Chapter 12
Twelve
-GRAYSON-
It was Milo who contacted me, once he knew charges were laid. It’s been awkward. He says only what he needs to say, coldly. In between, I tie myself up in knots keen to find some way to build on what we briefly had, even though I’ve cried at home many times.
This morning, Penelope donned a corporate look when she visited. Well, kind of corporate if you consider turning the clock back sixty years. Navy mini skirt. Mint vest over a long-sleeved white blouse.
Right now, she’s acting as our lawyer, and this meeting to talk strategy with Milo at his mum’s place shows she means business.
Perhaps with this shared dilemma, Milo will get to know me beyond the magical screwups?
His mother, Amelia, is baking cookies for us. I told her it’s not necessary but Amelia insisted that if she’s hosting a lawyer who is not charging a fee, then a few homemade treats are worth it.
Yet it’s quite evident Amelia can afford a solicitor.
She has two dining rooms, an everyday one and a formal one, at opposite ends of the house.
The kitchen is closer to the everyday dining area.
Milo, Penelope, and I are seated at the formal dining table.
And Penelope has an impressive-looking law book and a laptop.
“Is this just for show?” Milo asks. “I mean, aren’t you going to wiggle your nose or whatever you need to do to make this whole mess go away?”
His reserve pains me.
Penelope listens out for Amelia. There’s clatter from the kitchen so it’s safe for us to talk.
“Okay,” Penelope begins. “Hear me out. Maude has—”
“Who’s Maude?” Milo asks, deadpan.
“The grand dame of witches,” I explain.
“Well, not exactly.” Penelope retorts. “But she’s important in the magic realm.”
“The magic realm?” Milo asks. “Not Hocus Pocus Land? Abracadabra Island? Just the magic realm?”
“Who cares what it’s called?” Penelope looks at me. “Although Milo’s place names were better than the one you thought up, Grayson.”
“What did Maude say?” I try to stay focussed.
“Maude said something about character-building. Like me, she believes we should deal with this like mortals so we don’t rely on spells to solve our problems.”
“I thought I was still mortal,” I say. “Just with special powers.”
“Well, you kind of are, but we don’t have a word for the non-magical.”
We hear Amelia coming up the hall. The delicious scent of warm cookies seeps into the room. Penelope opens her laptop and talks jargon. Amelia enters, and as she places the plate on the table, I see they’re my favourite flavour, white chocolate and macadamia.
I munch, impressed with how official Penelope sounds. She’s faking it well and I assume Amelia and Milo are buying it. Yet at some stage she’ll need to know what she’s talking about if we’re to avoid a fine. I can’t afford it.
I peer out the massive window. There’s a well-kept garden outside. Beautiful yellow flowers. Trimmed hedges. A snow-white bird bath.
I imagine making love to Milo on the lawn. I’m caressing his eye-catching biceps, then moving my fingers down his spine to grasp his butt cheek...
Grayson, stop, my inner voice says. It’s over. Just get through this court case. Then conjure up men the way Penelope does. No commitment, no pain.
“I don’t know what you two were thinking when you pulled your nudie stunt,” Amelia says, yanking me out of my thoughts. Her light grey dress is as straitlaced as she is. “Was it Summer’s idea, Milo? Was she with you taking photos?”
“No, she wasn’t, Mum. But I gained six hundred new followers because of that stunt.”
Amelia raises her hand as if she’s about to knock sense into Milo. And I get her frustration. With Milo, everything is related to social likes. Why can’t he mention our kiss in that trendy bar? Or laugh about the tiger who helped him stay regular?
“What’s your strategy, Penelope?” Amelia asks.
“Well, the Coips crew have a few suggestions. None of their ideas will fly, though.”
“Like what?” Amelia’s lips form a flat line.
“Like, Milo and Grayson were practicing their right to free speech, just without words. Or it happened to be both their birthdays, so they donned their birthday suits.”
“Alright. But what’s your strategy, Penelope?” Amelia asks again.
“That no one was hurt. It wasn’t a dangerous act. They weren’t having sex. Most people who saw them weren’t offended.”
“Except one person was offended. And here we are with a lawsuit.” Amelia’s phone rings from another room. She grunts, like she knows who’s calling and is ready for a fight. “I should be back soon.” She leaves.
We listen. She’s speaking firmly to whomever it is, demanding business class seats.
“What’s that all about?” Penelope asks.
“She won a holiday to Fiji in a competition,” Milo replies.
“And she wants to upgrade her flights?” I can’t believe she’s looking a gift horse in the mouth. Or maybe I can.
“You don’t know the first thing about the law, do you, Penelope?” Milo says, getting us back on point.
She holds up her book. “I have a lot of reading ahead.”
“But what have you read so far?” Milo adds.
“That because you covered your penises, you haven’t constituted obscenity.” Penelope sticks her tongue out at Milo. “See, I’m not a total nincompoop. All the images online show you covered your dicks.”
“I think she’s onto something,” I say. “It’s not like we were flashers in raincoats.”
“We were just naked in Hyde Park. Will anyone believe we had no intention to flash our bits?”
I’m rattled at how negative Milo is. Penelope has done her homework. He needs to change his attitude if we’re going to win this case.
It’s a good time for a break. “Where’s the toilet?” I have the urge to pee.
“Go down the hall past the kitchen.” Milo points. “It’s the door directly ahead.”
I wander down the corridor, catching a glimpse of Amelia arguing while she empties the dishwasher with her free hand. Nice to know she can multitask.
After I wash my hands, I head back. I catch Amelia on a stool, fumbling with a large saucepan, trying to open a cupboard while still quarrelling on the phone. When I try to help her, she moves the phone from her face.
“I’m fine,” she tells me. “Go back and discuss your case.”
“Are you sure?”
“I do this all the time.” She returns to her call. “No, I wasn’t talking to you.”
I step back into the hallway. “A...ah...choo!”
There’s a heavy thud, then a clatter. I pop back to the kitchen.
Amelia is face down on the floor. She’s not moving. She’s not even groaning. The stool is on its side next to the saucepan.
There’s blood. Shit, there’s blood.
I shake her but she’s out cold. “Amelia! Amelia!”
Penelope enters first, sizes up the situation, and waves her hand. Those magic chimes sound. What spell did she cast and why?
Milo is now here, crouching next to his mum. Amelia rolls onto her back and sits up. Her nose is bleeding.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, grabbing the tea towel. I press it against Amelia’s nose wondering if my sneeze caused this.
It couldn’t have. She would have been an aardvark, or a statue, or a cyborg, or something just as stupid if this was my fault.
She was careless and fell, and Penelope brought her back to consciousness.
“Does anything feel broken?” Penelope asks.
“I don’t think so.” Amelia shifts her body and grimaces.
“Call triple zero,” I instruct Milo. “We’ll need an ambulance.”
Milo does as he is told. After the call he texts someone.
“Summer?” I ask.
“Of course,” he replies. “I’ll need support at the hospital.”
My heart sinks.
“Not Summer,” Amelia grumbles. “That’s all I need.” She eyes each of us. “Help me stand.”
The three of us help get her to her feet.
Amelia is deathly pale. Okay, she did just fall, yet with her blood-stained dishtowel, and the dried blood on her lip, the lack of colour on her face is really noticeable. Is that normal?
Penelope is staring at me. And not in a ‘shit, you sneezed and another mishap occurred’ way. Something is bothering her. Really bothering her.
“What is it?” I mouth.
The ambulance isn’t far. Possibly several streets away judging by the shrill of the siren.
Penelope still hasn’t answered my question.
And I’m replaying the moments after my sneeze, piecing together what might be bothering my cottage witch.