Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered (15 page)

‘Settlin’ in all right, are you?’

Surprised, I looked up from the copy of
InStyle
I’d been leafing through and tore my mind away from what Jennifer Lawrence was wearing this month. The woman who ran the shop was looking at me. I didn’t know her, she’d moved to Claddach after I’d left, but she obviously knew me. She was leaning over her counter, chatting with an older woman who was wearing a hat like a tea cosy.

I smiled carefully, not really understanding what was happening.

‘It’s been a while,’ I said, tucking
InStyle
under my arm, and picking up
Glamour
. ‘What not to wear’ the cover screamed. A padded jacket and dirty jeans I thought wryly, putting it back on the shelf. I didn’t need any advice on that score.

‘Do you need any help?’ the newsagent asked. She had long stringy hair and was younger that I’d first thought – probably in her late 30s. She could do with having a look at
Vogue
herself, I thought unkindly, looking at her unflattering, out-of-shape top and greasy locks. I shook my head.

‘I know what I’m after, thanks,’ I said, turning my attention to
Elle
.

‘I’m not sure I’ve got any of your sort of magazines,’ the woman said pointedly.

Her tea-cosy-headed friend giggled girlishly, making my heart lurch with nerves. What did she mean by ‘my sort’? I looked at her suspiciously.

‘I like fashion,’ I said firmly. Ignoring the butterflies that were flapping their wings frantically in my stomach, I turned away from both women slightly. I pretended to be engrossed in the magazine, but actually I was straining to hear what they were saying. She didn’t mean anything by that, I told myself. She didn’t know anything about us. How could she?

I glanced at the women over the top of
Elle
. They were both leaning on the counter, their heads close together. Stringy Hair was speaking softly and Tea Cosy was listening, her eyes widening in astonishment.

I edged slightly closer.

‘So many strange goings on,’ I heard her mutter. ‘Pam from the new estate says she’s never been right since she ate that scone.’

I relaxed, reaching into my bag for my purse. The miserable cow obviously didn’t like Mum’s cooking. Balancing the heavy mags on my arm, I scrabbled around the bottom of my cavernous sack, only half-listening to their conversation.

‘We should have a meeting,’ Tea Cosy was saying. Stringy Hair nodded. ‘Something needs to be done,’ she agreed. ‘I’ve already spoken to Millicent.’

That got my attention. Why on earth had she been speaking to Mrs Fry? My hands shook, and desperate to shut the gossiping women up, I dropped
Elle
on to the tiled floor with a thud. The women jumped guiltily.

‘Sorry,’ I sang gaily, with a forced confidence I didn’t really feel.

‘Everything OK?’ Tea Cosy looked at me, her small eyes narrow in her pale face. I felt she was challenging me. I looked back, unsmiling.

‘Great hat,’ I said. She scowled at me.

‘I’ll give you a ring later,’ she said to Stringy Hair and scuttled out of the door.

‘£6,’ Stringy Hair said to me, holding out her hand. Her nails were bitten right down her fingers and she had hard skin on her palms. I felt a flicker of sympathy for her.

‘You work at that café,’ she said accusingly, her lips set in a tight line. ‘It’s not right.’

‘What isn’t right?’ All my sympathy disappeared. ‘Do you not like the cakes?’ I pushed a tenner into her cold hand.

Stringy Hair opened the till with a sharp prod at the keys and paused, considering what to say next.

‘We don’t want the likes of you here,’ she said, handing me my change. ‘Everyone agrees with me. We’ve decided we’re not going to sit back and let you carry on with this, this – ‘she waved her hand in the air as if conjuring up the right word ‘– this monkey business.’ She finished with a triumphant nod.

My heart plummeted again. If the Housewives’ Guild were already drumming up allies for some sort of campaign against us then things were worse than I’d thought, but I wasn’t about to let old Stringy Hair see she had me rattled.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I said cheerfully, gathering up my magazines and heading for the door. ‘Give my best to Pam from the new estate, won’t you? And do pop into the café for a flapjack sometime.’

Fixing a grin on my face, I shut the shop door behind me with a bang and went to find my mum.

I was in luck. She and Harry were both in the café. Harry was bent over her laptop again, and Mum was standing behind the counter, lost in thought. She didn’t even look up as I approached.

‘Mum,’ I said. She jumped.

‘Oh hello, Ez,’ she said.

