I′ll Be There For You
I'll Be There For You
Kerry Barrett
When good witchcraft goes bad…Harry (short for Harmony) McLeod never thought motherhood would be for her. But now that she and wife Louise have adopted twins Finlay and Fiona, she can’t imagine life without her gorgeous little family. But just as the toddlers start to discover their own witching abilities – quite handy when they want to summon toys with just a wiggle of their fingers! – Harry’s own powers seem to have vanished.With her abilities gone and Louise working all hours, Harry’s perfect world is starting to unravel. She knows she needs to rediscover her happiness to get her powers back, but with local charmer (and witch) Richard trying to steal her spa business from under her feet, how can she fight back?Could It Be Magic series:Bewitched, Bothered and BewilderedI Put a Spell on YouBaby It's Cold Outside
When good witchcraft goes bad…
Harry (short for Harmony) McLeod never thought motherhood would be for her. But now that she and wife Louise have adopted twins Finlay and Fiona, she can’t imagine life without her gorgeous little family. But just as the toddlers start to discover their own witching abilities – quite handy when they want to summon toys with just a wiggle of their fingers! – Harry’s own powers seem to have vanished.
With her abilities gone and Louise working all hours, Harry’s perfect world is starting to unravel. She knows she needs to rediscover her happiness to get her powers back, but with local charmer (and witch) Richard trying to steal her spa business from under her feet, how can she fight back?
Praise for KERRY BARRETT (#u8133b3e4-d7ef-50be-9f9c-4eb30a0c00a9)
‘It was just lovely! I loved the plot, I loved the spells and the magic, I loved the characters and I loved the writing. Kerry Barrett is a talented writer’ – Girls Love to Read on Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered
**
‘Thoroughly enjoyed Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered…couldn’t put it down’ – A M Poynter* (#ulink_f2a552e4-64a7-5ecd-bccf-330ff6d18d55)
**
‘I was absorbed from the first page’ – Pass The Gin on Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered
**
‘This was a joy to read, clever, witty and fun. I would thoroughly recommend it and am looking forward to seeing what happens next??!!’ – Mrs Ami Norman on Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered* (#ulink_f2a552e4-64a7-5ecd-bccf-330ff6d18d55)
**
‘For lovers of witches, strong female characters who you really root for, good writing and great storytelling this is a must’ – Caz on I Put a Spell on You* (#ulink_f2a552e4-64a7-5ecd-bccf-330ff6d18d55)
**
‘A little romance, a little danger and a whole lot of fun make this an unparalleled reading experience’ – cayocosta72 on I Put a Spell on You* (#ulink_f2a552e4-64a7-5ecd-bccf-330ff6d18d55)
**
‘I recommend this to anyone wanting to escape to a wintery witchy romance.’ – Splashes into Books on Baby It’s Cold Outside* (#ulink_f2a552e4-64a7-5ecd-bccf-330ff6d18d55)
**
* (#ulink_f82d7830-fbb2-5760-a8c8-cc0b065b179d)Amazon reader reviews
Also available by Kerry Barrett (#u8133b3e4-d7ef-50be-9f9c-4eb30a0c00a9)
Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered
I Put a Spell on You
Baby It’s Cold Outside
I’ll Be There For You
Kerry Barrett
Copyright (#ulink_1ee4398d-2126-5f66-add5-653e41b9c1e3)
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2015
Copyright © Kerry Barrett 2015
Kerry Barrett asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © April 2015 ISBN: 9781474032001
Version date: 2018-07-02
KERRY BARRETT
was a bookworm from a very early age, devouring Enid Blyton and Noel Streatfeild, before moving on to Sweet Valley High and 1980s bonkbusters. She did a degree in English Literature, then trained as a journalist, writing about everything from pub grub to EastEnders. Her first novel, Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered, took six years to finish and was mostly written in longhand on her commute to work, giving her a very good reason to buy beautiful notebooks. Kerry lives in London with her husband and two sons, and Noel Streatfeild’s Ballet Shoes is still her favourite novel.
Contents
Cover (#u02731b75-339c-5a8c-923e-b83cdb813c64)
Blurb (#u04cae115-a6c7-5329-9388-e4640dcae2c5)
Praise
Book List
Title Page (#u9bb22f67-0fc9-581a-be45-0895a1be7f33)
Copyright (#uf88a98d8-d82f-5edf-9aa0-98683c7a48e3)
Author Bio (#ua66f4876-a7b8-53c7-a9dd-e1c4d926718e)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#u8133b3e4-d7ef-50be-9f9c-4eb30a0c00a9)
If you’d asked me when I was a student, where I saw myself in twenty years’ time, I’d probably have said living in Manhattan, running my own wildly successful business, with a wardrobe full of fabulous clothes.
But instead here I was. Trying to ice spots on to a ladybird birthday cake, my hair scraped off my face with a crocodile clip I’d had since the 1980s and wearing an old university T-shirt I used to sleep in. Back in the days when I got some sleep that was.
But I wouldn’t have changed a single thing.
‘How’s it going?’ My wife, Louise, wandered into the kitchen, looking pretty much as rough as I did. She was wearing running shorts and a black T-shirt that was speckled with what looked like snot, and her short blonde hair was sticking straight up like a washing-up brush.
‘It’s actually nearly finished,’ I said, dabbing on one final spot and turning it round so she could see. ‘Ta-dah.’
‘It’s brilliant,’ she said. ‘Fiona will adore it.’
‘Fiona won’t give two hoots,’ I said with a grin. ‘Just like Finlay won’t care about the caterpillar cake I spent most of this morning lovingly icing. But it’s not every day our children turn one.’
Lou slid her arm round my waist and rested her head on my shoulder.
‘Thank god,’ she said. ‘I’m dead on my feet.’
‘Are they asleep?’ I asked.
She nodded.
‘Finally,’ she said. ‘Hopefully they’ll sleep for a good while now and then they’ll be on top form when everyone arrives.’
Everyone meant our families, who were coming over to celebrate the twins’ first birthday with us. My mum was coming down from the Highlands, with my Aunt Tess and her new husband, Doug. My cousin Esme, her husband Jamie and their baby Clemmie were coming, and so were Lou’s parents and her brother, Hugh, his wife and their two angelic sons. My half-brother was in Thailand on holiday so he couldn’t come, but he’d sent the twins an enormous card and promised to spoil them rotten when he returned.
‘Can you believe this?’ I said to Lou, who seemed to have fallen asleep where she stood.’
‘This time last year we’d just sold our flat and we were waiting to hear if we’d been matched with a child. Now look at us.’
We’d adopted the twins when they were just eight weeks old and in the space of a couple of months we’d gone from being sassy professional women in our swanky Edinburgh New Town flat, to being bewildered new mums, in a house where the only room with furniture was the nursery.
Lou lifted her head.
‘It’s been a whirlwind,’ she said. ‘But a good one.’
We stood there, arms round each other for a minute, gazing out into the garden. From the street our house looked like a run-of-the-mill new-build town house, with a garage, loo, and general junk room on the ground floor, the kitchen and lounge upstairs and the bedrooms up another floor from there. But we lived in Dean Village, one of Edinburgh’s strange places where streets ran above streets, huddled in the valley made by a pretty river. So at the back of the house, the open-plan lounge and kitchen were at ground level with a huge conservatory at the end of the room, opening out on to the small garden. The river ran along the end of the garden, though thankfully it was behind a sturdy fence with a lockable gate ‒ I didn’t want the twins wandering out there when they were older.
‘It’s a glorious day,’ I said. ‘It really feels like spring has arrived. We could open the doors when everyone gets here, and people can go outside if they like.’
Lou nodded.
‘Good plan,’ she said. ‘In fact, they’re going to be here very soon and we look like … well, like we always do.’
She grinned and ran a hand through her messy hair.
‘Shall we sort ourselves out before the troublemakers wake up?’
We dashed upstairs and made ourselves look presentable. I pulled on some jeans that didn’t have yogurty fingerprints on and a silky black T-shirt, and I was just twisting my long dark hair into a knot at the nape of my neck when the doorbell rang. I padded down to the door in bare feet to welcome our first guests.
‘God, H, you always look so bloody glamorous,’ my cousin Esme said. She handed me a bunch of flowers and kissed me on the cheek.
‘Hello,’ I said. ‘You look nice too.’
Esme looked nothing like me. She was petite and naturally pretty with wavy blonde hair and a lovely smile. She was wearing a cute dress with butterflies on it and looked fresh and spring-like.
Behind her, Jamie ‒ her husband ‒ stood with their baby girl on his hip.
‘Hi, Harry,’ he said. ‘Don’t come too near, there’s been an explosion in this one’s nappy ‒ can I pop in here and change her?’
He disappeared into our small downstairs toilet and I took Esme upstairs.
‘Clemmie’s teething,’ she said. ‘She’s really suffering, bless her, and I’m exhausted.’
I filled the kettle and switched it on.
‘Tell me about it,’ I said in sympathy. Though Fiona was a great sleeper, Finlay was often awake in the wee small hours. ‘I’ll open some wine when everyone arrives, but do you want a cup of tea to start with?’
Esme nodded.
‘Can you put two teabags in it?’ she said. ‘It’s been that sort of a morning.’
While I made the tea, Esme wandered round the living room, reading some of the cards the twins had been sent. She gasped when she spotted the birthday cakes on the table.
‘Oh, H,’ she said. ‘These are lovely. Did you make them?’
I nodded, bracing myself for what was coming next.
Ez bent over the table, peering closely at the ladybird’s spots.
‘Hang on,’ she said. ‘You made these. You made them normally.’
I poured water on to her teabags, deliberately not meeting her eye.
‘I did,’ I muttered.
Esme looked at me, one eyebrow raised.
‘How come?’ she said.
She had a point. Esme and I came from a family of witches. Generations of them. We could wave our hands and create ladybird cakes from now until Christmas if we wanted to and, believe me, normally I did. While Esme tried to ignore her skills as a witch, hide them away and pretend they weren’t part of her, I prided myself on mine. I’d built my whole career around them, in fact. So it was no surprise that Ez wondered why I hadn’t done the simplest of charms to create perfect cakes for my perfect children.
‘Too easy,’ I said defensively. ‘Making a cake is a labour of love. I wanted to show Fifi and Finn how much I love them.’
‘Right,’ Esme said, looking at me in a strange way.
I sensed she was about to ask me another question so I shoved her mug of tea at her.
‘Shall we go into the garden?’ I said. ‘It’s such a lovely day and all the daffodils are beginning to bloom.’
And then the doorbell rang again and Lou came downstairs with a baby on each hip, and Jamie came up with a clean, sweet-smelling Clemmie and suddenly the room was full of people and Esme’s questions were forgotten.
Chapter 2 (#u8133b3e4-d7ef-50be-9f9c-4eb30a0c00a9)
We had a lovely day. The twins adored being the centre of attention and Clemmie, who hadn’t yet learned how to crawl, sat on the grass and shouted in delight. My mum had bought Finn and Fifi each a baby walker for their birthday, and Finn charged round the garden on his little fat legs, chuckling madly at how clever he was. Fifi watched her brother but wouldn’t try walking no matter how much her big cousins ‒ Lou’s nephews ‒ encouraged her.
Later, after Hugh and his family had gone, and we’d sung happy birthday ‒ twice ‒ and blown the candles out ‒ twice ‒ and all eaten our fill of cake, Jamie and Esme’s stepdad, Doug slid, inside to watch rugby on the TV. Clemmie was fast asleep in her pram. Lou, Esme and I sat happily at the garden table enjoying the soft spring air and chatting.
‘I think you’d really like the women at my baby group,’ Esme was saying. ‘They’re all so nice.’
I made a face. Baby groups weren’t my thing.
‘I’ve got work,’ I said, vaguely.
Esme winked at me.
‘Nope,’ she said. ‘It’s on Thursday – that’s your day off, right?’
‘Harry would love to come,’ Louise said. Traitor.
I kicked her under the table.
‘I’m not really the yummy mummy type,’ I said. ‘Lou does that stuff.’
Lou and I both worked part time so we shared the childcare when the kids weren’t at nursery. She had made an enormous amount of friends at baby sensory classes, twin club, singing groups and all sorts. I normally spent my days with the kids walking for miles along the river, or round the streets of the New Town, and occasionally meeting up with Esme. I had thought about joining some groups – baby yoga perhaps – or finding a witchy baby group even, there were bound to be some – but I was at heart a solitary soul and I’d not got round to it. I wasn’t sure Esme’s group would be my cup of tea.
‘I’ll think about it,’ I said. ‘Maybe I’ll come along once.’
‘Great,’ said Esme and Louise gave me a broad smile. I knew she thought I was lonely but actually I enjoyed my own company – and I loved being with Finn and Fifi.
I looked over to where the kids were playing on the lawn, with Mum and my Auntie Tess ‒ Esme’s mum. They were trying to cajole Fifi into taking a few steps.
‘Where’s Pink Bunny?’ Mum asked. Pink Bunny was Fifi’s favourite toy. ‘Maybe if we put it a little bit away from her, she’ll go and get it.’
Lou found the bunny under the table and threw it to Mum, who caught it deftly.
‘Look Fifi,’ she said, waving the toy in Fiona’s face. ‘It’s Pink Bunny.’
Fifi eyed Mum with suspicion and held out her little hands for her bunny.
‘I’m just going to put him over here,’ Mum said. She placed the toy carefully on the grass, too far away for Fifi to reach.
‘Mum, you’re so cruel,’ I said, giggling at Fiona’s stern face.
Lou helped herself to another slice of cake.
‘She’ll just crawl over and get it, Suky,’ she pointed out to Mum. ‘She’s got an iron will, our daughter.’
But Fiona didn’t crawl. She stared at Pink Bunny for a while. Then she looked at Mum and back at Pink Bunny. She lifted her hand and waggled her little chubby fingers. There was a shimmer of light and the bunny jumped off the ground and flew into Fiona’s hands. Finn clapped in delight. Fifi stuck her thumb in her mouth and stared at Mum in triumph. The rest of us all stared at Fiona.
‘Ooooh,’ Lou breathed out.
Mum scooped Fiona up off the grass and covered her face in kisses.
‘You clever, clever girl,’ she said. Fifi giggled and Finn put his arms up so Mum could pick him up too.
Lou looked at me.
‘Looks like she’s a chip off the old block,’ she said, with a grin. ‘Your old block, at least.’
Louise wasn’t a witch, but she was so accepting of my family’s quirks that I sometimes forgot she didn’t have the – ahem – talents we had. When we’d decided to adopt a child, we’d managed to find an agency that placed children of witches though, of course, there was never any guarantee that witchcraft skills would be passed on – no one was quite sure how these things worked. The twins’ natural mother was a teenage witch. According to our social worker (who was also a witch – they were everywhere if you knew where to look), her skills were unpredictable and uncontrolled and she had suffered badly with the mental health problems that often plagued people like us – my brother had suffered in the same way. Knowing their mum was a witch meant it was no real shock that at least one of our kids had inherited her talents but I was surprised Fiona had showed signs so young.
I pushed back my chair and went over to where Finn stood, balancing on his baby walker and reaching up for a cuddle. I picked him up and kissed his rosy cheeks.
‘Hello, my boy,’ I said. He patted my face adoringly.
‘Mamamama,’ he said.
Fifi wriggled in Mum’s arms, wanting to be part of my love-in with Finn. I sat down on the grass and pulled both kids into a cuddle. They both stared at me with their identical sludgy-green eyes.
‘Now then, kids,’ I said. ‘This is a big day for Fiona.’
Fiona sucked her thumb gravely, clutching Pink Bunny. I ruffled her fair curls.
‘Life’s not going to be easy for you,’ I went on. ‘But me and Mummy Lou are going to be here every step of the way.’
Finn lost interest. He clambered off my lap and crawled over to investigate Clemmie’s toys.
Fiona snuggled in closer to me, her eyes heavy with sleep. I stood up and took her back to the table, enjoying the warmth of my beautiful baby girl.
‘Shall we have some wine?’ Mum asked. ‘I feel we should celebrate.’
‘Definitely,’ Lou said. ‘I’ll get it, I need the loo anyway.’
She disappeared into the house and I felt a wave of relief that I was pinned under a sleeping child and no one had expected me to summon a bottle in my usual way.
Because the truth was, that I couldn’t. Since the twins had arrived, my powers had become unpredictable. At first they were haphazard and uncontrolled, then they’d gradually dwindled to nothing. Now I couldn’t so much as conjure up a birthday cake or ‒ I wound one of Fiona’s curls round my little finger ‒ summon a cuddly toy. My one-year-old daughter had more witchcraft in her chubby hands than I did. And that made me feel terrible.
Chapter 3 (#u8133b3e4-d7ef-50be-9f9c-4eb30a0c00a9)
‘Don’t look so worried,’ Louise said to me later, as we sat in front of the TV. ‘Fifi will be fine. You can help her.’
I gave her a weak smile.
‘I feel a bit out of my depth,’ I admitted. ‘I wasn’t expecting things to happen so young. We can’t explain that she should only do witchcraft when people won’t notice ‒ she’ll never understand.’
‘She might,’ Lou said. ‘They’re understanding more and more now. I’m sure she’ll get the hang of it.’
‘Maybe,’ I said doubtfully. ‘The thing is, this is a new experience for everyone. Esme and I didn’t start showing our powers until we were about three, Mum says.’
‘Perhaps you need some support,’ she said. ‘What about finding that witch baby group you talked about? I love the support I get from twin club ‒ just knowing other mums in the same situation has been so helpful for me. You could get that support from other witches.’
She was, as usual, completely right. But she didn’t know that I was barely a witch myself at the moment. If I met up with others, they’d be bound to notice and then what? I had no idea what happened to a witch that couldn’t make magic.
‘Do you want to watch another episode,’ Lou said, waving the Breaking Bad case at me. I shook my head.
‘I’m wiped out,’ I said. ‘And I’ve got to be at work early tomorrow. You watch another one and I’ll catch up during the week if you like.’
I stood up.
‘Night,’ I said.
Louise caught my hand.
‘Are you okay, H?’ she said. ‘You just seem a bit out of sorts.’
‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘Honestly.’
I was exhausted, that wasn’t a lie. I climbed the stairs slowly and went into the twins’ room. They were both sleeping peacefully in their cots. Finn was face down on the mattress, while Fifi had her arms flung above her head like a flamenco dancer. My heart ached with love for them both, but I was so scared that I was going to let them down when they needed me most that I let out a little sob. My brother had grown up in a non-magical family, not understanding his powers and not learning how to use them properly and he had suffered badly because of it. I couldn’t bear for that to happen to my children. I brushed Fiona’s hair off her face and kissed her forehead.
‘I’m going to sort this out, little girl,’ I whispered. ‘We’ll help you get control of your powers.’
I kissed Finn too ‒ on the back of his head, in case turning him over woke him up.
‘And you, mister,’ I said. ‘Are you magical, too?’
Finn snored gently.
I crept out of their room and into our bedroom, where I sat on the edge of the bed.
My pyjamas were under my pillow. I waggled my fingers in their direction. Nothing happened. Ordinarily I’d expect them to float out in a shower of silvery sparkles and land on my lap. I tried again. Nothing.
