Page 123 of Hexed Up

I gape at her in exactly the same manner she’d gaped at me five minutes earlier on the doorstep.

“What? You knew?”

“Of course I knew. You’ve been running that illegal potion-brewing business for the last few years, haven’t you?”

“Snakes alive! You knew!” She nods. “And you didn’t say anything?” She nods again. “Oh great giddy gargoyles! Does Dad know?”

“No.”

“How about Prim and Tiggie?”

“Only me and Grandma know,” she says.

Grandma lifts her gaze from the cutlery and smiles at me.

“But you never said anything.”

“I try my best to keep my nose out of my daughters’ businesses.”

This nearly has me snorting out loud. My mum’s always had her nose right in the middle of our businesses.

My mum tilts her head to one side. Behind her, the kitchen cabinets are gleaming in the bright summer sunshine. The knives are slicing through the air and making quick work of a line of carrots. And through the window, a line of washing is visible, ruffling in the light breeze.

“But why are you telling me this now, Molly?” she asks me.

“I’ve been thinking that maybe I ought to go back to the Witching Academy and get my diploma.”

“Well, of course you should,” my mum says. “I’ve been waiting for you to work that out for a long time now.”

“You have?”

“Yes, Molly. You’re a very talented witch. You always have been, especially when it comes to potion brewing. I’ve seen the reviews on your website.”

“Oh,” I squeak. My cheeks are burning.

“And I know that you could do great things if you put your mind to it. What happened at the academy was…” She pauses, trying to find the words. “Unfortunate. But we all make mistakes. And I think you’ve got a very bright future ahead of you, if you’re just brave enough to try.”

“How come you never said all of this before?”

“Because you had to work it out for yourself.”

She snaps her fingers and, a moment later, a mug drops down in front of her, filled to the brim with tea. She lifts it and takes a sip.

“Where’s Horatio today?” she asks me, casually.

I lean back in my chair, my gaze dropping to my hands in my lap.

“We had an argument,” I explain. “I found out he’s been lying to me.”

“Oh,” my mum says, clearly surprised. “Was it a bad lie?”

I think about this for the moment.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I don’t think so. But it still hurts that he lied to me.”

“Yes,” my mum says pointedly. “It does hurt when the people you love lie to you.”

I cringe.