Chapter 21
21
Dora stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and saw the tiniest glint of silver running through the front of her hair. Carefully parting it, she took hold of the strands and looked at them in the light. Had they been there before she came here or had they appeared since she’d arrived? It was hard to say. She didn’t think there had been any silver strands when she got ready for the airport, her aunts had the most beautiful silver hair, so she didn’t mind if hers eventually turned the same colour, but surely not yet. Although if they were right she only had two years of living left to do so what did it matter? She pushed those thoughts away. She needed to focus on the here and now. Stopping Corwin. There was so much that she didn’t understand, but if her aunts told her she needed her memories back, then she knew she had to focus on that. She hoped the streets of Salem would help. And she felt a strange pull to be out there. To that name: Ambrose. Applying her eyeliner and a hint of the palest pink lipstick, she backcombed her hair a little to give it some life and got dressed.
When she’d finished lacing up her boots she glanced in the mirror and smiled. She had been this way since she could remember. Always wore black, no matter what the weather. Had she known somewhere deep inside of her witchy connections or was she just a born Goth? Either way it didn’t matter. Or did it? There was something niggling at the back of her mind. It was if there was a tiny box tucked away inside a corner of her head and inside it contained all her past memories. If her aunts were telling the truth this wasn’t the first time Dora had lived, she had been around for hundreds of years, yet all this information was locked away and she had no idea where the key was to open it and let it out. She could only recall little snippets: her love of flowers, the memory of bathing in an icy-cold forest stream. If her aunts could remember each life, why couldn’t she?
Hades was nowhere to be seen this morning and she realised that she missed the bird. Who would have thought it? In London she was terrified of the pigeons that swooped low looking for scraps of food and yet he was much bigger than any pigeon and talked too. He was also very good company. A talking bird… maybe she was going as crazy as her aunts.
She heard Lenny talking to Lucine and slipped out the room. She was so conflicted about how she felt that she needed a little more time to get her head around this whole long-lost family scenario. A walk around Salem on her own might help her to clear her thoughts and get out of her own mind. As she reached the garden gate, she heard a cawing sound and turned to see Hades preening himself on Lucine’s windowsill. She blew him a kiss then walked along the quiet street, turning left at the corner onto Summer Street. She could see the striking black-painted house everyone referred to as ‘the Witch House’. A couple of women were taking photos of each other, both wearing black pointed witch hats and smiling. She felt a coldness spread down the entire length of her body, but her feet kept walking towards it; the house was drawing her in. She stared up the three gables mesmerised, something was happening inside her mind, and she couldn’t do anything.
‘Excuse me, sweetie, could you take a photo of us both, then we can take one of you.’
Dora turned to see the woman holding her phone towards her with a big smile on her face.
‘Oh, sorry, of course.’ She took the phone from the woman and pointed it at the grinning couple who had a whole routine of poses they were working their way through. When they finished Dora handed the phone back.
‘Your turn, let me take one of you. Isn’t this the most glorious of houses. It’s so iconic, we’ve been wanting to visit for a long time.’
Dora nodded; the house was something. Maybe it was iconic, but it scared her on some deeper level than she had known existed.
‘Oh, my phone’s at home, I haven’t got it.’
‘No problem, I’ll take some on mine and mail them to you. What’s your address?’
Dora gave her the shop email address and thanked her. Then she stood in front of the woman with her phone, her back to the house, trying her best to smile. A few shots later the woman smiled.
‘Are you okay? You look kind of scared.’
‘I’m fine. Sorry, a bit jet-lagged and finding my bearings. Thank you.’
‘No, thank you, honey, you’re a pretty good photographer. We almost look presentable.’
The other woman laughed, then linked her arm through her partner’s.
‘Have an amazing day, witch, blessed be.’
They turned and walked away without a second glance, leaving Dora standing there staring at the hay bales and mounds of pumpkins surrounding them. The old wooden sign next to her said ‘Closed’ and she was glad that it was. She didn’t know if she wanted to go inside there and had an awful feeling that her feet would force her around to the entrance at the back door if it was unlocked. It struck her then that the women in the pointed felt hats had addressed her as ‘witch’. She looked down, expecting to see a long grey linen dress with black pointed boots on her feet and a crocheted shawl around her shoulders, but she was still wearing her Docs and ripped black jeans. Stepping carefully off the broken paved path onto the grass – she didn’t like standing on those grey, jagged stones – she heard a child’s voice whisper in her ear.
