Page 6

Susie pulled off a glove, reached out and gently put one finger to the waves of the layered skirt. Her eyes closed slowly and her head dipped. ‘Oh blimey. I see what you mean. That is crazy strong.’ She pulled her hand back and let out a long breath. ‘If it’s the same woman as the satin number then she lived a good life. Well done her.’

Temperance begrudgingly laid the dress down on the desk, covering the robe. She laced her fingers behind her neck, as if resting them from the intense load of emotion they’d just carried. She could still see the odd spark of blue behind her eyes.

‘You know the awful part?’

‘What could possibly be awful about true love, Tee?’

Temperance ran her hand along the scalloped hem, another burst of deep blue taking up her senses with the most deeply comforting tingle. It was a giant meringue of a dress, the kind of heavy thing that needed all the bridesmaids lifting from their knees to manoeuvre. Puffy sleeves; corseted bodice of damask silk with tiny rose buds sewn on the neckline; about seven layers of swooshy skirting.

‘It’s an eighties wedding dress. We’ll never sell it. It’s like a pure love genie trapped in a bottle wrapped in barbed wire.’

Susie groaned. ‘Oh, that’s so sad. We could have given some bride out there the happiest wedding day known to man. Not to mention the happiest wedding night.’

Temperance nodded. But she wasn’t thinking of some bride out there. She was thinking of how ironic it was that she had the magic to read the echoes of true love some forty years on, but not the practical skills to track down her own for even five minutes.

Chapter 4

The Fairy Festival of East Prawle was a huge deal. Not just for the kids – both local and holidaying – who got treats and games for the full day, but also for the grown-ups who could enjoy the fancy dress party on the same night. The pub had a huge gig space out the back, a converted hay barn with a good sound system and a permanently sticky floor, perfect for a boozy rave. Temperance had fallen into a slight rut of going as a crystal-ball-reading kind of fairground witch the last few years, all layered skirts and a belt with shiny little medallions, silk scarfs tied in her hair. It was easy to throw on, but Temperance also got a perverse thrill from hiding in plain sight amongst all her friends and neighbours.

Plus, it was great for business at Try Again. Stevie had sold a particularly gorgeous seventies tan suede jacket with fringing down the arms that one lucky teen planned to wear as a Space Cowboy. Temperance’s homemade fairy wings (made from old tights and wire coat-hangers) had been snapped up by a gang of Scottish blokes who argued over who got to be the green fairy.

The till was full, the ‘Closed’ sign had been flipped around and now Temperance, Stevie and Susie were enjoying a few beers and a well-earned wind-down on the shop floor.

Susie nipped into the back and returned with their last four beers and a dusty bottle of Malibu. ‘It’s not exactly top drawer stuff but after a busy day we deserve something with some backbone, so this will have to do.’

Stevie twisted open the bottle and took a sniff. ‘That stuff smells like . . . lip gloss?’

‘Mmmm delicious, boozy lip gloss!’ Susie laughed.

Temperance cracked opened a can. ‘Malibu makes people do stupid things. I’ll stick to beer while it’s going. Did I see you get the lime green fairy’s Snapchat, Suse?’

‘Wasn’t it Magenta I was talking to? Ah well, we’ll sort it all out on the dance floor tomorrow.’ She raised one eyebrow. ‘Where you will be dominating in the sexy little costume we’re going to find you . . .’

‘Magical,’ Stevie said, and the sisters’ heads whipped round to her on the same beat. ‘Or mythical, right?’

‘Um, yes. Right,’ Susie went on. ‘A mythical creature, but hot. Easy.’

‘And I’m guessing just throwing on a pointy hat wouldn’t cut it, right?’

‘Uh, no,’ Temperance laughed nervously.

‘Not to nerd out in my first week with you guys, but I actually did an entire paper on pointy hats in my history of fashion class. The whole ‘witch’ ensemble: black clothes, warty nose, ugly shoes. When you look at it through a feminist lens, it’s really telling about how that image was used make women fear being perceived as ugly or cruel or powerful, how that would lead to societal rejection. Be pretty and sweet or it’s into the ducking pond with you!’

Susie shivered.

‘OK. I have taken this to a weird place. Sorry.’ Stevie’s eyes flicked between the Molland sisters anxiously and she tried to rally. ‘Maybe I should just pay for my outfit before I’m fired.’ She dug into the very far corner of a full-length rack at the back of the shop, and pulled out a hot pink lame catsuit. ‘Sorry that I hid it, but I knew it MUST BE MINE.’ She belted her last words out like a pantomime villain.

‘Frederica!’ Temperance breathed, the beers loosening up her inner monologue.

‘Huh?’ Stevie held the stretchy metallic number to herself. ‘Whoever Frederica is, I’ll fight her for it.’

Temperance shook her head. ‘No, that’s Frederica. Sometimes we get a piece in that’s so special that we have to give it a name. Especially when Frederica came with memories of falling in love with a backing dancer in the eighties.’

Stevie squinted. Suddenly her eyes seemed to sober up ahead of the rest of her. ‘How do you know so much about it?’

Temperance’s hands stilled on the glass counter. Susie paused, her beer an inch from her lips.

‘The thing . . . the thing is . . .’ Temperance cursed her own brain for floating about stupidly in so much alcohol.