The Language of Spells (23 page)

‘Spring cleaning,’ Cam said smoothly. ‘Please take a seat.’

Gwen raised a hand in goodbye, then slipped away.

By eleven-thirty on Friday, Gwen had had four visitors to her back door. Amanda had come round for a cup of tea and spent half an hour wandering around the house, pointing out building jobs that needed doing. A woman Gwen vaguely recognised from the post office dropped off a gardenia in a zinc pot as an early Christmas gift. There was a brown luggage label attached which said: ‘In loving memory of Iris and everything she did for my family’. Fred Byres wanted to know if Gwen had baked any more fruit cake, because it had done his chilblains ‘the power of good’. Gwen gave him the salve she’d made the week before, feeling guilty that she’d forgotten about it. He squinted at the small jar, looking less than thrilled. ‘Are you going to make some more of that cake, though?’

‘Sure,’ Gwen said, trying not to be offended. She’d looked up that bloody ointment recipe for him, spent time making it. Okay, so then she’d forgotten all about him when her own problems stepped in, but still.

‘Just what’s needed in this weather,’ Fred was saying. ‘I like to have it with hot tea. Is that right, do you think?’

It occurred to her that the actual item she gave Fred might not make any difference. The act of being cared for – even in this tiny way – was enough of a balm. In an instant she saw how alone he was, how lost without his wife.

‘I’ll drop one round,’ she said, and was rewarded with a brief smile.

Finally, Marilyn Dixon blew into the kitchen like a force of nature. ‘I can’t stop, just came to see if you’ve got any old glass jars.’

‘I do, actually. Iris left boxes of the things,’ Gwen said.

‘Wonderful! I’m making pickles.’

‘What happened to the aromatherapy?’

‘That…’ Marilyn waved a hand dismissively. ‘You can’t eat smells. I’m making pickles, chutneys and relishes.’

Marilyn did look a little less angular than before. Healthier. It suited her.

‘I’ve brought you some tomato, lime and chilli jam. To say thank you.’

‘There was no need—’

‘And I wanted to make sure we were square. No debts. No favours.’

‘Of course!’

‘Good,’ Marilyn said robustly. ‘Brian hates spicy food, you know. Said it made him feel odd.’ Marilyn’s face clouded for a moment.

‘How are you doing?’ Gwen said. It was hard not to notice that Marilyn seemed edgy. Wary. In fact, she was practically backing towards the door.

‘Fine, fine.’ Marilyn shrugged. ‘I don’t really like sleeping alone, but no doubt I’ll get used to that.’

‘I heard Brian moved into a flat in Trowbridge.’

Marilyn was at the door, but she hesitated. ‘It’s horrible. I looked it up online. It says it’s got one bedroom, but it’s barely more than a studio. All he can afford on his salary.’ Marilyn leaned forward. ‘He hadn’t had a pay rise in five years, you know.’

Her tone was so spiteful that Gwen felt a spark of sympathy for Brian. She went to fetch a box of jars and loaded them into the back of Marilyn’s car.

‘I saw that piece in the paper,’ Marilyn said. She reached into the front seat of the car and produced Iris’s herbalism book. ‘I’ve brought the plant book back. I don’t want anything to do with that kind of thing.’

‘Probably for the best,’ Gwen said weakly, taking the book from her. ‘I’ve never hurt anyone, you know,’ Gwen said. ‘No matter what you might hear.’

‘Got to run,’ Marilyn said. ‘I’m going to yoga at one.’

‘Not you, too,’ Gwen said.

‘Pardon?’

‘Nothing.’ Gwen waved her on. ‘Enjoy!’

Gwen decided to get out of the house before she could have any more visitors. She walked to the Red Lion for lunch. Bob would calm her down; he was always reassuringly prosaic. And there was nothing like a man who fed you.

The fires were lit at the pub and the murmur of chat and clink of glasses instantly made Gwen feel happier. She headed for the bar to wait for Bob, then glanced through to the back room and froze. Cam and Harry were sitting at a table and they weren’t alone. Two women, with identical honey-coloured hair and expensive soft-looking leather bags at their feet, were with them.

Was he on a date?
Gwen felt sick.

‘All right, Gwennie.’ Bob appeared in front of her. ‘I’ve been on my feet all day. All these bloody punters.’

