by Sharon Booth
I raised an eyebrow as she locked the door and turned the sign to "Closed".
'You're coming with us?'
'Too right I am,' she said.
'But you never close the shop!'
'Half an hour won't make any difference,' she said firmly. 'And if anyone's that desperate to go upstairs for tea and cake they can use the back way for once.'
We sort of herded Blaise up the rickety wooden staircase in the middle of the shop that led to the tea rooms.
'Mind your head,' I warned him, and he ducked just in time to avoid smacking into the low ceiling. We passed the kitchen on the left and guided him up another couple of steps to the dining area.
'You two find a table,' Star said, 'and I'll order for us.'
It wasn't difficult to find a table. A damp and dreary afternoon in January didn't exactly encourage the crowds, despite Mrs Greenwood's reputation as a wonderful baker.
We found a seat by the window and sat quietly together, looking down at the marketplace, which was quiet and looked rather bleak. My mind was racing as I thought over what Blaise had said. How could it be true? He must surely be mistaken. Everyone knew the two St Clair brothers were powerful witches. It was a fact. Wasn't it?
Star hurried over and sat down. 'It won't be long,' she said, smiling. 'How are you feeling?' She patted Blaise's hand, and he blinked, as if he'd only just realised where he was.
'I remember him,' he said simply, and there was such pain and longing in his voice I almost cried.
'Are you okay?' I asked, then cursed myself. He wasn't okay. How could he be?
'How could I have forgotten my brother?' he asked. 'My flesh and blood.'
Star and I exchanged glances. When would it be the right time to tell him it was his own flesh and blood who had betrayed him to the witchfinder? His own dear brother who had moved in on Jennet the minute he was out of the way. The man who might have killed him, and to all intents and purposes, had done so. It would never be the right time to break that news to him, but how painful was it going to be when he finally remembered?
'Are you sure Bevil had no magic?' Star asked. 'It's just that, the legend says you were both powerful witches ...'
She broke off, clearly uncertain how to continue. I knew what she was thinking. The legend stated the brothers argued about Jennet, and powerful magical battles ensued and drew the attention of the authorities to Castle Clair. If Bevil had no magic, that couldn't possibly be true. Surely Blaise must be confused?
'I remember little,' he said, 'but I remember that. I remember how unworthy it made him feel. My father was a good and well-respected witch. I had great powers. My father was told I was one of the most powerful witches of my generation. Can you imagine how that made Bevil feel? He never felt confident. I had to protect him so many times from people who tried to use him to get to me. He suffered greatly. It was humiliation on an epic scale for my poor, dear brother.'
'Were you close?' I asked tentatively.
He smiled. 'I think we were, yes. At least, when I think of him, I feel a great warmth and love for him, so I suppose we must have been.' He shook his head slightly. 'I can picture him at last. He didn't look like me. His hair was much lighter than mine, and he had green eyes. Father always said he was the double of our mother. He had a special fondness for Bevil.'
'Your mother?' Star leaned towards him, her eyes eager. 'Do you remember her, too?'
'Three hot chocolates, two chocolate fudge cakes and one lemon drizzle cake.'
We all jumped as Laura, one of Mrs Greenwood's assistants, placed a tray on the table in front of us.
'Wow, Star,' I said. 'Talk about chocolate overload.'
'He needed the sugar,' she insisted. 'And I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I thought I'd get you the same as Blaise.' She gave me a sweet smile and I rolled my eyes.
'Very well,' I said. 'But if Blaise ends up cartwheeling home because he's so high on sugar, don't blame me.'
Laura smiled. 'Was that everything?'
'Perfect, thank you, Laura,' Star said. 'This lemon drizzle cake looks divine.'
Laura laughed. 'Mrs Greenwood said you'd say that,' she admitted. 'She says you love her lemon drizzle cake.'
'That's a bit of an understatement,' I told her. 'Thanks, Laura.'
'No problem.' Laura eyed Blaise, and I saw the clear admiration in her eyes and bristled slightly. Honestly, I couldn't take him anywhere! Women were predators.
After Laura headed back to the counter, I pushed a mug of hot chocolate and a plate of chocolate fudge cake towards Blaise. 'Here you go.'
