Chapter 27
Ember
I’m never going to get away with this.
It had been a few hours since I’d said goodbye to everyone. Amy had already left a few days early for Christmas and Poppy and Sam didn’t go too much longer after Arthur’s parents came to pick him up. Now it was just me, myself, and well, Robert. Initially, I was really impressed with how lightly I’d managed to pack this time, especially as I was going home for two weeks. Usually, whenever I stayed anywhere overnight, I lugged at least one suitcase, my tote bag, and then two additional bags for good measure. Mum had constantly questioned why I felt the need to bring 10 pairs of pants for just one night, but I always stood by the fact that it’s better to have too many than too little. Plus, even at 18 years of age, you never know when you might spontaneously shit yourself. However, in this very moment as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, I suddenly find myself questioning all of my life choices. I thought it was a genius idea at the time, I swear.
A few days ago, it dawned on me that I obviously couldn’t leave Robert here for 2 weeks unattended. So, that meant that I would somehow have to figure out a way to take him home with me without my mum or Allegra finding out. Shamefully, the idea of hiding him in my suitcase had crossed my mind originally, but for obvious reasons of suffocation, that wouldn’t do. I’d paced my room up and down, furiously trying to think of a plan that would one: keep Robert, you know, alive, and two: wouldn’t get me arrested on public transport. It was then that I scoured the internet. Who knew that simply typing, ‘how to successfully hide your cat on public transport so nobody finds out,’ would generate such useful results? Surprisingly, it turns out that it’s actually very legal to take a cat with you on both a train and bus, so long as it doesn’t annoy other passengers. This was a win for me, considering that I had to catch a train and then change over to a bus, (the joys of living in the middle of nowhere). The holy grail of Reddit forums did all share one unanimous answer though, and before I could think twice, I’d clicked ‘buy now’ on Amazon Prime. The next thing I knew, I had a very bedraggled and unamused feline staring back at me in the mirror in his pet-sling carrier. Yes, I’d dropped some of my student loan on what was essentially a cat backpack. I’d clearly lost the plot entirely. I was carrying him over the front of my chest like he was my bloody child. At least I didn’t run the risk of being arrested, nothing would scream ‘Merry Christmas,’ more than mum having to pick me up from a cell.
Hyping myself up like I’m about to go on a theatre stage, I blow lip bubbles, watching them flap about like a horse. I then do my final checks of the room, pick up my suitcase, triple-check that Robert’s properly strapped on and make my way out of the flat.
You never realise how irrelevant and microcosmic you usually are to the outside eye, until you’re carrying a cat over your chest like a small baby for all to see. You’d have thought I was Kim Kardashian with the amount of eyes that were currently boring onto me as I stroll to the train station. I’d decided to take a more casual approach, lifting my chin up towards the sky and straightening my posture, hoping that the more confident I appeared to be, the less attention I’d receive. Well, I was absolutely wrong. It didn’t help that Robert kept letting out a deafening meow as if I was a cat-napper. Once I’d reached the station and hiked up the stairs to my platform, the weird looks became tenfold, I felt like shouting, “what? Have you never seen a girl carrying a cat before?,” but instantly remembered that I was only allowed him on here if we didn’t cause any trouble, so low-key I remained. Luckily, the train itself had 5 carriages, and the one I was currently on only had one other person, who was sat down all the way at the other end.
I immediately exhaled as I took my seat, “you’re such a good boy!,” I chirped at Robert as I fed him a handful of cat biscuits that I’d snuck into my bag.
I knew that this method would only help me for the duration of the train and bus ride, I was hardly going to walk through my mum’s front door with a cat-sling on full display. That being said, I hadn’t quite decided how I was going to conceal him by that point. But as he snuggled in closer, his purr gently vibrating against my chest, I popped my earbuds in and decided that for now, I didn’t really have many fucks left to give. At least I had just under a two-hour train ride and then another hours bus journey to think of how I was going to cross that bridge.
◆◆◆
As the rickety bus pulls up alongside the co-op, I try to gently stand up, so not to wake up Robert, who had been peacefully sleeping for the past hour. I really didn’t need any more strange looks as a resort of his deafening meows. Thankfully, it’s December in the UK, meaning it already turned dark at about 3:00pm. Great for avoiding the judgy looks, not so great for you know, murder and kidnapping. I only live about a 5-minute walk round the corner anyway, so fingers crossed, I’ll live to tell the tale. Not going to lie though, I do still find myself reaching inside my coat pocket for my house keys and slot them in between my knuckles just in case. The joys of being a woman. You can’t even walk 5 minutes alone without risk of being harmed. Nonetheless, I’d decided what I was going to do. Mum had texted me about half an hour ago to mention that Allegra was now at the house as well, and to message them both when I was near home. Technically, I should be texting them now, but I know that if I do, they’ll either be stood waiting outside the front door for me, or they’ll be creepily peeking through the blinds of the living room window. For obvious reasons, I can’t let them see me. So naturally, I plan an alternative route.
