Page 3 of Uncharmed

‘Not tomorrow. But soon,’ she replied kindly.

Gentle and comforting, Annie’s rehearsed departure speech slid off her tongue like warm honey. She balanced the compliments to flatter against the gentle excuse that he could pretend wasn’t even there. The noncommittal second-date plans were hopeful enough to cushion the blow and the reality of her rejection wouldn’t land until he arrived home without her. She always made sure to say the right thing, the spell igniting on cue, the words adding themselves together in a formula for the correct answer.

‘Let me walk you home. Or . . .’ Cedric interrupted his own train of thought, then tripped over a chair leg as he skipped to follow her through the restaurant, leaving his belongings behind. ‘I’ll join you in a cab. We can share a night cap.’ He gave Annie what she assumed was supposed to be a look of seduction as his hand reached for her upper arm. But his voice betrayed him again, more strained with every last-ditch attempt to persuade her. She offered another patient, sympathetic smile.

‘Not tonight. Big day at work tomorrow.’ Annie sighed, as though it was breaking her heart to hold herself back. ‘I’ll call you.’

Cedric had turned a little green around the gills. She tapped him generously on the satin lapel of his heinous velvet blazer and left him powerless to do anything except watch her leave. Normally she’d allow him to call her a taxi, one last gentlemanly gesture to let him think he’d been everything a woman could ask for. But the date had worn her patience to the bone, her energy had been sapped after a long day at Celeste and tiredness was starting to blunt her pinpoint decisions.

Plus she’d left it a little late. She was cutting it fine to get home in time.

She tinkled a wave as she left Cedric looking entirely lost and forlorn, then seized her chance to disappear from view and slip into the bathroom. Finally, she could breathe again. She turned to the wall-sized mirror above the sinks for a perfunctory check that her curls had remained where they were supposed to. They had, of course. She checked whether her lipstick had smudged. It hadn’t. If her mascara was running, if she’d lost an earring, if her nail polish had chipped . . . Glancing down, she noticed her knuckles had turned white from gripping onto the edge of the basin.

Her smile burst through again as she spoke to the reflection of the girl who had just wandered in and was now re-sliding a pair of plastic butterfly clips into her hair. ‘Oh, wow! I love your dress. You look gorgeous.’

The girl beamed, the ego boost visible and vivid even in low lighting. ‘Oh, thank you! Just high street, can you believe it? Such a steal.’

‘You’re kidding! It was made for you. Fits you like a glove,’ Annie replied to the girl’s reflection. Being the friendly girl in the bathroom was a role that she loved to play. She liked the idea of this woman going home and telling her friends that she’d met the sweetest girl. How she’d absolutely made her day. Every time she wore that dress, the girl would remember Annie and she’d feel good about it.

When the girl was gone and the coast was clear for magic, Annie blotted her lips on a paper towel and threw one last glance back towards the door. She twitched her fore and middle finger together. A gentle plume of blushing sparks blossomed from her hand, cascading in a pink swirl around her for transference.

In a fraction of a moment, the soles of her heeled pumps made a smooth landing on the wooden floor of her own hallway. Her curls bounced on impact and Annie shook her head to clear away the sickly, tugging feeling of instant travel by magic.

Through the hustle and bustle of the day, Annie yearned for precious quiet at home. She thought longingly of her sofa, her books, her pyjamas . . . And, for a moment, the arrival did bring relief – a quiet sense of calm and joy. But quiet meant that there could be no more distractions.

The smile switched off, the upturned curve became a straight line. A sigh. Her shoulders dropped, as though a button had been pressed, and she reached for the base of her neck to stretch it out. She kicked off her heels and padded barefoot to the living room, dropping her coat to the floor in a heap and discarding her jewelled earrings, shedding layers like a snake as she moved. She stood in the darkness, to measure how it felt. Alone again.

With a flick followed by a bright flash of pink, the TV turned on to fill the room with the drone of an antiques show and immediately the white noise fuzzed everything a little at the edges, made it all feel less consuming. Annie fired her magic at the frosted table lamps to bring a stroke of light to the living room and sent a handful of tiny flames across the scattering of fresh cotton-scented candles, purposefully selected to smell like a home full of care and cosiness.

The answering machine flashed red on the telephone table. Her heart whirled up into her throat, wondering who needed her now, and she nervously fiddled with the star-shaped charm on her choker necklace.

‘Annie, it’s Viv. Are you there? Do you ever answer this damned thing? What’s even the point if you’re never home to pick it up? Well, excuse me for taking the time to check in, darling. I shan’t bother next time. Look, I’m having a total wardrobe crisis and I need you to . . .’

