19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
R osa chatted while Amber perched on the stepladder, rotating the stock. Now the fog had lifted, a steady stream of customers eager to start the new year with a magical boost visited the shop. Amber suspected Willow had something to do with the unusual weather. Slight wisps lingered between the cracks of the courtyard’s paving slabs and the store brimmed with protective energy. She shook her head; she loved Willow but the number of spells she’d conjured to keep journalists away was overkill. It kept potential customers away. Anyone susceptible to the charged energy would have second thoughts about walking down Black Cat Alley. When her dad had mentioned Willow’s reluctance to engage in the hive of excitement around the store and determination to lie low, Amber disagreed with the logic. It made no business sense not to tap into the social media storm. The rivalry between the two stars threw the shop into the spotlight but thanks to @LibbyJ56’s tea review, her thread documenting her journey home, and her resignation as Clara’s PA, #TheEnchantedEmporium and #TheWishingSpell range were trending. Amber conceded some weirdos existed, making their warped opinions known, and Clara’s fans were raging, but it was doing wonders for the shop’s visibility. There was nothing like drama to attract new followers.
The pressure of looming exams forcing itself down on her didn’t prevent Amber’s mood rising with each like or share. She loved working in the Emporium, and serving customers, but her favourite time was learning the trade and magic in the workshop. Since returning to work, she was eager to show Willow her recent ideas, make products, and learn, but Willow remained elusive. Apart from the brief encounter on New Year’s Eve, Amber hadn’t seen her properly since Christmas and she missed her. She was even avoiding her dad thanks to Nate breaking her heart. The sooner Willow and Glenn got together, the better. Amber needed to activate her plan. The first on the list was to invite her over for Sunday lunch. It had been ages since they had done something together and if it became a regular thing, the pair would see how well suited they were.
Glenn’s enthusiasm for his dating plan made him grateful when she helped set him up on the dating sites. He needed it. If he’d published his own bio, he would have no hope of success. Potential partners would have laughed at him. Acting the supportive daughter might be difficult, but this way, with the passwords safely tucked away, she could monitor his matches. Meddle if necessary. Not that she’d confided that part to Jack. He might be her best friend and boyfriend, but with his traditional family, he’d never understand, and he’d judge her. It was a perfect plan.
‘What are you looking so smug about?’ Rosa passed her another box and dismantled the empty ones.
‘Just stuff.’ Amber shrugged and considered whether Rosa was a potential ally with her romantic outlook and the endless consumption of romantic novels. There was no time to talk when Willow came through from the back room.
Immaculate as always, Willow’s make-up couldn’t hide the dull exhaustion in her eyes and her weight loss. Amber cursed Nate. How dare he hurt her friend like this, but Willow’s distress could benefit her plan. Her dad could make it better. Willow was always the strong one and pulled them out of their terrible times. Now it was their turn.
‘I’ve deleted the Enchanted Emporium’s Twitter account,’ said Willow.
‘What!’ Amber spun round, wobbling the ladder precariously. ‘You’ve what?’
Willow repeated herself.
‘But that’s madness. Social media’s the way to go, it’s how successful businesses succeed. We’re trending. You’re overreacting, Willow. Everyone gets trolled. Just block them. Not—’
‘Enough!’ Willow raged. ‘It is my business. The Emporium is no longer on social media.’
‘You’ve deleted all of it? Even Instagram—it has the largest following. Vincent is the star of the show, please, not that.’ Willow’s anger shocked her into a quiet plea. She never got angry, not even when Vincent smashed a display of spell bottles when pursuing an imaginary mouse.
‘I couldn’t. You hold the password, but I want it gone. Now!’ Willow retreated to the workshop with a slam of the door.
‘Willow!’ Amber shouted, jumping from the ladder. She wouldn’t lose her Instagram followers. Rosa blocked Amber’s path.
‘Leave it, Amber. She’s the boss and you have to respect her wishes.’
‘You don’t understand. You oldies are all the same. I worked hours on that account. Hours.’ Any sympathy Amber felt for the situation drowned in her anger.
‘Give her time. It’s obvious this Clara business has affected her more than you think on top of her breakup with Nate.’