Mum always forgets to lock the back door. It was always me who ended up running down the stairs before bed and bolting the door. I’ve told her continuously that if a deranged axe-murderer kills her whilst I’m at Uni, she’ll only have herself to blame. However, in this instance, it’s both a blessing and a curse. I’d mentalised how I was going to do it, a blueprint in my mind. I’d first sneak to the back of the house, being super careful not to set off the light sensors, I’d peak through the back window into the kitchen to make sure that they’re not in there and carefully pull the handle down. Then, like a spy, my feet as light as a feather, I’d run up to my bedroom, gently unhook Robert from the sling, place him down on the bed with a few cat biscuits, tiptoe back downstairs, open the door, run around to the front of the house and unlock the front door like no one was ever there. It would work right? It had to. There was quite literally no other option.
As I turn the corner, I see the cobbled street of my house. The amber reflection of the living room light bleeds through the window, meaning they were both likely in there. Now was my time. I had to be stealthy and quiet as a mouse. Popping down the plastic handle of my suitcase, I grab onto the Velcro one and use it as a carrier. I couldn’t have my cover blown by the sound of rolling suitcase wheels on cobbled stone. I make a dart for it over to the backdoor, running as widely as I could from the house, avoiding the sensors at all costs. When I reach the door, I take a peek through the window. The kitchen light is off, the room only being slightly illuminated by the soft flicker of a candle on the windowsill. The coast is clear, tactfully pulling down the handle, I enter the room, and lightly close the door. I can hear the muffled sounds of both the TV and mum and Allegra chatting coming from the other room, so I’ve got time to make a break for it. I’m just about to tip-toe up the stairs before Robert lets out the most thunderous “MEOW.”
The sound of the TV suddenly stops. Curse all mum’s out there for deciding to pause the TV whenever they heard a peculiar noise.
“What was that?,” my mum’s voice questions confusingly.
“It sounded like a cat?,” Allegra’s voice cuts in.
I follow Robert’s eyeline and spot the culprit. There was a massive roast chicken sat in the slow cooker on the countertop, the skin perfectly browned and crisped, oozing with juices and herbs. In fairness, it looked so mouth-wateringly good, I was pretty sure I’d turned into one of Pavlov’s dogs. Still, trust that to be the thing to finally awake him from his otherwise ideal slumber.
“MEOW!”
“That’s it. I’m going to have a look.” I hear mum say.
No. No. No.
This was supposed to be a flawless plan. I was supposed to get out unscathed. Faster than my legs could carry me, I hold on tight to Robert, heave my bag and bolt up the stairs to my room. Once safely inside, I hear mum and Allegra’s footsteps edge into the kitchen and then, no-
“I thought I heard someone upstairs!,” Allegra says, with a tone of frantic concern.
“Shall I call the police?!,” mum replies, just as frantically.
Oh for god’s sake.
My cover is well and truly blown now, I can’t let them call the police. If they do an inevitable house search, they’re going to find me and think I’ve broken in. Well…I guess I have broken in. Does it really count as a crime though if it’s into your own home? Quickly shaking my head of those thoughts and deciding that I don’t want to find that out, I choose to bite the bullet. They still don’t have to find out about Robert, but I can definitely try and concoct some sort of bullshit story.
“SURPRISE!” I yell at the top of my lungs as I run out of my bedroom and onto the landing.
“Ember, is that you?,” Mum shouts in return. No mum, I’m a burglar who thought it would be a fabulous idea to announce myself. Nice to know in the time that I’ve been at Uni, she’s already forgotten what my voice sounds like.
I edge closer to the staircase, grip both hands on the banister and drop my head over the top, my curls dangling over my eyes like a curtain. “It’s me!,” I chirp, a bit too over-enthusiastically.
Staring back at me from the bottom of the stairs are mum and Allegra, both looking so sickly pale, they’d give a Victorian child a run for their money.
“I nearly had a bloody panic attack!,” mum squeals, holding her palm to her chest. “what are you doing up there? I told you to text me when you’d got off the bus.” I could always count on her to start a lecture not even 5 minutes into my arrival.
Their eyes bore into mine expectantly, both evidently waiting for my answer. Putting on my most Oscar-worthy performance, I bellow, “I just wanted to surprise you both! I didn’t want to simply just walk through the front door,” I scoff at that part whilst bending my fingers in quotation marks. “I wanted to make an entrance. Can’t a girl just want to surprise her mum and favourite Gran?”
I pout my lips in a faux sad-frown. Eat your heart out, Meryl.