'What is this?' He prodded disconsolately at the cake with a spoon.
'Chocolate fudge cake. You'll love it,' I promised him. 'Although, don't feel you have to eat it all. It's a big slice, and you're having drinking chocolate, too, so it might be a bit much.'
He nodded and sighed.
'So,' Star managed, although her cheeks were bulging with lemon drizzle cake, 'your mother.'
'I have a vague image of her,' he admitted. 'But maybe I'm confusing her with Bevil, knowing my father said they were the spitting image of each other. I have a fleeting memory of her hair. She wore it in a chignon at the back of her head, with ringlets at the side. I remember—' He broke off and took a large gulp of hot chocolate, while Star and I waited, somewhat impatiently, for him to continue. 'I remember Bevil sitting on her knee, pulling at her hair and laughing as it sprang back into ringlets when he let go. He must have been very young at the time — maybe two.'
'It's lovely you have at least got some memory of her,' I said gently. 'Do you remember her name?'
He shook his head.
'It was Catherine,' I told him cautiously. 'Catherine Elizabeth Mary St Clair.'
'Catherine.' He said the name carefully, his head tilted to one side.
'Eat your cake,' Star said. 'The memory will return when it's meant to.'
Seeming reluctant, he took a mouthful of chocolate fudge cake. His eyes widened. 'My word! This is delicious!'
'Told you.' Star sounded smug. 'Nan is second to none when it comes to baking.'
'And Star should know,' I said, smiling. 'She's sampled everything she's ever baked.'
'Hilarious. I can't eat that chocolate fudge cake though.' Star pulled a face and forked up another morsel of lemon drizzle cake. 'It's way too sweet for me. Give me lemon cake any day of the week.'
'Your mother should employ Benedict's nan as a cook at Castle Lodge,' Blaise said eagerly.
Star tutted. 'Why would Mother need a cook? And why would Nan want a job like that, when she's got her own business?'
Blaise pulled a face. 'Well, yes, but at Mrs Greenwood's great age, wouldn't it be better for her health if she closed this place down and settled into a family home?'
'So she can slave away for the St Clairs?' Star rolled her eyes. 'Nice try. Good luck with putting that proposition to her. So, what's next on the agenda?' she asked, clearly deciding it was time to take the pressure off Blaise and guide the conversation to other subjects.
'I thought I'd take him to the library,' I said. 'He's been reading the history books Sirius got him for Christmas and, while they're very thorough in some ways, they're distinctly lacking in others. For example, he's currently reading about the British Empire.'
Star nodded. 'I see what you mean. Very important to get different viewpoints when you're looking at history, Blaise. You should never take one version and believe it to be wholly true. It's all about cross-referencing and getting as many witnesses to the facts as possible. You need some first-hand accounts, and not just from the British.'
'That's what I told him,' I said. 'History's written by the winners. Dig deeper if you want the truth.'
Blaise hardly seemed to be listening. He was scooping up chocolate fudge cake like he was starving to death.
'Steady on,' I said. 'You'll have one heck of a sugar rush.'
'Would Mrs Greenwood make one of these cakes for me, do you think?' he asked.
&n
bsp; 'Um, yes, I suppose so,' Star said. 'But are you sure? What on earth do you need a whole cake for?'
'I've tasted nothing so wonderful,' he declared. 'I could eat a whole one to myself.'
'You most definitely could not,' I retorted. 'While we're at the library, I'd better find you something to read about health and nutrition.'
'Golly, Celeste, you are a spoilsport,' Star said. 'He won't die from eating chocolate fudge cake.'
The fork clattered on the plate and we both turned to look at Blaise.
'She died in childbirth,' he whispered.
'Sorry?'
'My mother. She died in childbirth. My sister died within an hour of being born, and my mother followed her the next day. My father was heartbroken, and Bevil—' He pushed away the plate, which in all fairness was empty except for a few crumbs, 'Bevil wouldn't stop crying. He missed her so much, you see. He was too young, and he didn't understand.'
'There's no record of a sister,' I told him cautiously. 'We never knew how your mother died. 'I expect they buried the baby with her. We found Parish records that show they buried Catherine in Cornwall in 1646.'
