The Language Of Spells Part 26

'Yes,' Gwen said with more conviction than she felt. 'You can do anything you want.'

Marilyn got up to leave. 'You're being very nice today.'

'I'm always nice,' Gwen said. 'I'm a nice person.'

'Mmm. This was on your mat.' She pulled an envelope from her coat pocket. 'Doesn't look like it's been posted.'

Gwen glanced at the plain white envelope, then hustled Marilyn out of the house.

Once she was alone, Gwen slit the envelope. Please be from Cam. Please be from Cam.

It wasn't.

Gwen read the contents with a sense of disbelief. She paced the room a few times, weighing up her options. Then read the letter again. She could either apply for legal aid and hope it came through some time in the next six months, conjure some cash out of thin air to pay somebody, or she could ask Cam. Her stomach swooped as she pictured his horrified expression. He thought she was a lunatic.

Gwen paced through the downstairs of the house, going round in circles in her mind. So, he'd never want a relations.h.i.+p, that didn't mean he couldn't be a friend. She knew that she couldn't feel any worse about him than she already did. She was at rock bottom. She picked up the phone to make an appointment with Cam.

At two o'clock the next afternoon, Gwen arrived at Laing & Sons. He'd squeezed her in on short notice, so she ought to be grateful, but looking around at the oak panelling, the leather desk chair and the tastefully worn oriental rug, she felt nauseous instead. It was the mirror image of his grandfather's office; the one she'd sat in on her last visit to the firm. It smelled of cigar smoke, leather and paper, and looked like it had been outfitted by a set designer with no imagination. And it still had more warmth than Cam's flat.

'Drink?' Cam opened a cabinet and revealed an impressive range of bottles.

'Um...' Gwen hesitated. Mixing proximity to Cameron Laing with hard alcohol might have disastrous consequences. She needed to keep a clear head. And control the wild hope that had begun fluttering the moment she'd seen his face. The hope that maybe he'd come to terms with magic. Her magic.

He leaned down and opened another anonymous wooden door. There was a small fridge and ice compartment. Gwen glimpsed juice, cola and bottled water.

'Water, please.'

Cam pa.s.sed her a bottle with a professional smile and Gwen felt it like a slap.

The light brush of his fingers as she took the water still sent a bolt of electricity up her arm though.

Stupid hope.

He retreated back to his chair, looking instantly more serious behind the imposing desk. She guessed that was the idea.

'I brought the letter. Hang on.' She dug in her messenger bag and retrieved the evil A4 envelope, pus.h.i.+ng it across the smooth surface of the desk like it was radioactive.

'I've got five minutes.' Cam opened out the paperwork and began reading.

Gwen unscrewed the water bottle and wandered around the room, sipping from it and trying not to look impatient. The pictures on the walls were dark oil paintings. They were traditional, representative work a the kind of thing that couldn't offend anybody, but still exuded a certain strength.

'Right,' Cam said after a surprisingly short length of time. 'This is fine. Nothing to worry about.'

'Really?' Gwen crossed the room to Cam's chair and perched on the desk. She didn't feel that Christopher Brewer threatening to sue her for defamation of character was 'nothing to worry about'. Especially when she'd only told Helen the truth. Christopher had terrorised the family dog, and he deserved whatever consequences his mother had dished out.

'Yes. It's a nuisance suit.'

'That's easy for you to say. It's not like he took my parking s.p.a.ce.'

Cam smiled briefly. 'That would be far worse in this town. This is the kind of thing that is meant to annoy. The solicitor who drafted this letter knows it, but-' He broke off. 'Could you not do that?'

'What?'

'Sit on my desk. It's antique.'

'Right.' Gwen stood up and circled back to the client side of the desk. 'Is this better?'

'Thank you.' Cam looked marginally happier now that a tree's-worth of wood was separating them. 'I'm sorry to be uptight, but it's my dad's desk.'

'No worries. This is better anyway,' Gwen lied, sitting in the client chair a long, long away from Cam.

'Right.' He still looked distracted for a moment, but then snapped back to the matter in hand. 'The complaint is slander and the witness to the slander is a family member of the plaintiff.'

'But slander is if you say something that isn't true. I didn't do that.'

'That's a matter of opinion.'

'Isn't everything?'

'It's immaterial here. The point is that he would have to prove that what you said wasn't true and I don't see how he can prove what a dog did or didn't think.' Cam laughed without humour. 'Like I said, nuisance suit.' He shoved the papers back into the envelope with brisk efficiency. Gwen felt like a real client, being hustled out of the door as her time ran out. She realised a moment after she'd done it that she was standing.

The door swung open. 'Your one o'clock is here.' The trim secretary made no attempt to hide her curiosity as she looked at Gwen. 'Shall I tell them you're running late?'

'No, we're done here, thank you,' Cam said. He was opening a new folder and didn't look up.

'Right,' Gwen said. 'Bye, then.'

'I'll call you,' he said.

'Fine,' Gwen said, suddenly furious. It was probably irrational, but she couldn't help herself. 'Don't go to any trouble.' She marched out of the office, unable to slam the door in a satisfying manner because his secretary was standing in the way.

Gwen went straight from Cam's office to the Red Lion. She had never been so happy to see Bob. 'I need a drink.'

'Care to be specific?' Bob paused in the act of wiping down the bar with a cloth.

'Sorry. Yes. Beer. No, lager. No, wine.'

'I'll get you a Becks. It's on offer.'

