I Put a Spell on You (13 page)

A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of pure evil. I wanted to say something, to dismiss the whole ridiculous idea, but I couldn’t find the words.

Then the phone I was gripping rang.

Chapter 18

Esme jumped and I made a small yelping noise like a puppy in pain. We both laughed but there wasn’t much humour in our giggles.

I answered. It was my mum.

“Oh Mum,” I said, pleased to hear from her. She had a habit of phoning just when I needed her to.

Esme took the opportunity and slid off the bed, heading for the shower. I nudged her with my shoulder as she passed – the closest I’d ever get to saying thank you – and she smiled.

“Are you going wedding-dress shopping today?” Mum asked.

I tore my mind away from the horrible Tarot cards and back to Esme’s wedding.

“Yes, we’d planned to,” I said, wondering if Ez was still up for it, and kind of hoping she wasn’t.

“Come up and do it here,” Mum said. “Tess has made an appointment at Leona’s shop for this afternoon.”

Leona had owned the wedding-dress shop in Claddach, the tiny town where Esme and I had grown up, for as long as I remembered. She was no yokel though. Her dresses were in demand and rumour had it she’d even made Madonna’s dress when she’d married Guy Ritchie at Skibo Castle. Leona stayed infuriatingly tight-lipped about her celebrity clients, though.

“Esme would love that,” I said. “But we’d planned just to shop here.”

“Come up,” Mum said firmly. “There’s plenty of time – the appointment’s not until four. I think it would be good for you to spend a night at home.”

I was gripped with a wave of homesickness so strong it made me dizzy and I had to lean back against Esme’s pillows.

“Okay,” I said. “Esme will love it. Let me just rearrange some bits at work and we’ll come.”

I made some quick plans with Mum about which train we’d get, then I rang Nancy at the spa. I’d deliberately left my diary clear for this morning, but I knew I had some counselling appointments in the afternoon that I’d need to shift if we were going to Claddach.

“Let’s have a look,” Nancy said. I could hear her leafing through the appointments book.

“No,” she said. “You’re free all day.”

“Really?” I said, confused. “I thought I at least had Diane Harrison booked in. And someone else – was it Ginny? Ginny Watkins?”

“Oh yes,” Nancy said. She sounded strangely sympathetic. “Mrs Harrison rang on Thursday.”

“To cancel?” I said, horrified. I didn’t like the sound of clients cancelling.

“Erm, not exactly,” Nancy said. “She wanted to switch her appointment to Xander.”

“Oh,” I said. “And Ginny?”

“Same,” said Nancy. “And Muriel Whitehead. And, erm, Katy Newman.”

“Brilliant,” I said, though I didn’t think it was brilliant at all. “That’s great. So Xander’s holding the fort, and I can take the day off. Great stuff.”

I rang off, feeling odd. My clients were swapping to Xander? They obviously preferred his kind of spiritual counselling to mine – and he wasn’t even a witch, not by birth. I’d never in my whole life met someone who’d picked it up as quickly as he had. I wondered if he had some witchy blood somewhere in his family. I knew his mum was dead but he’d never mentioned his dad. Maybe he was the witch.

Still, it was good news in so much as we could now go to Claddach for the weekend. With a little skip of joy, I banged on the bathroom door and shouted to Esme.

“Change of plan,” I called. “We’re going to Leona’s.”

The door flew open and Esme stood there in her underwear, a towel wrapped round her hair.

“Really?” she said. “Now?”

I nodded.

“Come on then.”

I showered and dressed, feeling more like my old self than I had in days. Even the thought of a trip home was enough to give me a boost. I pulled on skinny jeans, an oversized cardigan and Converse and went to find Esme. She looked cute in a flowery tea dress, thick tights and cowboy boots.

She grinned at me.

“Ready?’ she said.

Giggling like schoolgirls, we headed for the station, where we stocked up on wedding magazines for the journey. It was a massive relief to just sit on the train, watching the world whizz by, and think of nothing but lace, veils and tiaras. I was shaken up by the tarot session and I wanted to put it behind me and move on.

Mum and Tess were working in the café all afternoon, and time was ticking on, so we decided to head straight for Leona’s shop and meet up with our mums later.

We got off the train at Claddach’s tiny station and wandered up the hill into town, where Leona’s small shop was.

