‘Is that “yes mmph” or “no mmph”?’ Dad enquired.
‘Maybe mmph. I’m seeing him tonight, if that’s OK, but it depends what his mum’s plans are for tomorrow.’
‘Invite them over for a drink, why don’t you?’
‘Mmm…’ I bit my lip. ‘I’m not sure…’
‘Why ever not?’ Dad looked a touch offended. ‘I’d like to see Elaine.’
‘Oh, it’s not Elaine,’ I hastened to explain. ‘It’s Bran, Seth’s grandfather. He’s staying with them for Christmas and …’ I trailed off, not sure how to say, ‘And he doesn’t approve of me because I’m a witch so I doubt he’ll agree to cross our threshold.’ I tried to think of a way of rephrasing Bran’s vehement hatred – one that didn’t make him sound senile.
‘Darling,’ Ben put a hand on my arm and lowered his voice a dramatic octave, ‘don’t tell me, is he … a homophobe?’
‘Oh for God’s sake.’ Rick hit him with a baguette. ‘Leave the poor girl alone. She doesn’t want her dad’s aged mates cramping her style and who can blame her?’
‘No, it’s not that, honestly,’ I hastened, even though I knew they were both joking. ‘It’s just that Seth’s grandfather … he doesn’t approve of me. He doesn’t think I’m the right girl for Seth. And since he’s staying, I don’t really want to cause a family argument at Christmas so I’ve agreed to see Seth tonight in the pub and then I might leave it at that. I’ll just see how it goes, OK?’
‘Anna!’ Ben’s silliness had gone as he wrapped me in a warm Gaultier-scented hug. ‘Who could disapprove of you? In that case I positively decline to share even a single drop of Veuve Clicquot with the silly old goat. If he turns up we’ll make him sit in the garden and drink rainwater.’
I squeezed him back. And then, as Ben pointed meaningfully at the ceiling where the mistletoe hung, swaying gently in the warm air from the Aga, I gave him a kiss on the cheek.
At eight p.m. I left Dad and the others comfortably ensconced in front of the roaring fire in the living room, arguing about whether Quorn was a valid word in Scrabble, and got on my ancient bike to cycle off to the Crown and Anchor, where Seth was helping behind the bar. I hadn’t expected it to be particularly busy but, by some mysterious form of teenage ESP, it looked like most of the Winter High sixth form had congregated there in a spontaneous Christmas Eve ‘my parents are driving me nuts’ meet up.
I said hello to at least three people from school as I padlocked my bike to the beer garden fence and bumped into half a dozen more in the saloon bar. Sitting in an alcove by the fireplace were June, Prue and Liz, along with two boys I didn’t know. June looked very pink and happy, her round face shining under her deep fringe.
Things had been a little funny with them since last year – they’d been the first at Winter High to befriend me and then, from their perspective, I’d made off with the best-looking boy in the school and taken up with the aloof, sarcastic Emmaline Peller, leaving them without a backward glance. And the worst thing was, I could never explain. But when I gave a tentative wave, they smiled back, and June called, ‘Anna, this is Philip – Philip Granger.’
Philip Granger? She looked as if she was about to burst with pride and, as I drew closer, I saw they were hand in hand. For a minute I felt a huge throb of resentment – it was June, with her sodding crush on Philip Granger, who’d persuaded us to try that stupid love spell in the first place. Of course, the charm had had no effect on him whatsoever since June wasn’t a witch. And now she’d got it all anyway, without any of the horrors and guilt I’d had to suffer over Seth …
I sighed. There was no point in blaming June for my own mistakes. I had Seth. She had Philip. It was water under the bridge.
‘Nice to meet you at last,’ I said. And I meant it.
Then I saw Seth, signalling to me over the heads of the customers at the bar. I smiled goodbye and threaded my way through the throng of students to where Seth was handing out drinks and taking change.
‘Sorry, Jack,’ he was saying to one pink-faced lower sixth-former. ‘You and me both know you’re only seventeen. Please don’t do this, mate. It’s just embarrassing for us both.’
‘Anna’s only seventeen,’ Jack grumbled. ‘I don’t see you throwing her out – or is it different rules for your girlfriends?’
