Aug 31, 2026 · 19 min · 7 segments
A cozy contemporary fantasy about a chaotic witchy family and a terribly organised admin assistant, taking up residence at Frightful Manor. Set in the same world as “The Twelve Days of Witchmas.”…
Tansy Rayner RobertsHostChapter 8 Home is not a castle Part A The English countryside, its growth and its destruction, is a genuine and tragic theme.
In theory, she knew they were a good idea and she had technically had many days off during her time as executive assistant to the Tyrant Magazine publishing.
But she didn't believe in It was hard to fully unwind when you knew there was at least a 25% chance that your so-called day off would be interrupted by a demanding text, a drive-by phone call, or a summons to the office to deal with the disaster of the day.
Anna Minotaur had certainly never believed in days off, even her rigorously scheduled annual two-week beach vacation.
And, woe betide, Libby even thought about leaving the office unattended while all that was going on.
In other words, Libby was unprepared for the flappy business card that leapt up from the window ledge the morning after the disastrous dinner party, carrying the message, Not Today, in Horace Blight's handwriting.
breakfast was a remarkably skeletal affair, with the majority of the younger blights apparently unwilling to interact with each other today, even for the sake of bacon sandwiches.
Libby, eating cinnamon porridge practically alone in the breakfast nook – she did not count young Thaddeus, who was still wearing last night's clothes under an oversized weird bro hoodie – and sat in the corner of the room inhaling dry cereal with his eyes glued to his phone.
So Libby took the opportunity to tell Mar Cherry exactly how much she had enjoyed the food served at dinner.
The cheese plate had been exceptional, with several local varieties served alongside fresh apple slices, chorley cakes and wedges of parkin.
But those stragglers remaining at the table by the time the cheese and port were served had certainly not complained.
When Libby arrived at the office, it was to find the door firmly locked and the usual beak enter beware sign replaced with one that said, not today.
She eventually located Horace at the greenhouses, having some kind of silent but practical conversation with a shirtless Bunbury cherry.
Horace himself was more underdressed than usual, which meant an extra shabby pair of trousers that needed mending and a flannel shirt under battered knitwear.
When he saw her approaching, he gave her a very mild smile and said, "'Not today, Liberty.' "'But isn't there a great deal to—' Horace shook his head.
When your evening is overtaken by my dreadful family, you get a day off.
How had he staved off the roll of beak until just before turning forty? But it's Tuesday, Libby said plaintively.
Chapter 8 Home is not a castle Part A The English countryside, its growth and its destruction, is a genuine and tragic theme.
In theory, she knew they were a good idea and she had technically had many days off during her time as executive assistant to the Tyrant Magazine publishing.
But she didn't believe in It was hard to fully unwind when you knew there was at least a 25% chance that your so-called day off would be interrupted by a demanding text, a drive-by phone call, or a summons to the office to deal with the disaster of the day.
Anna Minotaur had certainly never believed in days off, even her rigorously scheduled annual two-week beach vacation.
And, woe betide, Libby even thought about leaving the office unattended while all that was going on.
In other words, Libby was unprepared for the flappy business card that leapt up from the window ledge the morning after the disastrous dinner party, carrying the message, Not Today, in Horace Blight's handwriting.
breakfast was a remarkably skeletal affair, with the majority of the younger blights apparently unwilling to interact with each other today, even for the sake of bacon sandwiches.
Libby, eating cinnamon porridge practically alone in the breakfast nook – she did not count young Thaddeus, who was still wearing last night's clothes under an oversized weird bro hoodie – and sat in the corner of the room inhaling dry cereal with his eyes glued to his phone.
So Libby took the opportunity to tell Mar Cherry exactly how much she had enjoyed the food served at dinner.
The cheese plate had been exceptional, with several local varieties served alongside fresh apple slices, chorley cakes and wedges of parkin.
But those stragglers remaining at the table by the time the cheese and port were served had certainly not complained.
When Libby arrived at the office, it was to find the door firmly locked and the usual beak enter beware sign replaced with one that said, not today.
She eventually located Horace at the greenhouses, having some kind of silent but practical conversation with a shirtless Bunbury cherry.
Horace himself was more underdressed than usual, which meant an extra shabby pair of trousers that needed mending and a flannel shirt under battered knitwear.
When he saw her approaching, he gave her a very mild smile and said, "'Not today, Liberty.' "'But isn't there a great deal to—' Horace shook his head.
When your evening is overtaken by my dreadful family, you get a day off.
How had he staved off the roll of beak until just before turning forty? But it's Tuesday, Libby said plaintively.
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