Chapter 19
Ember
I was officially a woman on a mission.
After last night, I felt like there’d been a massive breakthrough. Arthur chose to open up the most raw and vulnerable parts of himself. He didn’t have to, but he chose to trust me anyway and as proud as I was of him for re-opening the wounds and seeking help, my heart simultaneously sunk for him. The level of shame and defeat plastered all over his face as he spoke about his turbulent relationship with his dad absolutely broke me. Acting on natural instinct, I wrapped my arms around him. I didn’t even care if I was crossing the ‘friendship’ boundaries or entering awkward territory. In that moment, he needed someone, and that someone just happened to be me. As his eyes started to prickle with tears, my heart began to twist and swell in my chest. I knew I wanted to do everything in my power to prevent him from ever feeling like this again, to rescue him from the feelings of intense self-doubt and pain that plagued him every day. I wanted him to feel happy, to feel free. With my arms still wrapped very much around him, I knew I needed to do something. I’d swallowed down a golf ball-sized lump in my throat as I realised where my mind was heading. I had the means to help him, perhaps in more ways than one, in more ways than anyone else. It was risky, and I wasn’t even 100% sure whether it would work or if there was even such a thing. I knew I’d have to swallow my pride if I wanted to do this and to be honest, after the way it felt last night as his shoulders juddered against mine as he cried, it was a risk I was willing to take. I needed to use magic. I wasn’t brushed up in the slightest on spells and funnily enough, I don’t think it was something that could be one and done in a quick google search.
No, I needed to locate the big guns.
The big guns being dad’s spell books. Ancient hardbacks that had been passed down through centuries. His pride and joy. The Holy Bible if you will.
There was only one teensy problem in the sense that I had absolutely no clue where they were. After dad passed, mum almost immediately boxed up all of his stuff so that she wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of finding any reminders of him lurking around on an unsuspecting day. I couldn’t say I blamed her in honesty. Even seeing his toothbrush still lingering in the bathroom with ours made me break down and sob whenever I walked into the bathroom not long after. It was the fact that I knew it was never going to be used again, just sitting there, completely and utterly useless. I couldn’t then imagine how hard it would have been seeing the very things that he loved so much and held so dearly. It really makes you realise how at the end of it all, people are nothing but a collection of memories. Nothing more than old photos, trinkets and clothes, stuffed into a carboard box. I notice my cheeks are suddenly wet at the thought, so I quickly wipe the rogue tears with my sleeve and think. I’m hyperaware that I’m going to need to go home to look for them, but I’m going need a solid plan of action. I can’t have mum loitering about and potentially finding out. Either way, I open up the trainline app on my phone and book a ticket for this afternoon. At least I’d have a long journey to think about it.
◆◆◆
“Her majesty finally decided to grace me with her presence then?,” my mum says sternly, her lip glued in a thin line. She’d opened the door before I could even unlock it, crossing her arms and sensing my presence like she was some sort of moustache-twirling villain.
To be fair, I hadn’t visited since I first moved to uni, which meant that it had nearly been 2 months and believe me, she looked pissed. Maybe if she wasn’t so guilt-trippy every time I set foot in the house, I would have visited her more often. Don’t get me wrong, I hated being like this about my own mum. I wanted nothing more than to have one of those close relationships where you were more like best friends, rather than mother and daughter, braiding each other’s hair, drinking endless amounts of wine and gossiping over the drama of shitty reality TV. But so long as she continued to hold a grudge against me, there would always be a wedge. That’s why today, I was taking a different tactic. I needed to butter her up. I knew if I even breathed the idea to her that I was going to be dabbling in magic again, it would be too soon. More than anything, I needed to find those books. I needed some way of distracting her, even if for only a few minutes.
Feigning a cough, I croak, “mum, I think I’ve got the start of a cold coming. Do you think you could make me a honey and lemon please?”
“Well hello to you too, I’m doing great thanks for asking.” She frowns, “thank you for not only gracing me with your presence, but also your germs.”
I put my knuckle over my mouth and cough even harder, feeling a twinge of guilt. “Please,” I whisper.
She rolls her eyes into the back of her head, “fine. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Right. I have about 5 minutes give or take. The kettle is pretty old and crap, so it takes longer to boil. I drop my bags and creep upstairs to her bedroom. When I tiptoe inside, the room is a bomb site. I can’t help but chuckle at the irony, she always used to castrate me for leaving a few dirty glasses in my bedroom, yet hers looks unliveable. It was going to be an absolute mammoth task trying to find anything in here, but I doubt she’d notice if I moved anything around, it would just be mess on mess after all. I quickly dart to the landing and peer an ear over the stairs, perfect. The kettle was still singing, or should I say, dying. Frantically, I run round the room. Opening every cupboard, peering on every shelf, I even stuck my head under the bed, (which filled me with instant regret), but there was nothing. It’s like mum had Houdinied his stuff, only to be found when she wanted it to. Noticing that the ruckus from the kettle had stopped, I immediately run out of there before she finds me. I didn’t fancy facing a woman armed with a hot beverage, they’re the kind not to be reckoned with.