That was the most basic of basic magic. It was what Fiona had done this afternoon. And I couldn’t do it. In a daze I pulled my pyjamas out by myself and put them on, then I got into bed and turned out the light so I wouldn’t have to talk to Lou when she came to bed. I couldn’t understand it at all. My mum’s powers had gone a bit wonky once, when she was diagnosed with breast cancer and had treatment. But that was completely understandable given what was going on in her body - and she’d not lost them entirely. I had always had trouble using spells if I was super-stressed, but that was always temporary and, normally, with a bit of concentration, I could cobble something together.
My problems had crept up on me. Witchcraft was so much a part of my life, that I used it all the time without even thinking about it. But the stuff I used every day was easy stuff. Kids’ charms, like the one I’d just tried without success, and at first that was fine. When the twins were tiny, my magic seemed to be unaffected. I could find lost dummies, sterilise bottles and fill a changing bag with nappies and wipes with one sweep of my hand. One night, when Fiona had been really unsettled, I’d twitched my fingers and enchanted the ceiling of their room, so it twinkled with stars. Fifi had been transfixed, her tiny eyes following a shooting star as it shot across past the light fitting and had gone to sleep straight away.
But a couple of months ago, when Finn had a bad night, I’d tried to recreate the starry ceiling and found I couldn’t.
At the time, I’d thought nothing of it. I was exhausted and Louise and I were both about to go back to work, so I was worried about how we were going to organise things, and how the twins would settle at nursery… It was just a blip, I told myself.
But when I did go back to work, a couple of weeks later, and the twins were happily ruling the roost at Little Acorns, I realised this was no blip.
I ran a holistic spa called InHarmony – a play on my name, Harmony, obviously. I’d started out online, running a website that offered lifestyle advice to fellow witches – and magical advice to civilians. Eventually, I expanded into ‘real life’ and opened my spa in an exclusive part of Edinburgh. In Harmony was a sanctuary where clients could practise yoga, have massages or acupuncture. Dabble in Reiki. Learn meditation. Or have what I liked to call spiritual counselling. Clients came and told me their problems, and I cast a spell, or wrote a charm, to help.
When the twins arrived, I sold my web business for more money than I’d ever dreamed possible, and found a brilliant young witch called Vanessa to be my deputy manager at the spa. Nessa was unruffled and calm and I knew we’d work well together when I went back part time. Nessa was ideal, I thought, to run a new site in Morningside I had my eye on. Expanding the business was reliant on finding the right people to manage the branches and Nessa was perfect. It was all planned out and should have worked beautifully.
Except when I got back to work after my adoption leave was over, I had to accept my powers were definitely waning.
Suddenly I couldn’t do the spells my clients needed. The spells they were paying me – handsomely – for. I covered my tracks, getting Nessa to take on more counselling while I took care of the business side.
It was hard being back at work. Much, much harder than I’d ever thought it would be. Lou was a detective in the Edinburgh police and she’d cut her hours too, though she still worked shifts. On days when we both worked, the twins went to Little Acorns where they were looked after so well that some days they didn’t want to come home. I’d thought it would be easy, juggling work and home – after all, thousands of women did it without complaining – but it wasn’t easy at all.
I felt like I wasn’t doing a good enough job at home with the twins, and I definitely wasn’t doing a good enough job at work because of my rubbish spells.
And then there was Louise. I felt like our relationship had really taken a back seat since the twins arrived ‒ inevitable I suppose. We were like ships that passed in the night during the week, I sometimes worked on Saturdays and she often worked all weekend. Plus, I had to admit I was beginning to feel a little resentful. Because I ran my own business I called the shots. Employing Nessa had freed up my time, my brother helped out when he was around, though I did have to keep a strict eye on him, and I often brought paperwork home. Louise’s job was completely different. She was at the beck and call of Edinburgh’s criminals. If she were working on an important case she would often not come home at all. Plus there were the out-of-hours bits ‒ she always said her team came up with their best theories over a pint and a bag of crisps. I believed her, of course, but it was hard not to feel a bit put upon when I was the one bathing the twins and putting them to bed and I knew she was in the pub. Admittedly, I never drank beer or ate crisps and the pub next to the police station was one I wouldn’t dream of setting my treasured Louboutins in, but that was beside the point.
I was beginning to feel this was all too much. Lou, the twins, my loss of power. Everything. I pulled the duvet over my head and went to sleep with tears rolling down my cheeks.
Chapter 4 (#u8133b3e4-d7ef-50be-9f9c-4eb30a0c00a9)
I went to work really early the next day. I kissed a sleepy Louise goodbye and she stirred, then opened her eyes and stared at me.
‘Harry,’ she said. ‘What’s going on?’
I gave her a quick smile.
‘Nothing,’ I lied. ‘Everything’s fine. I just want to be in early because I’ve got a new reiki practitioner starting and I want to get everything ready for her.‘
I grabbed my bag and my leather jacket and headed downstairs. As I reached the front door, I heard Finlay crying and felt a brief glimmer of guilt that I’d probably woken him earlier than normal. I ignored it.
It was a glorious morning. One of those spring days when you feel like the whole world is waking up from hibernation. For the first time in months, I walked to work along the riverbank. It was a bit longer than going along the road, but much nicer and I smiled to see crocuses and daffodils appearing along the way.
It was quiet at In Harmony. We didn’t open until 10 a.m. and the staff normally didn’t start arriving until 9ish. I had about an hour before anyone got there. I locked the door behind me ‒ I was still a bit jittery about security after some bad stuff had happened a few years before ‒ then dumped my bags in my office.
I was really proud of my spa. It was calm and quiet and I knew our clients really valued what we provided for them. It had taken a lot of work to get it established but now we were booming.
I hadn’t been lying about the new reiki practitioner. I did have a new woman starting that day. But there wasn’t much to do. I just made sure her room was clean and neat, stuck her name label on the door and filled a jug with water. Then I went back to my office and shut the door.
Coffee, I thought, as I switched on my laptop. I twitched my fingers and, of course, nothing happened.
With a heavy sigh I got up and went back to reception where we kept a coffee machine. I stared at it for a few minutes, then eventually realised I had absolutely no idea how to work it. Life was hard when you had no magical powers. I’d have to wait until our receptionist, Nancy, arrived.
I stomped back to my office in a slightly over-dramatic fashion and slumped in front of my laptop.
I needed help and the only place I could find it was online – on the website I’d created in fact.
Inharmony.com was amazing ‒ a real gem of a website. I took no credit for that. I’d built it up with the help of some talented web designers, my ex-girlfriend Natalie, and all the users who’d been really helpful ‒ and vocal ‒ about telling me what they needed from a one-stop witch website.
It covered everything from eating out to legal advice, gardening, property, health and fitness, even education, all from a witch’s perspective. It was basically Mumsnet, or Football365 – but for witches.
Now I clicked on the parenting section ‒ slightly ashamed to realise it was the first time I’d so much as looked at that bit.
I scrolled through the options until I found details of local baby groups. There was one not far from where we lived on a Friday morning – one of my days off. The twee way the ad was written made me want to stick pencils in my eyes but I knew Fi and Finn would really benefit from being around other kids with similar talents and I couldn’t help them at the moment. I saved all the information, then I sat back in my chair and phoned Esme.
‘Let’s go out,’ she said when she answered the phone. Not even bothering to say hello. ‘Let’s you and me go for a long, boozy lunch, right now.’
‘It’s 8.45,’ I said, chuckling. ‘Did Clemmie have a bad night?’
‘It’s not even nine o’clock?’ Esme said, sounding genuinely surprised. ‘But I’ve been up for at least half a day.’
We swapped sleep horror stories for a few minutes and then I took a deep breath.
‘Esme, I need you to do me a big favour,’ I said.
‘Okay,’ she said doubtfully.
‘Will you come to a witches’ baby group with me on Friday?’
‘No,’ she said. Esme was a reluctant witch and was definitely not part of the local ‘scene’ as we called it.
‘Do you want to think about that?’ I said, sniffily.
‘It’s really not my sort of thing,’ she said.
She was right, it wasn’t. But the truth was, I needed her. I couldn’t let the other mums know I’d lost my powers ‒ there was far too much at stake. We had been approved to adopt the twins because I was a witch. What would happen if anyone found out I had no magic any more? Would we lose the kids? Would Louise still love me if we lost our children because of me? What about my job? The spa was built upon my witchcraft. Suddenly I saw a future where I’d lost everything. I let out a sob, which I tried to cover with a cough.
‘Harry,’ Esme said. ‘Are you okay?’
For a minute I couldn’t answer.
‘I just really need you to come with me,’ I said eventually.
Esme paused.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll come. But I’ve got a few conditions.’
I was so relieved I’d have agreed to anything.
‘Name them,’ I said.
‘Will you babysit for Clemmie so Jamie and I can have a night out?’ she asked.
‘Of course.’
‘And you have to come to my baby group on Thursday.’
‘Oh, Ez,’ I complained.
‘Please, Harry,’ she said. ‘I really want you to meet everyone. And if I’m coming to yours…’
I gave in.
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘But don’t expect me to enjoy it.’
Esme gave a delighted giggle.
‘But no magic,’ she said.
‘No magic,’ I repeated sadly.
After I’d said goodbye to Esme, there was a knock on my office door and Nancy came in with a cup of coffee.
‘Thank you,’ I said gratefully. ‘I haven’t had chance to get one this morning.’
She gave me a slightly odd look but didn’t push me.
‘Beth Taylor, the new reiki practitioner is here,’ she said instead. ‘Do you want to come and say hello?’
The morning passed quickly. I never scheduled any counselling on Mondays, preferring to keep it as an admin day, so I could show Beth around and more importantly I didn’t need to worry about my lack of magic, which was a big relief.
After lunch I had a break, so I opened my laptop again and logged into InHarmony once more.
This time I scrolled through the sections – spells and charms, nope. Health ‒ maybe, but no, there was nothing there about losing powers. Witchcraft facts – urgh. Lots of rubbish for those ‘civilians’ who fancied popping on a pointy hat and lighting a few candles. Annoyed, I clicked on the search box and typed in ‘losing powers’.
Result. The first entry took me to the forum. Why hadn’t I thought of that? It was by far the most popular part of our site – a private, safe and informative area for witches to chat about anything and everything.
There were all sorts of messages from people who had lost powers after an accident, or while they were ill, or whose powers flickered on and off like lights during a thunderstorm. I read them all, and read the answers, disappointed to discover that in most of the cases their powers came back just days – or even hours – later.
I sat thoughtfully, with my fingers resting on the keyboard. I was logged in as myself on the site but I couldn’t post a message under that name, it was far too risky. There weren’t many Harmonys around.
Quickly, I set myself up a new email address using the name Jasmine. Esme had loved the film Aladdin when she was small and had always said I looked like the princess. I gave myself Louise’s surname, Baxter.
Then I registered on the site. My username was Jasmine55. My location showed as Edinburgh, but that was fine – there were loads of witches in this city and I wouldn’t be identifiable just from that.
I took a deep breath and started to type.
Chapter 5 (#u8133b3e4-d7ef-50be-9f9c-4eb30a0c00a9)
From: Jasmine55
I need some help. Since my partner and I adopted our babies almost a year ago, I’ve been struggling. We wanted children so badly and I adore them. I love my partner and on paper things are great. But I’m not myself. My life has changed so much and everything just seems ‘off’. People keep telling me that I’m not myself and they’re right. Because the truth is, my powers have been diminishing. Now they’ve gone completely. I wondered if anyone else had suffered in a similar way and, if so, what you did about it?
I pressed send and shut my laptop before I had time to think about it. Then I went to find Nessa so we could work out the staff rota for next month.
The good thing about the spa was it was never, ever quiet. As soon as our doors opened, there was a steady stream of people coming in for treatments, counselling and classes. Or just to sit in our relaxation area ‒ a gorgeous garden under glass with a hot tub, wind chimes and tropical plants. It was called Star’s Garden after a former member of staff who’d passed away and I loved it in there.
As I walked past the door I peeked in. It was glorious today because it was so sunny outside, and there were women in the hot tub and lying on the reclining chairs. I smiled. Personally I preferred to sit in the garden when it was a miserable day outside and I could hear the rain hammering on the glass roof, but I could see why people liked it on sunny days too.
Nessa was in reception, showing round a couple of prospective members. She nodded to me to show she’d be there in a minute. I mimed drinking at her and she smiled so I grabbed her jacket and mine and waited for her by the door.
When she was done we walked to a nearby cafe and sat down.
‘Just going to nip to the loo,’ Nessa said. ‘Back in a mo.’
While she was gone, I watched the people around me, eyeing a couple of young women sitting opposite who were deep in conversation, their heads close together.
Not so long ago, I’d have been able to poke about in their minds and find out what they were saying ‒ or at least get an idea. Now, even though I stared at them, I couldn’t catch so much as a whisper. Things really were pretty dire.
When Nessa came back, we went through the staff schedule for the next few weeks, making sure every therapist had a treatment room, that every yoga class was booked into the studio, and that anyone who was on holiday had cover. Then Nessa paused.
‘I’m thinking of going away myself,’ she said. ‘In August.’
I took a mouthful of coffee, hoping she wouldn’t see how much the thought of being without her terrified me.
‘Great,’ I said. ‘Where are you going to go?’
‘Just to France,’ she said. She looked at me from under her blunt black fringe. ‘Will you be okay?’
‘Oh I’ll be fine,’ I said blithely.
Nessa played with the handle of her coffee cup.
‘Harry,’ she said. ‘I know we’ve not known each other that long. But I knew all about you long before I met you – with the website and then the spa – and now I like to think of you as a friend.’
She looked at me in a questioning way and I gave her a weak smile.
‘I think of you the same way,’ I said, lamely.
‘It’s just I can’t help thinking you’re not your normal self,’ Nessa went on. ‘That you’re in some sort of trouble.’
The temptation to just unload all my problems on to her was huge. But I knew if I suddenly announced I was a witch who couldn’t do witchcraft, the problems I had now would be nothing compared to what came after. The witchy world wasn’t hierarchical or structured but, even so, I had a reputation as one of the best. Who knew what could happen to my businesses if word got out. My plans to expand the spa into a new site in Edinburgh and maybe further afield would be derailed, that was for sure.
‘No trouble,’ I said. ‘I’ve just been really busy, with the kids and then these new plans ‒ I didn’t expect to find a new site so fast. But it’s all underhand. I mean, in hand.’ I smiled at her again, a bit manically ‘Under control.’
When I’d recruited Nessa it was with the intention that she could cover my adoption leave, and then move across to manage the Morningside salon when it opened. Now I wasn’t sure how that would work, given that I needed her so much at my side. But I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.
‘So you’ll be fine to take on all the counselling when I’m away in the summer?’ Nessa said, looking at me searchingly.
‘Absolutely.’ I lied. ‘No problem whatsoever.’
As we walked back to the spa, my mind was racing. I had a little over four months to sort out my magic. Otherwise, as soon as Nessa went away and I took over, my clients would realise what was happening. And then I’d be well and truly stuffed.
Back at my desk I logged into InHarmony again, and was relieved to see I had lots of replies to my message.
Until I read them, of course.
‘Can you tell us how powerful you were before this loss of magic?’ asked one user called WonderWitch. ‘It’s likely you’re remembering things with rose-coloured specs and actually you weren’t that strong to begin with.’
‘Oh yeah?’ I said out loud, bristling at the implication. ‘Strong enough to make life tricky for you, love.’
There were quite a few messages along those lines. I was surprised people took the time to reply to a message in such an unhelpful way, but perhaps it made them feel better about themselves, I thought.
Other people told me it was hormones and a normal side effect of giving birth. They’d obviously ignored the bit where I told them my children were adopted.
A bit further down there was a message from someone called MildredHubble. I grinned at the reference to the Worst Witch books, which were my favourites growing up, too.
‘Sorry to make this about me,’ Mildred began. ‘But a similar thing happened to my former best friend when her brother was going through a rough time ‒ I think it was triggered by the stress and I also think she was suffering from depression. For various reasons I didn’t help her as I should have. I saw her recently and she cut me dead ‒ not surprisingly. I feel awful about it, and I think helping you would be a good way to make amends.’
The relief I felt at knowing I wasn’t the only witch this had happened to was almost overwhelming. I felt tears well up in my eyes just because I wasn’t on my own any more.
‘Mildred,’ I typed. ‘Thanks so much for telling me about your friend and offering to help. I’m so desperate to get this sorted out but I don’t want to tell of my closest witch friends or family ‒ there’s too much at stake.’
I reduced the screen and started working on the staff rota Nessa and I had just put together, until a small ping told me I had a reply.
Mildred had messaged me privately on the website.
‘My friend had been through a lot of stress,’ she wrote. ‘We did a bit of research and discovered it’s not uncommon for witches to lose their powers like that.’
But I wanted to know the end of the story.
‘Did she get them back?’ I typed. ‘What did she do to get better?’
A reply pinged back straight away.
‘She did get them back,’ Mildred wrote. ‘It wasn’t easy but the first thing she did was to go…’
The message stopped.
I stared at the screen.
‘Where?’ I typed. ‘Where did she go?’
Nothing happened.
‘Mildred?’ I wrote.
Nothing.
I clicked on her name on her last message. Offline it said. Oh great. The first bit of hope I’d got, and it had disappeared almost as fast as it had arrived.
Grumpy, I slammed my laptop shut. It looked like I was on my own.
Chapter 6 (#ulink_1ee4398d-2126-5f66-add5-653e41b9c1e3)
From: Jasmine55
To: MildredHubble
Dear Mildred,
I’m sorry to message you, but I was really interested in what you were saying yesterday about how your friend managed to get better. I’m not sure what happened but I couldn’t see the end of your message.
Anyway, I’m not sure if you’re still checking in on the website, but I’m finding it helpful to write all this stuff down, even if you’re not reading it, so I thought I’d carry on.
It’s a chicken and egg situation, I think. I’ve lost my powers and I don’t know if I’m feeling so lost, and unhappy because they’ve disappeared or if I’ve lost them as a result of how hopeless I feel. Does that make sense? The worst thing is that I feel so guilty for feeling bad. What do I have to feel down about? I’ve got a great partner, gorgeous kids, a lovely house, no money worries. People have it a lot harder than I do. So why can’t I cope?
Don’t feel you have to reply, Mildred. In fact, delete this message if you like. I’ll never know, after all.
But if you are reading, I’d love to know more about your friend and what she did to get her powers back. It’s silly, really, because I’ve got a brilliant support network – my mum, friends, my partner – but it’s hard to tell them how I’m feeling right now. I’m quite a perfectionist, I’ve always been really driven, and admitting I’m not feeling that way is really hard. I think that’s why I’m finding it easier to write it all down, and tell you instead. Please drop me a line if you can – and if I haven’t scared you off by being so needy.
Jasmine x
From: MildredHubble
To: Jasmine55
Dear Jasmine,
I’m sorry I’ve taken a while to reply. Things are sometimes tricky at home.
Anyway, I know all about perfection, believe me. I’m a real control freak and so’s my husband. He’s properly type-A, as the Americans say. We should probably lighten up a bit, but that’s the way we are, I suppose, and we’re not going to change now.
Anyway, I’m so pleased you feel you can talk to me and I hope that if I can help you it will go some way to making amends for how I let my friend down. If I’m honest, I feel like I’ve let a lot of my friends down over the years. Family life gets in the way, you know? It’s hard to keep in touch with everyone when you’ve got little ones to look after – I’m sure you know how that feels.