Esme had gone very quiet. I caught her eye.

‘Nervous?’ I said.

She nodded.

“Ach, you’ve no need,” I winked at her. “I’ve got some ideas.”

It was fun, shopping for wedding dresses. Much more fun than I’d ever thought it would be. Leona knew Esme, so she had already picked out some possibilities and they were all beautiful.

Esme tried on lots of dresses that afternoon, from sleek, chic shimmering columns to huge poufy meringues. But Leona, who was a stylish, 50-something with a flash of humour in her eyes, cleverly steered Esme to the ones she knew would suit her. And eventually, she stood in front of the mirror in the perfect dress. It was soft cream. It had small, capped sleeves and gathered under her bust, then it fell softly to the floor. It was silk, overlaid with chiffon, and it was wonderful.

I clapped my hands.

“You look like you should be marrying Mr Darcy,” I said in delight.

Leona fussed around Ez, talking about alterations, taking measurements and pulling in the dress with a huge bulldog clip so it clung to her waist. I wandered round the shop, trying on shoes and plonking a veil on my head – anything to stop me thinking.

While we’d been busy, I’d managed to keep my thoughts at bay, but now Esme and Leona didn’t need me, my mind had started racing again.

I kept thinking about what Louise had said about disgruntled employees often being the ones to blame. Xander wasn’t disgruntled as far as I knew – he was the opposite of disgruntled – but maybe, just maybe, that was the problem.

“I think a bit shorter,” Esme was saying, as Leona pinned up the hem.

I stared out of the window and played with the lace on the edge of the veil I was wearing.

Xander was taking my clients, I thought. Could he possibly be the one who was behind all the problems?

“Harry?” Esme said. “Are you okay?”

I whirled round. Esme looked beautiful in the dress. Really beautiful. I wondered what Xander would think if he saw her. Suddenly I needed fresh air.

“I have to go,” I said. “Sorry.’

With the veil streaming out behind me, I flew out of the shop door and ran down the road.

Chapter 19

I ran away from the shop, to the beach. It was freezing so I knew no one would be there. I sat on a bench looking out over the loch. My head ached, and my heart ached. Surely Xander – lovely, funny, charming Xander – wouldn’t be the one who’d done all this?

I ran through it in my mind. Abuse of trust, the tarot cards had shown. If Xander was behind all this, then that would make sense – I’d trusted him completely.

But Xander was my rock. My right-hand man. He looked out for me, made me feel better when I was low, and helped make my business the success it undoubtedly was.

“Get a grip, Harry,” I said aloud. “Be logical. Be rational.”

I thought back through everything that had happened. My head on those sleazy prostitute calling cards – Xander could have done that. He was certainly good enough at designing flyers and promo stuff for the spa. And yet, he’d spent a good part of that day tramping round phone boxes and murky bars in Leith getting them back – that made no sense. I let my breath out slowly and my worries began to ease.

And the power cut. He’d been in the office that day, so in theory he could have been behind it all – but why? Why make extra work for himself?

I pulled my knees up to my chest, resting my feet on the rock, and hugged them, trying to keep myself warm. I’d run from the wedding-dress shop without even stopping to pick up my bag, or my coat.

If Xander was here, he’d give me his coat, I thought. That’s the kind of guy he was – always looking out for me. Making sure I was okay. I remembered reading about firefighters who set fires so they could put them out and be proclaimed a hero. That could be a reason for Xander causing trouble, then cleaning it up.

I couldn’t believe he would have smashed windows or graffitied the spa’s front door, though. And as for the magical stuff – the Iron Maiden music – he’d never be able to do that. Okay, he was doing well with his lessons with Ez, but he wasn’t a witch. He wouldn’t have been able to do that after one or two sessions.

I shifted slightly on the rock. The beach was deserted and the water was black. The sky was heavy and grey and it looked like it might snow. In the distance, I saw a figure, bundled in a thick coat, throwing a stick for a dog, but there was no one else around. It felt really good to be alone and have time to just get my head together. I took a deep breath. Edinburgh wasn’t a particularly dirty city, but the sharpness of the Highland air felt different in my lungs.

