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‘No, wait!’ Temperance thrust out her hand and felt her magic connect with the material of his T-shirt at his shoulder, magnetically pulling him back without thinking about it, her hands following seconds later, holding him around the bicep and dragging him a step away from the bush.

Abel froze as her fingers made contact with him. His breath went slow and deep, like he was barely able to contain his anger. He kept his eyes staring down, lines appearing at the corners as he held his focus.

They stood like that for a beat too long, Temperance feeling the rigid muscle under her hands that refused to relax, Abel doing nothing but breathing and waiting for it all to be over.

‘Glass – broken glass . . . right there,’ she breathed.

‘I would have been fine. We’re not kids anymore, Temperance,’ he said finally, quietly. He circled his shoulder so that her hands fell away. ‘You don’t need to look out for me.’

‘Wha—I’m not . . . I just didn’t want you to get slashed!’

‘Listen,’ he spoke plainly, ‘I’m just here to get some fruit for Gran, help Praveen and then head back.’ He screwed his mouth into one corner and then shrugged. ‘So now we’re done, I can walk you home, I suppose.’

Temperance felt her jaw go tight. ‘No worries. Like you said, I’m not a kid anymore – so I can make my own way back. Thanks.’ She said the last word like it was a rotten strawberry in the dust.

She watched him walk away, his shiny red shorts still ridiculous, but there was no laughter bubbling up in her throat now.

Why was Abel Gulliver the stormy-purple bruise she just couldn’t help pressing? Temperance wished she could throw a rock at his back and yell, ‘Hey arsehole! I’m trying to save your life from some nasty magical shit here! Your cooperation would be nice!’ But that was the last thing she could ever admit. She wished, too, that she could click her fingers and somehow restore all the mess now spiralling out of her control in East Prawle. But what would make everything so much less messy was if her heart could just believe that this wasn’t the Abel that Temperance had once loved. This was a new man, disconnected from that kind, funny teenage guy. So if her heart could just stop soaring from the smallest touch, stop seeking out the tiniest hint that he cared in any way about their past, maybe she wouldn’t feel so battered every time they spoke. Maybe she’d be able to focus on the job at hand and chase away this doom and send Abel back where he belonged.

But when did a heart ever listen to what was sensible?

Her eyes were still faithfully trained on him as he strode further and further away. On his way out the farm, Abel paused to pick up an already-full basket of strawberries and then disappeared into the lane.

Chapter 15

‘More hiking, so soon?! Wow, you guys really look the part this time.’ Stevie gave a cheeky little thumbs up from behind the cash desk.

Temperance closed the shop door gently behind her and felt something gritty under her feet. Weird. When she looked down there was a thin line of bright white powder running across the shop floor.

‘Yup we really . . . caught the bug the other day. Stevie, did something get spilled over here? It looks like sugar, maybe? Or salt.’

Stevie had her fingers steepled under her chin, her eyes trained on Temperance’s boots. ‘Oh really? Um, I can sweep it up. If it’s causing you a problem?’ She bit her lip.

‘No worries, I’ll do it in a sec. So anyway, we’re off somewhere a bit further afield. For a . . . challenge. Thanks again for watching the shop solo. It should be a nice, quiet day. Nobody will mind if you want to read a book back here.’ Temperance smiled.

Temperance could feel the laces of her mum’s boots pressing into the top of her feet. This ‘F’ sounded confident enough in their advice, but should Temperance really trust someone so explicitly when she’d never met them? On the other hand, what choice did she have but go on this mad ramble? Susie was fully onboard to try the sedative route on Mark, specifically his leather jacket. If there was anything to take a gamble on, it was keeping East Prawle in one piece, after all. So here she was, in her old camouflage tracksuit from her short-lived leisurewear phase, her mum’s boots starting to cut off circulation below her ankles and somehow she was ready to go foraging.

She felt like a witchy Bear Grylls.

Stevie hopped off the stool and came around to the shop floor. ‘Cool, thanks. A few eBay listings are coming to an end, so I need to watch those. By the way, bit of a random question, but do you guys go to church?’ Stevie looked her dead in the eye.

Temperance almost choked. ‘Church?! Um, no, that’s . . . not for us. Why?!' She quickly pulled her composure together. ‘I mean, if you want to start going, we could find out the service times for you. We have a tiny church here, but to be honest I only ever went inside to go to nursery there. A long time ago.’

A memory popped into Temperance’s head, as clear in her mind’s eye as if she was gripping a pair of her childhood dungarees. One of those memories that was impossibly huge considering she was so tiny when she made it. The first day she’d gone to the playgroup, having just turned four, Temperance had clung on to a very pregnant Lee’s leg. ‘Don’t want to! Please! I’ll stay home with you!’ Fat tears plopped out of Temperance’s eyes and onto Lee’s jeans.

‘Oh sweetie. I’m just so tired. Mummy needs to have lots of naps before your baby sister comes. But I’ll be back at 2pm to pick you up, OK? Besides, there are lots of kids here, see?’ Lee pointed to the six or so children careering around the church, pushing toy diggers along the pews and playing with dollies beneath the small stained-glass windows.

‘It’s really fun,’ the vicar’s wife knelt down to say. ‘And we have snack time soon. A biscuit and some squash. You could help me put out the cups.’

Lee saw her opportunity at the word ‘biscuit’ and prised off each one of Temperance’s pudgy fingers, before waving and beating a swift retreat to the door.

Temperance’s little eyes flicked around the scene – the loud children, the stuffy smell, the vicar’s wife grinning at her, a little bit of lipstick caught on her teeth.

‘Noooooooo!’ she wailed, and ran off to hide behind thick velvet curtains.

That’s where Temperance found the box of Play-Doh. And where, twenty minutes later, a five-year-old boy found Temperance, a chunk of dough with very noticeable bite marks held in her hands.

‘It’s not real food,’ he said kindly.