‘Please, please don’t. Let me finish. There – there was a reason, why you felt like that so suddenly. Why you woke up one morning obsessed with a girl from London you barely knew, and broke up with your gorgeous, long-term girlfriend, and fell for someone completely plain and ordinary and boring, in a totally inexplicable way.’
I swallowed. I couldn’t think of a way to put it that didn’t sound crazy.
‘I – I enchanted you.’
He frowned, confused. I could see he didn’t understand the ambiguity of the phrase. Desperately, I spelled it out.
‘I bewitched you. I made a spell. A love potion. Seth, you don’t love me at all. I made you love me.’ I stopped and gulped, then spat out the words like bitter stones. ‘I’m a witch.’
Up until that point he had been silent, his expression flitting between perplexed and downright bewildered. Now he broke out into a shout of laughter.
‘Anna! You had me worried there for a minute. Let me guess – you magicked gullible out of the dictionary as well?’
‘It’s true,’ I said wretchedly. ‘I wish it wasn’t. I know you’ll think it’s mad. I thought so too at first. I never meant for it to happen – I just didn’t know what I was doing.’
‘Hmm, a witch with L-plates, eh?’ He was still grinning, in spite of his tiredness.
‘Seth, please don’t make fun of me. I don’t know what to do – how to convince you …’ I broke off, thinking of Abe and his handful of snow. Could I do something similar? Something to force Seth to believe?
My eye fell on a stick beside the road and I had a sudden memory of a magician I’d seen at a party when I was a little girl. He’d made his wand blossom with paper flowers, a pretty hackneyed trick I suppose, but at the time I’d been incredibly impressed. I had no wand, but…
I picked up the stick and held it out to Seth.
‘If c000 ityou don’t believe me, watch.’
I held the end in both hands and concentrated. Seth watched with polite but slightly sarcastic amusement. He didn’t laugh again but I could tell there was a smile hovering at his lips.
This time I didn’t shut my eyes, I didn’t need to. I could feel the tendrils of power inside me rippling down my arms, into my hands, into the dry stick. I thought of sap rising, of leaves, buds, flowers. The wood grew warm and sweaty in my hands. It began to bud.
Tender swellings, furling leaves, blossom – it was like watching freeze-frame photography in real life. Within seconds the stick was heavy in my hands, too heavy to hold, and I dropped it, leaves, fruit and all. It fell to the ground with a thud, and an apple broke off and rolled towards Seth, landing at his feet.
He only stared, open-mouthed. Then he reached down and touched the apple – the lightest, most tentative of touches. He drew back immediately as if burned and, curious, I reached down to pick it up. It felt heavy, ordinary, unutterably real. It was slightly warm, but no warmer than an ordinary apple sitting in the sun. Its weight was the weight of a real apple. There was a slightly soft patch where it had hit the ground and had bruised, just as any other apple would. I sniffed it. It smelled of – apple. Delicious.
I held it out to Seth, with an attempt at a smile.
‘Want to see what it tastes like?’
‘No!’ He recoiled, his face suddenly shocked out of its stupor into an expression of fear and something close to revulsion. ‘No! Make it go away!’
I hung my head.
‘I don’t think I can – I mean, I don’t know how. I seem to be good at magic, but not so good at undoing it.’
In truth I didn’t want to try. Making a stick bud seemed comparatively harmless, but once I started wishing things into oblivion, where would it end? Might I accidentally obliterate the grass? Or the earth we were standing on? Or even Seth?
‘My God, it’s true,’ he whispered, talking almost to himself. ‘It’s true. What else have you done? When you said the storm was your fault … ?’
I shut my eyes and only nodded, too shamed to find the words.
‘And … me?’
I could not even nod, but a tear squeezed out from under my lashes. I felt it roll down my cheek.
‘Why?’ His voice was bewildered. ‘What did I ever do to you?’
‘Nothing,’ I managed, though my throat was tight and sore. ‘I’m so sorry …’
‘Sorry? Sorry?’
It was as if the words had triggered something long suppressed.
‘Sorry!’ he shouted. Veins stood out on his neck and temples. I took a step back.
