Page 76 of Weave Your Magic

Stevie blushed, ‘I didn’t mean . . . you don’t have to . . .’

‘A quintessential afternoon tea must be on your English adventure bingo sheet, Stevie,’ Temperance nudged. ‘Why not? The Harbour is mega fancy. I bet their cucumber sandwiches will be unforgettable. You deserve this experience! Besides, we could all do with a little treat after the last few days, don’t you think? The, er, weird storm and everything.’

Susie squeezed Mark’s arm. ‘What if we bumped into someone from your old office? Or your family?’

He shrugged. ‘I’m not running and hiding. I haven’t done anything wrong. Besides, someone very wise once told me that if my family can turn against me over something like this, they’re not all that great a family to have.’ Mark leant forward and kissed her briefly. ‘And the little chocolate gateaux slices they do at the hotel are,’ he made a throaty growl, ‘so good.’

Temperance scribbled on a piece of paper on the cash desk. ‘Let’s go then!’

They grabbed their bags and headed out the door, Temperance locking it behind her and sticking up her hasty sign: Shut for afternoon tea. Cream then jam xxx

Chapter 27

Temperance decided that twenty-nine was no age to mope over a boy.

She’d spent the last three days either keeping to the house or the store, letting the loss of her powers plus her first big love wash over her, but enough was enough. She’d avoided the pub for the longest stretch in her life – she didn’t need any gentle but needling questions about what had gone on with her and Abel, why she’d desperately yelled his name over the green in front of the entire community, why she walked back from the cliff with him that day soggy and bedraggled – not while it still felt so raw. She had needed time to heal and think of a plausible lie. In her sleepless hours last night, Temperance came up with the earth-shattering, ‘He’d left his phone on the bar and then I fell on some wet leaves. OK?!’.

But now was the time to get going again. If Temperance avoided The Witch’s Nose any longer, Margie was bound to strut over and demand answers about what the chuff was going on with her. Susie had been spending all of her time either doing shifts or drawing up poster designs for her surf competition, now she had sponsorship from a local holiday rental company. She was either working or in her room ‘planning’ with Mark behind a closed door and Temperance didn’t really want to be around to accidentally overhear all those muffled giggles.

She’d face the music. Over some scampi and chips, and maybe a few bourbons.

She decided, as she was approaching thirty, that she’d level up her drinks choices from now on. Anyway, it’s not like she could accidentally get off her face and cast another doom-laden spell, not now her powers had gone.

As Temperance stepped into her trainers by the front door, she put her hand out for stability and her fingers grabbed hold of Susie’s denim jacket hanging on the wall. A week ago, Temperance would have been able to shut her eyes and see Susie laughing so much at the pub that she temporarily ran out of breath. Or swearing at the campers who’d left a carrier bag of rubbish out in the elements so now the seagulls had spread it over three counties. She would have been able to read the good memories and the bad. Now she just felt the thick cotton under her hand. And nothing else.

Temperance closed the front door behind her, immediately turning and pressing her forehead against the peeling paintwork. ‘He’d left his phone, I was just returning it. Then I slipped on some soggy leaves. That was it. Phone. Leaves. Done. Next subject.’ She whispered into the wood.

As stepped down from her doorstep, the sight before her made her wobble on one ankle and shove a hand into the ivy for support.

‘Abel?’

He was pacing up and down the road outside her garden gate, a battered brown leather briefcase swinging in his hand as he did so. Flinching at the sound of her voice, he stopped dead in his tracks.

‘Hi.’

‘Um, hi. I thought you’d . . . gone back to Bath?’

Abel put the briefcase down between his feet and stuffed his hands into his pockets. ‘Oh, yes. Well, after the airport.’

‘Airport?’

He cleared his throat. ‘Temperance . . . actually,’ he looked over both shoulders, ‘could we go inside? For some privacy.’

‘Susie and Mark are pretty together in there,’ she said. ‘Pub?’

‘Do you think we’d get much privacy under Margie’s nose?’

She nodded. ‘Fair point. There’s always . . . the bus stop, I suppose.’

He seemed to weigh this up, his head tipping left to right. ‘That seems right. Shall we?’

The sun had almost set into the sea as they walked at an awkward distance next to each other, to the old shelter. The sky was inky, with only tiny slivers of gold still stretched across it, while the swallows were noisily telling each other goodnight in the hedgerows.

Temperance perched on the wooden bench, swinging her legs back and forth for perhaps the millionth time in her life on this very spot. She pointed at the briefcase. ‘Did you pick that up at the airport?’

‘No, just my dad.’

‘Your dad?!’