Blaise looked shaken, and I decided it was time to take charge.
'That's enough for today,' I decided. 'We'll go to the library and pick up some books and then we'll go back home. Star, have you finished your cake yet? You ought to open up the shop, you know.'
Blaise nodded at my half-eaten cake. 'Are you eating that?'
'No,' I said. 'I've had enough for—'
He reached over and shovelled the lot in his mouth before I could even finish the sentence. I stared at him in dumb horror.
Star chuckled. 'Welcome to the twenty-first century, Blaise. Seems you're settling in nicely. We'll have you addicted to sugar and worryingly obese before you know it.'
Chapter Twelve
February arrived, bringing icy blasts and a few snow showers. The ground was hard with frost, and Star picked me up each morning and drove me to work, insisting it was far too cold and slippery underfoot to allow me to walk. She dropped me off at the castle car park each day, then went to collect Mrs Greenwood. Although her grandmother-in-law didn't live too far from the shop, Star refused to allow her to walk to work in the colder months — rightly — and so she set off from Lily Cottage a little earlier than usual every morning.
'Mother says you're coming for dinner on Monday night,' I remarked, one brutally cold Saturday just after Valentine's Day, as we pulled into the car park and I prepared to brave the cold outside. 'Aurora and Father have arrived. They're staying for a few days, apparently. Not sure why.'
'Yes, Elvira got in touch,' Star said. 'She and Easton are visiting them at Castle Lodge that day, since it's half term, and Mother's invited them for dinner, too. Benedict's so looking forward to seeing them again. I'll pick you up after work,' she added, kissing me on the cheek. 'Have a good day.'
It was nice having Father home again, and it was always a pleasure to see Aurora. Aither had grown already. Now seven weeks old, he was a bonny little boy, with chubby cheeks and lots of dark hair.
'I'm jolly nervous,' Aurora confided in me that evening. 'Aveta's coming tomorrow to tell us whether he's magical. Raiden will blame himself if he has no magic, you know.'
'It's nothing to do with Father being power-stripped,' I reminded her. 'Aveta told us that already. Anyway, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. I'll bet he'll be a super-powerful witch. After all, our line and your line are two of the oldest in the world. You and Father both come from a long line of distinguished witches. I reckon Aither will be amazing.'
'Oh, I hope so, for Raiden's sake,' Aurora said, her forehead creased with worry.
Aveta arrived the following afternoon at around one o'clock. Mother had prepared an afternoon tea for us all, as she said Aveta ate like a bird and never bothered with a Sunday roast. Blaise looked bitterly disappointed when he saw the plates of dainty sandwiches and tiny little cupcakes and scones. He may only have been living with us for a few weeks, but he'd already grown used to the Sunday ritual of roast beef or lamb with a mountain of side dishes and lashings of gravy. Afternoon tea didn't cut it with him, obviously.
The only thing that cheered him up was Mrs Greenwood's arrival. She'd brought him a huge slice of chocolate fudge cake, because Star had told her how enamoured Blaise was with it and it had delighted her so much that she wanted to present him with yet more of the stuff. It was of epic proportions and I told Blaise he really should cut it in half.
'Remember the leaflet you got from the dentist last week?' I said. 'Sugar causes dental cavities.'
'I'd give it up as a bad job,' Sirius murmured. 'At least he doesn't drink the mouthwash any more.'
I shuddered. No, thank goodness. What a performance that had been!
'Lunch,' Mother announced. 'I'll put that cake in the kitchen for now. We have more than enough to eat here, but thank you, Fern. It was terribly kind of you to bake it for him. You'll stay for lunch?'
'Oh, no, I — I wouldn't dream of it,' Mrs Greenwood stammered. 'I only came out to drop the cake off and get some fresh air.'
'Nonsense. We'd love you to stay. Castor, take Fern's coat please.'
Castor scowled but moved towards Mrs Greenwood. She held up her hand.
'Please, no need. I can manage perfectly well, thank you, Castor.'
He didn't argue, and sank down into a chair, staring rather challengingly at a plate of macarons.
