I Put a Spell on You (14 page)

“Ooh, not often,” she said. “Just sometimes on Sunday evenings when we were kids, to get an idea about the coming week…”

“And on Fridays,” Mum said, beginning to giggle. “You know, in case there was something good happening over the weekend. And on Wednesdays, and on Tuesdays…”

Tess was laughing properly now. Esme and I started to chuckle along with her.

“And when you were in India I did it all the time to check up on you,” Tess told Mum.

“But what you didn’t realise was I was doing it in India to keep an eye on you back home,” Mum chuckled.

I watched them laugh, their heads close together and I envied them their closeness. I wished Ez and I were close like that. Feeling prickly suddenly, I spoke a bit too loudly.

“Let’s get on, shall we?” I said. “What do we need to do?”

Mum stood up.

“Candles,” she said, waving her hand with a flourish. Little tealights appeared all around the kitchen, glowing in the gloom of the wintery evening. She waved her hand again at the window and, with a shimmer, the blinds all dropped down, making the room cosy and – most importantly – private.

“And wine,” said Tess. “We can’t do this dry.”

It was her turn to waggle her fingers, as an open bottle of wine appeared on the table in front of us, along with four glasses.

Esme poured and I was glad – my hands were shaking too much to be sure of getting the wine into the glasses without mishap. But despite my nerves, I felt a flicker of excitement. Would this work?

I sat down opposite Esme. Mum and Tess sat together at the head of the table, lighting some long tapering candles and sticking them in the bottom of the bowl with melted wax. The bowl glowed gently and lit up their faces.

Esme exhaled loudly, as though she’d been holding her breath.

“What now?” she whispered.

“Now we watch the smoke,” Tess explained. “And we ask a question.”

She blew out the candles and smoke billowed around the bowl. Mum reached out and took my hand.

“Ask something,” she said. “What do you want to know?”

My mind went blank. I couldn’t think of anything at all. I stared at Esme.

“Why is this happening?” she said in a soft voice. She cleared her throat and spoke louder.

“Why is this happening?” she said, looking up at the ceiling.

“Why are you looking up there?” I whispered.

Esme glared at me.

“I don’t know,” she hissed.

“Girls,” Mum said in a warning tone I remembered from our childhood. She nodded at the bowl, which was filled with swirling smoke.

Slowly, the smoke began oozing out of the bowl into a column above our heads. We all watched, enchanted, as it formed into the shape of a person.

“It’s like that smoke monster in
Lost
,” Esme said in a shaky voice.

“Shhh,” we all said. The smoke person towered above us and gradually its midriff bulged into a pregnant tummy.

I was bewildered.

“We had a pregnant woman tarot card,” I said, watching the smoke. “I don’t understand. Star had trouble getting pregnant and I know she had been desperate for a baby. Could this mean her? It’s a bit vague, though, isn’t it?”

Mum didn’t take her eyes off the figure.

“Sometimes it’s hard to see what it means at first. Ask something else,” she said. “Maybe that will help.”

My mouth had gone dry. I took a swig of wine.

“Who,” I said. “Who is doing this?”

The smoke hovered overhead for a moment, then like a breath it dispersed.

“Oh,” I said, disappointed.

“Wait,” said Tess, putting her hand on my arm. “Watch.”

The smoke was coming together again, forming a rope. It snaked towards Esme then wrapped itself around her, like Jacob Marley’s chains.

Chapter 20

The smoke wrapped itself round Esme’s wrists like handcuffs but I could tell she wasn’t paying attention.

When the smoke formed itself into a pregnant woman a look of horror had crossed her face. Then she frowned and I could tell she was busy working out her dates, before she relaxed once more. Nope, she definitely wasn’t up the duff. She was so transparent – I didn’t even have to poke around in her head to read her mind.

As Mum, Tess and I stared at the smoky pregnant figure and watched it change into chains that wrapped themselves around my oblivious cousin, Esme’s eyes glazed over. I knew she was imagining herself cuddling a rosy-cheeked, sweet-smelling baby, while Jamie looked at her adoringly. Then she flushed and I knew she was thinking about sex. Was she picturing Jamie or Xander? I wondered.