‘Mum, I need to tell you something,’ I said. ‘Come and sit down.’

She looked at me vaguely.

‘Ez, have you noticed how quiet it’s been in here?’

I sat down next to Harry, who looked annoyed at the interruption, and kicked the chair out from opposite so mum could sit down too.

‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,’ I said. ‘I think there’s a problem.’

Quickly, I told her what Suky had told me about the spells going wrong, then I filled her in on the information Brent had passed on.

‘And you think this Millicent is gossiping about us?’ Mum said, resting her chin on her hands.

‘I do,’ I said. ‘Suky turned her into an insatiable sex addict. She must have been so embarrassed.’

Harry looked up. ‘Tell her what you did,’ she said.

‘I don’t think that’s relevant,’ I said.

Harry tapped her keyboard a few times, then closed the laptop.

‘Esme turned her into a frog,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I shouldn’t think that helped much.’

Mum looked surprised and impressed all at once.

‘You said she wouldn’t remember,’ I hissed at Harry. She shrugged.

‘Probably won’t,’ she said. ‘But there’s always a chance.’

I glared at her and she stopped talking.

‘It does seem odd,’ Mum said. ‘But even if this Millicent has taken against us, then what can she do, really? She’s just one woman.’

‘But I was just in the newsagent’s,’ I said. ‘The women in there were horrible. They said they didn’t want us in town.’

‘Ah,’ said Mum. ‘I see. But even so, it’s just gossip.’

‘So it’s not just Millicent and it’s not just gossip.’ I was getting frustrated. ‘If she persuades the village that we’re something to be afraid of, she could shut us down.’

‘I don’t think…’

‘She could!’ I interrupted. ‘People are so suspicious nowadays – tourists get thrown off planes for talking in a foreign language. Dads aren’t even allowed to take photos of their kids in the park.’

‘We’re not terrorists, Esme,’ Mum laughed and I scowled back. ‘I do think it sounds a bit strange but as long as we keep an eye on things, we’ll be fine.’

I wasn’t convinced though, and I was pretty sure Mum wasn’t either – despite her bold talk.

‘Thank goodness we’ve got Brent,’ I said as Mum got up to serve a customer. ‘It’s so
useful that all the women in the Housewives’ Guild adore him – he’s like our mole.’

Harry scrunched her face up.

‘I’m not sure about him,’ she said. ‘I can’t get a handle on him.’

I was offended on Brent’s behalf.

‘I thought you liked him?’

‘I do,’ Harry said. ‘At least, I like the bit of him he shows.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He’s just so perfect, you know? Helping me with my business plan for the spa, helping your mum with her internet, driving Suky to hospital, making sure we’re warned about the gossip.’

‘You’re so cynical,’ I said in disgust. ‘Sometimes people are just really nice.’

‘I can’t read his aura,’ she said. ‘That always makes me suspicious.’

I snorted at her.

‘He’s just a nice person,’ I said. ‘You’re probably not used to meeting them.’

She looked at me with narrowed eyes.

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Don’t believe me. But I think we should find another way to infiltrate the group – just in case.’

I quite liked that.

‘Like a double agent?’ I said.

Harry looked round to make sure no one was listening. Unlikely as there were only about five customers in the café. Then she pulled her chair closer to mine.

‘A spy to spy on our spy,’ she said.

That made me uncomfortable. Brent had been very good to us and I didn’t want her upsetting him.

‘More a spy to back up the intelligence provided by our original spy,’ I said.

Harry shrugged.

‘Whatever,’ she said. ‘But we need to get the right person. Who should we ask?’

We both thought for a moment.

‘Ooh, I know,’ I said. ‘What about Nell?’

Harry looked blank.

‘She’s one of Eva’s latest lambs,’ I said. ‘She loves your mum and she hates Millicent. She’ll do it.’

‘Excellent,’ Harry said. ‘You sort that out then.’

She started gathering her papers together.

‘And Ez? Please don’t mention this to Mum. She’s not doing so well.’