Gwen picked up the frosty green bottle and took a long drink.

Bob eyed her. 'You want something to eat with that?'

'No. Yes. Maybe.'

Bob heaved a put-upon sigh. 'I'll get you a sandwich. Don't want you keeling over.'

'It's one beer, Bob. I'm not a child.' Or a teenager, she thought, the crossness back in force.

Bob shrugged. 'You look tired, that's all.'

'I'm sorry.' Gwen put out a hand, touched Bob's arm before he could walk away. 'I'm being grumpy. I'm really sorry.' And then, to her complete mortification, she felt tears in her eyes.

'I'll get you a cheese and ham toastie,' Bob said quickly and beat a hasty retreat.

'd.a.m.n it,' Gwen said, feeling like an idiot.

'You think you've got problems,' said a familiar voice.

Gwen swivelled on the bar stool and came face-to-face with Harry. She addressed his forehead, willing herself not to get tearful again: 'I'm not having the best day, no.'

'Bob! I'm getting a beer.' Harry lifted the hatch and walked behind the bar. 'This whole town's gone mental. I've had Marilyn Dixon asking me to handcuff her husband, the ice cream people are having an out-and-out war and it's five months before the season even starts, and then Christopher Brewer tried to-' He broke off abruptly and suddenly became very busy with pulling his pint.

'Christopher Brewer wanted you to arrest me,' Gwen said flatly. 'It figures.'

Harry shrugged. 'I'm not going to, if that's any consolation.'

'I'll drink to that,' Gwen said, clinking her bottle against his gla.s.s. 'He's suing me, too. Covering all bases.'

Harry ducked back to the punters' side of the bar and leaned on it, next to Gwen. Despite slumping and Gwen's high stool, he was still taller than her. If you didn't know what a sweetheart he was, he'd be imposing. Probably came in handy in his line of work.

'So, what's up with you?' Harry said.

'You mean apart from my position as most hated person in Pendleford?'

Harry grinned. 'It's not that bad.'

'Want to bet?' Gwen paused. She wanted to say: and Cam is being an uptight a.r.s.ehole and he really hurt my feelings and I'm frightened that he is never going to remember how to be a human being, but Harry was Cam's best friend. It would be indiscreet.

As if reading her mind, Harry said, 'And how's Mr Stiff Upper Lip?'

'Cam? He's fine.' Gwen tried to make her voice sound normal.

'That bad, huh? Oh, man.' Harry took another long drink. 'He's under a lot of pressure at the moment. Try to cut him a bit of slack.'

'What sort of pressure?'

Harry took a long drink and wiped his mouth. 'The firm's been losing clients. Something to do with his grandfather pa.s.sing cases onto Cam and the old crusty types in the town not trusting a young whippersnapper to do the old man's job.'

'Cam's a good lawyer, though, isn't he?'

Harry nodded. 'Don't ever tell him I said so, but, yeah. He is.'

'Is the firm in money trouble?'

'I don't think it's anywhere near that bad, but his mother ...You know. She's a little uptight and Cam gets the full force of it 'cause she's on her own.'

'Since his dad died.'

'He came back to look after her, you know. She fell apart after he died. Cam did a law degree just so that he could take his father's place. It's a lot of pressure.'

'He seems to like it, now.'

'Yeah,' Harry said. 'But it wasn't the way he planned his life. He put his family first and I kind of admire that, you know? Not sure I would've done it.'

Gwen thought about her own reaction to family obligations: heading very fast in the opposite direction. 'It can't have been easy.'

Harry nodded. 'Just do me a favour, okay?'

'What?'

'Don't run away this time.'

'Hey!' Gwen felt the anger clench her stomach. 'I'm staying. He's the one who wants to keep everything separate, everything in his precious neat little boxes. He's the one who acts like a complete stranger one moment and the next-' She broke off. The next he's pulling my clothes off. Which I actually really like.

Harry shrugged. 'You've lost me there.'

'I'm not leaving,' she said, realising that every time she said the words it strengthened her resolve. 'Whatever happens with Cam, I'm staying.' Gwen felt the truth of the words and waited for the accompanying terror. It didn't come. End House seemed to have amplified her powers so that she didn't even know if she'd be able to turn them off again, but Gwen realised that she felt remarkably calm about that.

'Good,' Harry said mildly. 'Now eat your sandwich. You look knackered.'

Gwen pa.s.sed a familiar figure on the way home. Katie was wearing a black hooded top and jeans and had her hands stuffed into her pockets. She looked half-frozen. Gwen pulled over opposite the bus stop and wound down her window. 'Want a lift?'

Katie crossed the road and climbed into Nanette. She pulled headphones out of her ears and gave Gwen a quick smile. 'Thanks. I think I missed my bus.'

'Home?'

Katie nodded, not looking overjoyed at the prospect.

'No problem.' Gwen turned around at the next junction and pointed Nanette towards Bath. She glanced at Katie. She was staring out of the window, her face blank.

'Bad day?'

Katie shrugged. 'Not the best.'

'Do you want to talk about it?'

'Not really,' Katie said. 'If that's okay.'

Gwen drove a little further. 'You want to take a detour? We could go and throw rocks at something.'

Katie snorted. 'What?'

'Throwing things is very good for the soul.'

'You're mental,' Katie said, but in a tone which made it sound like a good thing.

'You're afraid I'll win. I can understand that. I have an excellent throwing arm.'