Page 53 of A Witch in Notting Hill

“A pleasure, dear. Tell him Ewan sent ya if he gives you a hard time. And if he doesn’t have what yer looking for, do come back and I’ll sort you right out.”

As we shuffled away from his booth and in the direction of his mate, Lola bumped Willow with her hip. “Maybe you should be in charge,” she said. “You’re way more charming than Oliver.”

“I’m standing right here.”

“Well aware,” Lola said.

Willow laughed. “It isn’t a contest,” she said. “I just want to get the job done.”

“I know you aren’t exactly keen on showing your face around the city, but it isn’t a bad idea out here. People like your face. Obviously,” I said.

Willow tutted. “Don’t be silly. It has nothing to do with my face. He was a nice guy.”

“Maybe he just didn’t likeyourface,” Min said, nodding at me. I was relieved for a change in subject, even if it was at my expense. I knew Willow didn’t like to get her way because she was famous, and it seemed she liked getting her way because she was beautiful even less. I made a mental note to tell Lola later not to push it.

“Then he has terrible taste,” I said. “Let’s see what this other bloke has to say.”

Had Ewan not directed us to this stall, I wasn’t sure we would have even known it was part of the market. It didn’t have the same pomp and circumstance of the others: no signage, no tent, no A-frame out front. Just a boy who looked no older than fifteen sitting behind a wooden table stacked with bundles of herbs.

“Are we sure this is our guy?” Minho asked, tilting his head to the side as he studied him.

“Only one way to find out,” Willow said, approaching the stand. “Hi.” She smiled, but he hardly looked up from his book. “We’re looking for wood calamint? Ewan sent us over, said you might still have some.”

“Doubt it, but can look for ya,” he said, though he still hadn’t moved.

“Only if it isn’t too much trouble.” This woman knew what she was doing, and it was working. When he finally lifted his gaze to her, he dropped his book in his lap and pushed his sloppy hair out of his eyes.

“Bloody hell,” he said, his voice gruffer than I’d expected for a kid his age. “Are you Willow James?”

Willow opened and closed her mouth but said nothing. I could tell she hadn’t expected this. Perhaps we should have, given he was a good forty years younger than everyone else here, but being on the isle felt like going back in time, and it wasalmost hard to believe this kid had even seen a film, let alone one Willow was in.

“She gets that all the time,” I said. “Don’t you, Gem?”

“I do,” she said. “But I’m afraid I’m just a doppelganger.”

“I could have sworn you were her,” he said, eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“If only. Mind if we—”

“Can we take a photo anyway to send to my mates? I bet they’d fall for it.”

Even his mates knew who she was? Jesus. “Listen, we’re just here for the herbs,” I said, stepping between Willow and the kid.

“Aye, all right,” he said, raising his hands and shrinking back behind his table. I wasn’t often intimidating and rarely used my height to my advantage, but I didn’t like the way he was looking at her and knew she was too polite (or maybe too heavily media trained) to deny him the photo, especially when he had something we needed, so I figured I’d be the bad guy on her behalf. “The calamint then, is it?”

“Please,” she said, her wide smile offsetting my frown.

“Now tell me,” he said as he pushed herbs around with his gloved hands, “d’you plan on growing it or eating it?”

“Uh, steeping it in a tea?” she said.

“Right, then it’ll need to be soaked in cold water overnight first,” he said, pulling a thick bunch from a pot. “To remove the toxins and that.”

“Toxins?”

“Just yer standard,” he said. “We don’t use pesticides or anything, but we do treat some of our herbs there with chemicals to prolong their lifetime and protect them from insects and that. Just a good overnight soak’ll do the trick.”

An overnight soak.