The Language Of Spells Part 22

'Salsa!'

Gwen dropped her pen. 'Pardon?'

'She likes salsa dancing. She told me.' A fine mist of spittle accompanied his excitement.

'Perfect,' Gwen said, leaning back a little. 'What colour's her hair?'

'Black. Like mine.'

Gwen privately hoped, for the mystery girl's sake, that it wasn't too much like his. She selected a 1950s hair slide, jewelled with s.h.i.+ny black stones and sprouting a vibrant red flower and a bow of black and white polka-dot ribbon. She held it up. 'For when she's dancing.'

'Can you wrap it?'

'Sure.' Gwen folded the turquoise tissue paper, slipping in her 'thank you for your purchase' card amongst the layers, and tying the parcel with silver twine.

The guy had his parcel and he had his change, but still he hesitated.

'Was there something else?'

'Will it work?' he said in a rush. 'Will it make her like me?'

'It's a nice gift. I'm sure she'll like it.'

'I need her to start liking me really, really quick. That's why I came to you.'

'It's just a hair slide,' Gwen said slowly. 'It's not magic.'

'Okay.' He was nodding fast now, and starting to look a little crazy. 'You can't talk about it. That's cool. I get it.'

'Excuse me?' A woman in a green raincoat was pointing at a cake stand made out of vintage crockery and gla.s.sware. 'Can I buy that plate?'

'Not just the plate, I'm afraid; it's all stuck together. It's a cake stand.'

'Oh.' The woman looked inordinately p.i.s.sed off.

'I have other plates,' Gwen began, but the woman had already gone.

Gwen sold a clown figurine that she'd been wis.h.i.+ng she'd never picked up and a watercolour snow scene in a blue frame, then a girl and her mother paused to browse. The girl had a sheet of fine light brown hair that fell in a curtain, obscuring her face. Her mother was berating her in a carrying whisper. 'Where's your scrunchie? You look like a r.e.t.a.r.d.'

The girl jerked as if an electric current had pa.s.sed through her, then her shoulders hunched.

'How much is this?' The mother picked up an onyx paperweight, hefting it in one hand, as if considering it as a weapon.

'Five pounds,' Gwen said, resisting the urge to disarm the woman.

'And what does it do?'

Gwen blinked. 'It's a paperweight.' Sat.u.r.day in Pendleford was obviously the day for double-dose crazy.

'Yes, but-' the woman leaned across the trestle table and lowered her voice 'what does it do?'

Gwen leaned forward and lowered her voice to match. 'It. Weighs. Paper. Down.'

The woman straightened, but kept up eye contact in a disturbingly focused way. 'I need something that will give her-' she jerked her head in her daughter's direction 'confidence. She's too shy. She'll never get on in life if she doesn't snap out of it.'

'I'm not sure that a paperweight is going to do the trick.'

'Okay. What then? I thought I had to pick up the first thing that caught my eye.'

'I'm sorry?'

'That's what I heard. Am I wrong? Do you choose? Or are certain things good for particular problems? Like, I don't know, earrings for better hearing.'

'I'm sorry,' Gwen managed. 'I'm really not sure-'

'It's for my daughter.' The woman had lost patience now, and was looking increasingly angry.

Struggling for safer ground, Gwen addressed the girl. 'Do you want to choose something, honey?'

'That makes sense,' the woman said, making none herself. She prodded the girl. 'Abigail, do as the lady says.'

A sliver of pink face appeared from behind the hair curtain and Gwen gave it an encouraging smile. 'What kind of thing would you like? Something to wear? Something for your room?'

Abigail opened her mouth, but her mother was already speaking. 'There's no point asking her. She's too shy to speak to strangers.'

The girl's head was turned to the left and Gwen looked too, trying to guess what she was after. There was a 1920s necklace tree, draped with costume jewellery, a pile of silk scarves and handkerchiefs, and a variety of flowery china. 'Do you like bright colours?'

The girl shrugged, but her hand had reached out and was touching a long necklace of multi-coloured gla.s.s beads. 'You can try that on, if you like. I've got a mirror.' She reached down and picked up the looking gla.s.s she kept for just such occasions.

'She won't wear that. She only likes black and grey. Drab things so she won't get noticed.' Gwen was royally fed up with the mother's voice and she'd only been enduring it for five minutes. G.o.d alone knew how Abigail coped. 'Like it would kill her to wear something light for once. Maybe a pastel blue or a nice lemon.'

Gwen saw Abigail's eyes close and her heart went out to her. 'How about something for your room? No one has to see it unless you want them to, then.'

Abigail nodded, so tightly and quickly Gwen almost didn't catch it. 'May I look at that?' The girl's voice was quiet but steady. It was lower than Gwen expected too, and she rea.s.sessed the girl's age. Abigail was pointing to a stripy crochet blanket Gwen had finished only the night before. 'It's handmade, but it's not vintage,' she said, handing it over. Abigail all but s.n.a.t.c.hed the blanket and held it close.

'A blanket? How old are you?'

'It's a throw,' Abigail said. 'For my bed. I like it.'

'Fine.' Her mother expelled a big sigh, as if the girl had demanded crack cocaine. 'On your own head be it.' She turned to Gwen. 'This had better work.'

Gwen took the money, wrapped the blanket and said goodbye, all the while trying to decide if she was morally obligated to explain to the woman that the blanket wasn't magical; it didn't fly or anything.