‘Well, Anna’s not buying alcohol,’ Seth said. I could see his temper was fraying. He hated having to refuse school friends. ‘Come on, Jack. Just get a soft drink or go somewhere else.’
‘Fine.’ Jack stomped away from the bar and I elbowed into his place. Seth flashed me a relieved smile.
‘Hello, gorgeous. Don’t, whatever you do, show me a bad fake ID and claim to be twenty-four, will you?’
‘I won’t,’ I promised. ‘I’ll just have a Coke.’
Seth poured me the Coke but wouldn’t take any money. I made a mental note to stick it in the staff tips jar later.
‘I’ve got your present.’ I patted my shoulder bag. Seth smacked his forehead.
‘Oh damn, I left yours upstairs.’ He glanced up and down the heaving bar. ‘I don’t think I can knock off with the queue like this … Tell you what, wait until Tim comes back from his break and then we’ll swap, how’s that?’
‘Fine. Come and find me when you’re done.’ I bent over the bar on tiptoes and brushed his lips. It was only intended to be a peck but he gripped the back of my head and gave me a full-on passionate kiss. There were wolf whistles from up and down the bar and a bloke shouted, ‘I’ll give you one of those, mate, if you’ll serve me next!’ A girl called out, ‘I’ll have whatever she ordered!’
I broke away, blushing crossly, and glared at Seth over the soda siphon. I was still not used to his triumphant happiness with our status as a couple and his willingness to advertise our togetherness to the whole of Winter. Certainly Seth’s ex, Caroline, hadn’t forgiven me, even six months on, and there were plenty of others who continued to resent me as the outsider from London, swanning in and pinching the school hottie. I fought the urge to look over my shoulder to check for hostility on people’s faces or – even worse – the sight of snow, rain or some other magical disturbance breaking over the bar. Seth, however, had no such worries and grinned unrepentantly.
‘See you shortly.’
Hmph. I retreated with my drink to a quiet corner. But I’d barely sat down when I heard a familiar voice.
‘Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favourite witch.’
‘What?’ I spun round, almost knocking over my Coke. Simon’s brother, Abe, stood behind me, his wild black hair even more unruly than usual, his mouth twisted into a wry half-smile.
‘Abe!’ I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or hit him. ‘Keep your voice down.’
‘Oh, relax. None of these drunkards would know a witch if she hit them between the eyebrows with her broomstick. Although from what Emmaline tells me, it sounds like you’re more prone to just fuse the lights or make it rain beer.’
‘She told you, did she?’
‘She said you were having a little bit of trouble. I think her exact words were, “Anna’s suffering from incontinence” – or is that a separate problem?’
‘Shut up!’ I couldn’t help laughing; he was so impossible. ‘No, that’s not a separate problem, thanks very much.’
‘Oh good, so you can still laugh without crossing your legs? That must be a relief to all concerned. Mind if I sit down?’ He indicated the bar stool next to me with his dripping pint and I waved a hand.
‘Please, feel free. Make yourself at home.’
He sat and looked at me thoughtfully as he sipped his beer.
‘So what’s the plan? Tena Lady?’
‘Emmaline thinks I need lessons. To help with the incontinence.’
‘Lessons?’ Abe snorted. ‘From who – Maya?’ I nodded and he took another pull of beer, shaking his head as he swallowed. ‘There’s nothing she can teach you.’
‘Abe, that’s rubbish, and you know it.’
�
�OK, let me rephrase that. There may be stuff that she can teach you, but I highly doubt that’s the problem. Granted, you probably don’t know a whole lot about the effect of St John’s wort on sleeping charms, but so what? You’ve more natural ability in your little finger than most witches have in their whole body. You could control yourself, me, Emmaline, this whole room if you wanted to. But you don’t. The question is, why not?’
‘I promised …’ I said in a low voice.
‘Who?’
‘The Ealdwitan, for a start.’ I felt again that sickening jolt of fear in the alleyway when the hooded boys had come towards us; the nauseating terror before I’d realized they were nothing to do with the Ealdwitan, just outwith kids. There was no way I was risking their shadowy wrath again. The danger from my leaky powers was nothing compared to their fury if I started deliberately casting spells – I’d just have to try harder to keep myself in hand.
