A Blend Of Magic

20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

W illow heard the door open behind her, and the clink of china and clomping footsteps gave the identity of the visitor away, but she kept focused on the task at hand. She was tired, and didn’t want another argument. She couldn’t face the fury of a teenager, especially not one who could cause havoc in a blink if she put her mind to it. Yesterday’s run-in with Amber had added to her sleepless night along with the snarling face of Rafe competing with a hurt Nate.

‘Tea.’ Amber slid a cup on a matching saucer next to her. Willow took a sip. Calming chamomile, and a twist of passion flower for peace of mind. The perfectly balanced flavours swirled with the magic. Amber knew her stuff, and a tug of pride for her apprentice pulled at her bruised heart.

‘Amber, I’m sorry. I sprang the deletion of the accounts on you. The Clara situation has spiralled out of control. It scared me,’ Willow confessed.

‘Mmm hmm. I get that. Some comments are horrid, but bullies feed off your fear. You taught me that. Trolls sit behind keyboards spewing out hate, hoping to hit a raw spot to make themselves feel better. They don’t care beyond that. Their power lies in being anonymous. You may think they know you, but they don’t. It’s like those sham psychics you told me about who give cold readings. It only takes one thing that touches a nerve for you to believe them. They’re clever, but they’re not authentic.’

Was she right? Willow ran her fingers through her hair. Blonde, and since she had not had time to cut it for weeks, her natural curl showed. Goldilocks as a name wasn’t much of a leap. A cheap shot thrown to cause a reaction. Those who believed they were cursed could have the same experiences as one who was hexed. Come on, Willow , she berated herself, what are the odds of him stumbling over a photo online? Had she mistaken paranoia for intuition and allowed the monster to rise from under the bed to haunt her night and day? There had been no more contact. Journalists had faded away. If it was him, maybe he had crawled back under his rock. And if that was the case, where did that leave Nate? She shook her head—one revelation was enough for now.

‘When did you get so wise?’

‘I learnt from the best,’ shrugged Amber. ‘Does that mean I can keep the social media?’

‘Twitter goes. Instagram can stay. But if there is any bother …’

‘Thanks, Willow.’ Amber gave Willow a distracted hug. Her attention was drawn to the door in the shadow. ‘Now, will you tell me how you created the tremendous fog?’

Willow shook her head. ‘I think that spell can remain where I found it. But your protection potion is potent and definitely gave it a boost I wasn’t expecting.’

Glowing with praise, Amber opened the Enchanted Emporium grimoire and helped Willow create stock for the Wishing Spell range, the next best-selling products after the specialised tea blends. Magic electrified the room as they worked as a team.

Willow passed Amber a jar of dove’s foot and watched as her mentee checked the label, opened it, and took a moment to smell the wild geraniums before scooping up the required amount. Once inspected, she added it to the cauldron. She was learning well. Like brewing tea, the quality of ingredients mattered; mouldy or contaminated herbs potentially caused havoc with unexpected results for customers. Willow recalled an irate customer complaining when her night of planned passion with her husband descended into a farce with the unintentional addition of a rare fungus. Who knew an organism so small held such power? She now cultivated it in a jar, just in case she ever required it. The night wasn’t a complete failure; Willow still saw the middle-aged couple holding hands, strolling through the streets like love-struck teenagers. Maybe they needed the evening of the unexpected to force conversation, laughter, and reveal the true person to each other again.

Spellcasting used all the senses to detect any subtle changes in the plant’s composition. It took practice and concentration. To see Amber instinctively use her teachings made Willow hope Louise would be proud. She also hoped Louise wouldn’t be too disgruntled by Willow’s teaching methods. Their different approaches to witchcraft had caused teasing and arguments. Louise could never understand Willow’s desire for perfection, rarely deviating from tried and tested spells she’d learnt from books or Grandma Jax. Tea blending was the only time she experimented, but even then ritual mattered. Consistency was key. She never rushed, allowing herself time to channel the relevant emotions and intentions into the concoction, a tiny part of her in every spell. Willow often described Louise’s magic as slapdash. Instinctive was Louise’s retort. Her technique was more random and fluid, with a pinch of this here and maybe add a drop of that, depending on what was close to hand. She followed no rules but accepted her many successes and shrugged off the failures.

