Page 35 of Under Your Spell

‘Shall I… make you another one?’ I ask.

‘No.’ Theo looks down, notices he still has his hands on me and lets go as if he’s just realized he’s holding a burning coal. ‘I don’t need anything, thanks. I’m going to go and take a shower.’ As he turns and stomps away I hear him mutter, ‘A long, long shower.’

‘Sorry,’ I call after him.

I survey the destruction around me and sigh. Not what you’d call a great success so far. My phone rings and I pull it from my pocket.

‘Hi, David,’ I say brightly. ‘No, no, everything’s perfect. Smooth sailing here.’

I don’t see Theo for the rest of the day.

Chapter Fourteen

I have barely interacted with Theo for seven days. I am the absolute worst music industry spy in the world. Is he writing the album? I have no idea. All I can tell my sister is that he’s clearly enjoying unfettered access to carbohydrates.

‘It’s been a week, Serena,’ I whisper at my phone screen. ‘It’s just getting weird. It feels like I’m living with a hungry ghost.’

Every single morning when I’ve come downstairs it has been to find that Theo has eaten the other half of the food I prepared the night before, rather than the work of the expensive Michelin-starred chef David hired. I have started making double now because I get it: frozen pizza probably does taste incredible if you haven’t eaten actual bread for years. In fact, all my ‘normal-person’ food supplies in the cupboards have been disappearing.

Obviously I haven’t mentioned this arrangement to David – I feel like I’ve accidentally become Theo’s dealer, sneaking him refined sugar. Today I realized he’s demolished an entire packet of chocolate Hobnobs and I think he’s using the semi-skimmed milk too. I might have to stage some sort of intervention.

‘You haven’t seen him at all?’ On the screen my sister scowls back at me.

‘I mean I’ve seen him,’ I say. ‘I can offer you proof of life. Yesterday he came in the kitchen and I made him one of those disgusting slimy drinks – I’ve actually got the hang of the juicer now. I reckon I could juice anything… But he said maybe half a dozen words and then left again to barricade himself in his room. He barely even looked at me. Any time I ask him if he wants anything he practically snaps my head off. He’s being really weird.’

I don’t mention the night I overheard him on the phone. Having not seen him for seven hours I was just about to crack and knock on his door to see if he needed anything, when I heard him say my name. Knowing that I shouldn’t eavesdrop, I did it anyway and, leaning forward, caught his words loud and clear.

‘… absolute fucking disaster. Why did I ever think this was a good idea? This is torture. I should have made them let me bring David.’

‘You’re spiralling. Just try and act like a normal human being,’ an amused female voice had answered, the sound tinny through the phone speaker as Theo moved around. Something about that voice and the husky way she laughed seemed vaguely familiar.

Theo let out a deep groan of frustration.

I’d snapped back, scurried away, pissed off by the whole situation. I didn’t think I was doing a bad job; he was the one with the attitude. I have no idea what his problem is or how to fix it.

‘Hmmm.’ Serena continues to look deeply annoyed. ‘And you haven’t heard anything to suggest he’s writing?’

I feel strangely disloyal when I shake my head. ‘But how would I know what the process of writing an album sounds like?’ I ask quickly. ‘He could be writing things down in a journal or something.’

Serena sighs and rubs her forehead. ‘You’ll just have to ask him straight out,’ she says. ‘Try and get some sort of update. My bosses are really breathing down my neck on this one. If it doesn’t work then I’m going to be seriously fucked.’

‘It will work,’ I say with more confidence than I feel. But looking at my sister’s worried face has me convinced I will wring ten miserable songs out of Theo Eliott with my bare hands if I have to. After all, I control the flow of biscuits in this house and I’m not above bribery.

‘At least it must be making life easy for you,’ Serena continues. ‘If he’s making himself scarce.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ I agree a little glumly. ‘There’s really not much for me to do at all.’ In fact, other than keeping all the cupboards stocked, cleaning his room, sending David thrice-daily updates, and sharing my dinner, there’s been nothing.

Especially because Theo seems to barely tolerate my presence whenever we are forced together. I know I was worried about having to spend a lot of time with him because of all the fluttery feelings of attraction, but somehow living with Theo as a distant stranger is so much worse. I’m glad he’s not around flirting with me all the time, I am, but it’s like now that there’s no possibility of a physical relationship between us, he doesn’t want to bother with me at all, like he’s going out of his way to avoid me. That’s pretty dickish behaviour in my book.

I spend my days walking by the beach or staring at the screen on my laptop, half-heartedly filling out job applications or struggling to summon up some enthusiasm for the years-long project of turning my PhD thesis into a book. I think there was a time when I was excited about this work, but I’m finding it hard to remember. The pressure to publish is pretty intense in academic circles and I know that it would really help me to secure a position, but at this point the pages of notes make me feel strangely claustrophobic.

I’m a natural introvert, but even for me this much isolation is unsettling. I’ve been reduced to making small talk at the supermarket just to experience a bit of human connection. I had forgotten how far away from everything Granny Mac’s house feels, and while that had always been part of the adventure with Lil and Serena, now I just feel… lonely.

And that’s before we even get into the minefield of being back at the site of my seventeen-year-old self’s deepest emotional trauma. Every time I go for a walk, I see something that reminds me of how I felt that summer, how angry and betrayed and heartbroken. Even though it’s only an echo of those feelings, it’s still a rush of pain that is almost physical.

As I do every time the spectre of Sam raises his head, I shove the thought aside. I’ll save it for my session with Ingrid… maybe. Or maybe I’ll keep ignoring it and hope it goes away. That seems like a good option.

‘Are you okay?’ Serena asks, fixing me with a beady stare. ‘You’re all mopey and actually, now that I look at you properly, you look like shit.’