Chapter Eleven
Megan lay on her sofa looking wan. She’d managed to dispense with the bucket but was still a bit touch-and-go.
‘I brought you some more Lucozade.’ I unpacked the shopping on her table. Her dependency made it a bit like dealing with a female version of Nicky. ‘And some ice cream for when you feel a bit more like eating. Oh, and some more toilet paper — has that stopped yet?’
‘I feel a bit better today.’ She struggled up onto one elbow, fighting her way free of the duvet which enclosed her. ‘And you didn’t even get a bit queasy?’
‘Nope.’
‘I must have got some of the frog.’ Going pale, she lay carefully down again. ‘I think I might need the bucket back, actually.’
‘Do you want me to call the doctor?’
A brave shake of the head. ‘It’s passing. So, what’s the news from the big, wide world? Anything happening? Heard anything from the others?’
‘Vivienne left a message, there’s a meeting tomorrow night for us to compare notes. But I’m going to ask that we stay in the cottage. I mean, stuff the bloody rituals, there’s blokes out in those woods with guns. Not very nice blokes at that. Oh, and the weather forecast is horrible for the beginning of next week. Snow and stuff. You’re in the best place, all snuggled up in here.’
There was suddenly a terrible clattering, clanging noise from the little yard outside the flat. ‘That’s that bloody dog again.’ Indignation drove a little colour into Megan’s cheeks. ‘I can’t find out who it belongs to, but it keeps on going through my dustbin. Holl, please would you go out and make sure it hasn’t dragged all that horrible grease down the yard again? I don’t think I could stand the sight of it all reappearing . . .’ She blanched and took some deep breaths. ‘Please,’ she repeated.
I went out of her flat and down the two flights that led to the locked back door out to the yard, where the residents of the four flats kept their bins. Also their old bicycles, radiators, prams, mattresses and anything else that was too big for the bin and too broken to sell. I unlocked it with Meg’s huge old-fashioned key and stepped outside where the wind hit me like pins, tiny sharp points digging into my skin even in the relative shelter of the enclosed area and little bouts of hail bounced around my ankles. I looked around. A six-foot wall ran all round the yard, topped with broken glass which had yet to deter a peeping Tom, although it gave the residents an illusion of security, and the only way in was through the locked door. It smelled of old fat, bleach, and sour damp.
I saw the dog eventually, cowering behind a wheelie bin, with a mouthful of newspaper, and a guilty expression. It was a big dog, almost Alsatian-sized, but there its similarity to any recognised breed ended. It had one ear up, one ear down, a bit of backcombed string for a tail and a dirty brindled grey coat like something which had failed to sell in a jumble sale. I tried speaking to it, but it huddled even further back, obviously terrified, and showed me its teeth, with a desperate look on its face, as though its mouth was growling without the brain’s permission. I relocked the door and went back upstairs.
‘It must belong to someone in one of the flats,’ I said, thankfully getting in front of the gas fire. ‘Probably someone who’s out at work all day. I should call the RSPCA if I were you, it doesn’t look very well cared for.’
‘And had it been through my bin?’
‘It was eating newspaper, but without closer examination I couldn’t tell if it was yours.’
Megan sighed. ‘I’ll just have to wait until I’m feeling better then go down and clear up after it. I wish people wouldn’t do this, we had two feral cats down there which used to fight under my window at three in the morning. Turned out that they belonged to the guy in number two, that weird bloke who wore women’s skirts at the weekend.’ She propped herself up again. ‘Will you give my apologies to Vivienne? Even if I’m feeling better, I don’t know if I’m going to be strong enough to make it tomorrow night.’
‘You want me to go on my own?’
‘The others will be there, won’t they?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘You have to report back, Holl. Tell Vivienne about the effects of the spell. Have there been any effects?’ she added, almost wistfully. ‘Anything exciting happening?’
‘About as much as you’ve been worshipped.’
She sighed. ‘Oh dear.’ Big kitten-eyes looked at me over the duvet. ‘I really hope all this hasn’t been for nothing. I mean, it’s such a tiny wish, isn’t it? It’s not like I’ve wished to marry a billionaire.’
‘Have you been reading those Mills a woman who’s spent the last three days on the toilet with her head and bum being interchangeable, did not need to know any of that.
‘Oh well, if it’s work,’ Megan lost interest and we spent the rest of my visit discussing daytime television, which she’d had plenty of opportunity to study.
I spent the next day with my laptop and camera at the seaside. A company in London wanted a suitable location for a 1920s detective series, set by the sea, so there I was, huddled in my best down coat and still freezing, sending live-feed pictures down the line to some coked-up executives in a nice, warm city office. Standing in the wind was like being carved and little slivers of hail prodded my cheeks into numbness, while the boys in the production office kept getting me to move another hundred yards along the cliff, to show another angle of Scarborough which they could have got from the tourist brochure.
Finally the light went and they decided to ‘think about it’, so I drove straight to Barndale, where at least Vivienne’s cottage was warm.
Eve was sitting on the sofa already when I got there. Two cats were jockeying for position on her lap and she and Vivienne were indulging in a very unwitchy pot of tea and plate of scones.
