‘Prom, come here,’ Kieran said, half-command, half-plea.
The cat ignored him, obviously.
Then the music shifted. The folk band, joined by other musicians, launched into something completely different – a brass-heavy number with trumpets, trombones, and unmistakable familiarity.
‘Is that “Friend Like Me”?’ Kieran said aloud, his voice barely audible over the tune. ‘What – how?—?’
A booming voice echoed through the room, though Kieran couldn’t tell where it came from, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, it is time to wind things down.’
The music faltered. The crowd stilled.
‘You have had fun, yes?’ the voice continued, smooth and lilting. ‘Tell your friends. Spread the word.The Jekyll and Hydeis the hip, hop, happening place to be!’
And just like that, the spell broke.
The energy drained out of the room. People blinked, muttered to each other, gathered coats and handbags. Within moments the pub was half-empty, the chatter replaced by the faint hum of the fridges.
Kieran stood, gripping a chair for balance. The air still crackled faintly, like static after a storm. He wanted Beth to appear again, to tell him it was some elaborate themed event, a fundraiser, a local tradition –anythinglogical.
Instead, Jinnie came over, flushed and grinning. ‘That was wild, wasn’t it? Oh, here.’ She handed him something small and papery.
A crown. Pink, crinkled, withKing of the Cat Discoscrawled in glitter pen.
‘Er … thanks?’
‘For your cat,’ she said, and left before he could reply.
The door swung shut behind her. Silence. Just Kieran and Prom.
‘Miaow,’ said the cat, perfectly serene.
‘What’s going on?’ Kieran whispered.
Prom blinked, let out a loudermiaow, and began grooming his tail.
Kieran laughed, a dry, incredulous sound. ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’
No response. Just another smug tail flick.
The room felt wrong now. Too empty, too still. He needed air. He scooped up Prom, jammed the paper crown onto his furry head, and stepped outside into the fading light.
They’d barely made it ten paces when someone called his name. Jo was jogging up the lane, eyes wide with concern. ‘Wait! Are you all right?’
He blinked at her. ‘Define “all right.” I’ve just watched my cat out-dance half the village to Sister Sledge.’
‘Ah,’ Jo said softly. ‘It’s happening again.’
‘What is?’
‘You’re new,’ she said carefully. ‘You don’t know Cranley’s history.’
‘What, witch-burnings? Goat sacrifices?’ He tried to laugh but it came out shaky.
‘Not quite,’ Jo said, managing a thin smile. ‘But… Strange things happen here. They always have. We thought it had stopped.’
‘What had stopped?’
She shook her head. ‘Not now: you need rest. I’ll speak to the others.’
