A Witch in Love (9 page)

‘Not yet. Mum’s not up. Do you want me to? Hang on …’ I heard creaking and rustlings and imagined him heaving himself out of bed, slinging on a towel and padding down the corridor to the living room. ‘Where is it … ? Mum’s moved everything around. OK, I’ve got it. God, you’ve done the tape tight. I’ll have to put the phone down.’ There was a clunk and I heard the sound of ripping paper and swearing as Seth tried to tear through the tough tape. I heard a gasp as he recognized the logo of the ship’s chandler, and then the box tearing, and the phone was snatched up.

‘Anna! Oh, Anna, you shouldn’t have.’

‘Do you like it?’

‘Like it? I love it – it’s so beautiful. How did you know?’

‘How did I know?’ I had to laugh. ‘Seth, you’ve been going on about needing a new ship’s compass for weeks!’

‘Yes but I never thought … the cost … Oh, Anna, sweetheart. I thought you’d get me some useless old shirt or something. This is … Oh, I love you.’

‘Oh, Seth,’ I shut my eyes, half faint with longing to hold him, kiss him. Instead I drew a breath. ‘Anyway, it’s completely selfish. This way, you’ll always be able to find your way back to me.’

‘I love you.’ His voice shook. ‘And you know, you know I’ll always come back. No matter what.’

‘I know. I love you too. Merry Christmas.’

I put down the phone and stood, looking down at the smoky depths of the stone. It was extraordinarily beautiful, filled with dark swirls of grey and deep amethyst, smoothed and misted by the rough sea. Then a voice behind me made me jump.

‘Up already?’

‘Morning, Dad. Merry Christmas.’

‘Merry Christmas, sweetie. Come and huddle by the Aga. You can help toast the brioche for breakfast.’

‘What a perfect Christmas.’ Rick lay down on the hearth rug in front of the roaring log fire and stretched like a cat. ‘Good food, good wine, good friends and snow to boot. What more could you ask?’

‘Good food indeed.’ Lorna groaned. ‘That goose was divine, Tom. I think I may have done myself serious harm.’

‘Well, for the last time, Merry Christmas, everyone.’ Dad raised his glass around the group, a pleased, food-sated smile on his tired face. ‘And now, if you don’t mind, I think I might have a little snoozle.’

‘I need to walk off some of that benighted bird.’ Ben got up and stretched so hard his joints cracked. ‘Anyone want to join me?’

There were groans and shakes of heads around the group. I was about to shake my head as well – then suddenly I realized: it was nearly six p.m. and they were leaving the next morning. This was it; this was my chance to ask him about my mum.

‘Yes, I’ll come,’ I heard myself saying. ‘Let me find my wellies and a torch.’

The sun had set long since and we stumbled through Wicker Wood with our torches always just failing to show up the side-swiping brambles, and then out on to the cliff road. Here it was quite different, the moon was nearly full, and the snow reflected every scrap of its light so that the landscape was eerily bright. We walked to the cliff edge through the shirring snow and looked out across the sea, the moon trailing a path of light across the slow, dark swell. And all the time I was trying to think up a way to bring up the subject of my mum – and failing.

‘You’re very lucky,’ Ben said as we watched the moonlight shimmer on the dark waves. ‘Living somewhere like this, I mean. Winter’s beautiful.’

‘Yes, it is. I am lucky.’

‘Do you miss London?’

‘Yes, in some ways. Horribly at first, but now … well, Winter’s home, you know? I still miss all my London friends and everything, but it seems a long way away.’

‘I can imagine,’ Ben said quietly. ‘It does seem a long way away, especially on a night like this.’

We watched as the lighthouse beam made a slow sweep of the bay, and I thought of Bran, and wondered how Seth was doing. By some telepathic link Ben added teasingly, ‘And you’ve got your boy, of course …’

I smiled into the darkness. ‘Yes, I’ve got my boy.’

‘He sounds nice.’

‘He is. He’s lovely.’

‘What did he get you for Christmas then? I notice you were very quiet about his present – I can only assume he either forgot or got you something too kinky for your old dad’s heart to bear up?’

