Mathilda, SuperWitch (15 page)

And.

I was a witch.

And.

I was supposed to have superwitch powers.

And.

I couldn’t figure out what to wear!

Viv and Su showed up being all naggy, annoying sisters, “Aidan’s waiting,” yadda, yadda, yadda and half my hair was straight, the other half was out-of-control and I was standing in my underwear amongst a mountain of discarded clothes that was up to my knees while waving around a pair of strappy, champagne satin sandals with rhinestones and shouting (hysterically), “All I know is the shoes!”

They jumped into action.

I mean, they’d seen Aidan – this whole outfit was a delicate maneuver. There weren’t many genius doctors out there who looked like movie stars who wanted to go out with me and this had to be right.

Su took control of my hair and makeup (scary thought) and Viv took control of the wardrobe (even scarier) and, believe it or not, they totally kicked in for me.

Su did this part-straight, part-mess, part-braid up-do gig with my hair (very Bo Derek meets Demi Moore meets Bob Marley but blonde) and went heavy on the black eyeliner making me look all 70’s-flower-child-with-an-attitude.

Viv put me in a pair of low-rise, ass-hugging, black, wide-legged trousers, my rhinestone sandals and a filmy black tunic-slash-caftan thingie with a sexy, skimpy black camisole underneath (who knew she had it in her?).

I looked
hot.

* * * * *

I know this because when I walked into the lounge, Gran was talking to (raving at?) Aidan who was nodding, his expression polite.

When he looked at me, well, he didn’t look polite anymore.

At all.

In fact, whatever was going on behind his eyes was nowhere near polite,

More like pornographic.

Of course, being the cosmopolitan girl around town, I blushed.

Ack!

“Ready?” I asked.

* * * * *

Get this Part Two:

He took me to the Swank Italian Place on the seafront.

This is proof positive that he is in cahoots with the Queen because only by Royal Decree could one get a reservation at the Italian place. At short notice, impossible, unless you make a deal with the devil or are in good with Liz.

I tried to be cool – but it was hard.

I was with Aidan.

I looked the shit.

I was with Aidan. (Did I say that already?)

He always looked the shit.

We were at the Swank Italian Place and I had hopes they’d be able to make me a martini.

Aside: England doesn’t do martinis. The Land of Bond had forsaken shaken and stirred. It was criminal (but not as criminal as their lack of understanding behind the concept of not parking on double yellow lines. It was
their
rule, why didn’t they follow it?).

Aidan left me in a comfy seat on the front patio and went to see to our drinks.

I took the time to take a deep breath, calm myself and get into Glamour Girl Mode by looking at the sea.

I must admit, I spent a lot of time homesick and longing for America’s king-size bags of chili cheese Fritos; our entire grocery store aisles dedicated to cake mixes; my book club who spent more time scarfing down brie, tapenade and French bread, drinking wine and dissing the men in our lives than discussing the book; and ready-to-wear Ralph Lauren in any upscale department store but most of all, a life without cauldrons and prophesies.

But I never longed for home when I looked at the sea.

England may not have king-size bags of chili cheese Fritos but it had some incredible views.

“You smell fantastic.” I heard Aidan murmur in my ear.

And England had Aidan.

Shiver.

Mm.

I was in The Zone.

I was all cool, calm, Glamour Girl.

I’d become one with the sea and was ready to hear about Aidan, Sebastian and me, The Prophesies, just how ravishing I smelled (was wearing the scent Mom created for Viv, smelled like gardenia and baby powder on her, smelled like neroli and jasmine on me, magic) and most of all, I was ready for some dedicated flirting – the kind that led to something.

He came with a waitress who handed me my drink.

Ah, a martini.

I couldn’t wait.

I was prepared for the chilled, smooth, taste of vodka.

I drank it.

And gagged.

Not a little bit, a lot.

I barely saved myself from spewing it on Aidan’s trousers.

Ack!

So much for cool, calm, Glamour Girl.

Hovering waitress spoke in a thick accent, “You don’t like?”

Uh.

Duh!

She was Italian, gorgeous and I hated her on sight.

“What is that?” I asked, still half in gag mode, talking through the sloshing liquid in my mouth.

“Martini,” she answered.

“That… is not… a martini,” I answered, trying not to drool the sick-sweet liquid on my sexy, see-through tunic and instead allow it to slide down my throat.

“Yes, martini, martini,” she said in a panic, grabbing my glass and running away.

“Have some of mine.” Aidan offered his drink.

I glugged back a huge gulp of Aidan’s drink to wash away gag-martini.

And…

“Mm, yummy.”

Yes, that’s what I said.

I couldn’t help myself, it was divine.

“
What
is
that?” I asked.

“Pimm’s.”

What on earth is Pimm’s? And where did I get me some?

I didn’t get to ask as Sophia Loren was back at our table with a bottle that said “Martini” on it.

“See, Martini, martini,” she yammered at me.

Ack!

It may say Martini but I knew martini, I’d spent a lot of time with martini and that Martini was no martini.

