Page 68 of Hexed Up

My mum frowns at the phone. “Well, that wouldn’t register as illegal activity and quite frankly I don’t like the tone of his message. I think I will lodge a complaint with his manager.”

“Don’t!” I cry out, causing everyone to look my way and my cheeks to positively sizzle.

“Why ever not?” my mum says.

“Because … because …”

“Because,” Horatio interjects, “in these situations it’s best to let things slide. Escalate it to his boss and the manager is only likely to double down.” He takes my hand in his and squeezes it.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” my mum mumbles to my astonishment, pushing her phone to one side and pouring herself a cup of tea. I stare at her in astonishment. My mum has never followed my advice that easily in my whole entire life.

Then I shake my head and lean towards my fake boyfriend. “Thanks,” I whisper to him.

“For what exactly?” Tiggie asks mischievously, leaning toward me, and I kick her under the table once again.

Chapter Twenty-One

It may be the middle of summer and the country may have been basking in the midst of a heatwave for the last two weeks, but as we step outside, it’s clear normal service has resumed and the sky is full of grey clouds and the air thick with drizzle. The type of drizzle that will have my hair in a ball of frizz in a matter of minutes.

Everyone else in my family seems to have come prepared for the weather, pulling out raincoats and cagoules from their rucksacks and sheltering under waterproof hoods.

“Shit,” I mumble under my breath.

“What’s wrong?” Horatio asks, digging around in his own rucksack – a rucksack that looks suspiciously high tech and expensive.

“I didn’t bring a coat.” I fold my arms over my whiteNirvanaT-shirt. A whiteNirvanaT-shirt which is going to turn see-through in a matter of minutes and leave me looking like a contestant in a wet T-shirt contest.

“Have mine,” he says, thrusting his coat in my direction.

“Oh no, I’m not going to take your coat from you.” I shake my head.

He leans closer and whispers in my ear, “It’s what a boyfriend would do. You have to take it. Otherwise, you’re breaking my cover.”

I peer up at him suspiciously, not convinced by his argument at all. He shakes the coat at me.

“You’re going to get soaked,” I say. “And you’re not hardy like us Brits. You’ll end up with a snivel and then flu and then pneumonia. And then I will be responsible for your untimely demise.”

“Once again, wasn’t born in California. Come from Chicago. Do you know how cold our winters are there?”

We glare at each other, neither one of us willing to back down. But then I catch pervy cousin Jack peering towards me, and I decide I really don’t want him to see my bra.

I slide my arms into the coat as Horatio holds it up for me, then zip it up and yank up the hood. It’s far too big for me. I’m absolutely drowning in it. My hands are lost in the sleeves and the hem reaches right down to my knees.

I peer up at him, unimpressed. “I look ridiculous.”

“You look really cute,” he says. “I like you in my clothes.”

I roll my eyes and then the sleeves, and as soon as my hand is poking out, he’s grabbed it in his, and we set off in a line. My mum and Uncle Harold leading the charge.

If it wasn’t so misty, drizzly, and wet, I think I’d actually enjoy this hike – something I would never admit to my mum. The countryside out here is beautiful, a deep emerald green you rarely see in the hustle and bustle of London, even out on the Heath, which has turned gradually yellow under the frazzling heat of the last two weeks.

Strands of flowers wind up the trunks of trees and through the hedgerows, and the meadows we pass are dotted with them too, the fields high with uncut wheat.

My mother marches us up and down hills, through fields, under trees and over stiles. Despite the trainers, my legs are starting to tire, although Mr Hottie beside me seems just as bright as when we began. Must be all those gym workouts.

Soon we’re lagging at the back of the group, along with Tiggie, who’s definitely not enjoying this wet walk, and Prim, whose legs are tired from her morning run.

“I could be doing so much more glamorous things right now,” Tiggie moans. “Or, you know, I could just be in the spa already, bubbling away in the hot tub.”