Father and Aurora were nervous about Aveta's verdict on Aither's powers. Father barely touched a thing at lunch, and Aurora only managed six sandwiches, a sausage roll, one jam and cream scone, two macarons and a cupcake. Practically starvation rations for her, bless her. Mother chatted animatedly to Mrs Greenwood, who responded lightly, though I couldn't help noticing that she cast a few wary looks in Castor's direction and I wondered, not for the first time, exactly why he was so mean to her. She was such a lovely lady and wouldn't hurt a fly. Castor seemed to have a thing against the Greenwoods. He hadn't been particularly thrilled when Benedict and Star got back together. What was his problem with them?
Aveta asked lots of questions of Blaise and seemed surprised his magic hadn't returned. 'I'm sure it will eventually,' she reassured him, although I saw by the look in her eyes she wasn't entirely convinced.
'Such a shame for you,' Mrs Greenwood said, giving Blaise a kindly look. 'Still, people can manage without magic, can't they? You've already done it for almost two months. And look at me and Benedict. We've never had magic, but we get along fine.'
'It's not quite the same, though, is it?' Blaise pointed out. 'You're used to that life. It's different when you've always had powers and you lose them.'
'You can't remember having them anyway,' Castor snapped, 'so what difference does it make to you?'
'Castor!' Mother gasped.
'Fern's right,' he continued. 'He can get along fine without it. It's not the be-all and end-all.'
We all stared at him in shock. Strange enough he thought people could cope without magic, but that he'd defended Mrs Greenwood was astounding. Even Blaise looked taken aback.
Strangely enough, only Mrs Greenwood didn't look surprised. She popped a French fancy into her mouth and seemed thoroughly unperturbed as we all exchanged bemused glances.
At last, we finished lunch, and plates and cutlery were cleared away. We left the dining room and headed into the living room, where Aither was sleeping peacefully in a carrycot, sucking occasionally on his little podgy fist. He really was adorable, and I smiled down at him, stroking his chubby cheek with my little finger.
'Are you going to do it now?' Aurora's voice revealed her deep anxiety, and I looked up, realising everyone was hovering nearby, looking almost as apprehensive as she was. Even Mrs Greenwood and Castor were watching little Aither, albeit from opposite sides of the carry cot.
Aveta nodded, and I moved away to allow her closer to the baby. She reached out and put her hands on either side of his head, then closed her eye
s.
We all held our breath, waiting.
At last, Aurora burst out, 'Oh, for goodness' sake. You must have found out by now!'
Aveta withdrew her hands and turned to face Aurora and Father. 'I have,' she said quietly.
'And?' Father's face was grim.
Aveta met his gaze squarely, but there was obvious sadness in her eyes. 'The child has no magic, Raiden,' she told him. 'I'm sorry.'
We were all stunned, I think. No one said anything for ages, then Aurora burst into tears.
Father put his hand on her shoulder. 'Are you sure about this, Aveta?'
'I'm afraid there's no doubt about it,' she said. 'It's rare in the St Clair line for a child to have no magic at all, but in this case that's exactly what we're dealing with. Little Aither is one hundred percent non magical.'
'How can this be?' Father sank into the sofa, looking dazed. 'Is this my fault? The power stripping—'
'As I told you before, that has nothing to do with it. Your child simply doesn't carry the magical gene. There's nothing more to it than that.'
'I can't believe it,' Aurora wailed. 'Father will be so upset.'
'It's not the end of the world,' I said, desperate to ease their pain. 'He's a beautiful little boy, and he's healthy and strong. Surely, that's all that matters? And he's got the best parents in the world, and a loving family around him. He doesn't need magic. Father manages fine without it.'
'And you were willing to give up your own magic, Aurora,' Sirius pointed out. 'You said yourself it wasn't the most important thing.'
'That's different,' she sobbed. 'It's okay for me and Raiden not to have powers, but we wanted more for Aither. Poor little chap. He'll get bullied at school. Can you imagine the shame of it? It will make his life a misery. All the other children at Ballydraiocht Primary School are magical. He'll be the odd one out. He'll be ostracised!'
As her voice rose to a wail, Mother said calmly, 'Well, really, Aurora, if you carry on like this you'll be the one to make him feel odd. There's absolutely no need for these histrionics. As Celeste says, Aither is healthy and strong. That's what you should be grateful for.'