Page 69 of Hexed Up

I groan. That does sound nice. I’d give anything to put my feet in bubbling warm water right now.

“What glamorous things?” Prim asks. The lenses of her glasses are speckled with water and slightly fogged. I can no longer see her eyes.

“Oh, numerous things,” Tiggie exaggerates. “I was invited to the opening of a new gallery down in Chelsea this morning. And I also had an invitation for brunch with the girls. Oh, that reminds me.” She grabs both mine and Prim’s hands. “Delilah got a new flat. She’s invited us to go check it out this Wednesday – all of us. You have to come.”

“Sounds fun,” I say. Delilah is one of the few of Tiggie’s friends I can actually stand. “I’ll come.”

Prim snorts. “No, you can’t.”

“Why not?” I say, slightly outraged.

“It’s Horatio’s birthday, silly.” She laughs, and I almost stop dead in my tracks.

Horatio and I both glance at each other, startled.

“Oh yes, I forgot.”

“What are you doing for your birthday?” Tiggie asks Horatio. “I’m assuming Molly hasn’t planned anything then.”

“I’m going to the Nightjar, the bar right off the Thames,” Horatio says.

“Oh my goodness, I love that bar,” Tiggie exclaims. “We’re so coming too.”

“What about Delilah and her flat?” I say, slightly panicked. While the fake dating is officially meant to last until I’ve brewed that antidote, I wasn’t expecting to have to put on any more performances after this weekend. This one is proving tricky enough. And while I’ve escaped detection so far, I’ll be pushing my luck letting my sisters (particularly Prim) hang out with us for any more amount of time than is strictly necessary.

“Oh, I can go another day. She won’t mind,” Tiggie says. “It’s not every day your sister’s boyfriend turns …”

“Thirty-three,” Horatio says.

“Exactly,” Tiggie claps her hands. “I can’t wait.”

Her newfound enthusiasm seems to speed up her pace. Soon she’s marching ahead, Prim trailing after her, and leaving me and Horatio at the back of the group.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “She does that.”

“Does what?”

“Invites herself to things all the time.”

“I don’t mind the three of you coming. I’d like you there.”

“Yes,” I say, “but we’d have to continue the charade of the fake dating.”

He shrugs. “Honestly, Molly, that’s no hardship.”

He squeezes my hand, which sets tingles skidding all through my body, and I seem to lose the ability to coordinate my feet, tripping over them and landing with a hard thud on the ground, which has everyone in front of us spinning around to find me sprawled in the mud and pain soaring through my ankle.

“Ouch!” I exclaim.

Immediately my mum is marching down the line to see what the commotion is all about.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, surveying me with displeasure.

“I’ve hurt my ankle,” I say, clutching it in both hands.

“Can you stand?”

Horatio offers me his hand and pulls me up onto my good foot. I lower the right one gingerly to the ground, but as soon as I try to bear any weight on it, more of that pain shoots through my leg.