Maybe online friends are the way to go? After all, we do everything else online now, don’t we? I do the weekly shop on the Internet, I read books on my kindle, I watch films online – it’s all digital. So it makes sense to have digital friends, too. Maybe we can be each other’s online friend? I’d like that. It’s easier to be honest, I think, when you’re not face-to-face.
And I’d really like you to be honest with me, Jasmine. It sounds to me like you’re having a rough old time of it, and I want to help.
I have to go now – my husband’s on his way home and I need to tidy up before he arrives. Perfectionist, remember? I’m going to have a think about what’s happened to you – maybe have a look in some books – and I’ll get back to you. Can you tell me a bit about what sort of witch you were before?
Love, Mildred x
From: Jasmine55
To: MildredHubble
Just knowing you’re on my side has made me feel better already. Does that sound mad? Knowing you understand what I’m going through and what’s happening to me means I feel better able to deal with it all.
So you asked what kind of witch I was before. Where to start? Witchcraft is everything to me. It’s my life. I’ve always been a very powerful witch and because my family, most of them at least, share my skills, I’ve had amazing support my whole life. Until things went wrong, I used witchcraft every day, in every part of my life. I use it for all the boring stuff like cleaning, finding a parking space, sorting out the laundry – you know. I’ve tried to use it for cooking but it doesn’t always work – decorating cakes is about the only thing that works in my experience. Trying to bake the cakes themselves using spells is always a disaster. At least that’s what my mum claims – she’s a brilliant cook and she never uses witchcraft to bake. My business is based around witchcraft. I use it at work every single day – at least, I did. And though my partner isn’t a witch, most of my friends are. So what kind of a witch am I? One who has witchcraft oozing through her veins. What about you?
Love, Jasmine. X
From: MildredHubble
To: Jasmine55
Dear Jasmine,
Oh, I wish I was like you. With witchcraft in the very essence of your being. But I’m not like that at all. I’m a perfectly capable witch. Competent. Practical. I don’t work any more – I’m a stay-at-home mum now – but when I did I used witchcraft most days. Only for things like filing, though. It was never the main part of my job, and it’s still not a big part of my life, not really.
I was a PA back then. I like to think I was a good one. In fact, I must have been doing something right, because I married the boss! I met my husband when I started working for him, and he soon swept me off my feet. My husband is a witch too. A very good one, in fact. He sounds a bit like you – using it every day and in every way. Though I’m not sure he’d have married me if I’d not been a witch. He’s quite keen on making sure our powers aren’t diluted and that they’re passed on to future generations. He doesn’t really mix with people who aren’t witches at all. In some ways it’s a relief that both my parents have passed away – they weren’t witches and it would have made things quite tricky for me. He was the only witch in his family, and his parents couldn’t cope at all. His dad really favoured his younger brother, even though it was my husband who was the talented one. It’s left him with a few issues about keeping to ourselves – he thinks it’s easier that way.
Anyway, Jasmine, enough of me wittering on. Please keep in touch. I feel like we’re friends already.
Mildred x
***
The rest of the week was pretty normal. Louise and I actually spent a couple of evenings together catching up on Breaking Bad and eating dinner at the same time for once. It was really nice and I felt less gloomy about things, largely because I felt like I’d found an ally in Mildred. It was strange to feel connected to someone I didn’t know from Adam, but I was pleased to have someone to listen to my problems.
I didn’t see much of the twins on my work days but Lou said Fiona hadn’t done anything else witchy as far as she could see. I wondered what would happen at the baby group on Friday. I had Esme’s yummy mummy gathering to get through first. I was dreading it.
On Wednesday afternoon, Lou was called into work. She dropped the twins to me at the spa and all the staff and clients cooed over them.
Finlay was taking a few steps on his own now and he was thrilled when everyone applauded as he toddled to me unaided. Fiona looked at him suspiciously, then pulled herself up on my leg and took two steps herself before plonking down on to her nappy-padded bottom.
I scooped her up and kissed her smiley face.
‘Clever girl,’ I said. ‘Clever, clever girl.’
Finlay clapped his hands and I watched as sparks flew between his palms like an electric current.
Nessa had seen it too. She gasped.
‘Is he…’ she began.
Still cuddling Fiona, I knelt down beside my son and stroked his cheek.
‘I think he is,’ I said. ‘You clever pair.’ Finn gazed at me for a second, then he crawled off to investigate Ness’s shoes.
‘Both of them,’ I said to Nessa quietly.
‘And so early,’ she said. ‘That’ll be fun.’
‘It’s going to be a nightmare,’ I said, cheerfully. I was thrilled the kids were both showing signs of witchcraft even if I was powerless myself right now.
For now, though, I had more than just my lack of talent to worry about.
Lou came home from work about 10 p.m., looking excited and worried at the same time.
‘What’s the matter?’ I said straightaway, clocking her flushed cheeks.
She sat down next to me.
‘I’ve been offered a secondment,’ she said, shrugging off her leather jacket. ‘To be part of a major investigation. It’s quite a big deal.’
‘That’s brilliant,’ I said, squeezing her arm. ‘So what’s the problem?’
Louise bit her lip.
‘It’s really, really full on,’ she said. ‘It’s going undercover, investigating one of the biggest businesses in the country. It’s a massive honour that they’ve picked me to be part of the team but, Harry it’s going to mean a lot of late nights, long days and working at weekends.’
I made a face.
‘For how long?’ I asked.
‘I reckon about three months altogether,’ Lou said. ‘A couple of weeks first getting familiar with the company, before we go in, then maybe two months undercover and a week or so afterwards for debriefing.’
I took a deep breath. Being without Lou for that long was absolutely the last thing I wanted, but she was a really good detective, and I knew this could be an opportunity that wouldn’t come up again.
‘Do you want to do it?’ I said, taking her hand.
‘Not sure,’ she shrugged. ‘If this had been before I met you, or before we’d had the kids, then I’d have jumped at the chance. It’s a big pat on the back that they’ve asked me and it could lead to amazing things at work. Plus it’s working in Fraud – I’ve always wanted to get into that department. And the other members of the team are all amazing – I’d love to work with them.’
She paused.
‘But I don’t want to be away from you all for so long.’
I put my arm round her and pulled her close to me.
‘I think you should do it,’ I lied. I didn’t want her to do it. But I knew that any problems in our marriage weren’t going to be solved by me forcing her to turn down this opportunity. ‘We’ll just have to make a pact to really make the most of your days off and not just sit around the house in our pyjamas. You shouldn’t turn down a chance like this.’
‘Really?’ said Louise, still looking unsure.
‘Really,’ I said. ‘Listen, why don’t we see if we can book a holiday for afterwards? Just two weeks in Majorca or something at the end of the summer? It’ll give us something to look forward to. The kids would love it and we can spend some proper time together.’
Louise grinned at me.
‘That’s a great idea,’ she said. ‘You really think I should do it?’
‘I do,’ I said. ‘Ring them now and tell them.’
She leaned over and kissed me.
‘You’re amazing,’ she said.
I kissed her back.
‘I know.’
Chapter 7 (#ulink_1ee4398d-2126-5f66-add5-653e41b9c1e3)
I didn’t feel amazing. I felt wretched. But I couldn’t let Louise pass up on such a brilliant opportunity. And it was only a couple of months, I kept telling myself, determined to have a look at some holiday deals for when it was all over.
For now, though, I had bigger things to worry about ‒ Esme’s baby group for a start. And the fact that with Fiona and Finn both showing signs that their magic was developing, I was going to have to fess up to Ez about my lack of powers and ‒ worse ‒ throw myself on her mercy and ask her to help. I felt sick at the thought. I was not the sort of person who enjoyed asking for help. Nor was I completely confident in Esme’s abilities. It wasn’t that long ago that I was giving her magic lessons, so to be dependent on her now made me uneasy.
It was another sunny spring day and I was walking with the twins in their double buggy to Esme’s house. She also lived by the river, but it was impossible to negotiate the muddy path with our gigantic pram, so I’d walked round by the road.
Esme and Jamie’s house was lovely, though quite small now they had Clemmie. Their pram was outside the front door and as I rang the doorbell I could hear Esme singing the wheels on the bus and Clemmie crying. I didn’t blame her. Esme was no SuBo.
She answered the door with a slightly tearstained Clemmie in her arms.
‘Ready?’ she said with a grin.
I shook my head.
‘Not really.’
Esme clipped Clemmie into the pushchair and handed her a chewy giraffe to gum, then she reached inside the front door and grabbed a raincoat I’d never seen before.
I narrowed my eyes at her.
‘Is that Boden?’ I asked as she pulled it on. I looked her up and down. She was wearing skinny jeans, ballet pumps, a Breton-striped T-shirt and now her Boden raincoat. It wasn’t her normal style at all.
‘Esme,’ I said, fighting laughter. ‘Are you wearing a uniform?’
Esme tossed her hair, she pushed Clemmie down the path and I followed with the twins who were shouting for Esme’s attention.
‘It’s just easier if I look like everyone else,’ she muttered. ‘Given that I’m not like everyone else.’
I felt sorry for her suddenly. She’d always struggled with being different, bless her. I embraced it, but she hid from it.
I patted her hand where it rested on Clemmie’s pushchair handle, her knuckles white with tension.
‘They’re a really nice bunch at the baby group,’ she said. ‘I think it’ll be nice for you to make friends. It’s so good to have other people who know what you’re going through.’
‘I’ve got Louise,’ I said. ‘And I’ve got you.’
‘I know,’ Esme said, she turned to look at me as we paused to cross the road. ‘But you’re not yourself at the moment and I don’t know why. I just thought getting out might help.’
We were walking past the gates of Inverleith Park as she spoke. I saw my chance.
‘Do we have time to just sit for five minutes?’ I asked.
Esme nodded, looking slightly nonplussed. But she didn’t argue as she followed me into the park and sat down next to me on a bench overlooking one of the ponds.
I could feel Esme watching me, but I stared straight ahead. It would be easier to say this if I couldn’t see her reaction.
‘I’ve lost my powers,’ I said in a rush. ‘They’re gone. Nada. Nil. Vanished.’
Esme didn’t say anything. She just took my hand. I started to cry.
‘And I’m so scared, Ez,’ I wailed. ‘So scared that we could lose the twins, and that I’ll lose the business and we’ll have no money, and I can’t tell Mum, because what would she think of me? And now the twins are starting to use magic and I can’t help them…’
Esme threw her arms round me and I sobbed into her shoulder.
‘Okay,’ she said, patting my back like she did to Clemmie when she got cross. ‘Okay. We’ll sort this out. I can help with the twins ‒ I can cover if they do anything at baby group for a start. We should definitely tell your mum and my mum. And it’s all going to be fine.’
She pulled back and looked at me.
‘You’ve got mascara on your chin,’ she said, smoothing down my hair.
I felt so much better for having told her that I didn’t care about how I looked.
‘Do you really think it’ll be okay?’ I asked.
Esme pulled some baby wipes out of her bag and handed them to me so I could wipe my face.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘You’re the best witch I know.’
‘I’m the only witch you know,’ I pointed out. ‘Except for our mums.’ Esme wasn’t really one for mixing in the magical community.
‘I know plenty of witches,’ she said sniffily. ‘At least, I know of them. And you’re the best. Everyone knows about you, H. That talent can’t disappear overnight. We’ll get it back, mark my words.’
I blew my nose.
‘There’s a woman online,’ I said. ‘She says her friend had a similar problem, so I’m hoping she can help out.’
Esme nodded briskly.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘We’ll work out a plan. But for now, we need to get to baby group.’
She grinned at me, a gleam of mischief in her eyes,
‘If anyone’s in need of a shortcake biscuit and a cup of tea in a polystyrene cup, it’s you.’
I groaned, but I didn’t really mean it. I was fiercely independent and didn’t like relying on anyone, even Lou, but every now and then I lowered my defences and I was always pleasantly surprised by the result. Esme’s reaction had made me feel much better and I thought that an hour of inane chat about nappies and weaning could be just what I needed to take my mind off things.
Chapter 8 (#ulink_1ee4398d-2126-5f66-add5-653e41b9c1e3)
I cleaned my face as well as I could and checked my appearance in the camera on my phone. Once upon a time I wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving home without my make-up bag or a mirror, but now my bag was filled with organic snacks and bum cream.
My efforts, though, were in vain. When we arrived at baby group, one of Esme’s friends stood up to greet us. She was dressed the same as Esme, except her T-shirt was red and she was wearing a long, skinny scarf round her neck. She had shiny dark-blonde hair and a lovely smile and looked very friendly and nice. I wanted to hate her.
‘This is my cousin, Harry,’ Esme said. ‘This is Rebecca.’
Rebecca looked at me, taking in my red eyes.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked. ‘Bad morning?’
Her unexpected kindness made me want to cry again. I nodded and she swooped.
‘Come and sit down,’ she said, steering me towards the corner where there was a sofa and several chairs with women sitting chatting.
‘There’s lots to entertain the children here and I’ll get you a cup of tea.’
I took Finn and Fiona out of the buggy and put them on the carpet. They both crawled off to investigate the new toys on offer. Rebecca handed me a biscuit and a mug of tea ‒ Esme had obviously been exaggerating when she said it was polystyrene cups.
The other mums were pretty nice. They were a real mixed bunch and I felt they were way too interested in the minutiae of baby-rearing, but I couldn’t fault them. Rebecca had a glint in her eye that I liked, and another woman ‒ Vicky – seemed to have a good sense of humour and she looked vaguely familiar, though I couldn’t place her. I didn’t really interact much, I had to admit. I’d never lacked self-confidence before but now I found I couldn’t really think of anything to say. The other women, though, didn’t push me, and I found I was content to just sit and listen to their – what I considered to be quite inane – chatter about sleep routines and nursery applications. I hoped the mums at the witches’ baby group would be just as nice.
There was one sticky moment when Fi had a face-off with a slightly bigger toddler over a book. The little girl gripped it tightly in her podgy fingers and stared at Fiona as if daring her to come and get it. I nudged Esme and we both watched as Fiona looked at the book, then looked down at her own hand. She flexed her fingers and Esme and I both leaped to our feet. Esme twitched her own fingers and there was a clatter from the hall’s kitchen that made all the other mums look round. With everyone distracted, I swept Fiona up into my arms just as she wiggled her little sausage fingers. The book wobbled in mid-air, then dropped to the floor, the little girl picked it up again, looking slightly confused, but no one else noticed. Disaster averted.
‘So what did you think,’ Esme asked as we walked home. ‘They’re nice, right?’
‘They are nice,’ I admitted. ‘I just think it’s weird to be thrown together with people I’ve got nothing in common with except the ages of our children. They’re not that interesting.’
‘They’re not just mums,’ Esme said, an edge to her voice. ‘Don’t ever think people are just mums.’
That was exactly what I’d been doing. I said nothing.
‘Do you remember I went to that doctors’ dinner thing with Jamie a couple of weeks ago?’ she went on. I nodded.
‘One of the men on our table was talking about a problem his brother was having with his divorce – financial stuff. He asked everyone’s opinion on it except mine.’
‘Ouch,’ I said, flinching. Esme was a solicitor who specialised in family law and was a fiercesome person to have on your side if you were unfortunate enough to need a divorce.
‘What did you do?’
Esme gave me a small smile.
Well, fortunately at that moment, I saw someone I knew across the room. So I excused myself, and as I went I gave his wife my card and told her that if she ever needed any help to call me.’
She gave a little laugh.
‘And the best thing is, she did.’
‘Excellent work,’ I said.
Esme gave me a steely look.
‘You’re doing the same thing as he did,’ she said. ‘All those women have other things they do apart from being mums. I don’t just mean jobs. I mean hobbies and interests, responsibilities, opinions. Don’t write them off, H.’
That was me told.
‘So tomorrow we tackle the witches,’ I said, changing the subject before she told me off again. ‘I hope they’re nice too.’
We’d reached Esme’s house so I gave her a brief hug goodbye.
‘Thank you for looking out for the twins today,’ I said. ‘I appreciate it.’
Esme squeezed me tight.
‘No prob,’ she said as I wriggled away from her embrace. ‘Harry, you must tell Lou how you’re feeling and what’s been going on. I bet she’s noticed already.’
‘Maybe,’ I said. Then, as I saw Esme’s stern face, I reconsidered. ‘Okay, okay. I will.’
Chapter 9 (#ulink_1ee4398d-2126-5f66-add5-653e41b9c1e3)
To: MildredHubble
From: Jasmine55
Hi Mildred,
Urgh, what a day. I gritted my teeth and went to my cousin’s baby group. It was fine. Nice. But I still found it difficult. Do you ever have trouble holding a conversation? I never used to be short of things to say, but now just making small talk is proving really tricky for me. I can’t think of what I want to say, or I go over and over it in my head trying to make it sound right, and then the moment’s passed and I realise I’ve said nothing at all. It sort of feels like I’m watching things through a window or from behind a screen. It’s odd and it’s upsetting. This isn’t me. It’s not how I am. Am I rambling? I just want to feel normal again.
Jx
To: Jasmine55
From MildredHubble
Dear Jasmine,
Obviously I didn’t know you before – I’ve never seen the ‘real you’ ‒ but it sounds to me like you’re really struggling. And what I want to say to you is that you have to be kind to yourself. My friend’s powers came back when she accepted she couldn’t mend that bit of her life, but she could mend other bits. I think that’s the way to approach it.
Mx
To: MildredHubble
From: Jasmine55
What do you mean, mend other bits?
Jx
To: Jasmine55
From: MildredHubble
Dear Jasmine,
I don’t want to ‘speak’ out of turn, and forgive me if I’ve taken this too far, but I think you might be depressed. From what I remember, loss of powers is a way depression shows itself in witches. My friend was under a lot of stress, she had a lot on her plate and things just got a bit too much for her. So she tackled it like you’d tackle depression. She had a stressful job, so she took a sabbatical. She wanted to use her energy in another way so she took up running. She started eating healthily and ditched junk food. She nurtured herself. And she asked for help. I know you’re telling me, but can you tell your partner? Or someone else?
Love Mildred x
From: Jasmine55
To: MildredHubble
Hi Mildred,
I told my cousin today. I was so scared of telling anyone, but she was great. She thinks I should tell my partner. It’s hard though, isn’t it? I don’t want to seem weak.
Jx
From: MildredHubble
To: Jasmine55
Do it. Can you tell your partner today? Are you married? Sickness and health, remember? I’m sure he’ll be supportive.
Mx
From Jasmine55
To: MildredHubble
Ah. We are married, yes. But he’s not a he. He’s a she. And she’s great. Amazing. Supportive. Caring. Kind. And I’m still nervous about telling her.
Jx
From: MildredHubble
To: Jasmine55
Jasmine,
She sounds wonderful. Tell her today. Promise? And will you think about going to the doctor too? I think it might be worth finding out if there’s some more help you can get. Of course I’ll help you too. Do you have an unhealthy lifestyle we can work on? Are things a bit out of control? I know I’m a demon for eating rubbish when I’m stressed.
Mildred x
From: Jasmine55
To: MildredHubble
Dear Mildred
How ridiculous that I’m relieved that you’re okay with me being married to a woman. I’ve never been ashamed of my sexuality, ever. But I’m so unsure of everything right now that it was another worry. I really feel we could be good friends, so it means a lot to me that you’re fine with things.