I quickly speed down the stairs and mum’s already there, holding the steaming drink and looking as unimpressed as ever. “Where did you go?,” she asked with squinting eyes.
“Uh-just to drop my bags in my room,” I say, maintaining my most innocent smile, “thank you for the honey and lemon,” I add with another cough for good measure before taking a sip.
Mum looks down at the bags currently slouched on the floor, my bags. Shit.
“Why are you lying?,” she says sharply.
My face heated in embarrassment. I felt awful for lying, I really did. But the truth would be a lot worse. Although I knew she’d be jumping for joy at the prospect of me getting into magic again, I was also fully aware that she would scold me for the kind of spell I was looking for, and then she’d tell Allegra and then it would be game over. I’d probably be on lockdown before I could even fight my case. I didn’t want them getting involved, it was something I needed to do on my own. I guess it didn’t help that I was a terrible liar. Why didn’t I just take my bags upstairs?
“Why are you really here Ember?,” mum asks again, her sharp tone sounding slightly softer this time.
Inhaling a deep breath I say, “I guess I’m just a bit embarrassed that I haven’t visited in a while that’s all.” That wasn’t a lie. “I should come down more, I’ve just been really busy with uni- I suppose I just feel bad- and I’m sorry.”
She stays silent for a moment, scanning my face for sincerity. “Well, yes. It would be nice if you could come down more, or ring me once in a blue moon so you remember that you actually have a mum.” I feel the sting in the pit of my stomach. I guess I deserved that.
“Anyway,” she coughs, “let’s forget about it. Drink your honey and lemon.”
I nod, taking another sip and feeling even guiltier than before.
“I’m actually going to Lianne’s for a drink in a bit,” she says sheepishly. “But I won’t be too late if you wanted to watch something afterwards?”
I thought she seemed overdressed for a night in the living room.
“Yeah, that would be nice,” I smile, genuinely meaning it.
“Good,” she nods, putting on her Black fur coat. We didn’t have that kind of relationship, but if we did, I’d tell her that she looked hot. Mum really was beautiful; I could understand why dad was drawn to her. She sported the same bouncy Blonde curls that she had in her teenage photos and an incredible figure to match. She looked after herself to say the least. The only difference was that she had more smile lines, which she was always self-conscious about, but every time I looked at them, it reminded me of who she used to be. The person she was before dad passed. I missed that version of her, bubbly, spritely, happy. Especially as I knew it was still in there somewhere just waiting to come out. She was always feisty, it was one of the things dad absolutely loved about her, but that trait seemed tenfold nowadays and often unwelcome.
I edge closer to her as she’s stood by the door and give her a hug. It’s fleeting, but she does reciprocate it with a smile. After she locks the door on her way out, I’m aware that there’s no time to lose. I need to find those books whether it’s the last thing I do. Placing my mug down on the table, I start the search.
◆◆◆
An hour had passed and I was so close to admitting defeat, but as they say, it’s when you stop looking for things, that they often seem to appear. That definitely reigned true. I’d slumped down on the sofa ready to cave in when I ended up dropping my phone with the impact. I sighed, crouching down to pick it up off the floor when I noticed the box concealed under the sofa. Of all the obvious hiding places, why did I not think to look there first? I pulled it out from underneath, genuinely coughing now as the dust hit the back of my throat. It felt like a time capsule when I opened the lid to reveal its contents, a bunch of old polaroids of mum and dad, dad’s hoodie from college, many vinyl’s, and then right at the bottom…three hardbacks lathered in a thick coat of dust. Not going to lie, I did do a little happy dance to myself when I found them. However, as excited as I was to take these back with me and get working on what I needed to do, I still couldn’t ignore the guilt I felt. The guilt I felt towards mum for stealingfrom her, but also the guilt towards dad. There was something about rummaging through his stuff, whilst knowing that he was gone, that didn’t sit well with me. Alas, I’d got what I’d came here to get. Lugging the pile of books across the room to put them in my bag was challenging enough, let alone the thought of carrying them through the streets of Bath. I just had to accept that I could break my back and be done with it. After popping the books inside my bag, I secure the lid on the box and slide it back under the sofa, praying to all that is holy that mum wouldn’t get curious for a while. Right on time, I hear the click of the lock as mum makes her way inside. I slouch on the sofa and turn on the TV, scrolling through the channels to find the most brain-cell-destroying content I can find. Mum peeks her head round the door, sounding merry, but certainly not drunk, “popcorn?”
“You bet,” I smile, my stomach growling at the thought.
And you know what, with my new and profound mood, I actually found myself looking forward to spending the night together.