A Blend Of Magic

8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

T he alarm jolted Willow from her disturbed sleep and she fumbled to switch it off in the dark before falling back onto the bed with a groan, waking the snoring Vincent. ‘Sorry, boy. You’re not the man I wanted to wake up to this morning.’

The kiss was more than she imagined; it felt like coming home. When he wrapped his arms around her to shield her from the penetrating wind, his warmth heightened the anticipation of what would follow. Hand in hand, they returned through the labyrinth of alleys to the shop and Willow didn’t doubt he would agree to a nightcap. Except he didn’t. After a long smouldering kiss on her doorstep, he wished her a merry Christmas and turned away, leaving her shocked and frustrated. From her window, she saw his shoulders slump after checking his phone before he walked out of sight, adding confusion to the list of emotions that kept her awake.

If Louise was here, what would she say about him? First, she’d have gone through her mental list of requirements in a match. Job—tick. Job more than flipping burgers in a bar—big tick. Own place—tick. Handsome—tick. Hot—double tick. Able to hold an engaging conversation—tick, and make her body tingle with anticipation—tick. With everything answered, she’d turn to Willow and say with an enormous grin, ‘Way to go, girl. You’ve turned a corner. Now get him back.’

It concerned Willow how the passing of time made it difficult to visualise her friend without the use of the photo sitting on her bedside table. Years might have passed since she received the phone call about the fatal fire, but her heart still ached every day. Louise’s hair loosely tied back was easy to imagine; it was identical to Amber’s before she dyed and straightened it. No one could forget her colourful bohemian style with the long skirts that swirled round her ankles and bare feet. She rarely wore shoes if she could enjoy the earth beneath her feet. Louise’s desire to experience Whitby’s energy had brought them to their special place. The place Willow took Nate. What was she thinking, taking him to the headland that was sacred to the two friends? And the place that made Willow fall in love with the coastal town. She knew Louise’s smile would become fuller at the idea somebody had knocked down at least one brick in Willow’s high defences around her heart. The smile might be harder to remember, but the memory of their first meeting was as vivid as the day they met.

***

Willow had met Louise at York University on the night the freshers unpacked their belongings and said farewell to their families. All except Willow. Louise watched the tall, willowy girl make endless trips to an old, battered Morris Minor to retrieve boxes and return to the halls of residence. Having already organised her room to her satisfaction, she went to offer help. Willow’s instinct was to refuse and say she was fine, but she soon learnt nothing would stop Louise once she’d made a decision.

Willow’s room was quickly sorted, and the two girls bonded over a cup of tea. They learnt they were studying different subjects: art predictably for Louise, with her flowing hippie-style fashion, and history for Willow; but the connection was forged when they discovered they were both witches. Louise was the first witch she’d met aside from her grandmother and the first who was proud of her identity instead of hiding it away like a shameful secret. It was Louise’s idea to visit Whitby in the summer holidays to find the infamous Grandma Jax’s house Willow had often spoken about, hidden low in the Yorkshire Moors. The place Willow felt most at home. So they booked a B it was where she processed herbs, bottled potions, and she experimented with herbal blends, remedies, and spells. Her cat sneaked in, and wound himself around her legs, making it difficult to carry the large bird back to the flat; the lure of food was more important than his early morning prowl around town.

With the turkey in the oven, Willow cradled her tea and planned the day. Amber and Glenn would be over mid-morning, giving her a few hours to fill with a relaxing shower and breakfast before curling up in front of the fire to read. She’d treated herself to a latest bestseller for this day, but her thoughts drifted to Nate. If she was Rosa, she would have googled his name and tracked down his social media accounts to discover all the tiny details he hadn’t shared while peeling veg and watching old movies. The idea that her own life could be accessed by anyone sent shivers of terror down her spine, leading her to shun the invasive platforms, much to Amber’s disgust. Willow regretted it now; as much as they talked, Nate revealed little of his life, making her curious. Who was he and was he thinking of the kiss as much as she was? If it wasn’t for his text alerting her he had got back to his cottage safely and the organised kitchen, she would have assumed he had been a delusion caused by her aching head.

