Page 64 of Uncharmed

Annie got to her feet, determinedly pulling Ruby up with her.

‘Mummy finally broke the news, I take it,’ Romily said, turning her attention straight to Ruby. ‘Such a shame, we’re all heartbroken, Ruby, honestly. But sometimes things just . . . don’t work out.’

‘Right,’ Ruby said coldly.

‘No hard feelings. Many witches have discovered that the Fortune Four have found them lacking. Most have lived to tell the tale,’ Vivienne said, with a look so gleeful it burned Annie’s skin.

‘Speak for yourself. This is all news to me,’ Annie replied. She didn’t dare let any part of it show on her face, but she felt a deep-rooted anger take over everything else as she held Vivienne’s gaze.

‘Of course it is. Let me tell you, Annie, there’s a lot that you don’t know. You’re not privy to as much as you think you are,’ Vivienne hit back. ‘You’d do well to remind yourself of that sometimes.’

‘Oh shut up! It was you three, wasn’t it? You’re who had me thrown out,’ Ruby shouted defiantly, although her voice cracked ever so slightly. It broke Annie’s heart all over again and she tightened her grip around Ruby’s shoulders. There had been no doubt in her mind who the ‘somebody’ had been who betrayed Ruby to Glory; the smug look on Vivienne’s face confirmed it in crystal clarity. But Annie felt her friend stiffen at her side, as though forcing herself to stand taller. ‘Of course it was. Y’know, the three of y’all are batshit bonkers.’

‘Well, that’s rude,’ said Harmony, incredulous. ‘What did we ever do to you?’ She faltered. ‘Oh, right . . . the frenemies thing.’

‘If it had been up to me, we would never have fraternized with someone so bewilderingly vulgar in the first place. But philanthropy is a huge part of being such a good person, it’s the least we could do. It’s how Annie’s stuck around like a bad smell, too,’ Vivienne said, a lazy smirk draping itself across her lips.

‘I can’t stand to look at you three witches any longer,’ Ruby grimaced. ‘I’m out of here.’ She rushed from the bathroom, shoving her way through Romily, Vivienne and Harmony.

‘Ruby, wait . . .’ Annie called.

All she could do was stare at them, astounded. It felt like standing face to face with three complete strangers. Perhaps they were. Perhaps she’d never known them at all, just a version of them that she had convinced herself of.

‘Freak,’ Vivienne cackled to Romily.

Suddenly Ruby was Maeve in the canteen all those weeks ago, and Maeve was Ruby, in all of her brilliant unique ways. Everything felt blurry. Annie could only identify a feeling of terrible, molten, defensive rage. She felt her magic crackle. It took everything in her to hold herself back, not to shove Vivienne in the chest, send her toppling into Romily. She could see their hierarchy of importance, one that she had always remained at the bottom of. It was a sharply contrasting relief to the fairness and patience and support that she had found herself held by at Arden Place.

She had suspected for a long time what her so-called friends were capable of. She had experienced bumps and scrapes from their impact her whole life. But seeing it so plainly felt like a bright, sharp, stinging slap.

She turned to Romily, trying to find a trace of her old friend, the younger version who was kind and compassionate and believed in something more than outward appearances.

‘Rom, come on . . .’

Annie thought for one brief moment that a flash of something more passed behind Romily’s brown eyes, but it was gone before she could even register it. ‘If you don’t keep up, you get left behind,’ Romily said coldly. ‘And you are trailing so far, far behind us all now, Annie. This . . .’ – she gestured to the space across the room between them – ‘. . . well, I’m starting to wonder whether it’s working any more.’

Vivienne spoke over her. ‘Ruby’s time is up, Wildwood. Careful you don’t go the same way.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘The longer you remain on that side of the room, the longer we over here forget why it is exactly that you’re still hanging by a thread of second, third and fourth chances,’ Vivienne said.

‘I didn’t . . . I . . . I’m sorry.’

Annie could hear somebody apologizing with a quiet stutter, but none of them seemed to be talking. Romily’s mouth was tightly sealed, Vivienne’s brows were raised, Harm was distracted by her own reflection in the mirror opposite. It must be her own mouth; somehow she was the one apologizing. She was still saying sorry, atoning for the constant, blithe betrayal. The impulse was carved into her after all these years.

But, for the first time, she realized with fresh, furious clarity that she didn’t mean a word of it.

‘It’s okay, Annie. You’re always making so many silly mistakes, we’re used to it,’ Romily said gently. She stretched out an arm towards Annie, encouraging her to take her hand. ‘Let’s head back. We’re missing the party!’

‘C’mon, Annie, come and dance!’ Harmony leapt across the room to tug at Annie’s arm, but it fell limply to her side. Harmony returned to the pack like an uncertain animal.

‘The party,’ Annie nodded slowly, contemplating how everything could still be unfolding as normal just beyond the bathroom, while her whole intricate belief system fell apart. ‘You want to return to the party. You want to pretend that everything is still perfect?’ The volume of her voice rose of its own accord, until she was yelling by the end of the question.

Her hands flew up to her mouth, as though trying to cram the words back in. The earthquake sensation of her real, visceral anger and hurt felt so volatile, so unpredictable, and it seemed to be showing itself as such. Her shout made Harmony, Vivienne and Romily start, their brows shooting up to match one another. They shot each other an uncertain side-glance, unsure of the direction things were taking.

Annie reached for her composure and slipped it back on carefully like a silk robe. With a closed-eyed, serene breath, she returned her voice to softness. ‘Why have you kept me around all these years?’

Romily giggled, then rolled her eyes when Annie didn’t join in. ‘I don’t know what you could possibly mean. You’re acting crazy. Imagining things.’ As she shrugged, the glitter of her gown winked beautifully in the low lighting.