Chapter 29

Poor Suky really wasn’t doing so well. The radiotherapy was really taking its toll. She had swelling across her chest and her torso was red, tender and sore. She was so tired that she spent every afternoon sleeping, but then couldn’t sleep at night. She’d lost her appetite so she was getting thinner and thinner, despite Mum’s efforts to tempt her with a succession of delicious meals. But worse than all that was the way she was in herself. It was like she’d simply given up. She lay on the sofa, glassy-eyed. She didn’t want to read books or magazines, or watch TV. She refused to talk about anything in the future. Mum mentioned Christmas one day and Suky’s eyes flashed with anger. When I went with her to hospital, she sat in the back seat of Brent’s Range Rover and looked out of the window, or slept. She never spoke to us now. In fact, the only person who really talked to her was Harry. She would go into her mum’s room most evenings, with her iPad and a large black canvas bag that I knew she kept in her room, and not come out until Suky had, eventually, dropped off to sleep. More than once, on my way to bed, I’d noticed magic hanging around the hallway, or sparks lighting up the space under the bedroom door. It was strange magic though. You know how fire is always orange – always – unless it’s the fire on your gas hob, when it’s a blue flame? It was kind of like that. It looked like magic, but it was different. I didn’t know enough about magic to know why. Was it Suky’s illness making things change? Or was it a different kind of magic altogether?

‘What are you doing in there?’ I asked Harry one evening. ‘Is Suky doing magic?’

‘Magic?’ Harry had said, as if it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. ‘No. No magic.’

But I didn’t believe her. I thought about Suky telling me Harry had been researching different cures for her cancer and wondered if they were cooking up something between themselves.

So of course I agreed when Harry asked me not to mention the goings on at the café to Suky. I really didn’t want to make things worse.

Instead, I tracked down Nell at Eva’s studio. She was wrapping some of Eva’s gigantic fruit bowls in bubble wrap and putting them gently into boxes to be taken to shops all over Scotland.

‘Wow,’ I said, picking one up. It was huge – about half a metre across – and shallow, with a delicate design that echoed the colours of the mountains and the sea.

‘They’re amazing, aren’t they?’ Nell said. ‘Eva’s teaching me how to throw like her.’

‘Can I help you?’ I said. ‘You wrap and I’ll put them in the boxes.’

‘OK,’ she said. Together we worked in silence for a while.

‘Nell,’ I said eventually. ‘We need your help.’

She looked dubious.

‘Doing what?’

I explained that we thought the Housewives’ Guild were gossiping about us and damaging business.

‘Would you go to some meetings?’ I asked. ‘Maybe see if that Imogen can tell you anything.’

Nell sat down on the bench the bowls had been stacked on.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. She pushed the sleeve of her jumper up to her elbow and held her arm out to me. Across her smooth skin were silvery cobwebs of scars.

‘I did this,’ she said. She sounded defiant and a bit scared. ‘When things were really bad at school. I did it to myself.’

I didn’t know what to say.

‘Eva’s helped me a lot,’ she said. ‘And Suky. Imogen wasn’t at our school then, but she’s friends with those girls. I just can’t help wondering if she’ll make me go back to all that.’

‘Don’t do it,’ I said, feeling guilty for asking. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.’

But Nell lifted her chin.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ll do it. I’m stronger now and I want to repay Eva and Suky for how kind they’ve been.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure,’ she said. ‘But they know I work at the café – they won’t want me in their meetings.’

In the end, we came up with a plan. Imogen, weirdly, was one of the café’s few regulars who had kept coming.

‘No one tells her what to do,’ Nell had pointed out. ‘Not even her mum.’

The next day, when Imogen came in after school and sat at her usual table, alone, I texted Nell.

Ten minutes later, she arrived, face flushed and with an armful of books – she’d obviously come straight from school herself.

‘I’m so sorry!’ she wailed as she came through the door. The few customers who were in the café stopped chatting and looked up. Imogen narrowed her eyes.

‘Mum says I can’t work here any more,’ Nell hiccupped. ‘She doesn’t want me mixing with you people.’

I gasped, more at Nell’s Oscar-worthy performance than what she was saying, then I reached out my hand and rubbed Nell’s arm.

‘But Nell,’ I said. ‘We love working with you.’

Nell cried louder, shrugging off my hand and burying her face in her scarf. I wondered for a moment if she was going too far. Then I caught her eye as she hid under her woolly refuge and she winked. Good girl. I opened the till and took out a £20 note.

‘I’m sorry you feel that way,’ I said in a cold voice. ‘I think this covers what we owe you.’ I handed her the money. ‘Close the door on your way out.’

Nell spun round and marched out of the café. Imogen waited a moment, then she got up and scuttled out after her. Job done.