There came a silence and Theodora’s eyes narrowed as if in appraisal. ‘Why do you wish to learn magic?’
Dot’s words failed her.
‘Have you no reason?’ asked Theodora.
‘I – I do,’ said Dot.
‘If you did, you would have said it.’
‘I—’
‘Never mind,’ said Theodora, sighing, ‘I don’t know why I asked. I am begged at least three times a week by any old William or Mary to teach them witchcraft. Frankly, I’ve heard every story, every reason, most of them absolute rot. They all received from me the same answer. No.’
Dot felt as if she were drowning.
‘I – um—’
‘Is that all?’ asked Theodora calmly.
‘No,’ said Dot, defeated.
She pulled Lio’s letter from her pocket and handed it to the witch. Theodora eyed the parchment. She raised the bulb of firelight into the air and took the letter. The moment she did, her expression turned dark. The witch read it in one glance and then she looked at Dot as if she’d been struck by her.
‘What do you mean by giving this to me?’
‘I—’
‘I suppose he paid you?’
‘What?’ asked Dot.
‘You must be an actress,’ said Theodora. ‘That was a beautiful performance.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Dot, stepping forward.
‘Lio,’ said Theodora, shaking the letter. ‘Only he would pay some girl off the street to skirt my wards and deliver me his bizarre propaganda.’
‘I wasn’t—’
Theodora threw out her hand and a loudbangrang out. Dot was cast backward into the darkness. She soared through a woodendoor, caught glimpses of tables and armchairs and copper pots, and then burst out into the street and landed without injury on the pavement. She blinked, dazed. She was back on the corner of Wren Court and Ethel Avenue, in front of Hoot Dear Ashtepo’s with its papered windows. This was the tea shop, after all. The building’s derelict appearance was an enchantment.
Winded, shoe-less, arms wrapped around her carpet bag, Dot stared up at the city-dimmed stars. She lay there on the footpath for a long time.
‘You gave her the letter, then.’
Dot did not stir at the sound of Lio’s voice, nor did she have the energy to wonder how the young man had arrived so quickly from the Cathedral. Only once he repeated himself did she whisper, ‘You tricked me.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You promised to help me,’ said Dot. She longed for something eloquent or cutting, but in her shock could only manage this. She did not look at him as she heaved herself up.
‘I did,’ said Lio.
‘She hatesme,’ said Dot, tears spilling.
‘That is quite the reach, Miss Walcott. You have to care for someone,knowsomeone, to hate them. It seems that I am the one who has her hatred.’
‘You knew this would be the outcome, then?’ Dot snatched up her wool hat from the pavement. ‘And yet you sent me in there to play your delivery girl, anyway.’
