Page 83 of Uncharmed

Hal took Morena’s place on the swing and kicked off gently from the floor with his boots, sending it into motion. Annie looked out onto the meadow, November gilding the long grass. Maeve sprawled out next to her and Hal leaned back with his eyes closed and his hat pulled low, a deep sigh as he stretched out an arm to touch the tips of Annie’s fingers, just for the sake of feeling her nearby. She had so much to say to them, to paint the picture of why this moment meant so much to her. But it wasn’t the time to tell them how it felt. It was the time to let this moment be, to feel it trickle by like the stream that surrounded them and adjust to this beautiful, calm quiet being her real, authentic life – at least for now. How lucky she was to have found such sweetness.

‘What would you like to do tonight, once everybody’s gone?’ Annie asked Maeve, absent-mindedly smoothing her hair and being careful to mind the cuts on her face. ‘It’s going to feel a little quiet when it’s just the four of us again.’

‘Anything that doesn’t involve saving wicchekind would be ideal,’ Hal grumbled.

‘Maybe we could watch a video? And do face masks? And bake?’ Maeve asked Annie hopefully, settling against her with closed eyes. It was precisely the evening that Annie had planned for them when she had headed to meet Maeve for the very first time.

Annie smiled. ‘We can do that.’

Chapter Thirty-Two

APRICITY

The tinkle of the bell above the door of Celeste sang out. It was a softly mournful but fond farewell song, as it had been every time Annie returned since making the decision to give up the bakery. There was definitely a sadness, one that inevitably came with any kind of change or the start of a new chapter – even a happy one – but a loose-fitting, easy contentment, too, a feeling of peace that balanced the scales as though she were weighing out flour and sugar. Less of a harsh pain now that she had let go and more of a nostalgic, wistful ache that squeezed her hand and reminded her with tenderness that she was making the right decision.

Sometimes the right decision was a release, when it was tough to let go of something, but wonderful to let it float away. Like a balloon.

In that same way, it felt good to cross the threshold of Celestial Bakehouse, her name no longer above the door and the sign now painted a soft shade of cornflower blue, rather than pink. It felt good to enjoy the foundations she had laid and not feel dread about her day or worry about the workload or a pressure behind her eyes as she tried to prioritize everything she was struggling to spin at once. To know that she was free and that the place was passing into good, loving hands brought a serenity and lightness with it.

Annie had dragged Maeve away from her coffee and sketchbook time, only with the promise of coffee and sketchbook time plus freshly baked pastries. Life had slowed down considerably and they had plenty of time to stop by when Maeve wasn’t doing something or other with her new friends, who she had made quickly and easily at her new school. Swinging by the bakery meant that Annie could gather up the last few things that she had left in the back room and give her friends a fresh start in their own space, which felt important. Plus she was fairly certain there were at least two pairs of shoes, if not more, lurking in her dressing area, which was also the last place she’d seen her favourite feather-trimmed blazer a few months ago.

After an emotional and frank conversation about her decision to leave, which left Annie and Pari both in tears and even Faye having to turn away to hide a wobbly bottom lip, they had come to the comforting conclusion that, although they would take over the rental agreement and make Celeste their own, Annie would always be at the end of the phone. For creative input, for secret recipes, for the inevitable collection of pink bows and hair clips that seemed to materialize of their own accord. And for firm friendship, above all else. They still had a very important Halloween costume tradition to uphold, after all.

‘I can’t believe I missed it,’ Annie pouted, genuinely devastated to have broken their age-old tradition of trio Halloween costumes, despite having had arguably more important matters to handle. She wondered whether Maeve and Hal would be interested in joining the breakfast ensemble next year, but suspected she already knew the answer to that one.

‘No big deal,’ Faye said, wringing out the soapy suds from her dish cloth as she finished the last plate. ‘We went as egg and soldiers instead, you would have approved. Right, let me just . . .’ She threw off her rubber gloves and moved to empty the bin under the sink, just as there was a loud clatter. Maeve had been fiddling with the finely curated collection of vintage china cups. Three of them toppled from the shelf like dominos. She was just about quick enough with her magic to send them into slow motion, grabbing one in each hand, before the third hit the deck with a clatter and smashed into several shards.

‘Oops.’

Fortunately for Maeve, still not quite used to keeping her magic hidden in the non-wicche realm, Faye’s head had been stuck under the sink the entire time as she struggled to pull out the rubbish.

‘Maeve,’ Annie sighed from her favourite seat in the bay window, where she was arranging a big bouquet of white winter flowers. ‘Make yourself useful. Take the bins out for your Auntie Faye.’ Annie hit her with a daisy and a wink as she slunk past sulkily. Maeve rolled her eyes somewhere towards Alaska before taking the bag reluctantly at arm’s length out to the cobbled back alley.

‘You’re still sure that this is the right call, Annie? It’s hard to imagine this place without you,’ Faye said, leaning back against the counter. She was searching Annie’s face through investigative eyes to make sure that she was getting the truth, knowing that it was rare for Annie to speak up for herself or make decisions that felt truly right for her. She had always been able to read her like a book.

‘No,’ Annie said honestly with a breathy laugh and a rueful head shake that made her curls bounce. ‘But I’m not sure of anything practical or sensible or expected any more . . . And I think I’m starting to learn that that’s where the magic lies, when there’s a little bit of room for spontaneity and the chance to stumble across happy mistakes.’

‘You? Spontaneous?’ Faye asked with an entirely serious face.

‘I know, right?’ Annie said excitedly. ‘Who’d have ever thought it?’

‘Well, in that case,’ Faye said, wiping her fingers on the ends of her shoulder tea towel, ‘we’re thinking of having a party tonight. A bit impromptu, I know, but we wanted to celebrate our new venture and . . .’

‘Tonight?’ Annie gasped. ‘C’mon, Faye, I said “spontaneous”, not “last-minute, unscheduled socializing”. I’m not a madwoman.’

Faye snorted. ‘So what are you going to do instead?’

‘Maeve’s got homework, I’ll help her out with that. Then I was thinking about trying this new recipe I . . .’

‘Not tonight, you dafty. I mean with your life. Now that you’re leaving Celeste behind, what’s your next move?’

‘For once, I have no next move,’ Annie said, noting the pride in her own voice at the confession. ‘I’ve played my whole life like a strategic game of chess and I’m exhausted. It’s time to try a different way. All I know is that I want to keep baking. Hal says there’s a tiny little place up for rent in the village near his cottage, all floral lampshades and lace doilies and frilly curtains. Low footfall, quiet days, peaceful . . .’ Annie said wistfully. The moment that Hal had mentioned the empty cafe to her, she had felt a little tugging of possibility in her chest. A chance to bake for others, but back on her own terms, with the dials all turned down to low again. It sounded blissful. And really possible.

‘Sounds perfect,’ Faye nodded.

‘Annie! Annie, look!’

Annie craned her neck to see what all the fuss was about or, more accurately, what Maeve had accidentally smashed this time. But the girl was dizzy with delight and excitement. Against the chest of her baggy hoodie, she clutched an impossibly tiny, jet-black kitten with a streak of ginger on his forehead shaped just like a perfect crescent moon, his fur so wildly fluffy that he had the overall appearance of a palm-sized pom-pom. He let out a high-pitched, screeching meow that sounded very pleased and snuggled himself in closer to Maeve.