Anyway, I don’t have an unhealthy lifestyle really. It’s more the other way if I’m honest. I do a lot of yoga but I’ve lost my appetite and I can see I’ve got a bit thin. I should probably make an effort to cook more. Perhaps order some recipe books on Amazon. I’m not great in the kitchen – I get cross that it’s something that doesn’t really respond to witchcraft! Can you cook?
Jx
From MildredHubble
To: Jasmine55
Dear Jasmine,
I can cook actually. And I agree that it doesn’t really respond to witchcraft. I remember once trying to enchant a lasagne – the mess was horrendous! Though I’ve got a few witchy shortcuts that I rely on, I must be honest. I get spoons to stir themselves, and pots to turn themselves off before they boil over. I find it all helps me be more like Nigella. And when it comes to birthday cakes, then I just bake the sponge and let the decorating do its own thing. My daughter wanted a Frozen cake for her last birthday – she was thrilled with the castle I somehow created out of two sponges and a few ice cream cones. I was thanking my lucky stars for the help of magic that day.
And of course I use witchcraft for cleaning. I’ve not Hoovered for years – I just set the old Dyson going by itself and wave a hand at the dishwasher to get all the dirty dishes inside – and then out again when it’s done. It’s pretty cushy, isn’t it? But even then I sometimes feel hard done by because I’m just an average witch. I can sort the laundry with a charm and get the washing machine going with a flutter of my fingers, but I can’t actually conjure up clean dishes or magic a whole wardrobe full of clean clothes like I know some witches can. I’m sounding like a spoiled brat now! Lord only knows what I’d be like if I had to separate out my own whites and coloureds before putting them in the washing machine, or wash up a sink of dishes, or iron! I just plug the iron in and off it goes. Thank goodness.
Mx
From: Jasmine55
To: MildredHubble
Mildred,
Imagine how I feel! I’ve gone from being this domestic goddess – because of course I don’t actually have to do anything at all – to being useless. I had to get L – that’s my wife – to show me how the washing machine works the other day. The sooner I get my powers back, the better. I’m not sure how other people manage to have a life and still keep their houses clean. Perhaps they just pay for cleaners? Actually, that’s not a bad idea…
Jx
From: MildredHubble
To: Jasmine55
I have to go. Good luck telling L.
Mx
Chapter 10 (#ulink_1ee4398d-2126-5f66-add5-653e41b9c1e3)
Back home after baby group, the kids managed a quick lunch with drooping eyes. Their fun morning had worn them out. I took them upstairs and tucked them into their cots, but Fi protested so loudly when I put her down, reaching out to Finn, that I scooped her up and tucked her in next to her brother. She sighed happily, clasped his hand in hers and fell asleep, their little faces close to each other.
I pulled out my phone and took a photo to send to Lou. She replied straightaway with a heart. I smiled.
Exhausted myself, I went into our bedroom and lay down on the bed with my iPad, scrolling through my history until I found InHarmony and the messages I’d been exchanging with Mildred while the kids had eaten their lunch. She’d left our conversation a bit abruptly and I wanted to see if she was back online. There was no sign of her though.
I lay back on the bed, disappointed that she’d gone so soon, and re-reading her messages. Depression, I thought. It was definitely possible and in fact it wasn’t the first time I’d thought of it. The twins’ arrival had thrown my carefully ordered world into chaos. I adored being a mum but it was a big adjustment, especially for someone like me who liked to be in control. My lack of energy, my exhaustion and listlessness, the loss of appetite and how much weight I’d lost, suggested something wasn’t quite right. I was more than a bit thin; my wedding band spun on my bony finger and my size ten skinny jeans hung off my hips. My hair was even falling out. It was staring me in the face but I just hadn’t wanted to accept it. Depression was a frightening word. And yet… I closed my eyes, feeling strangely relieved that I had an answer. And possibly a solution. Now I knew what was wrong I could start to get better. But first I had to tell Louise.
She came home late again that night, but I’d waited up for her, nervously flicking through the channels on the TV.
When she came in the door, she smiled as she came upstairs and saw me sitting on the sofa.
‘Hello,’ she said, grinning at me. ‘I saw the light on and hoped you’d still be up…’
She tailed off as she saw my worried face.
‘What’s wrong?’ she said. ‘Are the kids okay?’
‘They’re fine,’ I said. I took her hands and pulled her down to sit on the sofa. ‘I just need to tell you something.’
‘H, you’re scaring me,’ Louise said. ‘Are you okay?’
I took a breath.
‘I’m just going to talk,’ I said. ‘Let me get it out and then ask questions.’
Louise nodded, her face worried.
‘I’ve not been feeling myself for a while now,’ I said, talking fast because I just wanted her to know now I’d started. ‘I’m out of sorts, I feel like I’ve lost control.’
I gripped her hand a bit tighter.
‘I think I’ve got some sort of depression,’ I said, looking down at our intertwined fingers. ‘And as well as feeling rubbish generally, I’ve lost my powers.’
I paused. Louise let out a sigh.
‘Oh thank god,’ she said. She brought our hands up to her mouth and kissed my fingers. ‘Oh, H. I thought you were ill ‒ dying ‒ or leaving me.’
‘I’m not leaving you, and I’m not dying,’ I said carefully. ‘But I think I am ill.’
‘Oh darling,’ Lou said. ‘I know, of course I know. I could see things weren’t normal but it’s hard to talk about it, isn’t it, when it’s a gradual decline.’
She looked at me.
‘You’re so thin,’ she said. ‘And no witchcraft?’ She shook her head. ‘I should have said something. I should have noticed.’
‘I’ve been working quite hard to pretend everything is normal,’ I admitted. ‘And things have been crazy.’
Louise put her hand to her mouth.
‘I’ve just taken that job,’ she said. ‘I need to tell them I can’t do it.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s fine, honestly. Do it. I’ve got a plan to help myself get better.’
Louise looked doubtful.
‘Are you going to the doctor?’ she asked. ‘It might be a good idea. I can come with you.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I think I will. And I’ve found some help online actually.’
‘On your site?’ she asked, smiling. ‘That’s good.’
I told her about Mildred Hubble and how she’d said to be kind to myself.
Louise nodded.
‘So you’re going to take some time off?’ she asked.
‘I thought three months,‘ I said. ‘Nessa can cope and my brother will be back soon, so he can help out if he’s needed.’
‘Makes sense,’ Lou said. ‘Will you be okay with having the twins while I’m working so much?’
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘In fact, when I’m with them I feel better.’
‘Maybe we should look into putting them in nursery for longer hours,’ Louise said. ‘Give you some time off.’
‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘Especially if I’m not working. Let’s just see how these three months go, shall we?’
We chatted for another hour or so. There were tears from both of us. I felt like I was cutting myself open and exposing every flaw to Louise.
‘I’m just so worried that you love me because I’ve always been so together,’ I sobbed. ‘Because I’m in control. And now I’m not.’
Louise stroked my hair.
‘I love you whether you’re in control or not,’ she told me. ‘I love you because you’re you.’
It wasn’t easy telling her how I’d been feeling but, as we talked, I started to feel a tiny bit better. That I wasn’t alone and that the people who loved me still loved me, even if I wasn’t feeling like the immaculately dressed, high-achieving businesswoman I’d spent my life becoming right now.
Eventually we came up with a plan. Lou was going to carry on with the undercover role, on condition that I kept her completely up to date with honest reports of how I was feeling, I was to cook proper meals for myself when she wasn’t there, and she would cook for both of us when she was around. Despite what Mildred said about a fitness regime, she made me agree not to take up running (it didn’t take much for me to agree ‒ I’d never been much of a runner) but she also made me promise to go back to my old yoga class. I was not to worry about my lack of powers but instead to let Esme take charge and keep an eye on the twins’ developing witchiness while I was out of action. It took me a while to agree to that.
‘Esme’s just not a natural witch,’ I protested. ‘She’s not going to nurture the twins’ talents.’
Louise gave me a stern look.
‘She loves the kids,’ she said. ‘And she loves you. She’ll make sure they’re okay. A bit of a shaky start isn’t going to damage their long-term prospects of ruling the witch world.’
‘Fine,’ I said sulkily. ‘But I want to oversee it all.’
‘You should phone your mum,’ Louise said as we cuddled up in bed much later. ‘You need looking after and if I’m not going to be here to do it, then she’ll want to be.’
‘I don’t like worrying her,’ I said. Mum had recovered from her breast cancer now but I was still very protective of her.
‘She’ll want to know,’ Lou said.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I’ll call her. Just not yet.’
Chapter 11 (#ulink_e5cc5533-89a6-554e-8698-80f041d9d5dc)
I woke up the next morning after what seemed like ten minutes’ sleep, feeling physically exhausted but mentally much better. Telling Louise had made me feel less alone. I knew now that this wasn’t the real me and I hoped that with a bit of care and kindness, like Mildred had said, I would get back to normal.
I stretched out in bed. Louise had already gone to work. Her undercover job was going to be tricky. She wouldn’t – couldn’t – tell me much about it, but I knew she and her team were determined to expose something that was going wrong in a big company. She’d implied the whole thing had to be handled very delicately as there were some pretty influential people involved and it all sounded pretty murky. Someone from Louise’s team was already working for the company and now Lou was going to go in, posing as a consultant, to try to find the evidence they needed. I was nervous about her working long hours in such a difficult role but I was proud of her too.
I heard Finn shouting from his room so I went to see what they were up to. He was standing in his cot, lobbing toys at his sister who was still fast asleep across the room, face down in her own cot.
‘Finlay,’ I said in mock horror. ‘What are you doing to your poor sister?’
Finn gave me a heart-melting smile that showed off his little teeth and held his arms up to me.
‘Mama,’ he said.
I picked him up and kissed him.
‘Big day today, Finnbo,’ I said. ‘We’re off to see the witches.’
‘Wuh,’ he said, twirling my hair round his fist. ‘Wuh.’
I left him in front of CBeebies while I showered in thirty seconds, with the bathroom door open so I could hear him. By the time I was finished, Fiona was awake too. So I got them both dressed, choosing their outfits carefully ‒ I wanted to impress the other witch mums ‒ then threw on my own clothes. At Esme’s baby group I’d worn slouchy baggy jeans with a wide-necked, long-sleeved T-shirt, but today I wanted to make more of an impression. The group we were going to today welcomed parents with kids of all ages – right up until they started school – so I reckoned the women there with older children might be a bit more groomed than those of us with little ones. I pulled on skinny jeans and layered a long-sleeved T-shirt over a vest top and added a shirt on top so I didn’t look too scrawny. It was raining so I would wear my biker boots when we went outside.
I was really nervous. More nervous than I thought I would be. I hoped the other mums would be nice and their kids not too, well, witchy.
Esme said the same when I picked her and Clemmie up a bit later. The witch group was on the other side of the city centre so we were driving across town to get there. The three children sat in their car seats in the back seats and chatted nonsense to each other. Esme chatted nonsense to me in the front.
‘Do you think they do magic all the time,’ she said.
‘Do you do magic all the time?’ I asked.
Esme looked affronted.
‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But you do.’
She had a point. Until things went wrong, I very rarely did anything the normal way. That was why Esme had been so surprised that I’d decorated the twins’ birthday cakes by hand and why I was so rubbish at cleaning the bathroom. In fact, I thought again that I should speak to Lou about getting a cleaner while I was out of action. I had no intention of taking up housework now.
I indicated to turn left, and glanced at Esme.
‘They’re just normal mums like you and me,’ I said. ‘It should be along here somewhere. It’s an arts centre I think.’
‘There,’ said Esme, pointing behind her at a small theatre with metal tables and chairs outside as I sailed past. I swore and she gave me a stern look.
Several U-turns, one-way streets and failed attempts to park later – man I missed my witchcraft when it came to parking and Esme was no use – we finally staggered into the centre. I was pushing the twins in their pram, and Esme had Clemmie in her car seat.
The foyer was deserted apart from a bored-looking woman sitting in the box office.
‘Toddler group?’ she said, without looking up. ‘Straight through the double doors.’
To our left was a cafe-bar, with big windows that opened out on to the street and had the tables and chairs outside – I thought they were being a bit optimistic trying to adopt Mediterranean outdoor eating habits on a rainy April day in Edinburgh but hey ho. On our right a fire door was illegally propped open giving us a glimpse of a tiny theatre with fold-up seats and a small performance area in the centre, where two men and a women in black T-shirts were shifting scenery across the stage.
Straight ahead were the double doors. We pushed them open and went into what could have been a function room or meeting hall.
The set-up was exactly the same as it had been at Esme’s group the day before. Chairs in one corner, a small kitchen where people were helping themselves to tea, and toys scattered across the floor with children swarming over them.
I watched as a boy of about three waved his arm and made a plastic aeroplane fly through the air and into the wall.
‘Henry,’ said a woman with thick blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. ‘Stop it.’
She flexed her fingers and the boy shivered, then looked cross.
‘I’ve bound him,’ she told me, seeing me looking. ‘I always swore I wouldn’t do that but he’s out of control. He’s a bloody nightmare.’
I gave her a nervous smile.
‘Mine have just started,’ I said. ‘I’m a bit out of my depth with two of them. That’s why I wanted to come.’
‘You’re very welcome,’ she said. ‘I hope we can help.’
‘See,’ I whispered to Esme as we released the kids from their straps and let them loose on the toys. ‘They’re nice.’
‘Excuse me,’ another woman said. She had short dark hair and she was dressed exactly like Esme had been yesterday – Breton-striped T-shirt, skinny jeans, ballet pumps – I caught Ez smiling at me over her shoulder and ignored her.
‘Are you Harmony McLeod?’ the woman went on. ‘I recognise you from your spa.’
I was startled. And pleased.
‘Yes, I’m Harmony,’ I said. ‘Harry, call me Harry.’
The woman beamed at me.
‘I’m Susie,’ she said. ‘Everyone, this is Harry. She runs that gorgeous spa – you know, the one in Stockbridge. She’s wonderful.’
‘This is my cousin Esme,’ I said as Susie bustled me over to the chairs and sat me down. ‘She’s a lawyer.’
Esme made a face at me that I took to mean ‘don’t worry about it’. She took herself over to where Clemmie was sitting on a mat bashing two bricks together with glee and was soon in deep conversation with another mum who had a baby boy snuggled into her shoulder.
You know that scene in Legally Blonde when Elle comes home from her date and everyone wants to know if she’s engaged? That’s kind of how it was for me. I was suddenly surrounded by women, all asking me questions and telling me how much they loved me and my business.
‘I go to your spa all the time,’ one woman said. ‘I love your acupuncturist. I’m sure that’s why I got pregnant so quickly.’
‘Do you remember me?’ another asked. ‘I came for counselling just after you’d opened.’ I smiled vaguely. I’d seen hundreds of women for counselling. She didn’t seem to care.
‘I love the way you’ve made a career out of your witchcraft,’ she went on. ‘You’re such an inspiration. I even read about you in the business section of the Evening News a couple of years ago.’
Suddenly I remembered why I’d recognised the mum – Vicky, was it? – at Esme’s group yesterday. She was the reporter who’d interviewed me for that business profile. I felt guilty again for dismissing all those women so easily.
The love-in was carrying on around me. The women cooing over how brilliant the spa was, how amazing I was, how cute the twins were… even how shiny my hair was. It was a bit uncomfortable to be the subject of so much hero worship but I couldn’t help enjoying it.
And then a black cloud came in. Not literally, of course, but though my powers were on the blink I could still sense an atmosphere.
‘Oh hello,’ said a chilly voice.
Chapter 12 (#ulink_5f122415-95c7-59af-b26c-141be8bf5baf)
Like naughty school kids, the women all stopped talking. I followed their gaze to where a woman stood, with a little girl on her hip and a stern look on her face. She was small and neat and absolutely immaculate. She had reddish-blonde hair that was pulled back into a bun and perfect make-up. She was wearing a black and white polka dot blouse with white, cropped jeans. WHITE. JEANS. At a toddler group. I admired her optimism. Her little girl – who was about four – had hair exactly the same shade of strawberry blonde and a cute face covered in freckles. Together they looked like they’d stepped straight off the pages of a glossy parenting mag. It wasn’t hard to understand why she’d caused such a reaction among the other mums.
‘That’s Brenna,’ the woman who’d talked about acupuncture said to me under her breath. ‘She’s kind of a big deal. She founded this group and her husband, Richard, owns the centre. He lets us have the room to meet in.’
A big deal? The old me would have eaten this Brenna for breakfast, but somehow her piercing green eyes made me feel a bit nervous.
‘Hi, Brenna,’ I said. ‘I’m Harmony.’
‘Hello,’ she said. She smiled at me but there was no warmth in it. Next to me, Fiona stacked bricks without touching them, then knocked the tower over – also without touching it. The blocks scattered across the parquet floor of the meeting room and bounced against Brenna’s feet. She glanced down and though she didn’t say anything, I felt guilty for not controlling my daughter.
‘Sorry,’ I muttered. I picked Fiona up and she started to squirm in my arms, shouting to be put down again.
‘Fiona,’ I said into her ear in a no-nonsense way that I hoped she couldn’t ignore. ‘Stop that.’
Fiona ignored me. Instead she squirmed some more and shouted louder.
‘She’s not normally like this,’ I said apologetically to the whole room and no one in particular.
Sensing my weakness, Finn toddled over and hung on to my leg.
‘UP!’ he shouted.
‘In a minute, darling,’ I said. Neither of the kids was talking much yet but when they decided to speak, they did it loud.
‘UP UP UP,’ he yelled. Meanwhile, Fiona arched her back and shouted to be put down.
The blonde woman who’d bound her naughty son when we arrived took pity on me. She clapped her hands and with a shimmer like a heat haze, the room filled with balloons.
‘Try to catch the balloons,’ she told the children, who were already chasing them round the hall. ‘There’s a prize for the person who catches the most.’
I put Fiona down and she and Finn wobbled off in pursuit of a red balloon that was bouncing along just out of their reach.
Embarrassed at how hopeless I’d been at controlling my own children, I slumped onto one of the seats. Brenna sat next to me, much to my dismay.
‘Must be hard when there are two of them,’ said the blonde woman with a smile. ‘As soon as Henry realised he could make stuff happen, my life was hell. Your two seem very advanced considering how small they are. Henry’s three now and I know I was a similar age when I started working things out.’
I glanced at Esme, who had got up off the carpet when the balloons descended and who was now sitting on a chair opposite me.
‘Us too,’ I said. ‘Esme’s younger than me, but we were both about three when we started. My two have just turned one.’
‘It’s very important to set boundaries,’ said Brenna. ‘You can’t just let them do what they want.’
Esme nodded.
‘Of course my Clemmie isn’t old enough to develop her powers yet but, funnily enough, I had that same conversation with a friend yesterday,’ she said. ‘She’s not a witch, my friend, but we all have the same pressures, don’t we…?’