Willow often feared the traditional teaching was letting her best friend down, especially when Amber fought against it. Only the promise she’d made the last time she saw Louise and love for her mentee made her muddle through. ‘You’ll help, won’t you if I can’t? Don’t let her struggle to be a witch on her own or be forced to hide her true self like you did. Her powers are too strong to be contained, they’ll lead her into trouble.’ The prophecy proved correct two years ago when they nearly lost Amber because her magic remained unchecked.

At least Amber agreed ingredient preparation was essential. A flower picked under the watchful full moon was more potent and had slightly different qualities to one picked in the blazing sun. Willow tried to harvest her own, using the Enchanted Emporium’s small garden to its full capacity, always envious of Grandma Jax’s extensive herb garden or walks on the Moors providing a wealth of ingredients. Precise records on the plants’ harvest were kept on the bottle and in the thick ledger. Willow believed this attention to detail was key to the shop’s success. And as Willow drummed into Amber, belief was the secret for successful spells. It was the magic element.

‘How’s college?’ she asked.

‘Okay, I guess.’ Amber wiped a loose strand of vibrant hair away from her face. ‘They’re putting the pressure on about our mock exams and applying for uni. Mrs Riozzli wants me to apply to the Royal College of Art in London.’

‘Do you want to?’

‘I do, but there’s Dad. It’s so far and I don’t want him to be lonely.’

Willow grinned. ‘He’ll be fine. It’s your life and you need to follow your dreams. Anyway, what’s he up to tonight?’

Amber creased her nose in disgust. ‘A date.’

‘See, he won’t be lonely. He has a life too.’

‘But not with her! I saw the texts; she is not suitable at all.’

‘Texts? Were you snooping? Amber! You can’t moan about your privacy if you are invading his,’ Willow said, staring at her charge.

Rebuked, Amber’s shoulders slumped and she concentrated in silence on the potion. After a while, she reached for the bottle of dragon’s blood.

‘These spells aren’t as exotic as I thought they were. When you realise dragon’s blood is …’

‘I know. I remember berating Grandma Jax for cruelty to animals until she informed me of their true origins. I imagined her trudging over the Moors searching for dragons and trespassing the church belfries to capture the bats. She did have a pond on her property for the newts.’

‘You miss her?’ Amber said.

‘Of course, but she’s part of me. That’ll never change.’

‘I miss Mum. What do you think she’d say about college and Dad?’

‘She would want you to embrace the opportunities that will arrive and let your dad move on to be happy. That’s all she ever wanted,’ Willow replied, knowing it would be true. She gave Amber a tight hug. ‘It’ll be fine. It will all be fine.’

***

Whitby was awash with romance and pink. Despite cutting through the town’s many ginnels and yards, Willow couldn’t avoid the paper hearts and red roses decorating shop windows urging customers to shower their loved ones with gifts of art, confectionery, and flowers. With her head down, she pulled her hood forward to avoid being tempted by the bookshop with its white-and-black chequered tiled entrance or seeing the many jewellers taking advantage of the romantic day. An ecstatic couple coming out of one forced her off the kerb into a deep puddle. They were too busy gazing into each other’s eyes and admiring a ring to notice. She cursed and a tug of jealousy added to her foul mood. Usually, Willow would have preferred to stay in rather than dodge umbrellas and tourists not fazed by the rain, but she needed to escape the Emporium. If she tied another ribbon around a gift while listening about someone else’s love life, made another love potion, or smelt more roses, she would scream.

Willow used Amber’s artistic skill for the tasteful window display drawing customers in; love potions and Wishing Spell candles promoting romantic nights were flying off the shelves, as were lotions to enhance confidence and harmony. Willow swallowed a chuckle, recalling Amber’s furious blush at Mrs Cooper’s request for a blend of tea known to act as an aphrodisiac. While Amber was horrified at the idea of someone over seventy having sex, Willow thought it was nice that after fifty years together, the passion was still there.

The abundance of rose quartz and creating love potions was an occupational hazard. It was impossible not to think of Nate. More than once, she forced herself not to text or stare at the Christmas photo of him like a love-struck teenager. She repeated the reasons the relationship wouldn’t work over and over. Amber doodled hearts while speaking to the customers, giddy about her upcoming date with Jack, and Rosa repeatedly sneaked into the back to reply to messages on her dating apps. When the call came, she took the opportunity to slip out, leaving the overwhelming loved-up atmosphere behind.