Gwen smiled at Bob and ordered a drink. She pretended that she hadn’t noticed Cam and Harry. It was none of her business.
He’s free to have lunch with whoever he likes
. Her stomach swooped even lower.

Bob moved, mercifully blocking her view. ‘Did you see my camper?’

Gwen shook her head.

‘I got a respray. Blue.’

‘Nice,’ Gwen said, not paying attention.

‘With flames going up the sides.’

‘Cool,’ Gwen said. Bob was leaning on the bar and she caught a glimpse of one of the women. She had a good profile. And she probably had normality stamped all the way through her, like a stick of rock. Gwen tried hard not to hate her.

‘And I’ve mounted a live crocodile on the front as a peasant-clearer.’

‘Nice,’ Gwen said.

‘You’re not really interested, are you?’ The hurt in Bob’s tone snapped Gwen to attention. ‘Crocodile?’ She peered at Bob’s wide sun-tanned face.

‘Cam’s in the back if you’d rather talk to him.’ Bob smiled to soften his huffiness. ‘He’s prettier than me.’

‘Sorry.’ Gwen put a hand on his arm. ‘I’m distracted.’

‘I’ll say.’ Bob leaned over and whispered in her ear, ‘If it helps, he looks fucking miserable.’

Gwen smiled. ‘It really does. Thanks.’

Bob moved back. ‘Now, you coming to look at my van, or not?’

‘Lead the way.’ Bob lifted the hatch and Gwen ducked through.

‘Louise!’ Bob called to the back, where his part-time staff member was clearing tables. ‘I’m going out back with Gwen.’

Gwen saw Cam’s head jerk up. He twisted in his seat and Gwen waved before following Bob. Cam’s expression had been the Master of the Universe one, but she thought she’d seen momentary concern in his eyes and she felt incredibly cheered.

After admiring Bob’s van, Gwen walked back through the pub, determined to say a cheery ‘hello’ to Cam and Harry and then get the hell out of there.

‘Join us.’ Cam stood up. He’d already pulled up another chair ready.

‘Hey, Gwen,’ Harry said, smiling. ‘Have you met Felicity and Jemima?’

‘No. Hi,’ Gwen said. ‘I don’t want to intrude.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ Harry said. ‘You can help settle a debate. Is sushi disgusting or delicious?’

‘Veggie sushi is delicious. I haven’t tried the other kind.’ Gwen sat down, stuffing her bag under the table.

‘You can’t have vegetarian sushi,’ Jemima said. ‘That defeats the entire purpose.’

‘Well, the sushi bit only refers to the rice,’ Cam said. ‘So—’

‘Cameron,’ Felicity was looking at him with an irritated expression, ‘we were talking about Christmas Eve.’

‘I like salmon rolls,’ Cam said. ‘What about you, Harry?’

Felicity sighed. ‘Can you tell your mother that I won’t be able to make her bash this year?’

‘Of course, no problem.’ Cam seemed determined not to look at Gwen.

‘Alex and I are going away for Christmas,’ Felicity said. ‘Skiing.’

‘It won’t be the same without you,’ Jemima said. ‘I’ll be so bored. No offence,’ she said to Cam.

‘None taken,’ he said.

‘Did I see you at last year’s?’ Felicity asked Gwen. ‘You look familiar.’ She was smiling warmly and obviously trying to include Gwen in the conversation. Gwen tried to smile back. ‘No. I’ve never been.’
I’ve never been invited
.

‘You’re not missing much,’ Felicity said. ‘Honestly, Cam, do you remember that one when we were ten or something? And my uncle hadn’t realised you can’t mix certain antibiotics with alcohol? My God, he puked everywhere. All over the buffet table, in the punch bowl, everywhere. I’ve never seen your mother go so white.’

Cam smiled. ‘As I remember it, she was waving a ladle. I thought she was going to hit him over the head with it.’

Harry stood up and drained the last of his pint.

‘You’re not leaving already?’ Cam said, looking up.

‘I’m a very busy man.’

‘No, you’re not. What is it this time?
Assassin’s Creed
?’ Cam addressed the others. ‘Harry develops regular crushes on computer games.’

‘I couldn’t possibly say.’ Harry raised a hand. ‘See you later.’