‘Hmm.’ Abe studied my face over the top of his glass for a long minute, his black eyes disquieting, intense. Then he changed the subject. ‘Where’s loverboy then?’
‘He’s behind the bar.’ I nodded towards Seth, pulling a pint with one hand and draining an optic with the other. Abe made a face.
‘Great, so we’ll be getting his company later? There’s something to encourage me to drink up.’
I ignored his jibe and only said, ‘He might join us, depends how busy it is. Where’s Emmaline?’
‘At the bar. No, I tell a lie; here she is.’ He waved an arm as she turned from the bar with a frosted glass and a packet of crisps in one hand, ‘Em, over here.’
‘Hello, Anna.’ Emmaline squeezed up to the tiny table. ‘Merry Christmas.’
‘Merry Christmas to you too. Thanks for telling Abe about my little problem.’
‘Hey,’ Emmaline bowed her head in mock seriousness, but there was an amused smile at the corner of her mouth, ‘a problem shared is a problem halved, you know.’
‘Well, thanks for being so caring.’
‘Did you tell him about the parcel under your step?’ Emmaline wanted to know.
Abe said, ‘Already heard, from Simon. He’s not happy.’
‘Nobody’s very happy, dur-brain, least of all Anna, I imagine. It’s just so weird. Why would anyone put it there?’
‘As I see it there are three possibilities.’ Abe raised three fingers to tick them off. ‘One, to help you, Anna. Two, to harm you. Three, it’s nothing to do with you and was there before you moved in.’
‘But like Anna said – how could her mother have moved in without noticing a reek like that?’ Emmaline asked. ‘Someone must have put it there after her mother left, when Anna was small.’
I took a deep breath.
‘About that. About my mother …’
‘Yes?’
‘I think…I think…’
‘Oh my God,’ Abe said slowly. His black eyes met mine, and I saw a kind of horrified understanding there.
‘What? What about your mother?’ Emmaline looked from his face to mine. ‘Hang on – you don’t think … your mother did this?’
‘It seems like the most logical explanation,’ I said. ‘She left – and before she did, she buried a charm to hide us and …’
‘And a charm to cripple you?’ Emmaline finished incredulously. She was shaking her head, her face twisted with disgust. It was as if … as if I’d suggested that my mother had cut off one of my hands as a keepsake. ‘The hiding charm, yes. That I can see; it might be to protect you in some way. But stunting your magic like that, deliberately? Why, why? It’s such a hideous, horrible thing to do – what kind of mother would do that to her newborn baby?’
What kind of mother would run away and leave her newborn baby? That was what I wanted to say. But I bit my tongue and only shook my head.
‘Did your dad know anything about it?’ Emmaline asked. I shook my head again, more bitterly this time.
‘I couldn’t ask him … I know, I know.’ I held up my hands. ‘But, Emmaline, it’s not like I haven’t tried. I’ve asked and asked him about my mum. But it’s like he can’t tell me – he’s just a brick wall. I don’t know what to do.’
‘You’ll have to try again,’ Em said flatly. ‘If this – this thing is true …’ She trailed off, shaking her head, and her expression confirmed what I’d already guessed; that charm was not a step anyone would take lightly, least of all a parent.
So, why? Why had she done it?
There was only one way to find the answer: start delving into the past. Find out the truth about my mother’s life, and death, and what had set her running.
‘Is there anyone else you could ask?’ Abe put in.
I shook my head. ‘My dad’s lost contact with my mother’s family – or severed it, I don’t know which. And I can’t trace them. I don’t even know her maiden name.’
‘It’d be on your birth certificate, wouldn’t it?’ Emmaline asked. I shook my head again.
‘Not on the version I’ve seen – it’s just a little thing with my name and date of birth and stuff.’
‘That’s the short version,’ Abe said. ‘There’s a longer version, an A4 sheet with more information. You have to write off for it, I think. But depending on the surname I don’t know that it’d get you much further – if you know she was Jane Smith then that doesn’t help a whole lot. Is there really no one else you can ask?’