Looking completely unconvinced, mum crosses her arms and squints her eyes at me. “What are you hiding?”
I gulp down the gigantic lump that has formed in my throat. “What do you mean?”
“As lovely as it is to see you darling, we know when you’re lying,” Allegra chimes in, calmly.
“In other words, you have a tell,” mum adds.
For Christ sake. I need to figure out this so-called tell and nip it in the bud immediately.
Still keeping up the fa?ade, I say, “I’m not lying.” I start to creep down the stairs one by one with open arms, “now give me a hug.” Although by the look on their faces it was obvious that they were still very much onto me, their bodies clearly don’t get the memo as they outstretch their arms and embrace me with a warm squeeze. I clutch onto them tightly for as long as possible and don’t make a sound, not just because I actually did miss them, but also because I know that as soon as I pull away, they’re going to resume this interrogation. It’s kind of like when you’re a kid and you’re sat in the living room with your parents, you know that it’s your bed time, but you hope and pray that if you just stay as silent and as still as possible during the adverts, they won’t realise and let you stay up later.
As they inevitably pull away from my grasp, I almost immediately divert all attention to the roast chicken sat on the countertop. “ooo that looks delicious!,” I sing, dramatically licking my lips. “Is that for me?”
“Well, the idea was for us all to eat together, yes,” mum says, her eyebrows creased in a confused ‘V’ shape.
“Amazing, I’ll help serve up!,” I shout, mentally slapping myself on the wrist for my inability to act even remotely casual. I skip over to the cupboards and pull out some utensils from the draw ready to lay out on the dining table. Still sporting a face of utmost confusion, mum cuts up the chicken and spoons the roasted vegetables onto our plates.
“So,” Allegra says over a mouthful of chicken, clearly trying to level out some of the tension, “tell us all about university then.” I’m just about to fill her in on all things student-life when there’s a massive crash upstairs. It was so loud it genuinely sounded as if the roof had caved in.
“What the hell was that!,” mum shrieks. In one dramatic sweep, she jumps up from her chair and starts making a B-line for the stairs. It’s in that moment that a wave of realisation sets in, Robert. He’s obviously knocked something over. Echoing mum’s actions, I dart from the table and run to follow her upstairs. She goes to turn the knob on my bedroom door before I shout a pathetic, “no!”
Her eyes widen, quickly followed by that same look of suspicion. “I knew you were hiding something. You might be able to fool everyone else, but you can never fool your own mother. Now, before I go in, is there anything I should know? Is there a naked boy you’ve snuck in here? Am I going to have to call his parent’s?”
“Oh my god mum, no there’s no boy in there!,” I retort, “just don’t go in ple-”, I grip my hand over hers to try and stop her from opening the door, but I’m too late. As the door swings open, plastering the floor of my childhood bedroom are a mix of both huge shards and millions of tiny broken pieces of glass. The frame of my floor length mirror has fallen over and is now awkwardly balancing over my bed and a very guilty looking Robert is perched on the cushions of my window-seat, glaring back at us. I can’t believe he somehow managed to muster the strength to knock down and completely smash a mirror of that size, 7 years of bad luck for him, I guess. Do cats even get back luck? Or does the bad luck transfer to their owner by default? Oh god, I can’t have 7 years of bad luck, I need to make it through my degree!
“Ember!,” mum sharply yells, instantly tearing me away from my thoughts. “Why is there a cat in here? Wait, do you know what,” she sighs, defeatedly rubbing her forehead, “first things first, get some shoes on, go and get the sweeping brush and hoover, clean this mess and then we can talk.” Before I can try and explain myself, Allegra is already handing me the equipment, an unimpressed look enveloping her face. I sigh, better get to work.
◆◆◆
After a good 20 minutes of trying not to cut myself whilst sorting out the chaos of glass-gate, I realise that I have no other option but to come clean now. It pains me to say, but they do deserve to know the truth. Slumping down the stairs, I find Allegra and mum sat in the kitchen, their shoulders up straight and their arms perched on the table like they’re preparing for a business meeting.
“Sit,” mum orders, eyeing up the chair next to hers.
I fumblingly take a seat and await my fate.
“Would you care to tell your Gran and I how and why you have a cat?,” she says, her voice clipped.
“Well…,” I sneer, “I guess the cat is out of the bag.” I then let out a huge belly laugh at my own joke. I’m quickly aware that the room is filled with a deafening silence as mum and Allegra scowl back at me.
“Not funny, no?,” I ask gawkily.
Mum shakes her head, her frown not inching a muscle.