‘Ah, Holly.’ Vivienne fetched down another cup, which was nice. I was so frozen that I wasn’t sure I could hold it. ‘Did you bring Isobel?’
‘Was I meant to?’ I folded my hands around the cup for the warmth.
‘Not really. But she lives near you and her car was in getting a service, so I wondered if she might have asked for a lift.’
I shook my head. ‘I’ve not been home since this morning. Working.’
‘She self-harms, you know.’ Eve spoke over Vivienne’s shoulder. ‘Isobel. Because of her skin problems. She says she feels ugly all the time, so she cuts her arms to feel better.’
Now I felt like a shit for not offering someone a lift when I didn’t even know they needed a lift in the first place. ‘I could go back and look for her,’ I offered, reluctantly groping behind me for the still-damp coat.
But then we heard the growl of Isobel’s old Isuzu truck drawing up outside. I sat down again with relief and then wondered what they said about me when I wasn’t there. Did they discuss my great job and lovely home or did they spend their time picking to pieces the fact that I didn’t have a regular boyfriend? Hmm .
‘Sorry I’m late, had to pick the car up.’ Isobel sat beside me. ‘Megan rang, said she’s still feeling poorly.’
Everyone looked at me as though it were my fault. In fact, they eyeballed me as though I was responsible for every act of civic nastiness in the previous fifty years. ‘What?’
‘Have you had any results from the other night?’ Vivienne looked at the scones as she spoke.
‘No, not really. I did feel a bit squitty on Friday, but I think it was the prawn sandwich I had for lunch.’
‘Vivienne means positive results, from our . . . little experiment,’ Eve explained. I looked at her properly for a moment and wondered. She’d wished to meet the man of her dreams, but she’d not done anything practical about it, like getting a good haircut or buying some trendier clothes. No. She’d teamed up with a deserted wife, a girl who cut her arms to escape the miseries of acne and loneliness, a woman who thought love was like the romance novels and me, someone who didn’t believe in Mr Right and was content to shag her way through lots of Mr shut-the-door-on-your-way-out. That was weird behaviour, however you looked at it.
‘Well, a bloke did fire a gun next to me.’ I reluctantly conceded that this was probably the most exciting moment in the past week, although it hadn’t exactly been the fun event I’d been expecting. The huge adrenaline rush that had been Kai’s kiss was none of their business. ‘But he was a gamekeeper. Or something.’
‘So. No, you know, thrilling things? Nobody whisking you away to the C?te d’Azur for a weekend?’
‘Not so’s you’d notice. Anyone else getting anything?’
The other three shook their heads.
‘Maybe it didn’t work,’ Isobel said. ‘I don’t mind, really. Being part of this group has been so good for me, being able to get out and chat and do something other than sit at home with Mum and Dad watching wildlife shows. If the spell doesn’t ever work, I still feel like I’ve gained such a lot.’
I rolled my eyes. Any moment now and they’d start embracing and calling each other ‘sister’.
‘Well, I think it’s damn shabby. And I blame you, Holly, I really do.’ Vivienne snatched the scones away, into another dimension probably.
‘Hang on, how is this my fault? I only came along to keep Megan company. I didn’t even have a proper wish!’
Isobel and Eve also interceded on my part. ‘Perhaps there was something wrong with the spell?’
‘Yes, could the wording have been wrong? Were we meant to put our wishes in like that?’
Vivienne shook her head. Her cropped hair was showing root growth, I noticed, about half an inch of brown sprinkled with grey was lying along her parting. The vivid red hid it well but she’d not had her hair done in a while. ‘My part was perfect. It must have been some of the ingredients that were wrong, and, Holly, you supplied the major part of them.’
My teeth ached with the urge to say ‘but it’s all just pretend . Magic isn’t real.’ They completely believed their own fabrication, and it would have been useless to point out that we’d used photographs and computer printouts and surely that wasn’t in the spirit of any branch of magic.
‘Okay, well,’ I said into my cup, ‘I did my best.’ Maybe it was because I’d had fun getting all the bits and pieces that it hadn’t worked. Perhaps it all had to be dark and joyless and rocking on the edge of the razor blade between sanity and talking squirrels to be properly occult.
‘And we haven’t really given it very long, have we?’ Isobel-Pollyanna went on. ‘I mean, we’re supposed to be channelling earth-energies into our wishes, well, at this time of year earth-energies must be a bit low. I think we should wait a while before we write it off. Maybe do some more visualisation up on the hill?’
‘No,’ I said quickly. ‘I mean, let’s let the bad weather pass first. I can’t be the only one who doesn’t fancy sitting in six inches of snow with nothing but an IKEA blanket between me and anal frostbite.’
Eve shuddered. ‘I’m with Holly. Let’s wait and see.’
Vivienne twitched her long nose. ‘Well, if that’s the opinion of the group.’
We all nodded vigorously, and I checked around for the scones.
‘All right. But we can really only spare a short while before we have to link ourselves in to the rhythms of the earth mother once more. We can’t ignore her and yet expect her to bend to our dominion.’
Ah, bollocks, I thought. But it’s hurting no one. And she’s providing scones. So I joined in the nodding, and refilled my cup while they were all hugging.