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‘Exactly.’ She straightened her shoulders, pulling up her frame. ‘That’s how amazing I am.’

There was a lull as Temperance expected him to shoot back, yeah, amazingly lame. But Abel didn’t say anything, just kept smiling down at his little mound of shining cutlery as he wrapped and rolled.

A nervous twist in Temperance’s stomach made her fill the silence. ‘If you won’t tell me, I’ll just have to go through your search history.’ She snatched his phone from the table before he could get there, pressing it to her chest.

Abel’s eyes went wide. ‘Hey!’ His hands lunged for the phone, but Temperance dodged away quickly, holding it over her head.

But this tactic was no match for the extra inches Abel had rapidly grown over the last few summer months, and he stretched out his arm, wrapping his fingers around her wrist.

Something about the way he held her, gently but with power, and how she was now just inches from his face, her body stretched along his, seemed to charge the air around them. Their hands lowered slowly, in unison. He dipped his head down, found her lips with his and just pressed them there for a moment.

Temperance was both surprised but also strangely at ease – as if a part of her knew this day was coming, as if her subconscious was giving her a slow hand-clap and saying ‘At last!’.

She opened her mouth, her tongue meeting Abel’s, and even though her eyes were closed her vision was filled with a glowing sky blue.

Still holding onto the phone as if for dear life, with Abel’s fingers only tightening on her wrist, Temperance felt his other hand rest on the space between her neck and her shoulder, as if keeping her rooted on the spot, in the moment. Not that Temperance felt she could operate her own legs right now, even if she’d wanted to run away. All she could think about was how alive her skin felt where he was touching her, how there was nothing strange at all about the fact they were kissing, the synchronised way they tipped their heads to either side, the warmth of his breath on her top lip. It was the first time, but it felt as natural as if they’d been doing it for a decade.

Temperance had no idea how much time had passed before a raspy voice said, ‘Ahem, that’s enough of that.’ She had looked up to see Margie, a washing-up bowl balanced on her hip and her hair tied in a gingham scarf. Temperance moved half a step away from Abel in that moment, her fingers reluctantly breaking contact with the golden skin on his forearms. The smile on her face was concreted on, no matter how much she tried to play it cool. Abel was blushing up to his ears, but likewise he had the grin of someone not at all sorry. Temperance walked home with a skip in her step, not knowing that that kiss was not just their first but also their last.

Two days later, he was gone.

Trainers kicked off by a rock, Temperance rooted her feet in the chilly, damp sand. Double-checking over her shoulder that she was truly alone, she twirled her fingers, setting the hem of the wedding dress into a gentle sway, the friction keeping Temperance’s legs warm in the cool night air.

It wasn’t time to dwell on the past – where had that ever got her? Frustrated, alone and now with the village in a whole lot of magical trouble.

The memories she was preserving in the time capsule of her heart needed to be set free, left to weather away to dust, to return back to the pure energy of emotion that linked the universe. Ironic, really, that she was so talented at washing away the leftover memories of others with her magic, when here she was, still clinging to the echoes of things that happened twelve years ago. Not letting go.

That would all tonight.

She held her hands together at her heart and took deep, steadying breaths, right down into her core. The crash of the waves seemed to get louder, the cool air nipped more forcefully against her skin.

It’s true love I’m after, Temperance spoke inside her head, hoping to make the message clear and simple to her soul and to the magical forces all around her, not raking over a teenage tryst. Abel wasn’t the one I needed here, OK? Let’s sort this out and set him free. Get out from under this doom cloud. Then everything can be the way it should be.

Set him free. Set me free.

Streaks of inky blue nudged between the black sky and the grey sea. The sun was waking up. Temperance turned her palms out and up to the sky. In a low voice, she stated, ‘Abel Gulliver is not The One. Though I have spent long, lonely nights wishing for love, even calling on nature’s wonder, I will set him free. For my will is as strong as yours, and my magic as great. Love can have all power over someone else, honestly. I swear.’

Temperance kept repeating her words, closing her eyes as the dawn emerged. She pictured Abel climbing back in his van, starting the engine and driving out of East Prawle without a backwards glance. She imagined herself happily working away in the shop, oblivious as he left her life silently for the second time, and how freeing that would be.

I will set him free. I will set him free.

She searched her body for any strange sensations, any magical twinges or tickles. Her feet were warming up, but maybe that was because the first rays of dawn were hitting the sand. Then again, maybe taking magic away felt different to reading it or casting it. Maybe it felt nothingy because you were leaving a void behind? The clothes that she washed at the store often felt empty, neutral, once they’d had their old emotions teased out from them. Maybe this is how she should feel after releasing some toxic magic. Like a blank canvas. Ready to start again and paint a new picture.

Abel Gulliver is not The One. He’s not and he never wanted to be.

It was done. It was over.

Chapter 18

Temperance ran for her life.

The wedding dress was ripped down to shreds: just one layer of the skirt still hanging on, the hem singed, ragged and pulled to bits. The sleeves and the red belt had come off somewhere behind her in the woods, but all she could think about was running.

Running from the clap of thunder, the white burst of lightening, the roll of smoke around her head. The fire was spreading; it was spreading to the village. She had to get there. Before . . . before . . .

Suddenly, someone was standing on the path in front of her, screened by thick, grey smoke. But were they blocking the path or had they come to rescue her?

She opened her mouth, her hand at her throat.