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Kerry Barrett
When good witchcraft goes bad…Harry (short for Harmony) McLeod never thought motherhood would be for her. But now that she and wife Louise have adopted twins Finlay and Fiona, she can’t imagine life without her gorgeous little family. But just as the toddlers start to discover their own witching abilities – quite handy when they want to summon toys with just a wiggle of their fingers! – Harry’s own powers seem to have vanished.With her abilities gone and Louise working all hours, Harry’s perfect world is starting to unravel. She knows she needs to rediscover her happiness to get her powers back, but with local charmer (and witch) Richard trying to steal her spa business from under her feet, how can she fight back?Could It Be Magic series:Bewitched, Bothered and BewilderedI Put a Spell on YouBaby It's Cold Outside
When good witchcraft goes bad…
Harry (short for Harmony) McLeod never thought motherhood would be for her. But now that she and wife Louise have adopted twins Finlay and Fiona, she can’t imagine life without her gorgeous little family. But just as the toddlers start to discover their own witching abilities – quite handy when they want to summon toys with just a wiggle of their fingers! – Harry’s own powers seem to have vanished.
With her abilities gone and Louise working all hours, Harry’s perfect world is starting to unravel. She knows she needs to rediscover her happiness to get her powers back, but with local charmer (and witch) Richard trying to steal her spa business from under her feet, how can she fight back?
Praise for KERRY BARRETT (#u8133b3e4-d7ef-50be-9f9c-4eb30a0c00a9)
‘It was just lovely! I loved the plot, I loved the spells and the magic, I loved the characters and I loved the writing. Kerry Barrett is a talented writer’ – Girls Love to Read on Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered
**
‘Thoroughly enjoyed Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered…couldn’t put it down’ – A M Poynter* (#ulink_f2a552e4-64a7-5ecd-bccf-330ff6d18d55)
**
‘I was absorbed from the first page’ – Pass The Gin on Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered
**
‘This was a joy to read, clever, witty and fun. I would thoroughly recommend it and am looking forward to seeing what happens next??!!’ – Mrs Ami Norman on Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered* (#ulink_f2a552e4-64a7-5ecd-bccf-330ff6d18d55)
**
‘For lovers of witches, strong female characters who you really root for, good writing and great storytelling this is a must’ – Caz on I Put a Spell on You* (#ulink_f2a552e4-64a7-5ecd-bccf-330ff6d18d55)
**
‘A little romance, a little danger and a whole lot of fun make this an unparalleled reading experience’ – cayocosta72 on I Put a Spell on You* (#ulink_f2a552e4-64a7-5ecd-bccf-330ff6d18d55)
**
‘I recommend this to anyone wanting to escape to a wintery witchy romance.’ – Splashes into Books on Baby It’s Cold Outside* (#ulink_f2a552e4-64a7-5ecd-bccf-330ff6d18d55)
**
* (#ulink_f82d7830-fbb2-5760-a8c8-cc0b065b179d)Amazon reader reviews
Also available by Kerry Barrett (#u8133b3e4-d7ef-50be-9f9c-4eb30a0c00a9)
Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered
I Put a Spell on You
Baby It’s Cold Outside
I’ll Be There For You
Kerry Barrett
Copyright (#ulink_1ee4398d-2126-5f66-add5-653e41b9c1e3)
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2015
Copyright © Kerry Barrett 2015
Kerry Barrett asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © April 2015 ISBN: 9781474032001
Version date: 2018-07-02
KERRY BARRETT
was a bookworm from a very early age, devouring Enid Blyton and Noel Streatfeild, before moving on to Sweet Valley High and 1980s bonkbusters. She did a degree in English Literature, then trained as a journalist, writing about everything from pub grub to EastEnders. Her first novel, Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered, took six years to finish and was mostly written in longhand on her commute to work, giving her a very good reason to buy beautiful notebooks. Kerry lives in London with her husband and two sons, and Noel Streatfeild’s Ballet Shoes is still her favourite novel.
Contents
Cover (#u02731b75-339c-5a8c-923e-b83cdb813c64)
Blurb (#u04cae115-a6c7-5329-9388-e4640dcae2c5)
Praise
Book List
Title Page (#u9bb22f67-0fc9-581a-be45-0895a1be7f33)
Copyright (#uf88a98d8-d82f-5edf-9aa0-98683c7a48e3)
Author Bio (#ua66f4876-a7b8-53c7-a9dd-e1c4d926718e)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#u8133b3e4-d7ef-50be-9f9c-4eb30a0c00a9)
If you’d asked me when I was a student, where I saw myself in twenty years’ time, I’d probably have said living in Manhattan, running my own wildly successful business, with a wardrobe full of fabulous clothes.
But instead here I was. Trying to ice spots on to a ladybird birthday cake, my hair scraped off my face with a crocodile clip I’d had since the 1980s and wearing an old university T-shirt I used to sleep in. Back in the days when I got some sleep that was.
But I wouldn’t have changed a single thing.
‘How’s it going?’ My wife, Louise, wandered into the kitchen, looking pretty much as rough as I did. She was wearing running shorts and a black T-shirt that was speckled with what looked like snot, and her short blonde hair was sticking straight up like a washing-up brush.
‘It’s actually nearly finished,’ I said, dabbing on one final spot and turning it round so she could see. ‘Ta-dah.’
‘It’s brilliant,’ she said. ‘Fiona will adore it.’
‘Fiona won’t give two hoots,’ I said with a grin. ‘Just like Finlay won’t care about the caterpillar cake I spent most of this morning lovingly icing. But it’s not every day our children turn one.’
Lou slid her arm round my waist and rested her head on my shoulder.
‘Thank god,’ she said. ‘I’m dead on my feet.’
‘Are they asleep?’ I asked.
She nodded.
‘Finally,’ she said. ‘Hopefully they’ll sleep for a good while now and then they’ll be on top form when everyone arrives.’
Everyone meant our families, who were coming over to celebrate the twins’ first birthday with us. My mum was coming down from the Highlands, with my Aunt Tess and her new husband, Doug. My cousin Esme, her husband Jamie and their baby Clemmie were coming, and so were Lou’s parents and her brother, Hugh, his wife and their two angelic sons. My half-brother was in Thailand on holiday so he couldn’t come, but he’d sent the twins an enormous card and promised to spoil them rotten when he returned.
‘Can you believe this?’ I said to Lou, who seemed to have fallen asleep where she stood.’
‘This time last year we’d just sold our flat and we were waiting to hear if we’d been matched with a child. Now look at us.’
We’d adopted the twins when they were just eight weeks old and in the space of a couple of months we’d gone from being sassy professional women in our swanky Edinburgh New Town flat, to being bewildered new mums, in a house where the only room with furniture was the nursery.
Lou lifted her head.
‘It’s been a whirlwind,’ she said. ‘But a good one.’
We stood there, arms round each other for a minute, gazing out into the garden. From the street our house looked like a run-of-the-mill new-build town house, with a garage, loo, and general junk room on the ground floor, the kitchen and lounge upstairs and the bedrooms up another floor from there. But we lived in Dean Village, one of Edinburgh’s strange places where streets ran above streets, huddled in the valley made by a pretty river. So at the back of the house, the open-plan lounge and kitchen were at ground level with a huge conservatory at the end of the room, opening out on to the small garden. The river ran along the end of the garden, though thankfully it was behind a sturdy fence with a lockable gate ‒ I didn’t want the twins wandering out there when they were older.
‘It’s a glorious day,’ I said. ‘It really feels like spring has arrived. We could open the doors when everyone gets here, and people can go outside if they like.’
Lou nodded.
‘Good plan,’ she said. ‘In fact, they’re going to be here very soon and we look like … well, like we always do.’
She grinned and ran a hand through her messy hair.
‘Shall we sort ourselves out before the troublemakers wake up?’
We dashed upstairs and made ourselves look presentable. I pulled on some jeans that didn’t have yogurty fingerprints on and a silky black T-shirt, and I was just twisting my long dark hair into a knot at the nape of my neck when the doorbell rang. I padded down to the door in bare feet to welcome our first guests.
‘God, H, you always look so bloody glamorous,’ my cousin Esme said. She handed me a bunch of flowers and kissed me on the cheek.
‘Hello,’ I said. ‘You look nice too.’
Esme looked nothing like me. She was petite and naturally pretty with wavy blonde hair and a lovely smile. She was wearing a cute dress with butterflies on it and looked fresh and spring-like.
Behind her, Jamie ‒ her husband ‒ stood with their baby girl on his hip.
‘Hi, Harry,’ he said. ‘Don’t come too near, there’s been an explosion in this one’s nappy ‒ can I pop in here and change her?’
He disappeared into our small downstairs toilet and I took Esme upstairs.
‘Clemmie’s teething,’ she said. ‘She’s really suffering, bless her, and I’m exhausted.’
I filled the kettle and switched it on.
‘Tell me about it,’ I said in sympathy. Though Fiona was a great sleeper, Finlay was often awake in the wee small hours. ‘I’ll open some wine when everyone arrives, but do you want a cup of tea to start with?’
Esme nodded.
‘Can you put two teabags in it?’ she said. ‘It’s been that sort of a morning.’
While I made the tea, Esme wandered round the living room, reading some of the cards the twins had been sent. She gasped when she spotted the birthday cakes on the table.
‘Oh, H,’ she said. ‘These are lovely. Did you make them?’
I nodded, bracing myself for what was coming next.
Ez bent over the table, peering closely at the ladybird’s spots.
‘Hang on,’ she said. ‘You made these. You made them normally.’
I poured water on to her teabags, deliberately not meeting her eye.
‘I did,’ I muttered.
Esme looked at me, one eyebrow raised.
‘How come?’ she said.
She had a point. Esme and I came from a family of witches. Generations of them. We could wave our hands and create ladybird cakes from now until Christmas if we wanted to and, believe me, normally I did. While Esme tried to ignore her skills as a witch, hide them away and pretend they weren’t part of her, I prided myself on mine. I’d built my whole career around them, in fact. So it was no surprise that Ez wondered why I hadn’t done the simplest of charms to create perfect cakes for my perfect children.
‘Too easy,’ I said defensively. ‘Making a cake is a labour of love. I wanted to show Fifi and Finn how much I love them.’
‘Right,’ Esme said, looking at me in a strange way.
I sensed she was about to ask me another question so I shoved her mug of tea at her.
‘Shall we go into the garden?’ I said. ‘It’s such a lovely day and all the daffodils are beginning to bloom.’
And then the doorbell rang again and Lou came downstairs with a baby on each hip, and Jamie came up with a clean, sweet-smelling Clemmie and suddenly the room was full of people and Esme’s questions were forgotten.
Chapter 2 (#u8133b3e4-d7ef-50be-9f9c-4eb30a0c00a9)
We had a lovely day. The twins adored being the centre of attention and Clemmie, who hadn’t yet learned how to crawl, sat on the grass and shouted in delight. My mum had bought Finn and Fifi each a baby walker for their birthday, and Finn charged round the garden on his little fat legs, chuckling madly at how clever he was. Fifi watched her brother but wouldn’t try walking no matter how much her big cousins ‒ Lou’s nephews ‒ encouraged her.
Later, after Hugh and his family had gone, and we’d sung happy birthday ‒ twice ‒ and blown the candles out ‒ twice ‒ and all eaten our fill of cake, Jamie and Esme’s stepdad, Doug slid, inside to watch rugby on the TV. Clemmie was fast asleep in her pram. Lou, Esme and I sat happily at the garden table enjoying the soft spring air and chatting.
‘I think you’d really like the women at my baby group,’ Esme was saying. ‘They’re all so nice.’
I made a face. Baby groups weren’t my thing.
‘I’ve got work,’ I said, vaguely.
Esme winked at me.
‘Nope,’ she said. ‘It’s on Thursday – that’s your day off, right?’
‘Harry would love to come,’ Louise said. Traitor.
I kicked her under the table.
‘I’m not really the yummy mummy type,’ I said. ‘Lou does that stuff.’
Lou and I both worked part time so we shared the childcare when the kids weren’t at nursery. She had made an enormous amount of friends at baby sensory classes, twin club, singing groups and all sorts. I normally spent my days with the kids walking for miles along the river, or round the streets of the New Town, and occasionally meeting up with Esme. I had thought about joining some groups – baby yoga perhaps – or finding a witchy baby group even, there were bound to be some – but I was at heart a solitary soul and I’d not got round to it. I wasn’t sure Esme’s group would be my cup of tea.
‘I’ll think about it,’ I said. ‘Maybe I’ll come along once.’
‘Great,’ said Esme and Louise gave me a broad smile. I knew she thought I was lonely but actually I enjoyed my own company – and I loved being with Finn and Fifi.
I looked over to where the kids were playing on the lawn, with Mum and my Auntie Tess ‒ Esme’s mum. They were trying to cajole Fifi into taking a few steps.
‘Where’s Pink Bunny?’ Mum asked. Pink Bunny was Fifi’s favourite toy. ‘Maybe if we put it a little bit away from her, she’ll go and get it.’
Lou found the bunny under the table and threw it to Mum, who caught it deftly.
‘Look Fifi,’ she said, waving the toy in Fiona’s face. ‘It’s Pink Bunny.’
Fifi eyed Mum with suspicion and held out her little hands for her bunny.
‘I’m just going to put him over here,’ Mum said. She placed the toy carefully on the grass, too far away for Fifi to reach.
‘Mum, you’re so cruel,’ I said, giggling at Fiona’s stern face.
Lou helped herself to another slice of cake.
‘She’ll just crawl over and get it, Suky,’ she pointed out to Mum. ‘She’s got an iron will, our daughter.’
But Fiona didn’t crawl. She stared at Pink Bunny for a while. Then she looked at Mum and back at Pink Bunny. She lifted her hand and waggled her little chubby fingers. There was a shimmer of light and the bunny jumped off the ground and flew into Fiona’s hands. Finn clapped in delight. Fifi stuck her thumb in her mouth and stared at Mum in triumph. The rest of us all stared at Fiona.
‘Ooooh,’ Lou breathed out.
Mum scooped Fiona up off the grass and covered her face in kisses.
‘You clever, clever girl,’ she said. Fifi giggled and Finn put his arms up so Mum could pick him up too.
Lou looked at me.
‘Looks like she’s a chip off the old block,’ she said, with a grin. ‘Your old block, at least.’
Louise wasn’t a witch, but she was so accepting of my family’s quirks that I sometimes forgot she didn’t have the – ahem – talents we had. When we’d decided to adopt a child, we’d managed to find an agency that placed children of witches though, of course, there was never any guarantee that witchcraft skills would be passed on – no one was quite sure how these things worked. The twins’ natural mother was a teenage witch. According to our social worker (who was also a witch – they were everywhere if you knew where to look), her skills were unpredictable and uncontrolled and she had suffered badly with the mental health problems that often plagued people like us – my brother had suffered in the same way. Knowing their mum was a witch meant it was no real shock that at least one of our kids had inherited her talents but I was surprised Fiona had showed signs so young.
I pushed back my chair and went over to where Finn stood, balancing on his baby walker and reaching up for a cuddle. I picked him up and kissed his rosy cheeks.
‘Hello, my boy,’ I said. He patted my face adoringly.
‘Mamamama,’ he said.
Fifi wriggled in Mum’s arms, wanting to be part of my love-in with Finn. I sat down on the grass and pulled both kids into a cuddle. They both stared at me with their identical sludgy-green eyes.
‘Now then, kids,’ I said. ‘This is a big day for Fiona.’
Fiona sucked her thumb gravely, clutching Pink Bunny. I ruffled her fair curls.
‘Life’s not going to be easy for you,’ I went on. ‘But me and Mummy Lou are going to be here every step of the way.’
Finn lost interest. He clambered off my lap and crawled over to investigate Clemmie’s toys.
Fiona snuggled in closer to me, her eyes heavy with sleep. I stood up and took her back to the table, enjoying the warmth of my beautiful baby girl.
‘Shall we have some wine?’ Mum asked. ‘I feel we should celebrate.’
‘Definitely,’ Lou said. ‘I’ll get it, I need the loo anyway.’
She disappeared into the house and I felt a wave of relief that I was pinned under a sleeping child and no one had expected me to summon a bottle in my usual way.
Because the truth was, that I couldn’t. Since the twins had arrived, my powers had become unpredictable. At first they were haphazard and uncontrolled, then they’d gradually dwindled to nothing. Now I couldn’t so much as conjure up a birthday cake or ‒ I wound one of Fiona’s curls round my little finger ‒ summon a cuddly toy. My one-year-old daughter had more witchcraft in her chubby hands than I did. And that made me feel terrible.
Chapter 3 (#u8133b3e4-d7ef-50be-9f9c-4eb30a0c00a9)
‘Don’t look so worried,’ Louise said to me later, as we sat in front of the TV. ‘Fifi will be fine. You can help her.’
I gave her a weak smile.
‘I feel a bit out of my depth,’ I admitted. ‘I wasn’t expecting things to happen so young. We can’t explain that she should only do witchcraft when people won’t notice ‒ she’ll never understand.’
‘She might,’ Lou said. ‘They’re understanding more and more now. I’m sure she’ll get the hang of it.’
‘Maybe,’ I said doubtfully. ‘The thing is, this is a new experience for everyone. Esme and I didn’t start showing our powers until we were about three, Mum says.’
‘Perhaps you need some support,’ she said. ‘What about finding that witch baby group you talked about? I love the support I get from twin club ‒ just knowing other mums in the same situation has been so helpful for me. You could get that support from other witches.’
She was, as usual, completely right. But she didn’t know that I was barely a witch myself at the moment. If I met up with others, they’d be bound to notice and then what? I had no idea what happened to a witch that couldn’t make magic.
‘Do you want to watch another episode,’ Lou said, waving the Breaking Bad case at me. I shook my head.
‘I’m wiped out,’ I said. ‘And I’ve got to be at work early tomorrow. You watch another one and I’ll catch up during the week if you like.’
I stood up.
‘Night,’ I said.
Louise caught my hand.
‘Are you okay, H?’ she said. ‘You just seem a bit out of sorts.’
‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘Honestly.’
I was exhausted, that wasn’t a lie. I climbed the stairs slowly and went into the twins’ room. They were both sleeping peacefully in their cots. Finn was face down on the mattress, while Fifi had her arms flung above her head like a flamenco dancer. My heart ached with love for them both, but I was so scared that I was going to let them down when they needed me most that I let out a little sob. My brother had grown up in a non-magical family, not understanding his powers and not learning how to use them properly and he had suffered badly because of it. I couldn’t bear for that to happen to my children. I brushed Fiona’s hair off her face and kissed her forehead.
‘I’m going to sort this out, little girl,’ I whispered. ‘We’ll help you get control of your powers.’
I kissed Finn too ‒ on the back of his head, in case turning him over woke him up.
‘And you, mister,’ I said. ‘Are you magical, too?’
Finn snored gently.
I crept out of their room and into our bedroom, where I sat on the edge of the bed.
My pyjamas were under my pillow. I waggled my fingers in their direction. Nothing happened. Ordinarily I’d expect them to float out in a shower of silvery sparkles and land on my lap. I tried again. Nothing.
That was the most basic of basic magic. It was what Fiona had done this afternoon. And I couldn’t do it. In a daze I pulled my pyjamas out by myself and put them on, then I got into bed and turned out the light so I wouldn’t have to talk to Lou when she came to bed. I couldn’t understand it at all. My mum’s powers had gone a bit wonky once, when she was diagnosed with breast cancer and had treatment. But that was completely understandable given what was going on in her body - and she’d not lost them entirely. I had always had trouble using spells if I was super-stressed, but that was always temporary and, normally, with a bit of concentration, I could cobble something together.
