Chapter 7

7

Dora let herself into Lenny’s apartment. It didn’t matter how many times she did this, it always felt as if she was an intruder. Even though she’d lived here as long as she could remember, it was expensive, luxurious, and she often wondered how Lenny could afford such a beautiful home that overlooked the Thames and the South Bank. She could see the London Eye, its neon pink lights in the distance. She loved the South Bank; spending time browsing the second-hand book market was one of her favourite things to do. She had a passion for books that rivalled her love of all things floral.

Opening the wardrobe door, she kicked her shoes inside, hanging up her coat and hat, then took the flowers George had given her to the sink. Forget-me-nots were for true love, periwinkles for everlasting love. Did he know about the meanings of the flowers he’d chosen or was it just a coincidence? Filling the sink with water, she put them in it until she’d had a quick shower. Her thumb and finger were throbbing where she’d torn the skin and she felt as if she needed to soak the day away under the hot jets of spray and a good dose of disinfectant. There was something rather disconcerting about George and she couldn’t make up her mind what it was.

She stopped mid-removal of her leggings. Disconcerting , where on earth had that come from? She never used words like that, she hadn’t realised that she knew words like that. Stripping off the rest of her clothes, she stepped into the shower enclosure, which was almost as big as her bedroom, and under the multiple warm jets that sprayed from every angle possible. She closed her eyes and sighed; this was far better than bathing in an icy-cold stream. ‘When have you ever had to bathe in a cold stream, Dora?’ she whispered, her voice drowned out by the noise of the water.

When she had steamed the bathroom up sufficiently, she wrapped a fluffy black towel around her head and slipped her soft, cosy dressing gown on. She was hungry so she wandered into the kitchen where Lenny was bending over the sink, her fingers holding the flowers. Lenny straightened, letting go of them.

‘Strange choice of flowers, even for you. Where on earth did you find these this time of year?’ She was pointing to the forget-me-nots and periwinkles.

‘They were a gift.’

Lenny turned, her green eyes staring directly into hers. ‘Oh really, a gift from who?’

‘The guy who I put my foot in it with about his dead girlfriend yesterday.’

‘Hang on, a customer came to see you about a wreath but ends up bringing you flowers. How odd.’ There was a look of concern on Lenny’s face.

‘I’m glad you think so too. He’s weird but he smells divine. And anyway I refused his offer of supper at Marco’s, so he took Katie instead.’

A look of alarm crossed Lenny’s face and Dora was suddenly piqued to know why.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Dora.

‘Nothing, it’s just a bit strange. Has he said anything to you?’

‘About what? Come on, I’m not a gifted psychic. I haven’t got a clue what you mean.’

Her aunt shrugged. ‘Nothing, I’m just being silly. That was nice of him in a peculiar way. Did you speak to Katie about the shop?’

‘I did better than that, I’ve spent all afternoon supplying her with tea and showing her how to run it and make up simple bouquets.’

‘Really?’

Dora grinned. ‘Really.’

Lenny laughed.

‘Phew, what a relief then, you’re coming home with me.’ She began walking towards the bedroom and Dora shouted.

‘Coming home, I thought you were going on a work trip to Salem?’ Lenny turned around; her normally alabaster cheeks were tinged hot pink. ‘Where exactly is home?’

‘Did I say home? Blimey, I must be more tired than I thought, it’s just a slip of the tongue, dear. I meant Salem, it’s my turn to talk rubbish.’

She smiled at her then disappeared into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. Which was a signal to Dora that she was not to be disturbed. Her Aunt Lenny didn’t have many rules, but the main ones were: do not enter her room if the door was shut; do not tell lies; and do no harm to anyone. Dora had always found that last one a little odd, but she obliged. She wasn’t the harming kind of person anyway. Her aunt had been the mother she’d never known so there was no chance she was going to upset her and make her mad enough that she’d tell her to pack her bags and leave.

Crossing to the fridge, she took out the milk and poured some into a pan. Warming it on the hob, she added a couple of squares of white chocolate, a dollop of fresh cream and a few drops of vanilla essence. As she stirred it slowly, she remembered a time she used to stand over an open fire, tending a cast-iron pot over the flames. Closing her eyes, she could feel the coldness of the air around her in the wooden shack she called home. It was draughty, old and had barely any furniture, but it smelled wonderful, the aroma of lavender, mint and rosemary filling her nostrils. And then she smelled burning milk as the hot liquid boiled over the side of the pan and onto the electric hob, sizzling loudly.

‘Aaah, bloody hell.’