‘No, he didn’t forget and it wasn’t kinky. Here.’ I pulled off my glove and held out my hand. The seaglass ring was turned inwards to the palm on my right ring finger. Ben took my hand in his mitten, twisting the ring outwards, and gave a sigh.

‘What a very lovely thing. What’s the stone?’

‘It’s glass. Seaglass. Seth found it and had the ring set round it. He does a lot of sailing.’

‘Hmm, I see. All the nice girls love a sailor, or so they say.’ He held my hand, still looking down at the seaglass, which glowed with a quiet luminescence borrowed from the moonlight. ‘Well, I may not have met the man, but based on his taste – by which I mean his choice of this ring and more importantly of
you
, dear little Anna – I’m prepared to like him.’

‘You would like him, I think,’ I said. Then I laughed. ‘Well, you’d like the way he looks, if nothing else.’

‘Oh really? Little Anna’s snagged herself a looker, has she?’ Ben laughed too.

‘Yes, he’s absolutely out of my league; I still have to pinch myself to believe that we’re together.’

‘Hey, hey.’ Ben squeezed my hand. ‘I won’t have that sort of talk. There aren’t many girls who can match up to you on a good day, missy.’

‘Thank you, Ben.’ I stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. Then silence fell, a silence broken only by the pounding of the waves on the beach and the pounding of my heart as I tried to think of a way to bring the conversation round to my mum. How? How to bring up a subject dormant for nearly eighteen years?

‘Ben …’ I said hesitantly.

‘Yes?’

‘Ben, I …’ I stopped, my stomach sick with indecision. I felt as if I were standing on the edge of a cliff, trying to screw up the courage to dive. Ben turned me to face him, studying my expression in the moonlight.

‘What is it? Come on, spit it out. There’s been something on the tip of your tongue since we left the house, hasn’t there? Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. Let’s see … Pregnant? STI? Secret piercing in an embarrassing location that’s going to set off the metal detectors on your next holiday?’

‘No, you idiot!’ I was laughing now, in spite of myself. ‘None of those. No it’s …’ I steeled myself for the plunge. ‘Ben, did you know my mum?’

‘Oh.’ He looked down at his mittens, flexing and unflexing the fingers inside the sheepskin. ‘Do you know, I’ve been waiting for that question for a few years now. Yes, I knew her. But you know, you have to ask your dad the things you really want to know.’

‘I
have
asked him, Ben! I’ve asked and asked, and nothing. Don’t you think I have a right to know about her?’

‘Yes, I do.’ He stopped and bit his lip, his brow furrowed in indecision. Then he took a deep breath and looked out to the quiet sea. ‘But your dad has a right to his reasons too.’

‘What are they? Can you tell me that at least?’

‘What are any of our reasons? Love, cowardice, a reluctance to probe where it hurts, a desire to protect …’

‘Protect who? My mum? She’s gone, Ben! Himself?’

‘Himself, maybe. But mostly you, I think, Anna.’

‘Me? Protect … me?’

Ben nodded, his face troubled.

‘Yes. Perhaps he’s waiting until you’re ready.’

‘Ready for what? And when will that be? For God’s sake, Ben, this is killing me. I need to know; I
deserve
to know.’

‘Look, there are some things I can’t … I won’t tread on Tom’s toes. But maybe – well, ask me your questions and if I can answer them I’ll tell you.’

I gulped. So. This was it. What did I really want to know? Why did she leave? Did she ever love us? Was she a bad person? All of those. Most importantly, was she the person who took away my magic, and if so why, what did she fear about me? But I couldn’t ask Ben that – and anyway, perhaps it was better to ask something I could bear to hear.

‘What did she look like?’

‘Oh!’ Ben laughed as if he’d been expecting something more difficult. ‘Lovely. Very lovely. A lot like you. Dark hair, intense eyes, skin like cream and cochineal. Yes, Isla was lovely.’

‘Like me?’ I whispered. He nodded, his eyes full of compassion.

‘Yes, sweetie, a lot like you.’

‘And … what was she like?’