‘She was with him for less than a week. Not exactly the romance of the century, was it?’ Amber fled into the courtyard with another slam of the door, leaving Rosa and a perplexed Old Percy alone.
***
Amber stood on the beach alone. After an uneasy shift at the store, she couldn’t face going home. Glenn would take Willow’s side, just as Rosa had. The moon reflected on the water as she attempted to match her breathing with the ebb and flow of the incoming tide. Inhale as the crescent waves flowed towards her, exhale as they receded. She urged her anger to retreat, but it continued to brew. It was unfair. All her hard work over the last few months to attract and interact with followers, gone with a click of a button. Or not. Amber smiled, knowing removing yourself from social media wasn’t as easy as Willow assumed. With another click, she could reactivate the accounts once she convinced Willow to agree, but the longer they were offline, the more followers they would lose. Whatever happened, she wouldn’t delete Instagram. She’d invested too much time in taking the perfect shots of their stock, promoting their story, and making Vincent a star. Everyone loved him; they followed his latest antics and then bought the products. It was her baby. She wouldn’t waste her hard work. Not for some callous remarks made by trolls and the twisted opinions of Clara’s fans. Okay, she admitted some comments were worse, especially the weirdo who explained in significant detail what he would like to do to a witch, but they were on the other side of the screen. They meant nothing. Just scum.
Anger flared again, aimed at Willow, the trolls, and herself for not paying close attention to Twitter, allowing college work to distract her. A tingle gathered in her fingers, an electrical pulse with nowhere to go. She raised her hands and wondered, not for the first time, how it would feel to be powerful enough to stand on the headland and manipulate the tide, to raise the waves high before releasing them, sending them crashing down on the rocks below. A ripple of old energy ran beneath her feet. Forget the potions, teas, remedies, and divination Willow taught; she wanted to tap into it to see how far she could go. The release of energy would be immense and surely relieve the pressure she felt, but with every action, there was a consequence. She knew it. She glanced at the colourful beach huts behind her, quiet and locked up while the season was over. If the old magic was as potent as she suspected, they wouldn’t stand a chance.
Amber bent down, selected a pebble, and threw it into the water with a plop. She repeated the process again and again. Each time, allowing her pent-up angst out. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the man approach until he was near. He bent down to pick up a stone. He studied it, weighing it up in his hand, and launched it at the sea. It bounced on the water not once but four times before it skimmed the surface and disappeared.
Amber looked at him and the stone she held. In silence, he selected another pebble and repeated the process. Amber attempted to copy his throw, but her stone flopped lazily in the water. Failure wasn’t helping her mood.
‘It’s in the pebble you choose. That’s too round.’ His voice was deeper than she expected, and she strained to recognise the slight accent. She wanted him to speak again. He strolled away, focused on the ground. He returned; his black, long coat flapped open with each stride to reveal dark jeans and boots. Thin leather straps held his long black hair into a low ponytail. Tendrils of a tattoo rose from his collar, making Amber wonder where the origin was and if it was the only one. Her heart flipped.
‘Try these.’ He handed her three flat stones.
He stood close, adjusted her arm, allowing her to see more tattoos under the cuff of his coat, and under his instruction, Amber threw again. It bounced three times. She grinned. She did it.
‘See, it’s easy when you know how.’
They continued to skim stones in silence despite curiosity welling up inside her. Who was he? The bag slung over her shoulder moved and inwardly she groaned. With a writhing bag, the moment she longed to last forever would surely end.
‘Thanks, Beetle,’ she murmured as his small face peeked out from the bag. He scrunched his eyes shut, yawned, and stretched out his small furry paw.
‘Is that a …?’ said the stranger.
‘Yes, this is Beetle. Beetle, meet …’ The ferret clambered up her arm to perch on her shoulder. Amber waited for him to fill in the blank, but a ping of a phone notification cut the air.
The man reached inside his coat and studied it. After typing a response, he said, ‘I need to go. Keep practising,’ and walked away.
Amber placed Beetle on the sand. He chuntered, sprang in the air in delight, and ran round in figures of eight before digging a hole. With an empty beach, she allowed him the freedom to play. Her anger slipped away. Willow’s threats were forgotten. All Amber could think of was the mysterious stranger and how to meet him again.