Lenny’s door opened and she popped her head out, her nose wrinkling at the stench of burning liquid. Satisfied the flat wasn’t on fire she shut the door again. Dora moved the pan off the heat and surveyed the mess. Her hot chocolate was definitely hot and if she was lucky she’d have half a mug instead of a full one. Grabbing a tea towel, she wrapped it around the handle and tipped the boiling mixture into her mug, then placed it out of reach while she set about cleaning up the mess. Opening the cupboard, she took out the cleaning spray her aunt insisted on making by hand and sprayed it liberally all over the hob. It sizzled along with the burnt milk, but when she ran the dishcloth under the hot water tap, added a dollop of washing-up liquid and swiped it over the offending hob the burnt milk lifted with ease, leaving the hob clean.

‘It’s like magic,’ she whispered, smiling to herself that she’d cleaned up without ruining anything.

Taking the mug, she went into her room and lay on the super-sized bed without closing the blinds. She stared out of the window at the twinkling lights across the South Bank. She had no idea what was going on or where these sudden jolts of memories were coming from, or if they even were memories, but it was making her tired. She was excited to go to Salem, just the thought of going on an actual holiday was what was making her stomach churn with nerves, that and the worry that Katie might have made a mistake in going out with George. Picking up her phone, she rang her friend’s number.

‘Hey, what’s up, Dora? You should have come to Marco’s, it was delicious and free. You know free food is the best, it tastes divine.’

Dora sat up. ‘Where are you?’

‘At home, why?’

‘Alone?’

‘Yes, of course, what do you think I am? Do you think I give out on a first date?’ Katie’s laughter filled her ears and her shoulders relaxed; she lay back on her bed.

‘You didn’t take him home with you then?’

‘Dora, no I did not. And besides, it’s quite clear he’s a little besotted with you.’

‘Why?’

‘It was like the Dora show for the whole time we were eating. How old are you, where do you live, have you got a boyfriend, what kind of guys do you like, blah, blah, blah. To be honest it got a bit boring. I downed the wine, finished my carbonara and made an excuse to leave.’

Dora’s entire body had gone bone-chillingly numb. ‘Katie, what did you tell him?’

‘Not a lot. I told him you were single, but I never gave him your address or anything really personal. I told him you liked a hazelnut latte, were partial to a chicken pad thai and would happily munch on a bag of prawn crackers all night rather than eat at a posh restaurant. I’m not stupid Dora, I thought that maybe he might be a bit of fun. But it turns out if he wasn’t talking about you, he was staring into space.’

‘Blimey, he sounds odd. Did he talk about his girlfriend?’

‘Not a peep. You’d think someone who’s grieving would do nothing but want to talk about their dead girlfriend. You know, for a guy who looks as good as Luke Evans did in Dracula Untold he’s pretty crap at the whole romance thing. Even I would tell you to stay clear of him and I’m not that fussy.’

‘What about you, are you going to? I’m worried he might keep coming into the shop when I’m not there and bothering you.’

‘Honey, if he buys me expensive meals, plies me with wine then eventually screws me, I’m never going to turn him away. I’ll take it for what it is.’

‘Katie, that’s awful, please don’t. And what do you think it is?’

‘I’d say it’s working his way in to getting to know Dora English without having the balls to ask her out directly. Look, I have nothing else better to do, I can scope him out for you, and if he starts getting all crazy then I’ll phone the cops and tell them he’s a nutjob. It’s what friends do.’

‘No, it’s not, I don’t want you to have anything to do with him, Katie. I mean it, he gives me this weird vibe that he’s up to something. He could be like one of those guys off the documentaries on Amazon, The Serial Killer Next Door .’

Katie’s laughter filled her ear. ‘Night, Dora, I love you. You’re funny, you know that, don’t you.’

The line went dead, and Dora stared down at her phone. She wasn’t being funny, she was being serious. She wanted to escape London more than ever now, get away from George with his strange personality and forget that he’d ever come into her shop.

Lenny paced up and down her bedroom. Those flowers were not the usual choice for a man trying to impress a woman… unless you were a hunter. And High Sheriff George Corwin was certainly that. She clenched her fists. Those flowers were a message to her. And this time, Dora knew nothing about what was happening.

How had he found them again? This time they had been so cautious, she had left Salem when Dora had been a few weeks old. They had to go home quickly. They had never been able to find the journal that was the key to Dora’s powers. There was a time when they’d thought Dora wasn’t ready; they’d made her swear never to touch the journal. It had been their biggest mistake.

Lenny had no idea how they’d beat Corwin. But one thing was for certain, they were stronger together. At home.

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