from her neck has three keys hanging off it, as well as her wedding band.

“Any chance I could borrow it?” I ask.

For a moment, I’m sure she’s going to say yes, but then she frowns. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ethel.”

“It’s Julia,” I correct her. “And I just need it for a few minutes. I…I’ll give it right back. I promise.”

“No.” Her lips quiver slightly. “You shouldn’t go up there. It’s not safe.”

“It will be fine. Like I said, I’ll only be there a minute.”

“It’s not safe.” She reaches out and clasps my wrist with her bony hand. Her fingers appear frail, but they bite into me hard enough to leave marks. “Trust me. I⁠—”

Whatever my grandmother was about to say is cut off by a heavy knock at the front door. God, what I wouldn’t give for a normal doorbell.