I’d seen his anger before, and it had been horrible, but at the same time exciting, because it had always been directed at others in my defence. Now his fury was directed at me. Bleak. Terrifying. Soul-destroying.
‘I defended you to Caroline. I kissed you. I told you …’ His face contorted as he remembered the things he’d said, and he tore his hands through his hair in an agony of self-reproach, ‘Oh how could I, the things I said! How could you? I’ll never trust anyone – I’ll never even trust myself again.’
‘Please, Seth …’ I tried not to sob, but I’m not sure he even heard me.
‘I said I loved you!’ he yelled. His fingers clutched at his hair – he was almost sobbing himself. ‘I bared my soul to you. You – you …’ He stopped, unable, I thought, to think of a word vicious enough.
‘Seth,’ I sobbed, not caring now that tears were running down my face.
‘Anna, just go,’ he said stonily. ‘Get away before I do something I regret.’ His face made me quail, but I tried once more.
‘Seth—’
‘Just go!’ He almost spat the words, but his voice was low. The red hot fury had vanished, replaced by a bleak calm that was even more terrifying. He spoke quite softly now, but the words were very clear.
‘I never want to speak to you again. I never want to see you again. How could I ever have thought I loved you? You’re the worst, most despicable person I’ve ever met.’
CHAPTER TEN
I opened the front door to the smell of cooking, and it made me feel sick. Dad was in the kitchen, stirring herbs into fragrant bubbling pots and humming tunelessly to himself. I couldn’t face a fake-cheerful conversation and tried to sneak upstairs to my room unnoticed, but the wind caught the door, slamming it shut, and he called out, ‘Anna, is that you?’
‘Yes.’ I swallowed the lump in my throat and managed to yell back, ‘Just going upstairs to change.’
‘Well come down and chat to me in a sec.’ He put his head around the kitchen door, staring at me over steam-misted glasses. ‘I feel like I haven’t seen you for a week.’
‘Yeah, OK,’ I said wearily, but when I got upstairs I didn ft="’t change. I didn’t do anything. I just lay on my front on my bed with my face buried in my pillow, feeling every bone in my body throb with tiredness.
I should have felt relieved that I’d done the right thing and told Seth. Judging by his anger I wouldn’t have much to worry about in terms of unwanted affection. Problem solved – just like Simon had predicted. But I didn’t feel any relief, only a deep, gnawing sadness.
If only I’d never started messing with that stupid spell. Without it, Seth would probably never have looked at me romantically, but perhaps I could have been his friend. Now I’d lost even that chance, and hurt Seth so badly he would never forgive me. And it was all my own stupid fault.
There was a perfunctory rap at the door, breaking in on my self-pity. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Dad standing in the doorway.
‘I thought you were coming down?’ he said, a touch of irritation in his voice.
I shook my head into the pillow and he sighed, and sat on the foot of the bed.
‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing.’ My voice was muffled by the pillow.
‘How was Seth?’
‘I don’t really want to talk about it – sorry, Dad.’
‘Well at least tell me how your trip out to Castle Spit went? I’m quite keen to hear what Mr Fisher
had to say, it might be useful for my book.’
‘Not much to tell.’ I sat up wearily.
‘Anna …’ he said warningly, in the voice that meant: You’re trying my patience.
‘I don’t. Want. To talk about it.’ I didn’t mean to sound so childish, but I felt close to tears, and I knew that if I started to discuss any of this with Dad it would all come spilling out, and I couldn’t, I just couldn’t bear it. My heart was too raw for Dad’s blundering sympathy.
‘For heaven’s sake, Anna!’ Dad exploded. ‘I’ve really had enough of all these theatrics. What’s got into you since we moved? You’re secretive, you won’t tell me about your friends, you won’t answer simple questions about your day. I know that moving has been a big adjustment for you. It’s been a big change for me too. But enough is enough. I don’t expect you to tell me everything – you’ve a right to your privacy – but I do expect basic politeness and the bare facts about your life.’
The unfairness of this struck me dumb for a second. Then something snapped inside me.
