Page 104 of Hexed Up

“We’re neighbours,” I explain. “He lives across the hall from me.”

“Aha! You’re the elusive girl from across the hall, are you?” She leans forward on her seat.

“Oh gosh, has he been complaining about me to you?”

“No, not at all. But you have been mentioned several times in conversation, so I had an inkling that maybe he liked you.”

Horatio snaps a breadstick in half. “She thinks I’m in love with every woman I happen to mention.”

“Quite the opposite. I don’t think you fall in love very often or very easily, Horatio.”

“We’ve only just started dating,” I point out. I don’t want Horatio’s mum to get too excited about our relationship – this fake dating and the bewitching will all be over very shortly.

“Yes, of course,” she says, picking up her glass and taking a sip, though I swear she’s trying not to smile.

“You have a beautiful garden,” I say, attempting to change the subject.

“Thank you. It’s my favourite thing to do.”

“I particularly like that section over there.” I point to the far corner.

“The wildflowers?” she says, turning in her seat to peer in the direction I’m pointing, her face lighting up. “Me too. I’d have the whole garden that way if Alan would let me, but he prefers something a little bit more neat and orderly.” Horatio snorts. “It was actually Horatio that planted those out there for me. It’s becoming harder to do all the digging. He often comes out to help me.”

“Do you?” I say.

“Yes,” he says. “When I can get away from the city.”

“He’s a country boy at heart. I’m not really sure how he ended up in the city.”

“Because that’s where all the jobs are,” he tells her, “and I like it.”

“Do you, though?” she says.

“I love a garden,” I say wistfully. “I’d love to grow all my own herbs. I grew up in the countryside, in a little cottage in the woods. I love the city and I love Hampstead, but sometimes I really miss the countryside.”

“That’s why I have both,” Asha says. “A flat in Mayfair and a house in the countryside. The best of both worlds.”

“That does sound dreamy.”

“We’re very fortunate,” Asha says. Then her eyes focus on something over our heads. “Ah! Here comes Alan.”

“Hello everyone,” he says curtly, stopping beside the table and standing straight-backed like a soldier on inspection. “I’m Alan.”

He holds out his hand. I rise to my feet and shake it. “Molly.”

“Happy birthday, Horatio,” he says, then marches around the table and takes the seat next to his wife. “How was the traffic?”

“Bit busy in London,” Horatio says, snapping another breadstick in half. “Fine out this way.”

“Good.” He looks at me. “Didn’t bring you in that ridiculous car, did he?”

“You mean the Ferrari?”

He nods. “Completely impractical. And a ridiculous investment. The depreciation on that vehicle–”

“I like the Ferrari,” I say. “It’s a lot of fun.”

Alan stares at me like he doesn’t comprehend the word fun. Or maybe he disapproves of it.