‘I can’t believe you’re blowing me off for a game,’ Cam said.

‘There’s more to life than sitting in the pub with you,’ Harry said, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

‘Take that back,’ Cam said.

‘We’d better get going, too,’ Jemima said. ‘It was lovely to catch up, Cameron. You work too hard.’ She gave Gwen a thin smile without any warmth. ‘Nice to meet you, Jane.’

Felicity nudged her. ‘Don’t be a bitch.’ She leaned over and kissed Cam on the cheek. ‘She’s always like this around you. Can’t get over us not getting married.’

‘You two were engaged?’ Gwen felt as if the air in the room had suddenly disappeared.

‘Back in primary school, perhaps.’ Felicity laughed. ‘But now I’m going to marry lovely, lovely Alex. He’s a city boy, but he’s a total sweetheart. Not a dickhead at all.’

Jemima was gathering her bag and coat. ‘Your poor mother won’t take that very well, will she, Cam? She’s always adored Flick, hasn’t she?’

‘She’ll survive,’ Cam said, giving Jemima a cold stare.

Katie watched her dad scrape the windscreen of the car while her mum sat in the front seat, her mobile held up to her ear. It took them a couple of attempts to get out of the driveway, the wheels spinning on the icy ground, and Katie watched until the car was out of sight before collecting her supplies. In the past she would’ve loved her mum or dad to walk in and find her sprinkling herbs into bowls and lighting candles, but that was back then, back in what she now considered to be her childish phase. Back when she thought it was all a joke, something to wind her mum up. She’d enjoyed hiding stuff around her room, like her notebook with ‘spells’ written on the front, so that her mum would have a nasty shock if she went snooping. It would serve her right.

Katie wasn’t playing any more.

After she’d read Imogen’s cards, it was like a tap had been turned on; power just seemed to be running through her. She’d been sitting in geography, staring at the back of Luke’s head, willing him to turn around
and he had
. It was like Gwen said: intention was everything. Intention had power.

Katie got down onto the floor and pulled out the bottom drawer of her bedside chest. There was a space on the floor at the back and she retrieved the Hello Kitty tin which contained her supplies. Nothing very incriminating, unless you knew what you were looking for and Katie was pretty certain that her mother knew nothing at all.

Getting Luke’s hair had been the most difficult part. She’d walked past him so many times, trying to get up the nerve, had even pretended to pluck fluff off his jumper when she thought she saw a hair, but it turned out to be a long blonde one and definitely not his. In the end, she’d enlisted Imogen’s help. She’d come up with a crappy story about wanting to put it into a silver locket to wear ‘close to her heart’. Vomit. Imogen had accepted it, though, and in her confident, pretty way had simply tousled his hair as she’d walked past at lunchtime that same day, pretending that her hand was stuck in his hair gel and making everyone laugh.

Now she had a couple of brown hairs, a couple of inches long and the exact shade of Luke Taylor’s beautiful fringe. At least she hoped so; she didn’t want to end up with some random guy in love with her. Although that wouldn’t be so bad. Any guy in love with her would be a huge step forward.

She dropped the hair into the mixing bowl, added the dried sage she’d got from the kitchen, and picked up the darning needle. This was it. The sticking point. Katie was not a fan of needles or blood. Or pain, for that matter. She told herself it was a test of her feelings. If she was willing to do this for Luke, then she would deserve him. Be worthy. And didn’t they always go on about love and suffering in English class? Maybe there was something in it.

After a couple of false attempts, where she succeeded in first lightly denting her finger pad and then scraping the first couple of layers of skin, Katie struck gold. Well, blood. Squeezing the drops out hurt more than she expected, the end of her finger throbbing, but then it was done. She sat back on her heels and lit a match, watching it burn towards her fingertips before dropping it into the bowl. Blood, hair and herbs sizzled instantly, a rank smell escaping. Katie breathed it in, working on instinct and repeating her request over and over in her mind.

Katie was rinsing the bowl in the sink when her phone beeped. A text message from an unknown number.

hi k luke here. U ok?

Katie let out a whoop. Magic was awesome.