‘Very clever, very opinionated, very funny. Very lovely too. Even … even at the end, when things were worst.’

‘What things?’ I asked, hardly daring to breathe. ‘Ben? What was so bad?’

‘Anna …’ He took a step forward and took my hand. ‘Isla was ill, you have to remember that. She—’

‘Ben!’ A furious roar made us both jump and turn towards where the darkness of the wood was suddenly pierced by the beam of a torch. A shadowy figure was coming towards us, stamping across the snow.

‘Tom …’ Ben held up his hands placatingly. ‘Tom, I wasn’t saying anything …’

‘Really? What was that I just heard then? Figment of my imagination? Voices in my head, or hadn’t you got that far?’ Dad was spittingly angry. I had never seen him so furious.

‘Tom, I hadn’t said anything about that.’

‘Good, because it’s
none of your damn business
,’ Dad hissed.

‘No, but it’s Anna’s business.’

‘Anna’s business is my business.’

‘She needs to know sooner or later.’

‘And I will tell her – but when
I
decide, not when some drunken arsehole blurts it all out.’

‘Tom, please. Be reasonable. She’s seventeen!’

‘She’s too young.’

‘She’s old enough to understand.’

‘Understand? I’m not sure
I
understand, even after all these years. And I’m sure as hell that
you
don’t understand, you interfering tosser. Anna’s a child, how can a child—?’

Suddenly I’d had enough. Rage boiled up inside me.

‘I am
here
, you know!’

Both of them turned to look at me, their faces blank with surprise. I truly think they’d both forgotten.

‘Anna …’ Dad put out a hand.

‘Get off me!’ I took a step back. ‘I’m sick of being treated like a kid. I’m not a child. If you knew what I’d had to deal with this past year …’ I stopped, too full of anger to form the words. Fury choked me at the thought of it all and I couldn’t speak.

‘I know,’ Dad said. ‘I know it’s been hard.’ His face twisted with pain.

‘You
don’t
know. You don’t know anything about me – but you know what’s worse?
I
don’t know anything about me, because
you
won’t tell me. Who am I? Mum is half of me – I need to know who I am!’

‘Please, Anna,
please
don’t do this.’ Dad’s face looked like a man on the rack, deep lines of pain etched into his face.

‘Tell me,’ I said, and I put all my power behind the words. Dad groaned, a sound of physical pain.

‘I c-can’t.’

‘
Tell me!
’

‘No…Oh God…’ Dad moaned, and he fell to his knees in the snow, forced down by the strength of my witchcraft.

Suddenly I was horrified. What was I doing? Breaking and battering my dad like a ragdoll? Was this what my mum would have wanted?

I put my hands to my mouth and dropped to my knees beside Dad.

‘Dad, oh, Dad, I’m so sorry. Are you OK?’

He was shaking his head dully, like a man with water in his ears. Then he straightened painfully and put a hand on my shoulder, trying to stand.

‘I’m OK … funny turn … too much goose maybe.’ He gave a hoarse, shaky laugh. I looked at him and, suddenly, in the lines of pain in his face I saw … something. A flicker. Nothing more. But it was there. Enchantment. So deeply buried it was barely perceptible, but the magic was strong. Now I’d noticed it I could see it more clearly, woven through and through, weft and warp, until it was a part of the very fabric of his soul. Something was binding him, binding his will, and had done for so long that it had grown to be a part of his psyche.

‘I can’t tell you, Anna,’ he said. ‘Not yet. But I will, I promise. Just – just give me a little time, will you?’

‘OK.’ I was too stunned by the realization of Dad’s enchantment to argue much more. Who’d done this to him – my mother? How?
Why?
The ground seemed to shift beneath my feet. ‘OK. I won’t ask again. But please, Dad, soon.’

‘Soon.’ He nodded and took my warm hand in his cold one, putting them both in his coat pocket together, as he used to when I was little and my hands were the cold ones.

‘Ready for some mulled wine, Anna?’ Dad asked. I nodded and Dad turned to Ben with a rueful, half-apologetic smile. ‘Ben? I think we could both use a drink.’