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From: [email protected]
Subject: Earth to Temperance . . .
Lovely girl, how is it going? I haven’t heard from you again. Did you go back to the beach? I realise you could be ghosting me for several reasons:
Your mum has heard we’re needlessly communicating and has hit the roof and hexed you silly, even from afar.
You sorted your magical snafu and are now busy living a beautifully balanced life without need of my witterings.
Or, it’s all gone so horrifically wrong that your whole village has combusted and you’ve no means to brush your teeth, let alone send an email to an old witch.
I must say I am dying to know which one is closest . . .
If for whatever reason you don’t want to reply, let me say one last thing: magic is a gift, but that doesn’t mean all we do is take from it. We witches can receive and intuit power that passes most people by, but we have to give back to that power – recharge it – to keep the balance around us in check. It’s like a cashpoint, maybe: you can go and take out enough money to make you feel filthy rich, but it’s your own account you’re running dry. And eventually you’ll be in its debt.
You inadvertently took something big from the magic world, asking for a true love to be plonked down in front of you. And now it wants something big in return. I’m not trying to put you off the witch’s life, my dear, but it’s a relationship, like anything else. It takes work, it takes sacrifice.
Let me know if I can help.
Your friend,
F x
Temperance blinked at the words as they settled into her brain. She owed F a proper reply, a full explanation of everything that had been happening. Once the party was over, she would take the time to write a thoughtful response.
Just as Susie went to swing through the kitchen doors and head down to the cellar, a woman with a high ponytail and a Breton striped top burst through the pub’s front door. ‘Could someone help me? I’m totally lost and my car’s GPS has no signal here.’
‘I’ll point you back to the big road. It’s easier if I draw you a map and point out some landmarks, follow me.’ Susie grabbed an order pad and pen, and headed outside with the stranger.
And so here Temperance was, five minutes later, flushing out the beer barrel line with cold water and working the pump to clear it through. A job she’d done enough times in the past to help Margie or Susie out on a quiet evening that she could do it with her eyes closed. But right now she had her eyes very much open and vigilant to the fact that the vigorous pumping action was testing the elastic limit of her bra and squeezing her boobs together in an almost cartoonish way. Thankfully there was no one else around to see it.
‘My god.’ Abel’s voice was a half-breath half-cough and Temperance stood up quickly and awkwardly, bracing herself for the criticism he was surely about to deliver. What had she done wrong this time?
He blinked rapidly, closed the heavy oak door behind him and then knelt down to take over the job. ‘Gran wondered what was taking so long with the drinks. I couldn’t find anyone at the bar, or in the kitchen.’
‘Oh, sorry. Susie had to nip out to help a lost grockle.’
‘You can’t do this on your own.’
Temperance bristled. ‘I can. I have plenty of times over the last twelve years, it’s just you weren’t around to see it.’
Abel exhaled through his nose. ‘What I meant was that it should always be done in a pair, just in case. These full ones are bloody heavy, you know.’
She fiddled with the halter at the back of her neck. ‘Yes. Right.’
‘I don’t mind helping.’ He started up the pump work, producing much less jiggle than Temperance had in the same position.
There was an awkward five minutes of silence between them, as old beer spluttered into the ice cream tub at their feet.
‘What did Margie think of your outfit?’ Temperance asked tentatively.
He smiled wryly. ‘Loved it. Said she’s thinking of making it the new bar staff uniform.’
She laughed with relief. ‘I’d like to see that. And I wouldn’t mind the commission.’
‘Not that it will really affect me,’ he went on. ‘I’m back to Bath with Mum tomorrow. Back to normal life.’ He pronounced the word normal clearly and definitely, as if it was some kind of warning.