‘You’re one to talk!’ I screamed. ‘How dare you lecture me about secrecy? You haven’t told me anything about myself, about mum, kf, "0em" about what happened between you. I was so desperate I even bloody googled her. Do you have any idea what that feels like? Don’t I have a right to know about stuff too?’
‘That’s different.’ Dad was shaking his head.
‘Really? How? How is it different? Come on, if you’re so big on the bare facts, what was her maiden name?’
‘Anna …’ His voice was warning.
‘When did you get married? Were you even married at all?’
‘Anna, stop this.’
‘Is she alive or dead?’ I pursued relentlessly. The sight of Dad’s face tore at me but I had no sympathy to spare today and pressed on with an almost malicious delight in his pain. ‘What happened? Come on, what happened? What happened?’
He stood for a moment, his face wrung with desperation. It was almost as if he wanted to speak but just couldn’t. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Then he turned to leave, slamming the door behind him.
I didn’t see him again that night, and at breakfast we discussed progress on the bathroom and pretended that nothing had happened. It was all very English. But Dad hadn’t forgotten, I could see that, from the wariness in his eyes and the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t watching.
My tiredness and the row with Dad had taken my mind off Seth for one night, but on Sunday I had nothing else to worry about, except some stupid essay I hadn’t finished, and I spent a sleepless night, dreading seeing Seth in Maths the next morning. What would he say? Would we still sit together or would he find some way of getting out of it? The way he’d looked last night I wouldn’t have put it past him to change his name to the opposite end of the alphabet by deed-poll, or drop the A-level altogether, if that was what it took to avoid me.
I needn’t have worried. When I turned up, my mouth sour with too much coffee and too little breakfast, his seat was empty. It was empty in History too, and again the next day. I moved from class to class like an automaton, shunning conversation, sitting by myself at breaks, sleepwalking through the days, then tossing and turning at night.
First June, then Liz tried to talk to me, but my curt replies to their questions and my cold, closed face soon had them returning, baffled, to their crowd, shrugging their shoulders at my odd mood. No one tried again after that.
There’d been a coolness between us since the sleepover at my house anyway. Maybe it was embarrassment over what had happened. Maybe it was mystification or resentment at the way Seth had fallen at my feet. Whatever – they were still perfectly pleasant, but I got the sense that they’d let me do the running for a while, and while things had still been so complicated with Seth I’d let it slide, promising myself that I’d make it up to t kke , ahem afterwards, when things were sorted out. Now, my reserve seemed to be the last straw, and I was left alone.
They weren’t the only people withdrawing from me. More and more I found myself alone in lessons. Sometimes the motive was obvious – all Caroline’s friends avoided me studiously, which ruled out half the girls. But the reason behind the boys’ aversion was more mysterious. Very often there was a seat free beside me and some boy would hasten over, only to think better of it and back away. Once I was even talking to some guy in the dinner line when his friend walked up and nudged him. He seemed to recall something he’d forgotten and with a muffled, ‘Oh,’ made poor excuses and melted away. I tried not to care – but it was impossible not to feel hurt. Invisibility, I could have coped with. I didn’t mind being overlooked, in fact there would have been a sort of restfulness to it, compared to all the whispering and gossip over what had happened with Seth and Caroline. But being shunned was harder to cope with. In vain I tried to think what I might be doing wrong. But the only answers were things I couldn’t change: Caroline, Seth, me.
Luckily the fatwa didn’t seem to affect Emmaline, and on Thursday she sought me out at lunch.
‘What the hell is going on?’ she demanded with her usual lack of tact, banging her tray down next to mine in the canteen.
‘What do you mean?’ I said, dully.
‘Well, where’s Seth?’
‘How should I know?’ I countered, but I said it with less than complete conviction. Emmaline put her hands on her hips.
‘Oh pur-lease, Anna. You go out in his boat, a freak storm blows up, then he disappears for a week? And this is all supposed to be nothing to do with you?’
‘Oh for crying out loud! Does everyone know everything in this bloody village?’