The furore over Clara had quietened with no further threats. The trolls retreated or found a new victim to attack with the stroke of the keyboard, proving her wise apprentice was correct. There was no Rafe, but she still checked over her shoulder at regular intervals. She caught a man’s stare through a window, also decorated with care, promising the house of your dreams. Mercer’s Estate Agents. A witch ball hung in the window near the manager’s desk and she could see a tiger’s eye paperweight near his nameplate to keep witches away. Clive. Unable to resist, she flung back her hood and smiled a greeting. Watching him squirm made walking in the rain worth it. Cupping her hand over her phone, she checked the address she’d been given.

Vincent’s daily strolls had increased, and he often disappeared for long periods of time. Where he went had remained a mystery until a phone call fifteen minutes ago from a woman called Kelly. The excess love potions in the shop must also be playing on Vincent’s mind. Willow turned down a cobbled yard to see a soggy, bedraggled cat sitting on Sand Dale’s doorstep.

‘Oh, Vince.’ Her heart broke at his solemn expression. ‘He’s not there. He isn’t coming back. Someone else is staying here now. Nate wasn’t meant to be ours, but I miss him too.’

***

The Emporium’s bell jangled as the postman stomped in, shoved a parcel labelled fragile and letters towards Rosa before slamming the door behind him.

‘Well, he was in a cheery mood,’ she said. ‘I guess he didn’t get any cards this morning. Neither did I, but I’m not taking it out on the world.’

‘That’s only because the post doesn’t arrive until now. You’re still hoping there’ll be one waiting at home,’ joked Willow.

‘Actually, I know there will be,’ said Rosa, sorting out the post. ‘Alejo will have made one without fail, and he’s the only male I need. Not that it will stop my mum from going on about the lack of men in my life. She’ll nag and then gloat. She had two cards delivered this morning—by hand.’

‘It’s the cooking, you know. Don’t look at me like that. It is true what they say about a way to a man’s heart,’ said Willow as Rosa passed over the parcel and bills.

Absentmindedly, she unwrapped the brown-paper parcel and the bubble wrap. She gasped. Under the tissue paper was a teapot exquisitely hand painted with witches’ hats, frogs, and ginger cats. It was unique and beautiful.

‘Hey, it’s Vincent! Where did you find that?’ asked Rosa.

‘I didn’t,’ Willow said. She searched for a note, but instead found several bags of Twinings tea and another parcel wrapped in orange tissue paper.

‘See. Even you have a Valentine’s gift and you have sworn to leave men alone.’

‘It’s not a Valentine’s Day gift. It will be a promotion or …’ Ripping open the package, she pulled out a scrap of multicoloured material.

‘What is that?’ Rosa screwed up her nose at the intense colours.

Willow shook it out, chuckled when she slid it over her new teapot. The tea cosy fit perfectly—a small fabric gingerbread house with a pair of striped legs and enormous black boots poking out of the bottom. Her heart skipped a beat. She knew exactly who had sent it.

‘It’s the Wicked Witch from Oz.’

Once Willow had passed the potion a browsing customer would need to Rosa, she retreated into the back and popped the kettle on. A new teapot always needed testing. A quick photo on her phone documented its safe arrival, and she typed a thanks to Nate. And stopped. She wanted to press send, to open a conversation, but the same arguments against the relationship from December remained. Sod it. It was only polite to respond to a gift, and they could always be just friends. Couldn’t they?

A loud squeal of, ‘No!’ preceded a loud crash. Phone forgotten, Willow ran into the shop.

Glass jars previously on the counter lay smashed on the floor, glittering crystals sparkled among the tea leaves, and the delicate aroma of Earl Grey permeated the room, while Rosa comforted a shocked customer. Old Percy stood over the mess, shaking his head in disgust, his smoky eyes firmly fixed on a forlorn ginger cat who attempted to shrink his sizeable frame and slink past Willow. He failed.

‘What happened?’ Willow asked.