‘No, well …’ A thought suddenly struck me. James, Lorna, Ben and Rick had all known Dad for years. Could I … ? Did I dare? They were all leaving on Boxing Day – that gave me tomorrow, basically, to find out. ‘There might be someone … I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.’
The problem was they’d undoubtedly be worried about stepping on my dad’s toes and telling me secrets that were not theirs to share. I’d have to be very tactful about who I approached, and how. Lorna perhaps? Could I pull some kind of fellow-female appeal, motherless girl, surrogate mum, schtick? But Lorna was pretty discreet, besides which I wasn’t completely sure how far back she and Dad went. I couldn’t bear the idea of screwing up my courage to ask, all for nothing.
Ben was probably the best bet. He’d been at Oxford with Dad so chances were, he must have met my mum. But would he know much? He’d lived in New York for several years after university. Perhaps that period covered my parents’ brief marriage?
I was staring into space, only half listening to Emmaline and Abe’s good-natured bickering, when a flash of red at the bar caught my eye and I saw a red-headed girl leaning confidentially over the bar to speak to Seth. It was the girl from the restaurant.
I bit my lip as she bent over, her breasts almost spilling out of her low-cut top. She was incredibly striking, with wide dark eyes made up with smoky eyeshadow so they looked even bigger and more soulful, and her flamecoloured hair spilt over her shoulders and back like a mane of fire. She was whispering something to Seth.
‘What?’ I saw him yell back irritably. ‘Can you speak up? I can’t hear you.’
She beckoned him over the bar and he leant forward. Then she grabbed his collar and pulled him towards her, her lips at his ear. I didn’t quite see what happened next, but I could guess. Seth sprang back with a mixture of shock and astonishment in his face, wiping at his ear reflexively with a bar towel. There was a streak of her lipstick from his ear right across his cheekbone and the girl was laughing, her tongue caught provocatively between her teeth. I felt my cheeks flush scarlet with anger.
She said something else and I saw Seth shake his head and point to me, seated in the corner. Then he turned away to serve another customer. The girl shrugged and started to scribble something on a beer mat. Seth just ignored her. He stretched up to get a beer glass from the rack, his T-shirt riding up to expose a slice of tanned skin and an arrow of dark hair, and the girl leant across the bar and pushed the beer mat down the front of his jeans, behind the broad silver buckle of his belt. I gasped. Seth jumped convulsively and dropped the beer glass, sending shards of glass skitter
ing across the floor.
Fury exploded inside me. How dare she? How dare she!
Out of nowhere came a terrible smell of scorching. Smoke filled the bar and the girl gave a scream, clutching at the back of her head.
‘My hair! My hair’s on fire!’
There was an immediate hubbub – someone threw a drink, someone else batted at the sparks with their hands. The girl was weeping now, her hair drenched with beer, and her friends clustered around patting her back.
‘Zoe, are you OK?’
‘What happened?’
‘It must have been someone with a cigarette – who’s smoking in here?’
Seth just stood and watched with his mouth open and eventually leant across the bar to ask, ‘Are you OK? Is there anything I can do?’
‘She’s fine.’ One of the girl’s friends put her arm around the heavily sobbing Zoe. ‘She’s had too much to drink. I’ll take her outside.’ She raised her voice. ‘Whoever’s smoking in here, I hope you’re bloody proud of yourself. There’s a reason it was banned, you know.’
She glared around the bar and then ushered the still-sobbing Zoe outside.
Emmaline looked at me. I had my hands to my face, covering my flaming cheeks.
‘Anna?’
‘Oh God, Emmaline. What’s happening to me?’
Emmaline shook her head and her mouth compressed into a grim line. ‘It’s not working, Anna. All this pretending to be a normal person, whatever normal is. You’re not. And your body knows you’re not. Just admit what you are and stop pretending.’
She looked over my shoulder as she spoke and her expression changed, to something halfway between disgust and resignation.
‘I’ve got to go anyway. Abe?’
Abe looked past me and nodded.
‘I’ll drop you. I’ll be over the limit if I have another one anyway. See you later, Anna. Bah humbug and all that.’
A Witch in Love Page 4