‘More or less, yes. So come clean and fess up. His mum’s giving out some rubbish about him being suddenly called away to visit an ill relative. Who apparently has no name, isn’t on the phone, and doesn’t require Seth’s mother’s presence. Forgive me for being a little sceptical.’ She raised one narrow eyebrow and I caved.
‘OK, I’ll tell you, but not here. After school, OK?’
‘OK,’ she agreed. ‘We’ll meet at the south gate, shall we?’
That afternoon we met at the gate and walked slowly up the hill. After the rush of students had passed us I told her in a low voice everything that had happened. I included everything, even Seth’s grandfather’s parting remark. The only thing I left out was what Seth had told me about his fight in the bar. I felt that was his secret, not mine.
‘So he knows.’ Emmaline’s face was set in lines I could not ks I this read. I nodded.
‘Well you’ve got balls, Anna. I’ll give you that.’
There was a long silence. I wasn’t sure how to respond to this and eventually said, ‘Er, thanks. What do you think I should do now?’
‘Do?’ She shrugged. ‘What can you do? Nothing. Sit tight and hope to hell he doesn’t spill the beans.’
‘Spill the beans? What, tell someone you mean? Why would he?’
‘More to the point, why wouldn’t he? He doesn’t owe you anything. And he’s bloody angry, by the sound of it.’
‘But who’d believe him? Everyone would think he was mad.’
‘Not everyone.’
‘Oh come on!’
‘I wouldn’t think he was mad, would I? If he came to me.’
‘But you’re a w— you know.’
‘Exactly.’
‘What – you mean other people, other people like us, they might disapprove?’
She gave a tight nod.
‘But why?’ I asked. ‘What’s it to them?’
‘A lot, Anna. Remember how angry Mum was about the storm demon and stuff? It’s not in our interests to have people blundering about, telling our secrets.’
A chill ran through me.
‘What might happen?’ I asked in a small voice. Emmaline took a deep breath and looked over her shoulder.
‘Look, we shouldn’t be talking like this in public. Can you come over to mine?’
‘Yes, of course,’ I said, really wo
rried now.
‘OK, let’s go. I’ll explain when we get there.’
Maya was busy in the shop and only waved as we made our way up the back stairs to the flat. I sat hunched on a stool in the kitchen while Emmaline put on the kettle and stuffed some scones into the toaster. Then she sat down opposite me at the kitchen table, unpacking her school bag. She didn’t seem in a hurry to get back to the topic of Seth, so at last, when we’d both had tea and buttered scones, I said, ‘So, what were you going to tell me, out on the street?’
Emmaline swallowed an k sw
‘Look, please don’t repeat any of this, OK? Mum didn’t want to tell you – she said we weren’t necessarily the best judges and that you had to make up your own mind when the time came. I think she knows something – or perhaps Sienna’s seen something in the future, I don’t know. Whatever it is, they’re not telling me. But I think if you’re going to have a run in with the Ealdwitan you deserve to know as much as possible in advance.’
‘The Ee-ald what?’ I stumbled. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard the word, but somehow I’d never caught it properly, they seemed to skip over it, almost uneasily.
‘The Ealdwitan.’ Emmaline had lowered her voice, though surely it was impossible anyone would overhear us up here. ‘They’re kind of like … a council. They set laws and ensure they’re not broken, and they band together against foreign forces if necessary.’
‘Like a government?’ I said, confused. ‘Or like police, do you mean?’
‘Not like either, really,’ Emmaline said slowly. ‘And yet … I suppose they do have an element of both those things. Imagine the House of Lords, crossed with the Skull and Bones – does that makes any sense?’
‘Not really. What kind of council? Who elects them?’
‘No one. The key posts are supposed to be hereditary – drawn from four or five of the key Families and the rest are appointed. Oh—’ she gave an exclamation of annoyance, ‘I’m not explaining this very well. Look, to understand you need to know a bit about our society – it’s very clannish, and there are a handful of Families who wield a lot of power. Most people have links to one or other of them and they run the Ealdwitan between them. The council seats go to Family heads, and the boring administrative positions are appointed to people who show the right “qualities” – you get tapped on the shoulder at university and invited off for an interview at some secret, backstreet address in London.’
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