Page 14 of Under Your Spell

‘You were a pall-bearer, weren’t you?’ I ask awkwardly. ‘I mean, I think I saw you in the church. How did you know Carl?’

He shifts a little. The sleeve of his shirt brushes lightly against the side of my arm and my brain empties apart from the sound of white noise. I notice that he’s taken off his dark suit jacket and tie – they’re folded over the back of my pink desk chair. The top button at his collar is undone, and my gaze snags on the tiny triangle of skin I can see at the base of his throat.

‘We’d known each other for years,’ he says finally, and I drag my attention back to the conversation. Good grief, where’s a good crucifix to focus on when you need one? Staring at an earnest and lovelorn Ryan Gosling is simply not going to have the desired effect.

‘But I was surprised to be asked to be a pall-bearer to be honest,’ Edward admits. ‘I guess I just didn’t realize he didn’t have any family or anything. It’s sad.’

‘Yeah, it is,’ I agree, ‘but there were tons of people at his funeral, and hundreds here at the wake. He obviously touched a lot of lives.’

Edward is silent for a moment, and his mouth is firm again, the humour gone from his eyes. He looks unhappy and I hate that.

‘And at least you didn’t drop him,’ I say, the words coming out quickly before I can think about them too much.

That surprises a crack of laughter out of him. ‘Exactly.’ He turns so that he’s looking straight at me. ‘I was so worried about that. You know when you just get a terrible thought stuck in your head? I should have been concentrating on feeling sad about Carl, this big honour or responsibility or whatever, but inside my head there was just this chant going, Do not drop the dead man, do not drop the dead man. And then that sat nav started going off…’

I groan, my hands flying to my face.

‘No!’ He sits forward now, voice gleeful as he gently pulls my hand away. His fingers wrap around my wrist and I half expect my skin to start throwing off sparks. ‘That was you?’

‘Of course it was me.’ I groan again. ‘My life is just one giant disaster at the moment.’

‘Oh God, that was so funny,’ he chuckles. ‘I mean, I know it was a funeral, but when that voice started yelling Make a U-turn, it took everything I had not to burst out laughing. I had to focus all my attention on this giant Jesus hanging on the wall who looked like an Action Man figure who’d been put through the microwave…’

‘That’s exactly what he looked like!’ I exclaim. I realize he’s still holding on to my wrist, and his face is closer to mine now. He’s grinning at me, and the dimple has deepened. I can’t look at him straight on; it’s like looking at the sun: so dazzling it hurts. I shift, pulling my hand away and taking another sip from the tequila bottle. It burns down my throat.

‘So why is your life one giant disaster, Clemmie?’ Edward asks.

‘Oh, you know, the usual story,’ I say, fiddling with my skirt. ‘Got dumped by my cheating boyfriend who is having a baby with the other woman, lost my job, soon to lose my flat.’

‘Oof!’ Edward winces, his head falling back against the wall. ‘That is very, very shit. Your boyfriend is clearly an idiot.’

‘He took my cat,’ I say in a small voice.

‘Bastard,’ Edward says flatly.

‘Yup.’ I close my eyes. ‘And as if that’s not enough, I’ve just bumped into another ex.’

‘Another bastard?’

I laugh, but it’s a hard sound. ‘The king of them, actually.’

‘Ah,’ Edward says knowingly. ‘First love?’

‘Something like that. I didn’t handle it the way I would have liked… I know I’ll regret that later. And then I’ve got to deal with my family situation and that’s… complicated.’

‘Family can be complicated,’ Edward agrees. ‘My sister once played an extended prank on me where she pretended to be a poltergeist called Colin who lived in my bedroom.’ This surprises another laugh out of me, a real one this time, and I’m grateful for the change of subject.

‘Do you have siblings?’ he asks.

‘Two sisters,’ I smile. ‘And we’ve all played a fair amount of tricks on each other, though I don’t think any of them were poltergeist-related.’ The slight buzz from the tequila triggers a rush of warm affection for Lil and Serena. ‘We are possibly magic, though. We did a spell.’ I don’t know why I say that last bit, but there’s something about Edward and being in my old room that has me feeling comfortable.

‘What do you mean you did a spell?’

‘It’s something we used to do when we were kids, pretending to be witches, and when my sisters came round the other night we dug out an old spell we had cast. The breakup spell. We set fire to a frying pan and cursed Len.’

‘Len?’ There’s a quiver in Edward’s voice.

‘My ex-boyfriend,’ I explain. ‘We read out the same spell from when I was seventeen and cursed him, which was extremely cathartic, and then we made three wishes for me, one each.’