Page 4

‘God, I’m so sorry,’ Temperance rushed out, as Lee rubbed the young woman’s arm gently.

‘Ah, it’s OK. It was a long time ago and also it was yesterday, you know? But she loved clothes and she loved the English coast. So here I am. And I’m about as in love with that ocean view as I am the clothes you’ve got. So it couldn’t be more perfect. The way you’ve styled that Laura Ashley maxi dress with a biker jacket in the window. Ooof,’ she rolled her eyes like she’d just dived into a pool of chocolate fondant. ‘Perfection.’

Temperance felt the tips of her ears glow. ‘Thank you. I did that one. I liked the clash of traditionally feminine and masculine.’

‘That’s exactly it! And I’m not a design student, by the way: I study history. Specifically, the cultural history of fashion. These things are so my . . . my cup of tea.’ She beamed.

Temperance felt her hackles drop in the glow of Stevie’s smile. But there was a very solid reason why she was wary of anyone new coming behind the desk at Honeycomb Corner: this wasn’t just a vintage store, this was a vintage store where she and her family used their unique Molland magic on a daily basis. If a piece had only positive memories attached to it, the women mostly let it be, but would mend any tears or replace missing buttons so it was back to a saleable standard. But if they held a garment that gave them flashes of rage or heartbreak or jealousy, it would need a very different sort of repair. A sort that no outsider would understand. Because if those negative energies were left to fester, they would then influence the next person to wear them, keeping a perpetual whirl of misery and pain spinning through their life.

Temperance had grown up seeing how people laughed at modern-day ‘witches’, how they mucked about with tarot cards in her sixth form common room, falling about with hysterical laughter. And she knew enough about English history to realise that sometimes jokes and jibes turned cruel, vindictive. Poisonous. No matter the age you lived in, a woman with power was always a target.

Lee had been very clear with each of her daughters when they turned seventeen and their talents came to the surface: ‘We keep our family secret in the family. No one else will understand. It’s our gift and we need to treasure it, to nurture it.’

What went on in the back room, stayed in the back room.

And now her mother was inviting an outsider in?! To poke about in their work room, to snoop on their secrets?

As if she could sense Temperance’s heart rate starting to vibrate like a hummingbird’s, Lee added, ‘Stevie’s role will mostly be out on the shopfloor here, keeping it tidy and well stocked. And maybe if she comes across anything particularly unique, she could list it online for us? We’ve been talking about an eBay shop for ages, so she could take that on.’

‘Buying and selling vintage for a profit helped me buy my plane ticket out here,’ Stevie shrugged sheepishly.

Lee sighed with a smile. ‘I think you two are going to have a great summer. You’ll hardly miss me at all.’ She squeezed her daughter’s hand. ‘And I’m always on the end of the phone, of course. But right now, I’d better get packing.’

‘Wait, what? What – wait . . . when are you going?’

Lee briefly bit her lip. ‘Tonight.’

Stevie’s gaze flicked from Temperance to Lee and back again like it was the Ladies’ Final at Wimbledon. ‘I’ll, uh, take a slow tour of your denims, give you some privacy.’

Once she was twelve feet away at the front of the shop, Lee turned to her daughter, ‘I know it’s sudden, Temps, but I’m hardly Home Alone-ing you. I know you’re capable of this. Haven’t you ever imagined running the shop yourself one day? Without me?’

Temperance had always seen her future with her feet planted where they were right now: her Birkenstocks nestled into the slight groove in the lino that had been worn down by her mum’s DMs and the shoes of Matt’s dad before them, the original proprietor of Bob’s Baits, as it was then. She definitely wanted to run this place one day, but her visions of that future always had Lee somewhere just out of sight in the background. Not bouncing in a Berlin electro nightclub and swanking about with movie people.

‘I suppose.’

Lee pushed a slip of paper across the desk to her daughter. ‘Take this. It’s the email for someone in the know, for any magical emergencies that crop up and you can’t get hold of me. I don’t know how much travelling I’ll be doing. But just for real emergencies, mind?’

Temperance picked up the paper like it was a holy relic – she’d never heard her mum reference anyone else with the same magical know-how as them before. Lee had never spoken badly about her family over the years, but Temperance and Susie had been told enough to know that there’d been a big, unrepairable rift just before Temperance was born. This was the closest Temperance had ever come to having a clue to her mum’s past. She put it carefully in the till drawer.

‘But I doubt you’ll need it,’ Lee went on. ‘I’m only a few hours away by plane. It’s good for the shop that I can build some new contacts. Who knows, I might find us some great new sources for stock there.’

‘Maybe,’ Temperance forced herself to see the shop half-full with her as the manager, rather than half-empty without her mum. ‘It might be interesting to wash away a German heartbreak for a change. I just hope I can understand those ones.’

Lee shook her head gently. ‘Heartbreak doesn’t have a language, my darling. It’s universal.’

Chapter 3

‘It feels like Stevie is going to be like a grown-up version of our summer friends, you know?’ Susie pulled on a pair of chunky gardening gloves before she started rummaging through one of the new stock boxes. The gloves were essential kit when you have the Molland powers. Sticking your hands into a box full of old clothes when you could absorb all of the emotions tumbled in there was a risky business, a Russian roulette.

Temperance still had a battered ballerina music box somewhere in her room that was full to the brim of friendship bracelets from their summer friends back in the day. She and Susie would make a long line of best friends over their childhood summers, with the kids staying at the campsite or in the holiday rentals. And although those friendships could only span two weeks or so before the children left with their families, each was like a little bubble of happiness and freedom. If Temperance put on one of those old bracelets now and pinged the elastic against her wrist, she’d feel warm, wind-whipped skin, hysterical laughter around a campfire and the taste of a ’99 against her tongue. Even the thinnest threads could wrap around an emotion if it was potent enough.

‘She has to come to FairyFest, get to know everyone. It’s only a few nights away, though. I doubt she’s got a Kraken costume wedged in her holdall.’

Susie shook her head. ‘She never a Kraken. She’s a sprite. Maybe a little pixie. There might something in all this lot that she could wear.’

‘Mum said this was from a really good estate sale. Should get some gems.’

Susie ripped back the brown packing tape. ‘I still can’t believe she’s going tonight. I mean, it’s great for her – she should live a little. I bet she’ll love Berlin, the music there and . . . Woah!’ Her tone suddenly went from low and flat to squeaky and slightly out of breath.