‘Damn it,’ she muttered. Her resolve broke with Bon Jovi pleading for his love to come home for Christmas from the radio.

Fancy a Christmas cup of tea? She typed a text and pressed send before she changed her mind.

Freshly showered, Willow dried her hair with a towel while checking her phone. Message not sent blinked on the screen and the signal bar failed to appear despite moving from room to room and standing on chairs. The more she thought about Nate, the more she needed to see him. A plan formed when she watched Vincent groom himself in front of the warm oven.

‘Don’t look at me like that. This works in the movies. Consider it your punishment for straying into someone else’s home.’ With a note attached to his collar, she turfed Vincent outside with instructions she hoped he would follow.

Willow stood in the lounge window, watching the courtyard for any activity. An emotional cocktail of doubt, fear, but predominantly excitement swirled in her stomach. The buzz of adrenaline needed a release. If her calculations were correct, Vincent, with or without Nate, should have returned. Unless he had become distracted, his deed undone, in the quest for a titbit at the harbour or a mouse. Different scenarios played in her head, including one where Nate scrunched up the note to throw in the bin, relieved he had had a lucky escape. If he has , she decided, it didn’t matter. This was just a fling . A shadow emerged from the alley, Vincent followed by Nate. He looked up and as their eyes met, she knew inviting him in was a risk worth taking. He was a Christmas present for herself.

Willow opened the shop door, jangling its bell.

‘I’ve never had post via a cat before. Is this a new witch craze because I thought it was owls these days?’

‘You can’t get hold of them easily any more. So, cats have to do.’ Her cheeks ached from her constant wide grin. She couldn’t believe he had come.

‘Are you going to let me in or am I going to freeze to death or worse, get thrown into the bush again? Looking at it, I doubt it’ll catch me this time.’ The mangled plant bore scars of his fall and Willow made a note to herself to find a replacement, but first there were other things she must do.

Willow stood aside, allowing him in before locking the door. She felt his breath against her neck, and he slipped his arms around her waist. ‘You do realise I only came back to reclaim my jumper,’ he murmured.

‘Jumper?’ What is he talking about? She melted against his firm chest.

‘This one.’ He lifted the hem of her oversized sweater, grazing her bare stomach with his fingers, igniting a current of electricity through her. Looking down, she recognised the blue woollen top as his for the first time; no wonder she couldn’t forget his aftershave. Its continual presence teased her.

‘Maybe I want to keep it.’

‘It looks better on you, but maybe you don’t need it on right now.’ She turned to face him. Encouraged by the desire evident in his eyes, she silenced the conversation with a kiss.

The heat from the night before returned with more passion. He wouldn’t leave her now. They stumbled backwards, and he lifted her onto the counter. She glimpsed an open-mouthed Old Percy before he vanished. The jumper discarded, his ice-cold hands made her shiver with delight as she hastily undid the buttons of his shirt, pulling him closer by his belt. The need for each other meant everything else slipped away.

***

‘Any chance of cancelling today?’ asked Nate, kissing her neck.

‘No,’ she squealed in response, spraying him with bubbles from the sink. It was tempting to lead him to her bedroom and spend the morning together, but today was important for other reasons. ‘In fact, they’re here.’

Two figures appeared in the garden and followed the snowy path. A man strode behind a bounding teenager encased in a deep green Tolkienesque cloak; only her ripped black jeans and chunky biker boots revealed with every step showed she wasn’t a movie extra. It took seconds from the downstairs door shutting for the shrouded figure to appear in the flat and embrace Willow.

‘Merry Christmas,’ the girl shrieked. Her hood fell back, revealing a shock of vibrant scarlet hair. ‘Dad bought me this, with your help, I’m sure.’ The velvet cloak opened wide, showing its black satin lining decorated with dragonflies. ‘I love it—thank you. Who are you?’

‘Ambs, this is Nate. Nate, this is Amber and her father Glenn.’

Amber scowled at the man drying the pots, taking in his socked feet and rolled-up sleeves. Her dad stood in the doorway. His surprise was also visible, but he smiled and held out his hand while balancing several immaculately wrapped presents. ‘Hi. Sorry about my daughter. We weren’t expecting anyone else to be here.’