20
^th
August

Money truly means nothing when you don’t have your health. I visited Robert Laing today at his request. We’ve never moved in the same circles, but that doesn’t mean anything at a time like this. The cancer is in his stomach. I said I’d visit him every week – every day at the end. There isn’t much I can do, but sometimes just being there is all that is left. Someone has to bear witness and it’s often too hard on those closest to the patient. Of course, Robert Laing has the misfortune to be married to a human icicle. No doubt his soul isn’t exactly clean, but that is harsh punishment enough without filling his belly with vile shadow too.

14
^th
September

The days with Robert are mixed. He has lost his awkwardness with me and talks and talks. He’s weak, but restless. He’s an intelligent man and has lived an interesting life. Morally ambiguous, true, but interesting. I’m learning all kinds of new things. He insists on maintaining a façade in front of his son, which I quite understand, and in front of his wife, which seems almost sad. It’s a good thing I am not a sentimental woman. He told me today that he wished he’d worked less, enjoyed the small things more. Not a startlingly original deathbed realisation, I grant you, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

7
^th
October

If there is one thing you can say about Robert Laing, he has been remarkably efficient. Or, at least, his illness has. He’s into his final twenty-four hours of life and when I told him, he smiled for the first time in ten days. The pain is intolerable, and beyond anything I can do. I tried to tell Elaine that the end was near, but she took against me. I don’t blame her. The woman was born with too little sense to balance her lack of humanity and, truly, this is a test that even the finest people fail. I take what pain I can and come home exhausted, but I know I leave far too much behind. My toenails are falling off in protest; every step hurts and, I will admit it here where no one can hear me, tonight I cursed Robert Laing’s name. Selfish, but there it is.

I’ll soak my feet for a little while, and drink some whisky before I go back. I can help so I must.

Katie stood in the doorway to the lounge, not sure whether to go in or not. Ruby was lying on the sofa with a box of tissues balanced on her stomach and tears streaming down her face. Katie glanced at the television, expecting a Meg Ryan film to be playing. It was off.

‘Are you okay?’

Ruby nodded, swiping at her cheeks with her hands. ‘Just thinking.’

‘About what?’ Katie perched on the arm of the sofa beside her mother’s feet and waited to be fobbed off with a non-reply.

‘Just thinking about your gran.’ Ruby blew her nose into a tissue and folded it up neatly as she spoke. ‘And your grandad. And your father and what might’ve happened if he hadn’t been so brilliant.’

‘When you got up the duff with me?’

Ruby gave a watery smile. ‘What a lovely way of putting it. Yes. That.’

‘But why are you crying? Aren’t you happy that you got married?’ Katie was going to say
and had me
, but she chickened out.

‘I’m really happy…’ Her voice caught and she tried again. ‘I’m so happy with your father and with you, I’m very lucky and it’s just hit me that Gloria – your gran – wasn’t so lucky.’

Katie frowned. ‘But she had you and Auntie Gwen.’

‘But she had to bring us up on her own. I’ve been pretty hard on her, that’s all. I feel a bit bad.’

‘I don’t remember her very well,’ Katie said. ‘I know you didn’t get on. And that she drove your dad away. Made it so he couldn’t visit. Never told him where you were and moved around loads.’

‘What?’ Ruby looked surprised.

Katie looked at her hands. ‘I heard you say that to Dad once.’

Ruby sat up, dislodging the box of tissues. She reached out as if she was going to take Katie’s hand, but then moved it back, taking a Kleenex instead and blowing her nose.

‘I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘If it’s true—’

‘I have no idea,’ Ruby said shortly. ‘And I can’t exactly call Gloria up and ask her.’

‘Why not?’

‘We don’t have that kind of relationship,’ Ruby said. ‘Anyway, I don’t think I should let my dad off the hook so easily. He was a grown man. He could’ve stayed or visited or written to me.’

‘Maybe we could go and visit Gran. In Oz.’

Her mother looked suddenly very tense and Katie wished she could reach out and take the words back. Instead she said, ‘It’s a long way, though. Expensive.’ Katie stood up. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

Her mother raised her eyebrows, looking more like herself.

‘What?’ Katie said, putting a hand on her hip. ‘I make tea.’

‘This I have to see.’

Katie walked to the kitchen with her mother trailing behind. At the door, Ruby grabbed her suddenly in an unexpected hug. Katie stiffened for a moment and then hugged her back.