‘That bloody cat happened!’ Rosa remarked as the lady left, leaving the basket of items she’d chosen on the counter. Willow watched as she shuddered when she walked through Old Percy’s barely there form; he materialised stronger with indignation. Most of the time, the apothecary was happy for Willow to be in charge, but mess and Vincent made him angry. It would not have happened under his watch. ‘I saw the crazed look he has when something catches his eye, but before I could tell him no, not that he listens, Vincent shot through the shop, over the counter, bowled straight into the customer and chased it. By the time he got there, it had vanished as it always does. He’s a liability.’

‘Vincent can’t help it.’ Willow instinctively defended her cat, despite agreeing with Rosa. Vincent was trouble, especially when the spirit of the Black Cat hung around. The bell jangled and Vincent escaped.

‘He’s in a hurry.’

‘He’s in disgrace,’ replied Willow, brushing the evidence into a dustpan. ‘Hi, Glenn. What brings you into town?’

Glenn looked sheepish and lifted the bags he was holding. ‘Shopping. I have a date tonight.’

‘So Amber said, but she was scant on the details.’

‘I don’t think she likes the idea of her old dad dating, despite helping me with the websites. I need your advice on what to wear. Amber laughs at everything I try,’ he moaned, but not too much. He was grateful their relationship had improved enough for the moans and jest.

‘I guess I had better put the kettle on again.’ Willow guided him up to the flat.

Willow tucked her feet under herself, sipping her tea while Glenn, one by one, tried on different shirt combinations. Endless open bags hid the sofa.

‘How much did you buy?’ she said.

‘I didn’t know what to get, and the assistant wasn’t much help. He wasn’t interested, kept looking at his phone mumbling it’s all right. He did say I could bring things back if I changed my mind.’

‘I would have come with you. If you’d asked. It’s ages since I’ve been on a shopping spree.’

‘It would have been easier.’ He slouched onto the chair. ‘Christ, Wills, what am I doing? This entire thing is a stupid idea. Maybe I should cancel.’

‘No! You are going on this date. Unlike the last one, she won’t stand you up, and from what you have said about your online chats, you’ve plenty to talk about. Relax and enjoy her company. Do you want me to be your emergency caller if things go awry?’

‘My what?’

‘I text you at a set time. If it’s going well, you ignore it, but if not, I’m your ready-made excuse to leave. Surely you know that?’

‘No. It must be a girl thing. How to make me even more paranoid. Every time a date makes an excuse to leave now, I’ll think it’s because of me.’

‘That one,’ Willow decided as he modelled a blue shirt that matched his eyes.

‘Are you sure? But what about the jacket?’

‘It’s a date. A dinner. After the first twenty seconds, she won’t care if you’re wearing a jacket or not. And if she does, she isn’t worth it. It looks good. Chill out, otherwise you will hyperventilate and that isn’t a pleasant look for anyone.’

‘Shit, this is different to how it used to be.’ Glenn sighed.

‘If in doubt, show her your biceps and she’ll melt in your arms. If you weren’t my best friend, I would date you myself.’ She cringed and wanted to retract the vocalised stray thought like a misjudged tweet. Would she really? If her heart didn’t long for Nate, maybe, she decided. She assessed Glenn; he had changed from their first meeting. Gone was the belly, his drawn yellowing face and bloodshot eyes from the excess beer. Instead, he had a healthy glow, eyes that sparkled when he laughed, and defined muscles from his rekindled passion for gardening. Swopping office work for the outdoors suited him. She blushed, imagining falling into his arms and his lips close to hers. Remnants of the love potions must have drifted through the floorboards.

‘Were you this nervous for your first date with Lou?’ Mentioning her friend’s name flushed away her inappropriate thoughts.

‘Lou! God no. By the time we went on our first date, she’d seen me at my worst. Hungover in my boxers in the student digs kitchen that hadn’t been cleaned since we moved in months before. It was vile. Not sure what she saw in me, really.’

‘Maybe it was your six-pack.’

‘I didn’t have any then. I was as lanky as you could get. When we got together, I felt I was the luckiest man on Earth. I’ll never find someone like her. Should I be doing this?’

‘It’s only dinner. You’re not looking to replace her, but you want company. She’d want you to live your life. You won’t stop loving her when you find someone new, it’ll just be different. Hearts expand, they don’t replace the love that is already there. It isn’t overwritten like files on a PC.’

Glenn scoffed at the good luck crystal she slipped him as he left, but he clutched it as he trudged down the stairs. Did she really think they could be together? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her new teapot, and she knew her heart belonged to someone else.