She shifted in her chair, lost in thought, and completely unaware that we were all staring at her, open-mouthed.

“What?” she said.

I looked from her flushed face to the smoky chains that were wrapping around her even tighter.

“What?” Esme said again. Then she looked down and saw the smoke around her body. She gasped and tried to push it away.

“What did you ask?” she said, beginning to panic as the smoke laced round her neck. “Did you ask who was doing this stuff?”

I nodded, my lips tight together because I couldn’t trust myself to speak. I didn’t know if the handcuffs signified Louise, or the pregnant woman meant Star, or if the smoke being wrapped around Esme was showing me she was to blame. My mind whirled madly.

“It’s not me,” Esme said. “Surely you know it’s not me?”

Tess got up and went to her daughter’s side. She crouched down and put her arms round Esme.

“Of course we know it’s not you, sweetheart,” she said. “This isn’t an absolute art. It might just be telling us you know something.”

“I don’t know anything,” Esme said. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t do that kind of magic. It’s out of my league.”

She pulled at the smoke bindings, but she couldn’t grasp them. They looked like they were getting tighter.

“Harry,” she said. “I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but I’d never do anything like this. You know that.”

I didn’t know. All I knew was that my life was falling apart and everything was pointing to the culprit being someone I knew. Someone I trusted. Even someone I loved. I felt sick.

Mum sloshed more wine into our glasses.

“This doesn’t mean you’re responsible,” she said to Esme. “It probably just means this is related to you somehow, but we don’t know how. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

She snapped her fingers and the smoke faded.

“Xander,” I breathed.

“What?” Esme said sharply.

“You were thinking about him,” I said. “Don’t deny it. You were thinking about him when the smoke wrapped round you.”

“No,” she said. “No. I wasn’t.”

“Liar,” I hissed. “You were, admit it.”

Esme looked like she was about to cry.

“Maybe I was thinking about him a bit,” she admitted, looking down at her knees.

Tess pulled Esme closer.

“That doesn’t mean Esme or Xander are responsible,” she pointed out.

But I wasn’t sure.

“I talked myself out of it,” I muttered. “I sat on that beach and I talked myself out of it.”

Esme stared at me.

“You don’t honestly think that Xander’s behind all this?” she said.

Mum and Tess exchanged worried glances.

“Xander has been so good to you,” Esme said, looking straight at me. “He’s looked out for you, he’s protected you – and you treat him like this? You disgust me.”

She pushed her chair back and stood up.

“I’m going to bed,” she said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She kissed her mum briefly on the cheek, drained her wine glass, and flounced out of the kitchen.

Mum, Tess and I watched her go.

“Well,” said Mum, pouring us all more wine. “I think that went well.”

I felt like crying but instead I laughed.

“Oh man,” I said. “Can things get any worse?”

Tess went to the cupboard and pulled out a bowl, then she waved her hand over the top and filled it with posh crisps. Then she did the same with another bowl, but this time filled it with carrot sticks. A little pot of houmous appeared on the table.

“Right,” she said, picking up a crisp and scooping up some houmous. “Tell me everything you know about Xander.”

“There’s not much to tell,” I said, dunking a carrot in the houmous. “I met him at a networking event. He used to work for a hotel. He’s from Dublin…”

“Family?” Mum asked.

“Not really,” I said. “His mum died when he was fifteen or so, and he lived with his grandparents. His granny must have died a while ago, and his grandad passed away just before Christmas.”

“Is he a witch?” Tess asked.

I shook my head.

“Esme’s been teaching him,” I said. Tess raised an eyebrow.

“I know,” I said. “But she was very keen. In fact…”

I wasn’t sure whether to voice my worries about Esme and Xander. Mum leaned forward.

“Go on,” she said.

I made a face. “Xander’s really, really handsome,” I said. “And he’s got that thing – what’s the word? Chutzpah?”

Mum and Tess nodded.

“He’s always got a woman on the go,” I continued, munching on a piece of cauliflower. “But he seems to have a bit of a thing for Esme.”

There was a pause.

“And does she have a thing for him?” said Tess, carefully.