‘ Step on a crack you’ll break your mother’s back, step on a stone you’ll end up all alone. ’
Dora spun around to see who had spoken and saw no one. She was alone. Hurrying across the road to get to the opposite side of Essex Street, she never looked back. She was going straight to the apothecary and getting whatever it was that Sephy had written on the list.
When she reached the door it was to find the shop empty. She realised why – it was closed. Dora cupped her hands across her eyebrows and peered through the glass, hoping to see some sign of life.
A woman’s voice behind her asked, ‘Can I help you?’
She jumped, then turned to see an older woman with a head full of tight curls and huge hooped earrings swaying in time to the chomping of her jaw as she chewed gum.
‘Hi, yes I hope so. Do you know what time the shop opens?’
‘Ten minutes ago, I’m late.’
The woman fished around in her handbag and pulled out a set of keys, inserting the biggest into the lock and turning it. ‘Give me a minute, hon, while I turn on the lights then you can come inside. You’re keen, trying to beat the damn crowds. Can’t say I blame you, another hour and downtown turns into bedlam.’
Dora smiled at her and waited for the lights to turn on, which moments later flickered into life.
‘So, how can I help you, lady, is there anything in particular that you’re after?’
‘Actually, my aunt sent me.’
The woman tilted her head, nodding at the same time. ‘Who would your aunt be?’
‘Sephy English.’
At the mention of Sephy’s name the woman’s eyes widened.
‘Sephy has a niece, a nice-speaking, British niece? Well, I never, that old girl can keep a secret or two. I’m Margo by the way, come on in.’
Dora smiled. ‘Thank you.’ Margo went through the black curtain into a room out the back, and Dora realised she should probably take a look at the list Sephy had given her. She unfolded it.
Raw amethyst chunks
Raw obsidian
Silver wire
Cinnamon sticks
Fresh pine needles
She looked around for the items but all she could see were vials of different liquids, tarot cards, coloured glass balls hanging from the ceiling and a small table with baskets of tumbled crystals inside them, all smooth and shiny. Margo walked through the curtains with a glass of water in her hand.
‘Can I grab these things for Sephy?’ Dora asked, passing her the list. Margo put the glass down and studied it.
‘She has all of this at home,’ Margo replied. She looked quizzically at Dora. ‘I’ve been told about you before.’ Margo smiled.
‘By my aunt? But you just said she kept me a secret?’ Dora looked at her, puzzled. Why had Sephy sent her here if she had all of these ingredients at home?
‘Beautiful alabaster skin, he always says,’ Margo replied dreamily. ‘And the most perfect eyes, like jewels.’
Ambrose… Dora thought to herself. Was ‘he’ the man from 1692 that her mother had mentioned? She hadn’t been able to get him out of her head ever since Lucine had mentioned him. Was he cursed too? Was he here? She felt drawn to him.
‘The man who talks about me, is he here?’
‘He’s down at the Ugly Mug.’ Margo picked up her phone and was instantly connected to whoever she had called. ‘She’s coming to you. Get her to eat something, will you, she looks like she needs some carbs and caffeine inside her to bring her back to life. Either that or a quick zap of a heart-start machine.’
Dora didn’t know whether she should be insulted or grateful that Margo cared enough about her. Margo came back into the shop and smiled at her.
‘Sorry, I get a bit carried away sometimes. I can’t help it, I’m always a sucker for a lost cause, they get to me, you know. You should see how many stray cats I feed every evening; those greedy suckers drive me mad. I think they go around telling all their cat pals to come on by to Margo’s house where the food is free, and the kitty toilet is her front flower bed.’
Dora laughed. ‘Am I a lost cause?’
Margo shrugged. ‘Ambrose certainly is. He’s been my friend for years. He’s been pining after you for as long as I’ve known him. I don’t know what you did to him when you last saw him, but he’s quite smitten. The Ugly Mug is a diner down on Washington Street. You get to the corner of this block and turn left; you can’t miss it. It’s painted black and white with a picture of an ugly mug in the window. Food’s pretty good, or at least it must be because Ambrose goes there every day.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. Don’t be a stranger and say hi to Sephy for me. I haven’t seen her in a while, she’s been busy looking after her sister.’
Dora nodded then, clutching the paper, she left the shop and headed towards the corner and the diner.