Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered (6 page)

‘I am,’ I said. We began walking back up the beach to the road. Brent was nice looking, couldn’t deny, though he wasn’t my type. He was an all-American, clean-cut guy with tousled dark hair, good skin and startlingly white even teeth.

He was fairly short for a man – about 5’9 or 10’ – but he still towered over me.

‘So Esme McLeod,’ he said as we walked. ‘I’ve been in town for about two weeks now. How come today is the first time we’ve met?’

‘I just got here myself,’ I said.

‘So you’re a stranger here too?’ He gave me an eager grin. ‘How are you finding it?’

‘I’m not exactly a stranger,’ I said. ‘I grew up here. My mum runs the café – back there.’ I pointed back the way we’d come.

Brent’s eyes widened.

‘I love that place,’ he said. ‘It’s so cute. And the cakes – wow!’ He patted his very flat stomach. ‘I need to stay away from those.’

His over-enthusiastic response to everything was beginning to grate on me so I was pleased to see the path I needed to take.

‘I have to go,’ I said. ‘Enjoy your run.’

Brent was already bouncing on the spot, ready to jog off. He made me feel weary just looking at him.

‘Nice to meet you Esme McLeod,’ he said over his shoulder as he took off at a cracking pace. ‘See you around.’

Chapter 10

‘Bye Mum!’ I yelled as I shut the front door later that evening ‘Don’t wait up!’

Tucking a bottle of wine under my arm, I headed down the hill to Chloé’s house for dinner. Chloé had ended up living close to where she grew up, round the corner from her parents on the new estate, so the walk to her house felt like old times. It was freezing and the wind flapped my jeans against my legs and blew the rain into my face. I walked along hunched against the weather, looking forward to seeing Chloé again, but nervous about seeing her at home with her husband Rob, their little boy, Olly, and their baby, Matilda. Her home life was very different from my solo evenings in my flat with a bottle of wine and a
Mad Men
box set.

I turned into the new estate where Chloé lived. Her house was on the corner. A small trike lay on its side in the front garden and a muddy Land Rover stood in the drive. It all looked very grown up.

Suddenly nervous, I rang the doorbell. Footsteps thundered down the hallway towards me and I took a step backwards in alarm. Chloé opened the door, a cross, red-faced baby on her hip and a small boy with a wonky fringe and huge, curious brown eyes peeking out at me from behind her knees.

‘A picture of domestic bliss,’ I said, kissing Chloé on the cheek.

‘Not quite,’ she said wryly. ‘Olly, this is Esme. Say hello.’

I bent down and shook Olly’s tiny, slightly damp hand. He regarded me with mild interest.

‘I did a standing-up wee,’ he said solemnly.

‘How lovely,’ I said, standing up again and wiping my hand on my trousers. I was never sure what to say to small children. Olly raced off as Chloé pulled the wine out of my arms and beckoned to the kitchen.

‘Come on Mary Poppins,’ she said. ‘Let’s crack this open.’

I followed her down the hall, its walls covered in photos of the children, and into the kitchen. One end had been extended into a conservatory and the rain pounded noisily on the glass roof. Inside though it was warm and cosy. On the fridge were several of Olly’s drawings and a chart with gold stars on, and something that smelled delicious was bubbling on the hob. It all felt very homely and with a sudden burst of affection I hugged Chloé. She plopped Matilda on to the floor, where she began to wail in self-pity, and hugged me back.

‘This is gorgeous,’ I said over Matilda’s roars. ‘The house, the kids, everything.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘I am lucky. Sometimes it’s hard to remember. But I’m so excited about my new job – it’s just perfect.’

She looked at me slyly.

‘Wasn’t it so weird that it just happened like that,’ she said, opening a drawer in search of a corkscrew. ‘One minute I’m chatting to Suky, the next I’m in the running for the perfect job.’

I took the bottle from her and found the corkscrew. ‘Very weird,’ I said without looking at her.

I poured us both large glasses of wine, stuck what was left of the bottle in the door of the fridge and gave Matilda the cork to play with. She put it into her mouth and sucked happily.

‘So, anyway, how’s Rob’s job going?’

Chloé scowled. ‘Don’t change the subject,’ she said, taking the cork away from Matilda, who howled in rage, and giving her a battered rag doll instead. ‘I saw Harry last week, but she was too busy to chat.’

I rolled my eyes. Harry was always too busy.

Chloé ignored me.