“She won’t talk to me about it,” I admitted. “She’s throwing herself into wedding planning, but I don’t think Jamie’s as involved as he should be and I think she’s spending too much time with Xander.”

Tess and Mum looked at each other again.

“Right, my love,” Mum said. “I think you need to do a bit of digging.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean?” I said. “Digging in his head?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Tess said. “Have a root around, see what you can uncover.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Esme was right before. He’s never done anything to make me think he’s behind all this. He’s perfect. I adore him…”

“And yet,” Mum prompted.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

There was an uncomfortable silence and we all helped ourselves to more houmous.

Eventually Tess spoke.

“What about the pregnant woman?” she said. “That came up in the Tarot reading too, didn’t you say?”

“Yes!” I seized on the idea that perhaps Xander wasn’t to blame after all. “I thought it might mean Star at first because she wanted a baby, but that seems quite removed. And Esme’s not pregnant, and I’m definitely not, so what does that mean?”

Mum looked blank.

“I have no idea,” she said. “Maybe Xander’s got a pregnant wife.”

I laughed, but I didn’t think it was very funny.

“I’m going to go to bed, too,” I said, suddenly exhausted. “Leave it all with me.”

Mum wrapped her arms round me.

“We weren’t much help, were we?” she said, kissing my temple. “We’re here whenever you need us, my darling.”

I gave her a weak grin. “I know,” I said.

Chapter 21

Our journey home the next day was tense and uncomfortable – it felt a million miles from our giggly girly train trip the day before.

We chatted, but we ever so carefully avoided all mention of Xander, and the stuff that had been happening at the spa. Instead we talked about Esme’s dress, and what colour I would wear as a bridesmaid.

“Black,” I said, knowing I was pushing my luck.

“Baby blue,” said Ez, knowing she was pushing hers.

Eventually we compromised on navy and spent the rest of the journey on safe ground as we chatted about long or short, sleeveless or halter-neck.

“Jamie’s playing rugby,” Esme said brusquely, as we arrived at Waverley station. “I’ve got some work to do, so I’m going to go to the office.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’m just going to go home.”

Awkwardly I gave her a kiss on the cheek, my overnight bag banging against my knees.

“See you later,” I said.

I went home, did some yoga, went through some admin for inharmony.com, watched crap telly, ate a bit of chocolate, and generally lay about feeling sorry for myself.

I texted Xander but he didn’t get back to me. Probably with some woman, I grumped to myself.

Jamie came home for about ten minutes, got changed, and went out again, telling me he was meeting Esme for dinner at a pub down the road.

“Come,” he said.

I was pleased he’d asked, because things were still a bit weird between us, but I couldn’t face a night out with him and Ez, so I made a rubbish excuse.

“Erm, that programme’s on,” I said. “The one I like.”

He looked at me, an odd expression on his face, but he didn’t push it.

In the end I went to bed at eight o’clock and slept like a baby, despite all my worries.

Probably because of all my sleep, I felt loads better the next day. I was up and out early, and at the spa before anyone else.

I made sure everything was ready for the day – towels where there should be towels, yoga mats in the studio, a box of tissues in the counselling room – then I went through the accounts, and generally got on top of stuff.

Eventually, at lunchtime, I went to find Xander.

“Got an hour?” I said, in a very casual way. “Fancy grabbing some lunch?”

We went to a little deli that was close to the spa. Xander ordered an enormous chunk of focaccia filled with chicken and avocado. I opted for soup and stared at him in envy.

“How are you not the size of a house?” I said as he filled his face.

“I do a lot of exercise,” he said with a wink.

I grimaced.

“I don’t even want to think about what sort of exercise you mean,” I said. I was pleased we had fallen into our usual easy banter – it would make rooting around in his head much simpler.

“How was your weekend,” I asked. Xander began telling me about a band he’d been to see, and I zoned out of the conversation and instead opened the witchy part of my mind. Normally I loved having a listen to people’s thoughts but this was different. This was listening in order to catch him out. Because I suspected he wasn’t who he said he was.

I laughed because Xander was laughing. He was so lovely, I thought, watching him demolish his huge sandwich. With his curls and his dark skin and lovely eyes. And more important than his good looks was the fact that he was always, always, on my side.