‘It was a last-minute decision.’ Nate shook Glenn’s hand.

Glenn gave the presents to Amber with instructions to put them under the tree before hugging Willow tight. ‘Happy Christmas, Wills. Bloody hell. What happened to your face?’

Amber cast an accusing stare at Nate and Willow quickly intervened.

‘Blame Vincent. He knocked me down the step at the front of the shop. Nate here rescued me.’

‘He didn’t catch you, though, did he?’ said Amber, still suspicious that it wasn’t an innocent injury.

‘No, it happened too fast.’ Willow omitted that Nate was in no position to help as he lay tangled in lights. The comical image made her smile again. ‘But he picked me up and spent the evening in A I would’ve come over.’

‘I know you would, Glenn, but it was panto night. I wasn’t going to spoil your and Amber’s evening away for this. How was it?’ Willow deflected the topic to something more neutral.

‘Oh, Willow, you must come next year. It was amazing. The set was wonderful.’

Amber gave a detailed description of the set and costumes.

‘As you can tell, my daughter is into theatrical design. She hopes to work in the art department in the theatres once she has finished uni.’

‘If I get to uni?’

Glenn rolled his eyes and gave his daughter a hug. ‘Of course you will.’

***

They retired into the sitting room. Amber knelt near the tree organising the presents into piles. Nate hovered in the doorway waiting to see where he could sit and noted it was a perfect Christmas scene; festive music played, candles flickered, and Vincent sprawled out in front of a blazing fire. The only difference was a Goth teenager replaced the usual overexcited child. The smell of turkey combined with the smell of the tree transported him back to his childhood, when Christmas was simple and exciting. When bulging stockings at the bottom of the bunk beds he shared with his younger brother made them jump up with glee and sit on the floor, ripping open gifts, eating the chocolate, and squabbling over who had the best presents. For the first time since he arrived, he thought of his family and what they were doing and whether they would miss him. He doubted it; he had missed many family Christmases through work responsibilities. His absence wouldn’t be unusual. They would follow the same routine—church in the morning, followed by dinner and the grand opening of the main presents after the Queen’s Speech. As a child, the delay drove him wild, especially when he discovered his friends opened their gifts before breakfast or even the night before.

His dad was strict; he had to wait as a child therefore so did Nate and his brothers. He wondered if his niece and nephew had to wait too. He hoped not, they deserved to have fun without the restrictions he had. Ten o’clock. His father would be bellowing out carols before listening to the sermon shivering on the family pew. Their church might have a new fancy heating system, but it did little to protect the parishioners against the bitterly cold draught that permeated the walls.

Glenn sat in the armchair chatting to Willow, and Nate couldn’t help feeling he was the outsider until she reached for his hand, dragging him to sit next to her. ‘Let the chaos begin.’

Before long, wrapping paper littered the carpet to the delight of Vincent, who practised his feline killing techniques on scrunched-up paper Amber threw for him. He caught them with his enormous paws before returning them to Amber for a repeat performance.

‘Fetch is one of his many quirks. Who needs a dog if you have a Maine Coon?’ said Willow.

‘I’d still have a dog,’ said Nate.

‘So, you’re a dog person? I doubt Vincent or BC would ever get on with a dog,’ Amber told him. The air chilled between them until Willow nudged the teenager to dish out the presents. To Nate’s surprise, she passed him some small parcels from Willow. He raised his eyebrows as he removed the layers of paper to see his favourite coffee beans and chocolate.

‘How did you know?’

Willow shrugged but refused to elaborate. He held a pair of festive socks in the air.

‘I think fate was being kind,’ said Willow. In unison with Amber and Glenn, she ripped her present open. Looking at the goofy Rudolph jumper she received, and the equally garish jumpers Amber and Glenn were putting on, he had to agree.

‘Time for a group photo,’ Amber declared. Everyone clambered onto the sofa, posing for a series of selfies. Afterwards, Nate switched on his phone, swiped away the many notifications, and took some photos himself. He refused to think of anything but the family he had found himself in.

