Page 23 of Uncharmed

Darkness had descended outside and was spilling into the cottage, stealing away the temporary feeling of comfort and cosiness that she naively thought she had managed to create. It was going to take more than a few superficial tweaks. Maybe it wasn’t possible for her to make a happy home at all, having not known one herself in a very long time.

Annie sighed and glanced back at the herbs hanging from the beams of the kitchen ceiling. With Maeve having chosen an early night (or, she suspected, just removing herself as soon as possible from Annie’s company), she should turn her attention to the most pressing problem.

‘Lavender for creativity, compassion, calming, new ideas,’ Annie said to herself.

The spell wouldn’t work on her relationship with Maeve, and she would have to accept that, but Annie could still maintain as much balance across the board as she possibly could – think more efficiently, gain control of the situation, shine up her outlook to something more polished. All she had to do was be perfect again. She would be letting everyone down if she buckled.

Standing on her tiptoes, Annie snapped off a stem of the lavender and crushed it in her palm to a fragrant powder. She headed to the back door and quietly snicked it open, steeling herself as she always had to for what was to come. Regrets, mistakes, heartbreak . . . Her heart cowered.

A bath would help.

Chapter Ten

THE PRACTICE OF MAGIC

Annie began the first day at Arden Place before the birds had even awoken. Rummaging through the kitchen cupboards in the dark to find anything more than one single mug and one single plate, she promptly admitted defeat and conjured her pink moka pot and a fresh bag of industrial-strength coffee beans. Caffeine was always the best place to start and, as she took the first, rocket-fuelled sip, it felt as though she had pushed up the central lever in an abandoned factory, fluorescent lights flickering on and whirring sounds starting up. It was time to make magic happen.

There was no point sulking. She had to make the best of the situation like she always did, as she could always be relied on to do. This mess wasn’t about her. In fact, she had been selfish to centre herself in this, to let her positivity waver so dramatically yesterday. No more.

While the first rays of morning light spilled through the lace curtains from creamy clouds, the sound of birdsong was scattering across the pink-to-blue sky. The rundown cottage was certainly not what she’d had in mind and her heart already longed for London’s rush and routine, but Annie had to admit to herself that this moment of peace, as she sipped and schemed, leaning against the countertop to look out onto the meadow, was not entirely terrible. Each blade of bristling grass was gilded, as though it had been dipped in honey, with autumn sunlight, which spilled into the cottage with a soft, romantic glow.

After successfully managing to conduct Splendidus Infernum in the outdoor tub with a patchwork of make-do ingredients from the meadow, the spell had been boosted and a vague plan was falling into place. As all good plans did, it began with breakfast. A little treat or two would make everything better and, if she couldn’t head to Celeste, Annie would simply have to bring Celeste to the cottage. The Arden Place kitchen was looking distinctly pinker than before. She had stocked it full of produce and filled the kitchen shelves with an abundance of ingredients, along with her favourite cookbooks (and her personal grimoire). The small dining table now wore a mint-green silk-trimmed tablecloth and a vase stuffed with frilly dahlias.

She matched the birdsong with the clatter of a whisk that was working of its own accord in the fluffiest pancake mix. There was the sizzle of fat popping in one of the copper pans while sunny golden yolks cooked, alongside browning sausages and crisping bacon. Annie spun from cooker to countertop while a feast came together in a cloud of her most natural magic. Best of all, she assumed that either her singing or the sugar-sweet scents must have been responsible for attracting the interest of various woodland dwellers. A young deer peered through the window with greedy eyes. Just above the sink, two rabbits had leapt up onto the sill and were sitting either side of the tap. A whole family of chaffinches with plump orange cheeks had taken it upon themselves to fill an empty milk bottle with a purple wildflower arrangement.

Annie poured a stream of velvety chocolate into a jug, to pair with the pancakes, which were multiplying at a rate that felt ever so slightly out of control. The heavenly smells were finally beginning to replace the airless, musty scent of the cottage that had greeted them the night before.

She turned to reach for the icing sugar, then screamed. Maeve, having appeared from nowhere and making no noticeable sound, was watching every move with a slightly agape mouth. Annie toppled backwards against the countertop and clutched at her heart.