Star, I thought. Xander would never, ever hurt Star. He loved her. Not like that – he was a bit flirty with her, but she knew how to handle him, it was one of the reasons she worked so well in our team. They were mates, buddies, good pals. I often came across them chatting, their heads together as they were deep in conversation.

He wouldn’t have hurt her, I was positive. Xander had many faults but he was an old softie. He wouldn’t have cut Star’s hand, or bruised her knees, or – I winced – killed her. No way.

Apart from anything, she’d died before he’d even started learning magic. So he couldn’t have had anything to do with it. Nothing.

Relieved, I rested my chin on my knees. I felt calmer already. I hadn’t misjudged Xander, not at all.

I wouldn’t mention any of my concerns to Esme, I decided. Not now I’d dismissed them. She was so weird where Xander was involved, it was best to keep quiet, I thought.

Shit, Esme. She would be wondering where I’d got to – after all I’d rushed out of Leona’s without even saying goodbye.

I slid off the rock, turned to walk back up the beach and came face to face with a glowering Esme.

‘Give. Me. The veil,’ she said through gritted teeth.

In surprise I put my hand to my head – I was still wearing a flouncy, frilly veil, topped off with a spiky tiara. Feeling suitably told off, but unrepentant, I pulled it off, and handed it to her without speaking. She over-dramatically examined it, then with a ‘humph’ worthy of Miss Piggy, she whirled round and flounced back towards the shop. I trailed after her, giggling to myself.

Esme was waiting outside the bridal shop.

“What the bloody hell was all that about?” she said, her cheeks pink with the stress of the day.

I started walking up the hill towards our house – our mums’ house really but I still thought of it as home.

“It’s just been a bit of a stressful few weeks,” I said as we wandered through what Claddach optimistically called a town centre. It was only tiny – a typical Scottish town with grey stone buildings that matched the leaden sky today.

“I wanted some fresh air.”

Esme looked at me oddly but she didn’t question me any more.

“So the dress is perfect, isn’t it?”

Esme’s face lit up.

“It is,” she said. “It’s really good, isn’t it?”

“Very good,” I said. “Better than good.”

Esme squealed with excitement and I laughed and linked my arm through hers. Being back in Claddach was good for my soul, I thought. It smoothed my prickly edges and made me nicer.

Out of breath slightly after the trek up the hill, we reached home. Our house stood alone, set back from the road with a gravel drive where the battered Beetle our mums shared was parked at a jaunty angle under the overgrown trees. Esme and I crunched our way to the door and fell inside in a flurry of kisses and shrieks and questions about Esme’s dress. I showed some photos of Ez trying it on and Tess went a bit misty-eyed and hugged her daughter and told her how proud she was while I tried to look proud too, instead of just queasy. And a bit jealous. But finally we all sat round the kitchen table with a pot of tea in front of us and a box full of sweet treats from the café.

“Are these safe?” Esme asked with a grin, reaching for a banoffee cupcake.

Tess looked at her with wide-eyed innocence.

“Of course,” she said, winking at me. “What do you think we are?”

Our mums – and Eva, who works with them at the café – aren’t averse to enchanting the cakes they sell to give their customers a helping hand. Admittedly, the customers don’t always know they need a helping hand but I think it’s innovative. Esme thinks it’s immoral. But she took a cupcake anyway.

Mum looked at me closely, her clear blue eyes searching my face.

“What’s happening, Harmony?” she said. I knew she had to be worried if she was using my full name and I knew I couldn’t lie to her.

Quickly, Ez and I filled her and Tess in on the Tarot cards.

“We just couldn’t make head nor tail of them,” I said. “We thought you might be able to understand them a bit better. Or try something different maybe?”

Mum took my hand.

“We’ll get this sorted, my darling,” she said. I believed her completely. My mum never made promises she couldn’t keep.

“Tess and I have had an idea.”

“What kind of idea,” I said. I was always suspicious when my mum and her sister put their heads together.

Tess grinned and produced a shiny blue hatbox from under the table.

“We are going to try a different kind of divination,” she said.

Ez and I watched, enthralled, as she opened the hatbox and gently lifted out a fishbowl.

“A fishbowl?” I said. “Seriously?”

Esme giggled.

“Are we supposed to use that instead of a crystal ball?” she asked. Then her expression changed to surprise as something registered.

“Have you done this before?”

Tess winked at Mum.