My problems had crept up on me. Witchcraft was so much a part of my life, that I used it all the time without even thinking about it. But the stuff I used every day was easy stuff. Kids’ charms, like the one I’d just tried without success, and at first that was fine. When the twins were tiny, my magic seemed to be unaffected. I could find lost dummies, sterilise bottles and fill a changing bag with nappies and wipes with one sweep of my hand. One night, when Fiona had been really unsettled, I’d twitched my fingers and enchanted the ceiling of their room, so it twinkled with stars. Fifi had been transfixed, her tiny eyes following a shooting star as it shot across past the light fitting and had gone to sleep straight away.
But a couple of months ago, when Finn had a bad night, I’d tried to recreate the starry ceiling and found I couldn’t.
At the time, I’d thought nothing of it. I was exhausted and Louise and I were both about to go back to work, so I was worried about how we were going to organise things, and how the twins would settle at nursery… It was just a blip, I told myself.
But when I did go back to work, a couple of weeks later, and the twins were happily ruling the roost at Little Acorns, I realised this was no blip.
I ran a holistic spa called InHarmony – a play on my name, Harmony, obviously. I’d started out online, running a website that offered lifestyle advice to fellow witches – and magical advice to civilians. Eventually, I expanded into ‘real life’ and opened my spa in an exclusive part of Edinburgh. In Harmony was a sanctuary where clients could practise yoga, have massages or acupuncture. Dabble in Reiki. Learn meditation. Or have what I liked to call spiritual counselling. Clients came and told me their problems, and I cast a spell, or wrote a charm, to help.
When the twins arrived, I sold my web business for more money than I’d ever dreamed possible, and found a brilliant young witch called Vanessa to be my deputy manager at the spa. Nessa was unruffled and calm and I knew we’d work well together when I went back part time. Nessa was ideal, I thought, to run a new site in Morningside I had my eye on. Expanding the business was reliant on finding the right people to manage the branches and Nessa was perfect. It was all planned out and should have worked beautifully.
Except when I got back to work after my adoption leave was over, I had to accept my powers were definitely waning.
Suddenly I couldn’t do the spells my clients needed. The spells they were paying me – handsomely – for. I covered my tracks, getting Nessa to take on more counselling while I took care of the business side.
It was hard being back at work. Much, much harder than I’d ever thought it would be. Lou was a detective in the Edinburgh police and she’d cut her hours too, though she still worked shifts. On days when we both worked, the twins went to Little Acorns where they were looked after so well that some days they didn’t want to come home. I’d thought it would be easy, juggling work and home – after all, thousands of women did it without complaining – but it wasn’t easy at all.
I felt like I wasn’t doing a good enough job at home with the twins, and I definitely wasn’t doing a good enough job at work because of my rubbish spells.
And then there was Louise. I felt like our relationship had really taken a back seat since the twins arrived ‒ inevitable I suppose. We were like ships that passed in the night during the week, I sometimes worked on Saturdays and she often worked all weekend. Plus, I had to admit I was beginning to feel a little resentful. Because I ran my own business I called the shots. Employing Nessa had freed up my time, my brother helped out when he was around, though I did have to keep a strict eye on him, and I often brought paperwork home. Louise’s job was completely different. She was at the beck and call of Edinburgh’s criminals. If she were working on an important case she would often not come home at all. Plus there were the out-of-hours bits ‒ she always said her team came up with their best theories over a pint and a bag of crisps. I believed her, of course, but it was hard not to feel a bit put upon when I was the one bathing the twins and putting them to bed and I knew she was in the pub. Admittedly, I never drank beer or ate crisps and the pub next to the police station was one I wouldn’t dream of setting my treasured Louboutins in, but that was beside the point.
I was beginning to feel this was all too much. Lou, the twins, my loss of power. Everything. I pulled the duvet over my head and went to sleep with tears rolling down my cheeks.
Chapter 4 (#u8133b3e4-d7ef-50be-9f9c-4eb30a0c00a9)
I went to work really early the next day. I kissed a sleepy Louise goodbye and she stirred, then opened her eyes and stared at me.
‘Harry,’ she said. ‘What’s going on?’
I gave her a quick smile.
‘Nothing,’ I lied. ‘Everything’s fine. I just want to be in early because I’ve got a new reiki practitioner starting and I want to get everything ready for her.‘
I grabbed my bag and my leather jacket and headed downstairs. As I reached the front door, I heard Finlay crying and felt a brief glimmer of guilt that I’d probably woken him earlier than normal. I ignored it.
It was a glorious morning. One of those spring days when you feel like the whole world is waking up from hibernation. For the first time in months, I walked to work along the riverbank. It was a bit longer than going along the road, but much nicer and I smiled to see crocuses and daffodils appearing along the way.
It was quiet at In Harmony. We didn’t open until 10 a.m. and the staff normally didn’t start arriving until 9ish. I had about an hour before anyone got there. I locked the door behind me ‒ I was still a bit jittery about security after some bad stuff had happened a few years before ‒ then dumped my bags in my office.
I was really proud of my spa. It was calm and quiet and I knew our clients really valued what we provided for them. It had taken a lot of work to get it established but now we were booming.
I hadn’t been lying about the new reiki practitioner. I did have a new woman starting that day. But there wasn’t much to do. I just made sure her room was clean and neat, stuck her name label on the door and filled a jug with water. Then I went back to my office and shut the door.
Coffee, I thought, as I switched on my laptop. I twitched my fingers and, of course, nothing happened.
With a heavy sigh I got up and went back to reception where we kept a coffee machine. I stared at it for a few minutes, then eventually realised I had absolutely no idea how to work it. Life was hard when you had no magical powers. I’d have to wait until our receptionist, Nancy, arrived.
I stomped back to my office in a slightly over-dramatic fashion and slumped in front of my laptop.
I needed help and the only place I could find it was online – on the website I’d created in fact.
Inharmony.com was amazing ‒ a real gem of a website. I took no credit for that. I’d built it up with the help of some talented web designers, my ex-girlfriend Natalie, and all the users who’d been really helpful ‒ and vocal ‒ about telling me what they needed from a one-stop witch website.
It covered everything from eating out to legal advice, gardening, property, health and fitness, even education, all from a witch’s perspective. It was basically Mumsnet, or Football365 – but for witches.
Now I clicked on the parenting section ‒ slightly ashamed to realise it was the first time I’d so much as looked at that bit.
I scrolled through the options until I found details of local baby groups. There was one not far from where we lived on a Friday morning – one of my days off. The twee way the ad was written made me want to stick pencils in my eyes but I knew Fi and Finn would really benefit from being around other kids with similar talents and I couldn’t help them at the moment. I saved all the information, then I sat back in my chair and phoned Esme.
‘Let’s go out,’ she said when she answered the phone. Not even bothering to say hello. ‘Let’s you and me go for a long, boozy lunch, right now.’
‘It’s 8.45,’ I said, chuckling. ‘Did Clemmie have a bad night?’
‘It’s not even nine o’clock?’ Esme said, sounding genuinely surprised. ‘But I’ve been up for at least half a day.’
We swapped sleep horror stories for a few minutes and then I took a deep breath.
‘Esme, I need you to do me a big favour,’ I said.
‘Okay,’ she said doubtfully.
‘Will you come to a witches’ baby group with me on Friday?’
‘No,’ she said. Esme was a reluctant witch and was definitely not part of the local ‘scene’ as we called it.
‘Do you want to think about that?’ I said, sniffily.
‘It’s really not my sort of thing,’ she said.
She was right, it wasn’t. But the truth was, I needed her. I couldn’t let the other mums know I’d lost my powers ‒ there was far too much at stake. We had been approved to adopt the twins because I was a witch. What would happen if anyone found out I had no magic any more? Would we lose the kids? Would Louise still love me if we lost our children because of me? What about my job? The spa was built upon my witchcraft. Suddenly I saw a future where I’d lost everything. I let out a sob, which I tried to cover with a cough.
‘Harry,’ Esme said. ‘Are you okay?’
For a minute I couldn’t answer.
‘I just really need you to come with me,’ I said eventually.
Esme paused.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll come. But I’ve got a few conditions.’
I was so relieved I’d have agreed to anything.
‘Name them,’ I said.
‘Will you babysit for Clemmie so Jamie and I can have a night out?’ she asked.
‘Of course.’
‘And you have to come to my baby group on Thursday.’
‘Oh, Ez,’ I complained.
‘Please, Harry,’ she said. ‘I really want you to meet everyone. And if I’m coming to yours…’
I gave in.
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘But don’t expect me to enjoy it.’
Esme gave a delighted giggle.
‘But no magic,’ she said.
‘No magic,’ I repeated sadly.
After I’d said goodbye to Esme, there was a knock on my office door and Nancy came in with a cup of coffee.
‘Thank you,’ I said gratefully. ‘I haven’t had chance to get one this morning.’
She gave me a slightly odd look but didn’t push me.
‘Beth Taylor, the new reiki practitioner is here,’ she said instead. ‘Do you want to come and say hello?’
The morning passed quickly. I never scheduled any counselling on Mondays, preferring to keep it as an admin day, so I could show Beth around and more importantly I didn’t need to worry about my lack of magic, which was a big relief.
After lunch I had a break, so I opened my laptop again and logged into InHarmony once more.
This time I scrolled through the sections – spells and charms, nope. Health ‒ maybe, but no, there was nothing there about losing powers. Witchcraft facts – urgh. Lots of rubbish for those ‘civilians’ who fancied popping on a pointy hat and lighting a few candles. Annoyed, I clicked on the search box and typed in ‘losing powers’.
Result. The first entry took me to the forum. Why hadn’t I thought of that? It was by far the most popular part of our site – a private, safe and informative area for witches to chat about anything and everything.
There were all sorts of messages from people who had lost powers after an accident, or while they were ill, or whose powers flickered on and off like lights during a thunderstorm. I read them all, and read the answers, disappointed to discover that in most of the cases their powers came back just days – or even hours – later.
I sat thoughtfully, with my fingers resting on the keyboard. I was logged in as myself on the site but I couldn’t post a message under that name, it was far too risky. There weren’t many Harmonys around.
Quickly, I set myself up a new email address using the name Jasmine. Esme had loved the film Aladdin when she was small and had always said I looked like the princess. I gave myself Louise’s surname, Baxter.
Then I registered on the site. My username was Jasmine55. My location showed as Edinburgh, but that was fine – there were loads of witches in this city and I wouldn’t be identifiable just from that.
I took a deep breath and started to type.
Chapter 5 (#u8133b3e4-d7ef-50be-9f9c-4eb30a0c00a9)
From: Jasmine55
I need some help. Since my partner and I adopted our babies almost a year ago, I’ve been struggling. We wanted children so badly and I adore them. I love my partner and on paper things are great. But I’m not myself. My life has changed so much and everything just seems ‘off’. People keep telling me that I’m not myself and they’re right. Because the truth is, my powers have been diminishing. Now they’ve gone completely. I wondered if anyone else had suffered in a similar way and, if so, what you did about it?
I pressed send and shut my laptop before I had time to think about it. Then I went to find Nessa so we could work out the staff rota for next month.
The good thing about the spa was it was never, ever quiet. As soon as our doors opened, there was a steady stream of people coming in for treatments, counselling and classes. Or just to sit in our relaxation area ‒ a gorgeous garden under glass with a hot tub, wind chimes and tropical plants. It was called Star’s Garden after a former member of staff who’d passed away and I loved it in there.
As I walked past the door I peeked in. It was glorious today because it was so sunny outside, and there were women in the hot tub and lying on the reclining chairs. I smiled. Personally I preferred to sit in the garden when it was a miserable day outside and I could hear the rain hammering on the glass roof, but I could see why people liked it on sunny days too.
Nessa was in reception, showing round a couple of prospective members. She nodded to me to show she’d be there in a minute. I mimed drinking at her and she smiled so I grabbed her jacket and mine and waited for her by the door.
When she was done we walked to a nearby cafe and sat down.
‘Just going to nip to the loo,’ Nessa said. ‘Back in a mo.’
While she was gone, I watched the people around me, eyeing a couple of young women sitting opposite who were deep in conversation, their heads close together.
Not so long ago, I’d have been able to poke about in their minds and find out what they were saying ‒ or at least get an idea. Now, even though I stared at them, I couldn’t catch so much as a whisper. Things really were pretty dire.
When Nessa came back, we went through the staff schedule for the next few weeks, making sure every therapist had a treatment room, that every yoga class was booked into the studio, and that anyone who was on holiday had cover. Then Nessa paused.
‘I’m thinking of going away myself,’ she said. ‘In August.’
I took a mouthful of coffee, hoping she wouldn’t see how much the thought of being without her terrified me.
‘Great,’ I said. ‘Where are you going to go?’
‘Just to France,’ she said. She looked at me from under her blunt black fringe. ‘Will you be okay?’
‘Oh I’ll be fine,’ I said blithely.
Nessa played with the handle of her coffee cup.
‘Harry,’ she said. ‘I know we’ve not known each other that long. But I knew all about you long before I met you – with the website and then the spa – and now I like to think of you as a friend.’
She looked at me in a questioning way and I gave her a weak smile.
‘I think of you the same way,’ I said, lamely.
‘It’s just I can’t help thinking you’re not your normal self,’ Nessa went on. ‘That you’re in some sort of trouble.’
The temptation to just unload all my problems on to her was huge. But I knew if I suddenly announced I was a witch who couldn’t do witchcraft, the problems I had now would be nothing compared to what came after. The witchy world wasn’t hierarchical or structured but, even so, I had a reputation as one of the best. Who knew what could happen to my businesses if word got out. My plans to expand the spa into a new site in Edinburgh and maybe further afield would be derailed, that was for sure.
‘No trouble,’ I said. ‘I’ve just been really busy, with the kids and then these new plans ‒ I didn’t expect to find a new site so fast. But it’s all underhand. I mean, in hand.’ I smiled at her again, a bit manically ‘Under control.’
When I’d recruited Nessa it was with the intention that she could cover my adoption leave, and then move across to manage the Morningside salon when it opened. Now I wasn’t sure how that would work, given that I needed her so much at my side. But I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.
‘So you’ll be fine to take on all the counselling when I’m away in the summer?’ Nessa said, looking at me searchingly.
‘Absolutely.’ I lied. ‘No problem whatsoever.’
As we walked back to the spa, my mind was racing. I had a little over four months to sort out my magic. Otherwise, as soon as Nessa went away and I took over, my clients would realise what was happening. And then I’d be well and truly stuffed.
Back at my desk I logged into InHarmony again, and was relieved to see I had lots of replies to my message.
Until I read them, of course.
‘Can you tell us how powerful you were before this loss of magic?’ asked one user called WonderWitch. ‘It’s likely you’re remembering things with rose-coloured specs and actually you weren’t that strong to begin with.’
‘Oh yeah?’ I said out loud, bristling at the implication. ‘Strong enough to make life tricky for you, love.’
There were quite a few messages along those lines. I was surprised people took the time to reply to a message in such an unhelpful way, but perhaps it made them feel better about themselves, I thought.
Other people told me it was hormones and a normal side effect of giving birth. They’d obviously ignored the bit where I told them my children were adopted.
A bit further down there was a message from someone called MildredHubble. I grinned at the reference to the Worst Witch books, which were my favourites growing up, too.
‘Sorry to make this about me,’ Mildred began. ‘But a similar thing happened to my former best friend when her brother was going through a rough time ‒ I think it was triggered by the stress and I also think she was suffering from depression. For various reasons I didn’t help her as I should have. I saw her recently and she cut me dead ‒ not surprisingly. I feel awful about it, and I think helping you would be a good way to make amends.’
The relief I felt at knowing I wasn’t the only witch this had happened to was almost overwhelming. I felt tears well up in my eyes just because I wasn’t on my own any more.
‘Mildred,’ I typed. ‘Thanks so much for telling me about your friend and offering to help. I’m so desperate to get this sorted out but I don’t want to tell of my closest witch friends or family ‒ there’s too much at stake.’
I reduced the screen and started working on the staff rota Nessa and I had just put together, until a small ping told me I had a reply.
Mildred had messaged me privately on the website.
‘My friend had been through a lot of stress,’ she wrote. ‘We did a bit of research and discovered it’s not uncommon for witches to lose their powers like that.’
But I wanted to know the end of the story.
‘Did she get them back?’ I typed. ‘What did she do to get better?’
A reply pinged back straight away.
‘She did get them back,’ Mildred wrote. ‘It wasn’t easy but the first thing she did was to go…’
The message stopped.
I stared at the screen.
‘Where?’ I typed. ‘Where did she go?’
Nothing happened.
‘Mildred?’ I wrote.
Nothing.
I clicked on her name on her last message. Offline it said. Oh great. The first bit of hope I’d got, and it had disappeared almost as fast as it had arrived.
Grumpy, I slammed my laptop shut. It looked like I was on my own.
Chapter 6 (#ulink_1ee4398d-2126-5f66-add5-653e41b9c1e3)
From: Jasmine55
To: MildredHubble
Dear Mildred,
I’m sorry to message you, but I was really interested in what you were saying yesterday about how your friend managed to get better. I’m not sure what happened but I couldn’t see the end of your message.
Anyway, I’m not sure if you’re still checking in on the website, but I’m finding it helpful to write all this stuff down, even if you’re not reading it, so I thought I’d carry on.
It’s a chicken and egg situation, I think. I’ve lost my powers and I don’t know if I’m feeling so lost, and unhappy because they’ve disappeared or if I’ve lost them as a result of how hopeless I feel. Does that make sense? The worst thing is that I feel so guilty for feeling bad. What do I have to feel down about? I’ve got a great partner, gorgeous kids, a lovely house, no money worries. People have it a lot harder than I do. So why can’t I cope?
Don’t feel you have to reply, Mildred. In fact, delete this message if you like. I’ll never know, after all.
But if you are reading, I’d love to know more about your friend and what she did to get her powers back. It’s silly, really, because I’ve got a brilliant support network – my mum, friends, my partner – but it’s hard to tell them how I’m feeling right now. I’m quite a perfectionist, I’ve always been really driven, and admitting I’m not feeling that way is really hard. I think that’s why I’m finding it easier to write it all down, and tell you instead. Please drop me a line if you can – and if I haven’t scared you off by being so needy.
Jasmine x
From: MildredHubble
To: Jasmine55
Dear Jasmine,
I’m sorry I’ve taken a while to reply. Things are sometimes tricky at home.
Anyway, I know all about perfection, believe me. I’m a real control freak and so’s my husband. He’s properly type-A, as the Americans say. We should probably lighten up a bit, but that’s the way we are, I suppose, and we’re not going to change now.
Anyway, I’m so pleased you feel you can talk to me and I hope that if I can help you it will go some way to making amends for how I let my friend down. If I’m honest, I feel like I’ve let a lot of my friends down over the years. Family life gets in the way, you know? It’s hard to keep in touch with everyone when you’ve got little ones to look after – I’m sure you know how that feels.
Maybe online friends are the way to go? After all, we do everything else online now, don’t we? I do the weekly shop on the Internet, I read books on my kindle, I watch films online – it’s all digital. So it makes sense to have digital friends, too. Maybe we can be each other’s online friend? I’d like that. It’s easier to be honest, I think, when you’re not face-to-face.