Gwen stood between twin stone lions and rang the doorbell, fighting the overwhelming sensation of being eighteen all over again.

Elaine Laing’s maid answered the door and led the way through a tiled hall and into a pale and elegant sitting room. Elaine, looking identically pale and elegant, rose from her perch on a delicate green chair, and greeted Gwen.

‘Please, sit.’

Gwen had heard warmer tones from the self-service tills in Tesco, but she chose the sturdiest-looking chair and sat down.

‘Would you like some tea?’

‘No, thank you, I’m fine.’

Gwen swallowed, trying to formulate the right words. Elaine saved her the trouble by launching in. ‘I’m glad you’ve come, actually. There’s something I’ve been meaning to speak to you about.’

‘Okay,’ Gwen said. She had a feeling she knew where this was going.

‘It’s a little delicate,’ Elaine said.

‘You want me to stop seeing Cam.’ Gwen decided to cut to the chase. This visit was going to be hard enough without dragging things out.

Elaine’s lips twitched. ‘Precisely.’

‘I think we’ve been here before.’

‘I’m not saying you have to leave town this time.’ Elaine paused. ‘Unless you wanted to, that is.’

‘I’m very happy here,’ Gwen said stiffly. ‘It feels like home.’

‘Of course it does,’ Elaine said. ‘It would be expensive to move, too, I’m sure. I’d be happy to help with the costs.’

‘You want to give me money for moving?’

Elaine shrugged imperceptibly. ‘Or not. It’s your choice.’

‘I can’t believe this.’ Gwen sat back in her chair. She’d been prepared for a chilly welcome, but this was ridiculous.

‘Don’t take it personally.’ Elaine leaned forward and, for a moment, Gwen thought she was going to reach out and pat her hand. ‘This is just business.’

‘It’s kind of hard not to take it personally.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Elaine said, not sounding it. ‘But, really, it’s not as if you two are serious.’

‘I remember that line from last time. You might want to get some new material.’

‘This isn’t a joke.’ Elaine pursed her lips. ‘I am aware that I am interfering and I’m also aware that my son will not be pleased that I am interfering. I know that my actions might seem extreme or overly controlling—’

‘Now, who could possibly think that?’

‘But they come from the heart. I want the best for him.’

‘And I’m not the best thing for him?’

‘It’s not personal, dear. It’s not about your qualities as an individual.’ Elaine looked distinctly unsure about this. ‘Cam wants the firm to be a success and I’m sure you want that too. For him.’

‘I want Cam to be happy,’ Gwen said.

‘Wonderful. Then you agree. A fresh start. You’ll like that.’

‘I don’t see what is so bad about Cam being with me. Why would that affect the business? And don’t say reputation—’

‘But that’s what it comes down to. People might find your work – diverting – some people might even want to avail themselves of your services, but don’t ever mistake that for liking you.’

Gwen wasn’t going to get into a discussion about services she might or might not be providing to people. It was none of Elaine Laing’s business and countering ‘making potions’ with ‘finding lost things’ probably wasn’t going to be very convincing. Instead she said, ‘What has liking got to do with providing legal services? If you want people to like you, I’ve got to say being a lawyer is not the way forward.’

‘People trust us, though. You can dislike your lawyer, but you’ve got to trust him.’

Gwen shook her head. ‘I still don’t see what this has to do with Cam’s private relationship with me. It’s not like I’m a criminal.’

Elaine folded her hands neatly in her lap. ‘I am not going to discuss your merits as a person. This is not about you; this is about your family’s unfortunate reputation which, sadly, you are clothed in.’

‘So this isn’t because you hate me, but because you hated my aunt.’

Elaine stiffened. ‘I didn’t even know your aunt.’

‘That’s a lie.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘It’s okay. I understand, but it’s a lie and we both know it’s a lie, so can we move on?’

Elaine’s face twisted, and Gwen caught a glimpse of the anger and pain contained within Elaine’s pastel twin-set. It wasn’t pretty. ‘Iris was a witch,’ Elaine said. ‘She was an embarrassment to the community, a liability to the firm.’

‘So you’ve decided that I can’t live in End House. Because I’m related to her.’

‘You can live wherever you choose.’ Elaine’s eyes darted left as she spoke. ‘I just thought you might be more comfortable in a less quiet town. Somewhere more bohemian.’