By half three, the crowd had thinned considerably. The clouds had lowered, bringing a premature twilight and layer of damp to the proceedings. No one browsed in bad weather and she'd had a good day, so Gwen began to pack up.

'Quitting?' Mary-Anne from next door raised her eyebrows. 'I never leave early. I always convince myself that I'll miss the biggest sale of the day. Are you coming next month?'

'Yes.' Gwen realised that the word made her happy. She was coming to the same spot next month. An easy commute from her home, not miles and miles in Nanette, swearing over her road map and promising herself that she would splash out on a satnav for the next trip.

'See you in December.'

Mary-Anne gave her a thumbs-up, then turned back to a customer.

Katie was sick of people keeping secrets from her. She watched her mother tuck the copy of The Chronicle underneath a pile of magazines and asked her what was wrong. Her mother just said, 'Nothing,' which was clearly a lie.

'Was it something in the paper? Or are you still arguing with Auntie Gwen?'

'It's nothing,' her mother said again. 'And we're not arguing.'

Still lying.

'I'm going to fix dinner,' her mother said, getting up from the sofa. 'Can you set the table, please?'

Katie followed her mum into the kitchen to get the cutlery. She wished she'd stop pretending that she wasn't still fighting with Auntie Gwen. She was going to drive her away, just like last time. Katie curled her fingers over and dug them into her palms.

Her mother refused to talk about the weird stuff that happened in their family. Gwen was her only chance. Her mother was determined to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary ever happened to the Harpers, like it was a bad thing.

She'd heard her mother and Auntie Gwen arguing about it often enough. Before Gwen had disappeared, she remembered the big fight they'd had, but her mum refused to discuss it. Katie wanted to tell her that she knew that Gwen could find lost things and that Gran told fortunes a real ones a and that Gran's mother had been able to talk to the dead. She wanted to tell Ruby that she was young, not stupid. Or deaf.

Katie laid out the cutlery and placemats and filled water gla.s.ses.

'How was school?' Ruby asked, sc.r.a.ping chopped onions into a pan.

'Fine,' Katie said automatically. She needed to make things more welcoming for Gwen. Maybe if her and Ruby got on better, she'd stay.

'Can we invite Auntie Gwen for dinner?'

Her mother's head jerked up. She looked at Katie for a moment, then said, 'Sure.'

Katie thought about Luke Taylor. Gwen would definitely stay if she fell in love.

'Do you know any cute single guys?'

'I beg your pardon?' Ruby stopped stirring onions and looked at Katie.

'Not for me,' she said. 'For Auntie Gwen. You should set her up on a blind date. It's sad that she's on her own.' Katie opened her eyes as wide as possible, aiming for an innocent look.

'I'm not sure she is,' Ruby said. 'There might be something going on with Cameron Laing. He was her boyfriend a long time ago.'

'Perfect. Invite him, then.'

'Why are you so interested?' Ruby said.

'She's family. It's nice to look after your family, isn't it?'

'I guess,' Ruby said, the frown still in place.

'That's settled, then,' Katie said, and left the room before her mother could change her mind.

Chapter 16.

Gwen realised that she was truly powerless to say no to her niece when she found herself agreeing to a dinner date with Cameron Laing.

'I'm not sure he'll want to come,' she said when Katie rang.

'Mum's already invited him and he said yes,' Katie said. 'He's picking you up at six.'

Gwen wanted to explain that she and Cameron were not together and had, in fact, celebrated that fact with an official Goodbye s.h.a.g, but that seemed indiscreet. Besides, he was clearly comfortable with the idea. He'd probably tucked her neatly in the box marked 'just friends'.

Gwen spent the next day emptying Nanette and arranging boxes on the shelves in the garden room. As she carried and sorted, she pushed Cameron Laing firmly to the back of her mind. Eventually, her mind stopped torturing her for long enough to have an idea for a new shadow box. It had been months since she'd felt excited about making something, so she got to work straight away.

A sound broke her concentration and she looked up from gluing doll's house wallpaper. She'd been working so intently that she hadn't noticed the day disappear. Full dark had arrived and Gwen looked through the window into the pitch-black of the garden. The lights in the house weren't on and Gwen's vision was attuned to her anglepoise craft light. She couldn't see a thing.

A loud knocking made her heart leap painfully.

Cat brushed against her legs and Gwen patted his head a little before opening the door. She hadn't closed her curtains, so whoever was outside knew she was there.

It was Cam and he smiled as soon as he saw her. 'Were you thinking about hiding under the table?'

'Thank G.o.d it's you,' Gwen said, forcing a jokey tone. 'I never know which of my friendly neighbours is going to visit next.'

'It's nice that they're welcoming.' Cam ducked through the low doorway.

'I suppose.' Gwen had lost her breath at the sight of Cam. He looked completely at ease, as if nothing at all had happened. As if he truly had moved on. c.r.a.p.

'You're working?' Cam said.

Gwen glanced back at the table. 'I'm booked into a couple of markets. I could do with some b.u.mper days, so if you could send all your rich friends shopping, that would be handy.'

'What makes you think I have rich friends?'

'Oh come on. You're a lawyer. You must have some.'

'It's not going that brilliantly, actually. I lost another client today.'

'Oh.' Gwen felt like h.e.l.l. 'Sorry. What's going on?'

'My mother and my grandfather think I should join the Rotary, start making nice with Patrick Allen and his lot.'

'Well, that sucks.'