And I’d really like you to be honest with me, Jasmine. It sounds to me like you’re having a rough old time of it, and I want to help.
I have to go now – my husband’s on his way home and I need to tidy up before he arrives. Perfectionist, remember? I’m going to have a think about what’s happened to you – maybe have a look in some books – and I’ll get back to you. Can you tell me a bit about what sort of witch you were before?
Love, Mildred x
From: Jasmine55
To: MildredHubble
Just knowing you’re on my side has made me feel better already. Does that sound mad? Knowing you understand what I’m going through and what’s happening to me means I feel better able to deal with it all.
So you asked what kind of witch I was before. Where to start? Witchcraft is everything to me. It’s my life. I’ve always been a very powerful witch and because my family, most of them at least, share my skills, I’ve had amazing support my whole life. Until things went wrong, I used witchcraft every day, in every part of my life. I use it for all the boring stuff like cleaning, finding a parking space, sorting out the laundry – you know. I’ve tried to use it for cooking but it doesn’t always work – decorating cakes is about the only thing that works in my experience. Trying to bake the cakes themselves using spells is always a disaster. At least that’s what my mum claims – she’s a brilliant cook and she never uses witchcraft to bake. My business is based around witchcraft. I use it at work every single day – at least, I did. And though my partner isn’t a witch, most of my friends are. So what kind of a witch am I? One who has witchcraft oozing through her veins. What about you?
Love, Jasmine. X
From: MildredHubble
To: Jasmine55
Dear Jasmine,
Oh, I wish I was like you. With witchcraft in the very essence of your being. But I’m not like that at all. I’m a perfectly capable witch. Competent. Practical. I don’t work any more – I’m a stay-at-home mum now – but when I did I used witchcraft most days. Only for things like filing, though. It was never the main part of my job, and it’s still not a big part of my life, not really.
I was a PA back then. I like to think I was a good one. In fact, I must have been doing something right, because I married the boss! I met my husband when I started working for him, and he soon swept me off my feet. My husband is a witch too. A very good one, in fact. He sounds a bit like you – using it every day and in every way. Though I’m not sure he’d have married me if I’d not been a witch. He’s quite keen on making sure our powers aren’t diluted and that they’re passed on to future generations. He doesn’t really mix with people who aren’t witches at all. In some ways it’s a relief that both my parents have passed away – they weren’t witches and it would have made things quite tricky for me. He was the only witch in his family, and his parents couldn’t cope at all. His dad really favoured his younger brother, even though it was my husband who was the talented one. It’s left him with a few issues about keeping to ourselves – he thinks it’s easier that way.
Anyway, Jasmine, enough of me wittering on. Please keep in touch. I feel like we’re friends already.
Mildred x
***
The rest of the week was pretty normal. Louise and I actually spent a couple of evenings together catching up on Breaking Bad and eating dinner at the same time for once. It was really nice and I felt less gloomy about things, largely because I felt like I’d found an ally in Mildred. It was strange to feel connected to someone I didn’t know from Adam, but I was pleased to have someone to listen to my problems.
I didn’t see much of the twins on my work days but Lou said Fiona hadn’t done anything else witchy as far as she could see. I wondered what would happen at the baby group on Friday. I had Esme’s yummy mummy gathering to get through first. I was dreading it.
On Wednesday afternoon, Lou was called into work. She dropped the twins to me at the spa and all the staff and clients cooed over them.
Finlay was taking a few steps on his own now and he was thrilled when everyone applauded as he toddled to me unaided. Fiona looked at him suspiciously, then pulled herself up on my leg and took two steps herself before plonking down on to her nappy-padded bottom.
I scooped her up and kissed her smiley face.
‘Clever girl,’ I said. ‘Clever, clever girl.’
Finlay clapped his hands and I watched as sparks flew between his palms like an electric current.
Nessa had seen it too. She gasped.
‘Is he…’ she began.
Still cuddling Fiona, I knelt down beside my son and stroked his cheek.
‘I think he is,’ I said. ‘You clever pair.’ Finn gazed at me for a second, then he crawled off to investigate Ness’s shoes.
‘Both of them,’ I said to Nessa quietly.
‘And so early,’ she said. ‘That’ll be fun.’
‘It’s going to be a nightmare,’ I said, cheerfully. I was thrilled the kids were both showing signs of witchcraft even if I was powerless myself right now.
For now, though, I had more than just my lack of talent to worry about.
Lou came home from work about 10 p.m., looking excited and worried at the same time.
‘What’s the matter?’ I said straightaway, clocking her flushed cheeks.
She sat down next to me.
‘I’ve been offered a secondment,’ she said, shrugging off her leather jacket. ‘To be part of a major investigation. It’s quite a big deal.’
‘That’s brilliant,’ I said, squeezing her arm. ‘So what’s the problem?’
Louise bit her lip.
‘It’s really, really full on,’ she said. ‘It’s going undercover, investigating one of the biggest businesses in the country. It’s a massive honour that they’ve picked me to be part of the team but, Harry it’s going to mean a lot of late nights, long days and working at weekends.’
I made a face.
‘For how long?’ I asked.
‘I reckon about three months altogether,’ Lou said. ‘A couple of weeks first getting familiar with the company, before we go in, then maybe two months undercover and a week or so afterwards for debriefing.’
I took a deep breath. Being without Lou for that long was absolutely the last thing I wanted, but she was a really good detective, and I knew this could be an opportunity that wouldn’t come up again.
‘Do you want to do it?’ I said, taking her hand.
‘Not sure,’ she shrugged. ‘If this had been before I met you, or before we’d had the kids, then I’d have jumped at the chance. It’s a big pat on the back that they’ve asked me and it could lead to amazing things at work. Plus it’s working in Fraud – I’ve always wanted to get into that department. And the other members of the team are all amazing – I’d love to work with them.’
She paused.
‘But I don’t want to be away from you all for so long.’
I put my arm round her and pulled her close to me.
‘I think you should do it,’ I lied. I didn’t want her to do it. But I knew that any problems in our marriage weren’t going to be solved by me forcing her to turn down this opportunity. ‘We’ll just have to make a pact to really make the most of your days off and not just sit around the house in our pyjamas. You shouldn’t turn down a chance like this.’
‘Really?’ said Louise, still looking unsure.
‘Really,’ I said. ‘Listen, why don’t we see if we can book a holiday for afterwards? Just two weeks in Majorca or something at the end of the summer? It’ll give us something to look forward to. The kids would love it and we can spend some proper time together.’
Louise grinned at me.
‘That’s a great idea,’ she said. ‘You really think I should do it?’
‘I do,’ I said. ‘Ring them now and tell them.’
She leaned over and kissed me.
‘You’re amazing,’ she said.
I kissed her back.
‘I know.’
Chapter 7 (#ulink_1ee4398d-2126-5f66-add5-653e41b9c1e3)
I didn’t feel amazing. I felt wretched. But I couldn’t let Louise pass up on such a brilliant opportunity. And it was only a couple of months, I kept telling myself, determined to have a look at some holiday deals for when it was all over.
For now, though, I had bigger things to worry about ‒ Esme’s baby group for a start. And the fact that with Fiona and Finn both showing signs that their magic was developing, I was going to have to fess up to Ez about my lack of powers and ‒ worse ‒ throw myself on her mercy and ask her to help. I felt sick at the thought. I was not the sort of person who enjoyed asking for help. Nor was I completely confident in Esme’s abilities. It wasn’t that long ago that I was giving her magic lessons, so to be dependent on her now made me uneasy.
It was another sunny spring day and I was walking with the twins in their double buggy to Esme’s house. She also lived by the river, but it was impossible to negotiate the muddy path with our gigantic pram, so I’d walked round by the road.
Esme and Jamie’s house was lovely, though quite small now they had Clemmie. Their pram was outside the front door and as I rang the doorbell I could hear Esme singing the wheels on the bus and Clemmie crying. I didn’t blame her. Esme was no SuBo.
She answered the door with a slightly tearstained Clemmie in her arms.
‘Ready?’ she said with a grin.
I shook my head.
‘Not really.’
Esme clipped Clemmie into the pushchair and handed her a chewy giraffe to gum, then she reached inside the front door and grabbed a raincoat I’d never seen before.
I narrowed my eyes at her.
‘Is that Boden?’ I asked as she pulled it on. I looked her up and down. She was wearing skinny jeans, ballet pumps, a Breton-striped T-shirt and now her Boden raincoat. It wasn’t her normal style at all.
‘Esme,’ I said, fighting laughter. ‘Are you wearing a uniform?’
Esme tossed her hair, she pushed Clemmie down the path and I followed with the twins who were shouting for Esme’s attention.
‘It’s just easier if I look like everyone else,’ she muttered. ‘Given that I’m not like everyone else.’
I felt sorry for her suddenly. She’d always struggled with being different, bless her. I embraced it, but she hid from it.
I patted her hand where it rested on Clemmie’s pushchair handle, her knuckles white with tension.
‘They’re a really nice bunch at the baby group,’ she said. ‘I think it’ll be nice for you to make friends. It’s so good to have other people who know what you’re going through.’
‘I’ve got Louise,’ I said. ‘And I’ve got you.’
‘I know,’ Esme said, she turned to look at me as we paused to cross the road. ‘But you’re not yourself at the moment and I don’t know why. I just thought getting out might help.’
We were walking past the gates of Inverleith Park as she spoke. I saw my chance.
‘Do we have time to just sit for five minutes?’ I asked.
Esme nodded, looking slightly nonplussed. But she didn’t argue as she followed me into the park and sat down next to me on a bench overlooking one of the ponds.
I could feel Esme watching me, but I stared straight ahead. It would be easier to say this if I couldn’t see her reaction.
‘I’ve lost my powers,’ I said in a rush. ‘They’re gone. Nada. Nil. Vanished.’
Esme didn’t say anything. She just took my hand. I started to cry.
‘And I’m so scared, Ez,’ I wailed. ‘So scared that we could lose the twins, and that I’ll lose the business and we’ll have no money, and I can’t tell Mum, because what would she think of me? And now the twins are starting to use magic and I can’t help them…’
Esme threw her arms round me and I sobbed into her shoulder.
‘Okay,’ she said, patting my back like she did to Clemmie when she got cross. ‘Okay. We’ll sort this out. I can help with the twins ‒ I can cover if they do anything at baby group for a start. We should definitely tell your mum and my mum. And it’s all going to be fine.’
She pulled back and looked at me.
‘You’ve got mascara on your chin,’ she said, smoothing down my hair.
I felt so much better for having told her that I didn’t care about how I looked.
‘Do you really think it’ll be okay?’ I asked.
Esme pulled some baby wipes out of her bag and handed them to me so I could wipe my face.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘You’re the best witch I know.’
‘I’m the only witch you know,’ I pointed out. ‘Except for our mums.’ Esme wasn’t really one for mixing in the magical community.
‘I know plenty of witches,’ she said sniffily. ‘At least, I know of them. And you’re the best. Everyone knows about you, H. That talent can’t disappear overnight. We’ll get it back, mark my words.’
I blew my nose.
‘There’s a woman online,’ I said. ‘She says her friend had a similar problem, so I’m hoping she can help out.’
Esme nodded briskly.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘We’ll work out a plan. But for now, we need to get to baby group.’
She grinned at me, a gleam of mischief in her eyes,
‘If anyone’s in need of a shortcake biscuit and a cup of tea in a polystyrene cup, it’s you.’
I groaned, but I didn’t really mean it. I was fiercely independent and didn’t like relying on anyone, even Lou, but every now and then I lowered my defences and I was always pleasantly surprised by the result. Esme’s reaction had made me feel much better and I thought that an hour of inane chat about nappies and weaning could be just what I needed to take my mind off things.
Chapter 8 (#ulink_1ee4398d-2126-5f66-add5-653e41b9c1e3)
I cleaned my face as well as I could and checked my appearance in the camera on my phone. Once upon a time I wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving home without my make-up bag or a mirror, but now my bag was filled with organic snacks and bum cream.
My efforts, though, were in vain. When we arrived at baby group, one of Esme’s friends stood up to greet us. She was dressed the same as Esme, except her T-shirt was red and she was wearing a long, skinny scarf round her neck. She had shiny dark-blonde hair and a lovely smile and looked very friendly and nice. I wanted to hate her.
‘This is my cousin, Harry,’ Esme said. ‘This is Rebecca.’
Rebecca looked at me, taking in my red eyes.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked. ‘Bad morning?’
Her unexpected kindness made me want to cry again. I nodded and she swooped.
‘Come and sit down,’ she said, steering me towards the corner where there was a sofa and several chairs with women sitting chatting.
‘There’s lots to entertain the children here and I’ll get you a cup of tea.’
I took Finn and Fiona out of the buggy and put them on the carpet. They both crawled off to investigate the new toys on offer. Rebecca handed me a biscuit and a mug of tea ‒ Esme had obviously been exaggerating when she said it was polystyrene cups.
The other mums were pretty nice. They were a real mixed bunch and I felt they were way too interested in the minutiae of baby-rearing, but I couldn’t fault them. Rebecca had a glint in her eye that I liked, and another woman ‒ Vicky – seemed to have a good sense of humour and she looked vaguely familiar, though I couldn’t place her. I didn’t really interact much, I had to admit. I’d never lacked self-confidence before but now I found I couldn’t really think of anything to say. The other women, though, didn’t push me, and I found I was content to just sit and listen to their – what I considered to be quite inane – chatter about sleep routines and nursery applications. I hoped the mums at the witches’ baby group would be just as nice.
There was one sticky moment when Fi had a face-off with a slightly bigger toddler over a book. The little girl gripped it tightly in her podgy fingers and stared at Fiona as if daring her to come and get it. I nudged Esme and we both watched as Fiona looked at the book, then looked down at her own hand. She flexed her fingers and Esme and I both leaped to our feet. Esme twitched her own fingers and there was a clatter from the hall’s kitchen that made all the other mums look round. With everyone distracted, I swept Fiona up into my arms just as she wiggled her little sausage fingers. The book wobbled in mid-air, then dropped to the floor, the little girl picked it up again, looking slightly confused, but no one else noticed. Disaster averted.
‘So what did you think,’ Esme asked as we walked home. ‘They’re nice, right?’
‘They are nice,’ I admitted. ‘I just think it’s weird to be thrown together with people I’ve got nothing in common with except the ages of our children. They’re not that interesting.’
‘They’re not just mums,’ Esme said, an edge to her voice. ‘Don’t ever think people are just mums.’
That was exactly what I’d been doing. I said nothing.
‘Do you remember I went to that doctors’ dinner thing with Jamie a couple of weeks ago?’ she went on. I nodded.
‘One of the men on our table was talking about a problem his brother was having with his divorce – financial stuff. He asked everyone’s opinion on it except mine.’
‘Ouch,’ I said, flinching. Esme was a solicitor who specialised in family law and was a fiercesome person to have on your side if you were unfortunate enough to need a divorce.
‘What did you do?’
Esme gave me a small smile.
Well, fortunately at that moment, I saw someone I knew across the room. So I excused myself, and as I went I gave his wife my card and told her that if she ever needed any help to call me.’
She gave a little laugh.
‘And the best thing is, she did.’
‘Excellent work,’ I said.
Esme gave me a steely look.
‘You’re doing the same thing as he did,’ she said. ‘All those women have other things they do apart from being mums. I don’t just mean jobs. I mean hobbies and interests, responsibilities, opinions. Don’t write them off, H.’
That was me told.
‘So tomorrow we tackle the witches,’ I said, changing the subject before she told me off again. ‘I hope they’re nice too.’
We’d reached Esme’s house so I gave her a brief hug goodbye.
‘Thank you for looking out for the twins today,’ I said. ‘I appreciate it.’
Esme squeezed me tight.
‘No prob,’ she said as I wriggled away from her embrace. ‘Harry, you must tell Lou how you’re feeling and what’s been going on. I bet she’s noticed already.’
‘Maybe,’ I said. Then, as I saw Esme’s stern face, I reconsidered. ‘Okay, okay. I will.’
Chapter 9 (#ulink_1ee4398d-2126-5f66-add5-653e41b9c1e3)
To: MildredHubble
From: Jasmine55
Hi Mildred,
Urgh, what a day. I gritted my teeth and went to my cousin’s baby group. It was fine. Nice. But I still found it difficult. Do you ever have trouble holding a conversation? I never used to be short of things to say, but now just making small talk is proving really tricky for me. I can’t think of what I want to say, or I go over and over it in my head trying to make it sound right, and then the moment’s passed and I realise I’ve said nothing at all. It sort of feels like I’m watching things through a window or from behind a screen. It’s odd and it’s upsetting. This isn’t me. It’s not how I am. Am I rambling? I just want to feel normal again.
Jx
To: Jasmine55
From MildredHubble
Dear Jasmine,
Obviously I didn’t know you before – I’ve never seen the ‘real you’ ‒ but it sounds to me like you’re really struggling. And what I want to say to you is that you have to be kind to yourself. My friend’s powers came back when she accepted she couldn’t mend that bit of her life, but she could mend other bits. I think that’s the way to approach it.
Mx
To: MildredHubble
From: Jasmine55
What do you mean, mend other bits?
Jx
To: Jasmine55
From: MildredHubble
Dear Jasmine,
I don’t want to ‘speak’ out of turn, and forgive me if I’ve taken this too far, but I think you might be depressed. From what I remember, loss of powers is a way depression shows itself in witches. My friend was under a lot of stress, she had a lot on her plate and things just got a bit too much for her. So she tackled it like you’d tackle depression. She had a stressful job, so she took a sabbatical. She wanted to use her energy in another way so she took up running. She started eating healthily and ditched junk food. She nurtured herself. And she asked for help. I know you’re telling me, but can you tell your partner? Or someone else?
Love Mildred x
From: Jasmine55
To: MildredHubble
Hi Mildred,
I told my cousin today. I was so scared of telling anyone, but she was great. She thinks I should tell my partner. It’s hard though, isn’t it? I don’t want to seem weak.
Jx
From: MildredHubble
To: Jasmine55
Do it. Can you tell your partner today? Are you married? Sickness and health, remember? I’m sure he’ll be supportive.
Mx
From Jasmine55
To: MildredHubble
Ah. We are married, yes. But he’s not a he. He’s a she. And she’s great. Amazing. Supportive. Caring. Kind. And I’m still nervous about telling her.
Jx
From: MildredHubble
To: Jasmine55
Jasmine,
She sounds wonderful. Tell her today. Promise? And will you think about going to the doctor too? I think it might be worth finding out if there’s some more help you can get. Of course I’ll help you too. Do you have an unhealthy lifestyle we can work on? Are things a bit out of control? I know I’m a demon for eating rubbish when I’m stressed.
Mildred x
From: Jasmine55
To: MildredHubble
Dear Mildred
How ridiculous that I’m relieved that you’re okay with me being married to a woman. I’ve never been ashamed of my sexuality, ever. But I’m so unsure of everything right now that it was another worry. I really feel we could be good friends, so it means a lot to me that you’re fine with things.
Anyway, I don’t have an unhealthy lifestyle really. It’s more the other way if I’m honest. I do a lot of yoga but I’ve lost my appetite and I can see I’ve got a bit thin. I should probably make an effort to cook more. Perhaps order some recipe books on Amazon. I’m not great in the kitchen – I get cross that it’s something that doesn’t really respond to witchcraft! Can you cook?