‘So if Harry’s gone again, does that mean you’ve come back to, you know,
help
at the café?’

Chloé was about the only person who knew the truth about my family. We’d been friends for a few years when she stumbled upon my secret. We were fourteen and I was just starting to reject witchcraft – I wanted to be like the girls from school, gossiping about make-up and boys, but instead I felt like I was on the outside of their gang, looking in. Chloé understood how I felt – with her gawky frame and carrot-top hair, she was also a bit of an outsider. We stuck together and I loved having a best friend to hang out with, but I still hated being a witch and avoided using magic whenever possible.

One day, Mum and I were having one of our regular shouting matches. She’d asked me to help out at the café, and I’d refused, telling her I didn’t want to do magic ever again. Like I did every time she asked. I was frustrated at her refusal to understand my feelings and she was hurt by my rejection. It was an explosive combination and tensions were running high.

‘What do you want from me?’ I’d yelled.

‘I want you to love yourself,’ Mum had replied quietly. ‘I want you to accept who you
are.’

I was furious.

‘Like this?’ I whirled round and sent a shower of pink sparks shooting from my fingers to the kitchen radio. It started blaring French pop and Mum winced.

‘Or what about this?’ I sent another sparkly shower to the light switch and the kitchen lights flashed off and on.

Mum tried to speak, but I wouldn’t let her. I shot sparks across the kitchen again and again, turning on appliances, switching off lights and opening and shutting cupboard doors. Then, just as I was about to run out of energy, I spun round and saw Chloé standing open-mouthed at the back door. As I paused, horrified at what she’d seen, Mum did her thing and restored order to the kitchen. Then, without saying a word, she got up from the table and left Chloé and me alone.

I couldn’t speak, so scared was I that I’d cry. Chloé was my best friend and I’d probably lost her forever. We stared at each other for a moment, then Chloé came over to me and looped her arm through mine.

‘Always thought you were a bit peculiar,’ she’d said cheerfully. ‘Shall we go ice skating at the weekend?’

And that was that. No shock, or disbelief. Just a mild, genuine interest and lots of love and support. In fact, Chloé was far more accepting of me, than I was of myself.

Now I looked at her slightly shamefully.

‘I said I’d do a bit,’ I admitted. ‘I’m pretty rusty. I only ever use it to find a parking space or if I’ve made a mess in the kitchen.’

Chloé grinned.

‘You never know Ez,’ she said. ‘You might just discover that you like it.’

Chapter 11

Much later we sat on Chloé’s sofa and chinked our glasses together. The children were asleep, finally, looking like little angels in their beds upstairs, and Chloé’s husband Rob was opening a tub of Häagen-Dazs in the kitchen. I was full, slightly tipsy and for the first time since I’d met Harry in London, I actually felt quite content.

‘Welcome home,’ Chloé      said.

I beamed at her. ‘It’s strange to be back,’ I said honestly. ‘I’m in bits about Suky’s illness and it was horrible to have come back so suddenly.’ I took a slurp of my wine. ‘But it’s actually a relief to have some distance from work and stuff.’

Rob came into the living room balancing three bowls of ice cream precariously. He handed one each to Chloé and me, then sat down on the chair next to us. I looked at him suspiciously. I’d liked Rob immediately. He was a big, blond man with the broad build and crooked nose of a rugby player. Over dinner he’d made me laugh with stories about his work as a police officer in Inverness and I’d warmed to him as I watched him play with the children. Most importantly for me I could see he adored Chloé. He definitely had my approval but even so, I hadn’t expected him to be part of our girly catch-up.

‘What stuff?’ Chloé asked me digging into her ice cream. ‘What do you need distance from? Is it a man? You never mention men in your emails.’

I glanced at Rob. He seemed as eager as Chloé to hear my news and didn’t appear to have any plans to leave. I licked the sweet ice cream off the back of my spoon –it was literally years since I’d eaten anything so indulgent – and smiled ruefully at Chloé.

‘I do have a sort-of boyfriend,’ I admitted. ‘He’s called Dom.’

Chloé squealed. ‘I knew you were being cagey about something,’ she said joyfully. ‘So come on, what’s he like? Where did you meet him?’

I shifted on the sofa, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

‘I met him at work,’ I began. ‘He’s gorgeous. Tall, well-dressed, really handsome.’ I smiled to myself as I thought of Dom, slick in his grey suit, winking sneakily at me in a meeting. Then I thought of him rushing home to meet Rebecca and frowned.