Annie lurched forwards to press the large delete button immediately. Shutting off Vivienne’s voice was like catching a spider in a cup. She would call her friend back, she really would – but she needed to be more prepared for that conversation. Perhaps don a suit of armour first.

A cloud of fluffiness wrapped itself silkily around her bare ankles and Annie sighed gratefully, scooping the bright white bundle into her arms. The little cloud let out a disapproving mew that sounded a lot like, ‘What time do you call this?’ Annie buried her face into the impossibly soft fur, inhaling that powdery-clean scent of safety and love and connection that never failed to greet her when she arrived back home. It carried an important reminder that loneliness at least came with a set of small pink paws on the side.

‘I’m so sorry, lady. I’m a little late, aren’t I? We can’t have that, can we, Karma?’

The bundle of creamy fur nuzzled back with a high-pitched chirp, contentedly perched in Annie’s arms as she was carried to the kitchen. Karma was largely above such menial tasks as walking to her own food bowl, preferring to be formally escorted whenever possible. The bell on the pink ribbon around her neck jangled as Annie conjured the food. Karma curled her downy tail around her body before eating with excellent manners – for a cat. Annie gave her beloved, beautiful familiar a gentle fuss behind the ears, the silky softness instantly grounding her.

The connection between a witch and her familiar was a precious thing and incomparable. Not that Karma would ever admit such an attachment to a human. But the snow-white cat, with ice-blue eyes and velvety rose ears, was never far away and always seemed to know when Annie needed her. If it weren’t for her familiar, Annie sometimes wondered whether she would just freeze and maybe even disappear altogether.

Annie returned to perch on the arm of the sofa, then slid down into the cushions. She let her mind go deliciously blank in front of the television, the sound and light blaring out while everything else blurred around her. The cascading linen drapes, the pale pink couch, the glass surfaces charmed to remain free of fingerprints (and pawprints). Exquisite. Although very small and understated compared to her friends’ palatial homes, Annie’s place always looked immaculate. Like a show home or a catalogue photograph. She made sure of it – never a coaster, cushion or crystal ball out of place. Even her witchery equipment matched the carefully selected aesthetic that she had put together so attentively, a pale gold cauldron sat plump in the hearth, filled with white pillar candles and a bouquet of fluffy baby’s breath. Her home looked the part, beautiful to anyone who caught a glance.

Now that she was sitting still, words from her day at the bakery came back to cloud her mind. As soon as she started to worry about others, it was as though Annie had knocked over a bottle of ink across a handwritten page. The plume of storm cloud spread itself over everything and there was nothing she could do to stop it or make it feel less imperious. It was all she could see.

Karma, sensing the spiral as Annie’s thoughts grew roots, leapt onto her lap. A feathery tail was wafted directly into her face and across her lipgloss, a gesture Annie knew was intended as comfort. Finally, a headbutt to the chin and a purring soundtrack pulled her back to the present and Karma settled.

Annie reluctantly switched herself back on and looked at the clock. Half an hour until midnight. She debated if she had time to complete anything else before the spell, otherwise it would be a very late night, even for her. There were mountains of studies to be completed for the coven as part of her second-year apprenticeship – the scrolls of parchment were threatening to burst from the cupboard that she stowed them in. And she still needed an appropriate outfit for tomorrow night. That would mean pulling out her sewing machine to create something exciting enough for the girls not to notice a re-wear. They’d never let her live it down if they knew that she’d dared reach for a favourite again or restyled something old to keep up with their fatally fashionable ways. The girls were always quick to call her out on such silly decisions.

Your friends keep your standards high. They stop you from making a fool of yourself. They always know what’s best for you.

A long day, even in enchanted shoes, had brought Annie’s energy levels to a crashing low. She’d need an extra boost of some special ingredients to combat tomorrow’s tiredness, to regain the equilibrium required. Cedric’s rose caught her eye, deep red against the light table top where she’d discarded it.

Reaching for the flower, Annie lay back against the arm of the couch, without disturbing a softly snoring Karma, and began to snap each petal from the crimson head. The fracture of each leaf from the stem felt like a small, sharp shock, as though she could hear each tiny break. Red rose petals would be a useful addition tonight. A little extra passion or achievement or desire in any form never went amiss in the spell – as long as she balanced it correctly to counteract the negatives. Maybe a touch of valerian or powdered moonstone for added calmness, humility, patience . . . No one liked a woman who shone too brightly.

Carefully shifting Karma onto the sofa and earning a disgruntled scowl in return, Annie dragged herself up to begin again. Time for her nightly tasks – the next round of requirements that she placed upon herself.