Jx
From MildredHubble
To: Jasmine55
Dear Jasmine,
I can cook actually. And I agree that it doesn’t really respond to witchcraft. I remember once trying to enchant a lasagne – the mess was horrendous! Though I’ve got a few witchy shortcuts that I rely on, I must be honest. I get spoons to stir themselves, and pots to turn themselves off before they boil over. I find it all helps me be more like Nigella. And when it comes to birthday cakes, then I just bake the sponge and let the decorating do its own thing. My daughter wanted a Frozen cake for her last birthday – she was thrilled with the castle I somehow created out of two sponges and a few ice cream cones. I was thanking my lucky stars for the help of magic that day.
And of course I use witchcraft for cleaning. I’ve not Hoovered for years – I just set the old Dyson going by itself and wave a hand at the dishwasher to get all the dirty dishes inside – and then out again when it’s done. It’s pretty cushy, isn’t it? But even then I sometimes feel hard done by because I’m just an average witch. I can sort the laundry with a charm and get the washing machine going with a flutter of my fingers, but I can’t actually conjure up clean dishes or magic a whole wardrobe full of clean clothes like I know some witches can. I’m sounding like a spoiled brat now! Lord only knows what I’d be like if I had to separate out my own whites and coloureds before putting them in the washing machine, or wash up a sink of dishes, or iron! I just plug the iron in and off it goes. Thank goodness.
Mx
From: Jasmine55
To: MildredHubble
Mildred,
Imagine how I feel! I’ve gone from being this domestic goddess – because of course I don’t actually have to do anything at all – to being useless. I had to get L – that’s my wife – to show me how the washing machine works the other day. The sooner I get my powers back, the better. I’m not sure how other people manage to have a life and still keep their houses clean. Perhaps they just pay for cleaners? Actually, that’s not a bad idea…
Jx
From: MildredHubble
To: Jasmine55
I have to go. Good luck telling L.
Mx
Chapter 10 (#ulink_1ee4398d-2126-5f66-add5-653e41b9c1e3)
Back home after baby group, the kids managed a quick lunch with drooping eyes. Their fun morning had worn them out. I took them upstairs and tucked them into their cots, but Fi protested so loudly when I put her down, reaching out to Finn, that I scooped her up and tucked her in next to her brother. She sighed happily, clasped his hand in hers and fell asleep, their little faces close to each other.
I pulled out my phone and took a photo to send to Lou. She replied straightaway with a heart. I smiled.
Exhausted myself, I went into our bedroom and lay down on the bed with my iPad, scrolling through my history until I found InHarmony and the messages I’d been exchanging with Mildred while the kids had eaten their lunch. She’d left our conversation a bit abruptly and I wanted to see if she was back online. There was no sign of her though.
I lay back on the bed, disappointed that she’d gone so soon, and re-reading her messages. Depression, I thought. It was definitely possible and in fact it wasn’t the first time I’d thought of it. The twins’ arrival had thrown my carefully ordered world into chaos. I adored being a mum but it was a big adjustment, especially for someone like me who liked to be in control. My lack of energy, my exhaustion and listlessness, the loss of appetite and how much weight I’d lost, suggested something wasn’t quite right. I was more than a bit thin; my wedding band spun on my bony finger and my size ten skinny jeans hung off my hips. My hair was even falling out. It was staring me in the face but I just hadn’t wanted to accept it. Depression was a frightening word. And yet… I closed my eyes, feeling strangely relieved that I had an answer. And possibly a solution. Now I knew what was wrong I could start to get better. But first I had to tell Louise.
She came home late again that night, but I’d waited up for her, nervously flicking through the channels on the TV.
When she came in the door, she smiled as she came upstairs and saw me sitting on the sofa.
‘Hello,’ she said, grinning at me. ‘I saw the light on and hoped you’d still be up…’
She tailed off as she saw my worried face.
‘What’s wrong?’ she said. ‘Are the kids okay?’
‘They’re fine,’ I said. I took her hands and pulled her down to sit on the sofa. ‘I just need to tell you something.’
‘H, you’re scaring me,’ Louise said. ‘Are you okay?’
I took a breath.
‘I’m just going to talk,’ I said. ‘Let me get it out and then ask questions.’
Louise nodded, her face worried.
‘I’ve not been feeling myself for a while now,’ I said, talking fast because I just wanted her to know now I’d started. ‘I’m out of sorts, I feel like I’ve lost control.’
I gripped her hand a bit tighter.
‘I think I’ve got some sort of depression,’ I said, looking down at our intertwined fingers. ‘And as well as feeling rubbish generally, I’ve lost my powers.’
I paused. Louise let out a sigh.
‘Oh thank god,’ she said. She brought our hands up to her mouth and kissed my fingers. ‘Oh, H. I thought you were ill ‒ dying ‒ or leaving me.’
‘I’m not leaving you, and I’m not dying,’ I said carefully. ‘But I think I am ill.’
‘Oh darling,’ Lou said. ‘I know, of course I know. I could see things weren’t normal but it’s hard to talk about it, isn’t it, when it’s a gradual decline.’
She looked at me.
‘You’re so thin,’ she said. ‘And no witchcraft?’ She shook her head. ‘I should have said something. I should have noticed.’
‘I’ve been working quite hard to pretend everything is normal,’ I admitted. ‘And things have been crazy.’
Louise put her hand to her mouth.
‘I’ve just taken that job,’ she said. ‘I need to tell them I can’t do it.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s fine, honestly. Do it. I’ve got a plan to help myself get better.’
Louise looked doubtful.
‘Are you going to the doctor?’ she asked. ‘It might be a good idea. I can come with you.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I think I will. And I’ve found some help online actually.’
‘On your site?’ she asked, smiling. ‘That’s good.’
I told her about Mildred Hubble and how she’d said to be kind to myself.
Louise nodded.
‘So you’re going to take some time off?’ she asked.
‘I thought three months,‘ I said. ‘Nessa can cope and my brother will be back soon, so he can help out if he’s needed.’
‘Makes sense,’ Lou said. ‘Will you be okay with having the twins while I’m working so much?’
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘In fact, when I’m with them I feel better.’
‘Maybe we should look into putting them in nursery for longer hours,’ Louise said. ‘Give you some time off.’
‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘Especially if I’m not working. Let’s just see how these three months go, shall we?’
We chatted for another hour or so. There were tears from both of us. I felt like I was cutting myself open and exposing every flaw to Louise.
‘I’m just so worried that you love me because I’ve always been so together,’ I sobbed. ‘Because I’m in control. And now I’m not.’
Louise stroked my hair.
‘I love you whether you’re in control or not,’ she told me. ‘I love you because you’re you.’
It wasn’t easy telling her how I’d been feeling but, as we talked, I started to feel a tiny bit better. That I wasn’t alone and that the people who loved me still loved me, even if I wasn’t feeling like the immaculately dressed, high-achieving businesswoman I’d spent my life becoming right now.
Eventually we came up with a plan. Lou was going to carry on with the undercover role, on condition that I kept her completely up to date with honest reports of how I was feeling, I was to cook proper meals for myself when she wasn’t there, and she would cook for both of us when she was around. Despite what Mildred said about a fitness regime, she made me agree not to take up running (it didn’t take much for me to agree ‒ I’d never been much of a runner) but she also made me promise to go back to my old yoga class. I was not to worry about my lack of powers but instead to let Esme take charge and keep an eye on the twins’ developing witchiness while I was out of action. It took me a while to agree to that.
‘Esme’s just not a natural witch,’ I protested. ‘She’s not going to nurture the twins’ talents.’
Louise gave me a stern look.
‘She loves the kids,’ she said. ‘And she loves you. She’ll make sure they’re okay. A bit of a shaky start isn’t going to damage their long-term prospects of ruling the witch world.’
‘Fine,’ I said sulkily. ‘But I want to oversee it all.’
‘You should phone your mum,’ Louise said as we cuddled up in bed much later. ‘You need looking after and if I’m not going to be here to do it, then she’ll want to be.’
‘I don’t like worrying her,’ I said. Mum had recovered from her breast cancer now but I was still very protective of her.
‘She’ll want to know,’ Lou said.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I’ll call her. Just not yet.’
Chapter 11 (#ulink_e5cc5533-89a6-554e-8698-80f041d9d5dc)
I woke up the next morning after what seemed like ten minutes’ sleep, feeling physically exhausted but mentally much better. Telling Louise had made me feel less alone. I knew now that this wasn’t the real me and I hoped that with a bit of care and kindness, like Mildred had said, I would get back to normal.
I stretched out in bed. Louise had already gone to work. Her undercover job was going to be tricky. She wouldn’t – couldn’t – tell me much about it, but I knew she and her team were determined to expose something that was going wrong in a big company. She’d implied the whole thing had to be handled very delicately as there were some pretty influential people involved and it all sounded pretty murky. Someone from Louise’s team was already working for the company and now Lou was going to go in, posing as a consultant, to try to find the evidence they needed. I was nervous about her working long hours in such a difficult role but I was proud of her too.
I heard Finn shouting from his room so I went to see what they were up to. He was standing in his cot, lobbing toys at his sister who was still fast asleep across the room, face down in her own cot.
‘Finlay,’ I said in mock horror. ‘What are you doing to your poor sister?’
Finn gave me a heart-melting smile that showed off his little teeth and held his arms up to me.
‘Mama,’ he said.
I picked him up and kissed him.
‘Big day today, Finnbo,’ I said. ‘We’re off to see the witches.’
‘Wuh,’ he said, twirling my hair round his fist. ‘Wuh.’
I left him in front of CBeebies while I showered in thirty seconds, with the bathroom door open so I could hear him. By the time I was finished, Fiona was awake too. So I got them both dressed, choosing their outfits carefully ‒ I wanted to impress the other witch mums ‒ then threw on my own clothes. At Esme’s baby group I’d worn slouchy baggy jeans with a wide-necked, long-sleeved T-shirt, but today I wanted to make more of an impression. The group we were going to today welcomed parents with kids of all ages – right up until they started school – so I reckoned the women there with older children might be a bit more groomed than those of us with little ones. I pulled on skinny jeans and layered a long-sleeved T-shirt over a vest top and added a shirt on top so I didn’t look too scrawny. It was raining so I would wear my biker boots when we went outside.
I was really nervous. More nervous than I thought I would be. I hoped the other mums would be nice and their kids not too, well, witchy.
Esme said the same when I picked her and Clemmie up a bit later. The witch group was on the other side of the city centre so we were driving across town to get there. The three children sat in their car seats in the back seats and chatted nonsense to each other. Esme chatted nonsense to me in the front.
‘Do you think they do magic all the time,’ she said.
‘Do you do magic all the time?’ I asked.
Esme looked affronted.
‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But you do.’
She had a point. Until things went wrong, I very rarely did anything the normal way. That was why Esme had been so surprised that I’d decorated the twins’ birthday cakes by hand and why I was so rubbish at cleaning the bathroom. In fact, I thought again that I should speak to Lou about getting a cleaner while I was out of action. I had no intention of taking up housework now.
I indicated to turn left, and glanced at Esme.
‘They’re just normal mums like you and me,’ I said. ‘It should be along here somewhere. It’s an arts centre I think.’
‘There,’ said Esme, pointing behind her at a small theatre with metal tables and chairs outside as I sailed past. I swore and she gave me a stern look.
Several U-turns, one-way streets and failed attempts to park later – man I missed my witchcraft when it came to parking and Esme was no use – we finally staggered into the centre. I was pushing the twins in their pram, and Esme had Clemmie in her car seat.
The foyer was deserted apart from a bored-looking woman sitting in the box office.
‘Toddler group?’ she said, without looking up. ‘Straight through the double doors.’
To our left was a cafe-bar, with big windows that opened out on to the street and had the tables and chairs outside – I thought they were being a bit optimistic trying to adopt Mediterranean outdoor eating habits on a rainy April day in Edinburgh but hey ho. On our right a fire door was illegally propped open giving us a glimpse of a tiny theatre with fold-up seats and a small performance area in the centre, where two men and a women in black T-shirts were shifting scenery across the stage.
Straight ahead were the double doors. We pushed them open and went into what could have been a function room or meeting hall.
The set-up was exactly the same as it had been at Esme’s group the day before. Chairs in one corner, a small kitchen where people were helping themselves to tea, and toys scattered across the floor with children swarming over them.
I watched as a boy of about three waved his arm and made a plastic aeroplane fly through the air and into the wall.
‘Henry,’ said a woman with thick blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. ‘Stop it.’
She flexed her fingers and the boy shivered, then looked cross.
‘I’ve bound him,’ she told me, seeing me looking. ‘I always swore I wouldn’t do that but he’s out of control. He’s a bloody nightmare.’
I gave her a nervous smile.
‘Mine have just started,’ I said. ‘I’m a bit out of my depth with two of them. That’s why I wanted to come.’
‘You’re very welcome,’ she said. ‘I hope we can help.’
‘See,’ I whispered to Esme as we released the kids from their straps and let them loose on the toys. ‘They’re nice.’
‘Excuse me,’ another woman said. She had short dark hair and she was dressed exactly like Esme had been yesterday – Breton-striped T-shirt, skinny jeans, ballet pumps – I caught Ez smiling at me over her shoulder and ignored her.
‘Are you Harmony McLeod?’ the woman went on. ‘I recognise you from your spa.’
I was startled. And pleased.
‘Yes, I’m Harmony,’ I said. ‘Harry, call me Harry.’
The woman beamed at me.
‘I’m Susie,’ she said. ‘Everyone, this is Harry. She runs that gorgeous spa – you know, the one in Stockbridge. She’s wonderful.’
‘This is my cousin Esme,’ I said as Susie bustled me over to the chairs and sat me down. ‘She’s a lawyer.’
Esme made a face at me that I took to mean ‘don’t worry about it’. She took herself over to where Clemmie was sitting on a mat bashing two bricks together with glee and was soon in deep conversation with another mum who had a baby boy snuggled into her shoulder.
You know that scene in Legally Blonde when Elle comes home from her date and everyone wants to know if she’s engaged? That’s kind of how it was for me. I was suddenly surrounded by women, all asking me questions and telling me how much they loved me and my business.
‘I go to your spa all the time,’ one woman said. ‘I love your acupuncturist. I’m sure that’s why I got pregnant so quickly.’
‘Do you remember me?’ another asked. ‘I came for counselling just after you’d opened.’ I smiled vaguely. I’d seen hundreds of women for counselling. She didn’t seem to care.
‘I love the way you’ve made a career out of your witchcraft,’ she went on. ‘You’re such an inspiration. I even read about you in the business section of the Evening News a couple of years ago.’
Suddenly I remembered why I’d recognised the mum – Vicky, was it? – at Esme’s group yesterday. She was the reporter who’d interviewed me for that business profile. I felt guilty again for dismissing all those women so easily.
The love-in was carrying on around me. The women cooing over how brilliant the spa was, how amazing I was, how cute the twins were… even how shiny my hair was. It was a bit uncomfortable to be the subject of so much hero worship but I couldn’t help enjoying it.
And then a black cloud came in. Not literally, of course, but though my powers were on the blink I could still sense an atmosphere.
‘Oh hello,’ said a chilly voice.
Chapter 12 (#ulink_5f122415-95c7-59af-b26c-141be8bf5baf)
Like naughty school kids, the women all stopped talking. I followed their gaze to where a woman stood, with a little girl on her hip and a stern look on her face. She was small and neat and absolutely immaculate. She had reddish-blonde hair that was pulled back into a bun and perfect make-up. She was wearing a black and white polka dot blouse with white, cropped jeans. WHITE. JEANS. At a toddler group. I admired her optimism. Her little girl – who was about four – had hair exactly the same shade of strawberry blonde and a cute face covered in freckles. Together they looked like they’d stepped straight off the pages of a glossy parenting mag. It wasn’t hard to understand why she’d caused such a reaction among the other mums.
‘That’s Brenna,’ the woman who’d talked about acupuncture said to me under her breath. ‘She’s kind of a big deal. She founded this group and her husband, Richard, owns the centre. He lets us have the room to meet in.’
A big deal? The old me would have eaten this Brenna for breakfast, but somehow her piercing green eyes made me feel a bit nervous.
‘Hi, Brenna,’ I said. ‘I’m Harmony.’
‘Hello,’ she said. She smiled at me but there was no warmth in it. Next to me, Fiona stacked bricks without touching them, then knocked the tower over – also without touching it. The blocks scattered across the parquet floor of the meeting room and bounced against Brenna’s feet. She glanced down and though she didn’t say anything, I felt guilty for not controlling my daughter.
‘Sorry,’ I muttered. I picked Fiona up and she started to squirm in my arms, shouting to be put down again.
‘Fiona,’ I said into her ear in a no-nonsense way that I hoped she couldn’t ignore. ‘Stop that.’
Fiona ignored me. Instead she squirmed some more and shouted louder.
‘She’s not normally like this,’ I said apologetically to the whole room and no one in particular.
Sensing my weakness, Finn toddled over and hung on to my leg.
‘UP!’ he shouted.
‘In a minute, darling,’ I said. Neither of the kids was talking much yet but when they decided to speak, they did it loud.
‘UP UP UP,’ he yelled. Meanwhile, Fiona arched her back and shouted to be put down.
The blonde woman who’d bound her naughty son when we arrived took pity on me. She clapped her hands and with a shimmer like a heat haze, the room filled with balloons.
‘Try to catch the balloons,’ she told the children, who were already chasing them round the hall. ‘There’s a prize for the person who catches the most.’
I put Fiona down and she and Finn wobbled off in pursuit of a red balloon that was bouncing along just out of their reach.
Embarrassed at how hopeless I’d been at controlling my own children, I slumped onto one of the seats. Brenna sat next to me, much to my dismay.
‘Must be hard when there are two of them,’ said the blonde woman with a smile. ‘As soon as Henry realised he could make stuff happen, my life was hell. Your two seem very advanced considering how small they are. Henry’s three now and I know I was a similar age when I started working things out.’
I glanced at Esme, who had got up off the carpet when the balloons descended and who was now sitting on a chair opposite me.
‘Us too,’ I said. ‘Esme’s younger than me, but we were both about three when we started. My two have just turned one.’
‘It’s very important to set boundaries,’ said Brenna. ‘You can’t just let them do what they want.’
Esme nodded.
‘Of course my Clemmie isn’t old enough to develop her powers yet but, funnily enough, I had that same conversation with a friend yesterday,’ she said. ‘She’s not a witch, my friend, but we all have the same pressures, don’t we…?’
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Kerry Barrett
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 17.04.2024
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О книге: When good witchcraft goes bad…Harry (short for Harmony) McLeod never thought motherhood would be for her. But now that she and wife Louise have adopted twins Finlay and Fiona, she can’t imagine life without her gorgeous little family. But just as the toddlers start to discover their own witching abilities – quite handy when they want to summon toys with just a wiggle of their fingers! – Harry’s own powers seem to have vanished.With her abilities gone and Louise working all hours, Harry’s perfect world is starting to unravel. She knows she needs to rediscover her happiness to get her powers back, but with local charmer (and witch) Richard trying to steal her spa business from under her feet, how can she fight back?Could It Be Magic series:Bewitched, Bothered and BewilderedI Put a Spell on YouBaby It′s Cold Outside