‘Maeve! Good morning! You caught me by surprise there. Don’t worry, I didn’t need a functioning heart anyway. Overrated, if you ask me,’ Annie laughed, re-twisting her hair, which had tumbled in the fright. She fastened it back with her pencil and tightened the waist bow of her apron.

‘I just wondered what smelled so good.’

‘You didn’t witness me singing into the wooden spoon, did you? Because if you did, I will pay you to keep that a secret between us.’

Maeve snorted. ‘I might have done.’

‘Great. You’ll never respect me as your leader now,’ Annie lamented, then turned back to flip the pancakes. They soared so high with the bounce from her magic that they grazed the ceiling, then plopped back into the pan with a smattering of buttery bubbles. ‘What can I get you? You must be starving.’

‘Can I just get a cup of coffee?’

‘Maeve.’ Annie’s hands went to her hips and she scowled. ‘You need to eat for brain power. Otherwise how will I impart centuries of magical wisdom and expert guidance?’ This earned another snort-laugh from Maeve. ‘Come on, I made . . . Well, I made everything. I wasn’t sure what you’d like. Come and help yourself.’

Maeve shuffled over, clutching a book as always.

‘Do we secretly have seven jewel miners, an evil queen and a forest-dwelling huntsman coming to join us this morning? This is insane,’ Maeve said, as a pair of sparrows flew to her shoulders with a napkin between their beaks and tucked it into the collar of her pyjama top. Yawning, she flopped a couple of pancakes onto her plate, along with a giant spoonful of fresh strawberries and a very generous drizzle of chocolate that formed a moat around her food. ‘Okay, maybe I am hungry . . .’

‘What are you reading?’ Annie asked, aiming for casual while she finished off arranging the selection of pastries that she’d summoned straight from Celeste’s counter. Faye would be far too busy with the coffee orders to notice and she could only hope that Pari would still be too sleepy to see them vanish. Fortunately, both of them had been absolutely over the moon when Annie had used the rusty, rotary dial phone by the cottage door to call, imparting the surprising news that she’d be away for a while at a ‘recreation centre’ for ‘team building’ on her ‘scheme’. Faye had encouraged her to try bouldering if they had a climbing wall, and Pari told her to watch out for black cats and faceless figures wearing cowboy hats, because she’d had a strange dream – and that was that. Perhaps asking them for help wasn’t the completely mortifying, world-ending task that she always built it up to be. In fact, it had been very easy.

Maeve reached for one of the pains au chocolat and dunked the end into a scoop of Faye’s plum jam. Maeve slid the book across the table to Annie, a copy of Feral Familiars: Tame Them All, From Black Widow to Mole Rat.

‘I found it on the bookshelf when I couldn’t sleep. This place has tons of animal books. Do you think . . . Do you think I’ll be able to have a familiar?’ Maeve asked, her brows stitched together in a very serious expression. Annie felt a fizzing in her chest and for once it wasn’t driven by anxiety. It was a second-hand thrill for everything that lay ahead for Maeve and her magic. This scenario was not what either of them had been expecting. But magic was supposed to be fun – otherwise, what was the point at all? That was something that she hadn’t taken much notice of for a while.

This was a project. A messy starting point for her to unpick the knots and restitch into something that felt familiar and neat and right. A recipe that needing tweaking, extra sugar and spices to find the balance.

‘It’s kind of a package deal,’ Annie explained as she poured herself a fresh cup, then hesitated over a second mug. ‘Are you old enough to drink coffee?’ Maeve glared in response, so she poured her one, too. ‘If an animal familiar hasn’t made themselves known to you already, then it’s imminent. One of the branches of magic is Animal Affinity – and that means having a familiar in your life, whether you like it or not. Judging by that lot, I don’t think you’ll be having any trouble.’

Annie gestured towards the window full of woodland creatures, who all seemed to have forgotten about the pancakes on offer and were instead peering intently at Maeve as she scooped another spoonful of berries onto her plate. Annie glanced from the menagerie to Maeve and back again, a strange thought springing to mind. Had it been Maeve they were interested in all along, rather than her or her sweet-scented baking?