‘He sounds fab,’ Chloé said eagerly. ‘Will he be coming up?’

‘Erm,’ I said. ‘It’s difficult…’

I trailed off. Rob sat forward in his chair.

‘He’s married isn’t he?’

I gasped. ‘How do you know?’

Rob grinned. ‘I’ve interviewed loads of suspects,’ he said, relaxing back into the cushions. ‘You’re rubbish at covering things up.’

I bristled. ‘I am not covering anything up,’ I said haughtily. ‘And I am not a suspect.’ I drained my wine and held my empty glass out for Chloé to refill.

She glugged the remains of the bottle into my glass and scowled at me.

‘How could you, Esme?’ she said. ‘His poor wife. Have you met her?’

‘Never. I don’t really know anything about her. Dom says they got married too young. He says…’

‘She doesn’t understand him,’ Chloé and Rob chorused.

Embarrassed, I averted my eyes from Chloé’s disappointed expression and studied my feet instead. I felt ashamed. Unbelievable as it sounded, I’d never really considered Rebecca’s side of things before. I’d always seen myself as the victim – the person unlucky enough to have fallen for a married man. Suddenly I realised it was Rebecca who was the unlucky one to be married to a man who was cheating.

Chloé put her hand on my arm.

‘Is he going to leave his wife?’ she asked gently.

I shook my head. Suddenly I felt close to tears although I couldn’t understand why.

‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘He says he loves me, but he’s never talked about leaving her.’ I sniffed loudly. ‘I don’t want him to actually. I’m happy with things as they are.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ Rob said. I was definitely starting to dislike him.

‘Rob, be nice.’ Chloé warned.

I smiled at her gratefully.

‘I don’t want Dom to leave Rebecca,’ I said firmly.

‘Are you trying to convince us or yourself?’ Chloé asked. I winced and shrank back into the sofa cushions under her glare.

‘Do you love him?’ asked Rob.

I looked at him, startled.

‘Do you?’ Chloé repeated.

I looked into my glass and swirled the wine up its edges.

‘I don’t know,’ I said quietly. ‘I just don’t know.’

I felt unsettled as I walked back up the hill from Chloé’s. Talking about Dom was so unusual – I’d kept him secret from all my few friends in London and never mentioned him to Mum – that it had felt odd to discuss our relationship. Plus, Chloé and Rob had asked me the questions I knew I should really have asked myself. Did I want Dom to leave Rebecca? Did I love him? I wasn’t sure, I realised as I quietly let myself into the sleeping house and crept up the stairs to my room. And if I wasn’t sure, what did that mean? Did our relationship have no future? Did I really want to spend the rest of my life sharing the man I (possibly) loved?

Longing for reassurance, I pulled out my phone and sent Dom a text.

‘Night darling,’ I typed. ‘Call when U can.’

Straightaway my phone bleeped in reply.

‘Love U,’ Dom sent.

Overjoyed and feeling much better about things, I walked over to the window to shut the curtains. Down below me, on the street, a dark shadow caught my eye. I paused and strained my eyes through the night to see what it was.

‘Strange,’ I said thoughtfully. It was a man, standing still He seemed to be staring at our house though it was hard to tell exactly in the moonlight. I couldn’t decide what to do. In London I’d have grabbed my phone and called the police but things were different here. Maybe it was just a tourist who’d got lost so I didn’t want to be too hasty. I watched from behind the curtain as the man turned and began to walk back down the hill. As he passed under a street lamp he moved his head to look back at our house and I gasped in surprise. It was Brent Portland – the man I’d met on the beach earlier. What was he doing up here so late? There wasn’t much to see up here – it wasn’t a great location for a midnight stroll.

Feeling uneasy, I let the curtain drop and snuggled into bed wondering if there was more to Brent than a nice smile.

Chapter 12

‘What happens if you’re late?’ I asked Suky, turning the ignition key again.

‘They’re not going to turn me away,’ she said. ‘It’s radiotherapy – you don’t need a ticket.’

She was bundled up in the passenger seat wearing a duffle coat like Paddington’s and an enormous furry hat. I turned the key again. This time the battered 2CV Mum and Suky shared made a small noise like a cough and stopped again. There was an expectant pause. Suky looked at me.

‘Go on then,’ she said. ‘I can’t help I’m afraid – even a tiny bit of magic wipes me out at the moment.’