Right, enough of the jokes, it’s confession time. “To cut a long story short, there’s a guy on my course. I guess you could say he’s now one of my friends. He’s been suffering with anxiety and I mean, clinical level. He opened up to me about how much he’s been struggling and he ended up shutting himself off from everyone completely, he wasn’t eating or sleeping. His dad is a dick and doesn’t care about him, I just wanted him to feel like he mattered. I wanted him to have a break, to have some luck, you know, just for once.”
“And how does that correlate to a cat?,” mum asks confusingly.
I pick at the skin around my fingernails, “well, I might have…you know.” I can see the realisation begin to dawn on Allegra’s face as I sheepishly look up at her. “I might have attempted to perform a luck spell, just a small one! You know, one to make things turn in his favour, to make him happy- and well - I mispronounced the Latin term for luck and ended up accidentally summoning a cat instead.”
Both Allegra and mum’s mouths are morphed into ‘O’s.
“Ember, how did you? Where did you even learn to?,” mum stutters over her own words. I can’t tell whether she’s excited that I’ve finally learned a bit of magic or is completely overwhelmed.
“You stole Ambrose’s books didn’t you?,” Allegra says knowingly.
I guess all the truth was coming out now, “yeah I might have borrowed dad’s books…,” I whisper.
Mum looks really pissed off. “Is that why you came over here before? You just wanted the books. You didn’t actually want to see me.”
“No, of course not! Well…maybe a bit, but I still wanted to see you,” I insist.
Allegra reaches for my hands and clasps them across the table, “Ember, it’s nice that you seem to care so deeply for this boy and want to help him, that’s something to be proud of. But you could have put both of you in a really dangerous position. You haven’t practiced magic properly; you don’t know the costs. I mean, look, you’ve managed to summon a cat without even meaning to, you clearly have a lot of power that you don’t know how to use.”
I exhale, “I know it was stupid, but it turns out that I only pronounced it wrong because the pages were stuck together and some of the wording had worn away. I went back and had another look and found the page I needed!”
Allegra and mum glance at one another, a look not dissimilar to the one Poppy and Amy share with each other when it comes to knowing something that I don’t. “Please don’t tell me you tried to do the spell again?,” Allegra sighs, “which one did you use?”
“The one to bring about blessedness, fortune and happiness, the Felicitatem one,” I respond stiffly.
I’m sick of seeing an endless string of frowns coming from the two of them, I tried to do something nice. It was my choice to make, not theirs.
“How is he? Has anything happened since?,” mum pipes up now.
I nod with a smile, “yes, he did amazingly in our presentation together. Our seminar leader even congratulated him at the end for all of his hard work. You should have seen how anxious he was about it beforehand, it was driving him insane, but then he went up there and absolutely smashed it. He also got a part-time job at the place he wanted to work and he was even the 100th customer of the day at a vintage-movie poster stall at the Christmas markets, so he saved ￡80 on his favourite poster. He’s been so much happier in himself since, he’s honestly thriving.”
Not sharing in my eagerness, Allegra shakes her head at me, “you shouldn’t have done that. It’s not your role to interfere with his life.”
I’m not having that, everything I’ve done, I’ve done for him. “He’s happy. I wanted to help him and I had the means to, so I did. Most people don’t have that luxury, so I took the opportunity. What was I supposed to do, just sit back and watch him struggle?”
“Yes,” Allegra says firmly. I’ve never seen her like this, a mix of both anger and disappointment. She was normally always so warm and tranquil, like the soothing sound of gentle rainfall after a storm. I couldn’t quite believe her reaction; it was starting to elicit rage in me. She was starting to sound like mum.
I clasp my hands together. “Look, I did what I had to do and I’m not sorry that I did it. His life is finally getting better because of me, I can’t take it back anyway.”
Allegra bangs her hands down on the table, “all you’ve done is taken the power out of his hands. If there was ever such a thing as free will, now he definitely doesn’t have it and I’ll tell you why. As soon as you channelled that spell, you’ve determined everything for him. He’ll never learn from mistakes or tribulations because he won’t have any. Sure, whatever decisions he makes will generate lucky outcomes, but you don’t know the long-term consequences of this. How will he cope if the spell runs out after a few months and he’s back to square one? As soon as anything bad happens, it will be ten times more catastrophic for him. He’s the puppet and you’re just pulling the strings Ember.”
I feel sick to my stomach. To be completely insulted by your own family member, especially one that you trusted is the lowest of blows. I know she’s just trying to help me, but the deed has already been done. I don’t know what she’s talking about, I’m not pulling any strings. I’ve just paved the way for Arthur to have some goddamn happiness and luck in his life, is that so bad? I expected a lecture, but not a full-scale scolding. I didn’t know what to think or what to say, maybe it was a mistake for me to come back here with Robert. I should have known they’d never understand. With that, I drop my cutlery and barely-eaten plate, and storm upstairs.