Date not starting off on best foot but I did smell “fantastic” with added bonus of being introduced to Pimm’s.

* * * * *

Get this Part Three:

Was seated in dining area with a Pimm’s of my own and all signs of gag-martini whisked away.

I’d ordered halibut in lobster, brandy, cream sauce.

I’d eat tire in lobster, brandy, cream sauce.

Date was getting back on track when Aidan settled in across from me looking at me like he’d like to eat
me
for dinner.

Yay!

And then…

“Aidan.”

I didn’t say it.

No.

In fact, Douglas
Freaking
Addison said it.

Douglas
GQ
Addison stood beside my table at the Swank Italian Place in little seafront town with Victorian pier in England.

I know what you are thinking and no, I didn’t enter a new dimension, I was still in my dimension with Douglas Addison standing by my table.

And…

* * * * *

Get this Part Four:

Agatha Darling stood next to him.

19 March

Had to go – was late for “My Cauldron and Me” classes with Antonia and then got too busy with everything else. Antonia is helping me stock my Witch Larder – and that means shopping, and one shop leads to another shop, it’s a natural progression. Everyone knows that. So now I have some new crystals, more herbs, some lovely glass vials in different shapes with cork tops, some more candles and candlestick holders and a new Lulu Guinness handbag.

Anyway…

Still reeling from genius doctor date.

May also be reeling from the fact that, four days later, Aidan hasn’t called me.

It ended on a sweet note, however, I could see in Aidan’s mind that note was kinda bittersweet, but still.

This is how the evening progressed:

“Aidan!” Douglas Addison said.

“Doug.” Aidan stood and they shook hands.

“This is a small world,” Douglas Addison noted.

No duh.

What was
he
doing at Swank Italian Place in Clevedon with Agatha Darling, my arch-nemesis no less?

“What on earth are you doing here?” (Aidan, thankfully asking my question)

“I could ask you the same.” (Addison)

Ha ha – laughter and joviality while I watched Agatha Darling to make sure she wasn’t putting some whammy on me.

Aidan turned to me and put an arm light around my waist, pulling me closer (nice). “Let me to introduce you to Mathilda Honeycutt.”

Then Addison turned to me.

“Miss Honeycutt,” he said quietly.

And I looked into his eyes.

* * * * *

I suppose there are bad guys out there who could charm you with a look, no matter how good you are or how bad they are.

I mean, Tony Soprano for one.

I think it would take Tony Soprano approximately five minutes to make me his best friend. It was the eyes, they sparkled. You didn’t know if it was mischief, kindness, genuine goodness even with a blackened heart.

I’d been in love with Tony Soprano from the minute I saw my first episode of
The Sopranos
.

It was fucked up love with a vicious, fictional Mafioso dude but it was still love.

* * * * *

Douglas Addison smiled at me.

The smile reached his eyes.

“I’m delighted to meet you,” he said and I knew he meant it.

From that minute, he had me.

I put my hand out to shake his. He took my hand, turned it, held it gently and kissed it.

Not in a sexy way, but in a sweet, respectful way.

“And I you,” I returned and, believe it or not, I meant it too.

Ack!

Weird.

Too weird.

Gran was gonna disown me.

Addison seemed to remember himself, let me go and introduced us to Darling.

She bobbed her head in a distracted way whilst looking around the restaurant with an attitude and posture that clearly stated she felt she was slumming.

She had little to no interest in me.

Which I thought was super-weird.

I, on the other hand, found her fascinating.

The Institute’s picture of her didn’t do her justice, at all. (She should sue.)

Even though she was average height (and had an unfortunate nose), she was still an imposing and handsome woman. Her clothes were a bit dowdy but of good quality that screamed money.

And the bitch had ‘tude.

She wasn’t scary in a Wicked Witch of the West kind of way. She was scary in a Nicole Kidman in
The Others
kind of way – uppity and spooky.

Hmm.

“I hate to interrupt you but our party is here,” Darling said impatiently.

She nodded to a table across the restaurant that was filled with three suited men.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Addison replied, distracted. “I’m in Bristol for an important meeting…” he told Aidan and then went on about getting together for a drink, yadda, yadda, yadda.

I looked at the men.

I looked at Darling.

I looked back at the men.

I looked at Addison.

Shit.

Addison was the devil that Darling had made the deal with. They were in cahoots.

I looked at him, at his supposed genuine friendship with Aidan and his quick, polite glances at me.

What a poser.

I felt cheated.

I felt betrayed.

Why all of this emotion in the expanse of two minutes of knowing the guy?

Yikes!

He left saying something about hoping to see me again and took off for his table.

I felt like I was having a heart attack.

“How do you know him?” I asked Aidan once we were seated again.

“Long time family acquaintance. We go skiing together at Gstaad at Christmas, have for years.”

Ack!

“But, he’s…” I started then stopped.

“Yes?” Aidan prompted.

“He’s, a…” I started again and stopped again.

“Yes?” Aidan prompted again.

“He’s a Republican!”

Aidan stared at me and made no reply.

I excused myself after the starters and ran to the bathroom and called Ash.