Amber stripped the paper from the last present, resulting in a delighted squeal at the large carved wooden box. The hinged front revealed shelves of aged glass bottles, small drawers, and compartments. Her fingers trailed over the objects, and her smile widened at the discovery of more vintage glass jars, a small set of brass scales, pestle and mortar, and stubby brass candlestick nestled in velvet padding.

‘Oh my God I love it. Thank you.’ Amber flung her arms around Willow.

‘Every witch needs her own travel apothecary. You can take it to uni but no blowing anything up, brewing banned potions. or getting up to mischief.’

‘Spoilsport. I bet you and Mum got up to mischief at uni.’

‘Not as much as you think. The most I did was brew experimental teas. Your mum? Well, she was more explorative with her magic until she was nearly evicted for triggering fire alarms and many complaints about the obnoxious odours emanating from her room. Under there is a secret latch.’ A hidden compartment pinged open. ‘The perfect place for your Book of Shadows. Keep it safe and enjoy.’

They gathered around the table, their plates piled high with festive food.

‘Can I get anyone a drink?’ Nate produced two bottles of wine. Silence fell. Amber glared at him in disgust. Willow and Glenn exchanged a look before Willow said she would, but Glenn couldn’t as he was driving. Glenn interrupted.

‘Actually, I wouldn’t anyway—I’m a recovering alcoholic.’

Nate cringed and wished he had been warned beforehand. ‘Sorry, mate, I didn’t realise.’

‘It’s fine. You weren’t to know.’ Glenn shrugged and turned to his daughter. ‘Amber, it’s fine. I don’t need protecting or to keep it secret. It won’t help. And I’m not about to fall off the wagon if I see someone else drink, including you.’

‘Why would I want to? It tastes disgusting.’ She crinkled her nose.

Nate poured him a Coke. ‘How long has it been?’

‘I’ve been dry for 785 days. Some of the hardest days, but well worth it.’ The atmosphere relaxed as Nate and Glenn discussed his road to recovery and tales from his work. Laughter followed, allowing Nate to see Willow in her natural, relaxed environment.

She loved these people, but he wondered how they all fitted in.

‘Time for the crackers,’ said Amber. Willow offered one to Nate to pull. He noted the shop’s logo and trademark colours of silver and blue. ‘These are wonderful. I hoped we would have some this year. Willow makes them; each has a spell, gift, or potion to guide the recipient in the coming year. They sold out super quick. I made some this time—she didn’t trust me last year.’

‘I wonder why.’ Willow chuckled. The satisfying snaps earned them all a disgruntled look from Vincent. A gold paper hat from Willow’s cracker fell to the ground along with a small bottle of pale green liquid. Nate picked it up and gave it to her. The label read: Protection .

‘Hey, I made that one. I hope it works, but why would you need it?’ Amber said. Nate wondered the same thing.

‘Probably against magical mishaps when you’re in the workshop,’ Willow deflected the conversation. She didn’t seem concerned about the message so why did he feel uneasy? It wasn’t as if he believed in this hocus-pocus. What would she need protecting from?

Amber received a bag of gems for confidence and reflection, and Glenn unwrapped a candle for romance.

‘I don’t think I’ll need this, Wills.’

‘Don’t look at me. I’ve no control over what you’re given. Take it up with the universe.’ She put her paper hat on and nudged Nate to do the same.

‘Let me take a photo, Dad. It might go viral like the one with Clara.’ Amber snapped away.

‘Please tell me that has settled down. If I’d realised the photo would be online, I would have stopped it being taken.’

‘It’ll calm down, and if she carries out the threat, I’ll just hex her. Oh, don’t look so worried. You know, I wouldn’t really do that? What did you get, Nate?’

‘What threat?’ Willow’s face paled, and Nate longed to reach out to her hand and soothe her anxious fingers stroking the bottle from the cracker.

‘It was only said in jest, I’m sure, and it’s trending on social media, which is a fantastic promotion for the Emporium. Everyone’ll want to visit now. What did you get, Nate?’

He shook his cracker and a specialist sachet of tea fell into his palm with the simple message of Clarity in the matters of the heart .

‘Do people really believe in these?’

Glenn laughed. ‘If you asked me two years ago, I’d have said they were fools to, but if you hang around, you soon discover Hamlet was right when he said ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’