‘But you want me out of my aunt’s house?’ The flicker of guilt behind Elaine’s eyes made Gwen realise something: Elaine had stolen the title deeds to End House. Right from the beginning, she’d wanted to get rid of her. She’d taken out insurance in case she couldn’t simply order her away like last time. Gwen hadn’t even been given a chance. ‘I know you took the title deeds,’ she said, letting the anger show in her voice.

Elaine froze, her tea cup suspended halfway to her mouth.

‘They weren’t in the file when I picked up the keys, but I didn’t really think about it until now.’

Elaine replaced the cup onto the saucer. The gentle chime of china on china rang in the sudden silence. ‘That is a very serious allegation.’

Elaine had gone very pale, and a part of Gwen almost felt sorry for her. Almost. ‘I understand that you don’t want me around and I understand that you’re desperate to protect Cam.’ Gwen took a deep breath. ‘I want to clear the air between us and, to be honest, I’ve got enough problems without worrying about you and whatever you’re planning.’

Elaine licked her lips. ‘I’m sure that we can come to some kind of arrangement. There must be something you want.’

‘I’m not leaving this time. I love it here and I love your son.’ Gwen swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. ‘I’m not running away and I’m not Iris. I don’t know why you hated her so much, but I’m not my great-aunt. I’m not your enemy.’

Elaine looked at the floor. She was silent for so long that Gwen was beginning to wonder if this was Elaine’s way of dismissing her from the room.

Finally, she looked up. ‘It was her fault.’ Elaine was squeezing words out from behind clenched teeth. Her face was a horror mask. ‘It was her fault he died.’

‘Who? Mr Laing?’

‘Cameron’s father,’ Elaine said. ‘It was Iris Harper’s fault.’ She reached into the pocket of her cardigan and produced a handkerchief.

‘What happened?’ Gwen said. ‘I know he was very ill.’

‘Stomach cancer.’ Elaine dabbed at her eyes.

‘And Iris visited him, didn’t she?’

‘She said she could help. He trusted her.’

‘Did she say she could cure him?’

Elaine’s face twisted again. ‘No.’

‘And what did your husband say?’ Gwen felt it was important, suddenly, to make Elaine understand; Iris hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d done her best to help.

‘He was desperate. He was in so much pain. Even the morphine didn’t take it away.’

‘But what did he say?’

Elaine was far away now; she was looking in Gwen’s direction, but seeing something else entirely. ‘He said that she comforted him.’

Gwen flinched at the raw pain in her voice and, feeling like the worst kind of bully, she said: ‘You’re angry because he turned to someone else.’

‘I was his wife,’ Elaine said. She sounded like a lost child and Gwen felt awful. Then she added, ‘Imagine how it
looked
,’ and Gwen felt a little better.

‘This is not the same, and I’m not Iris,’ Gwen said. ‘You can’t push me out of town. Not this time. And I won’t let you steal my house.’

‘I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about.’ Elaine was trying to claw back her composure, but her face was flushed and her voice shook.

‘I don’t think Cam would be very pleased to hear that you stole documents from the firm, but I’m willing to keep quiet about that if you stop trying to break us up.’

Elaine’s eyes flashed. ‘He won’t believe you.’

‘Maybe not,’ Gwen said. ‘You want to risk it?’

After a moment of seething thought, Elaine said, ‘Fine.’

‘You have to stop pressuring Cam to break things off. And let Lily know that she has to drop this legal case against me. If the title deeds to the house appear back in the folder – which I will leave on my kitchen table for the next few days – then I will simply assume they got there by magic.’

‘I agree to your terms.’ Elaine spoke as if every word was an effort.

Gwen thought about Felicity and the Christmas Eve parties. She imagined Elaine pushing suitable young women at Cam, like a linen-wearing pimp. ‘You have to invite me to the house and make me welcome.’

Elaine opened her mouth to argue, but Gwen pressed on. ‘If you don’t, I will not only tell Cam everything, but I will also give Ryan a juicy story for the paper. Insider theft within Laing and Sons; it won’t look good.’

Elaine closed her mouth with a snap. Her eyes looked murderous. ‘You wouldn’t do that. It would hurt Cameron, too.’

‘You hurt him all the time by trying to control him.’