Page 19 of Uncharmed

Chapter Nine

SALTED CARAMEL

‘ O h no.’ Annie’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

Even from a distance, the cottage looked as rundown and dishevelled as if it had been rudely awoken from a long, unintentional nap, one that had only left it even sleepier than before.

Its sandy thatched roof stuck up at all angles like ruffled, sleep-styled hair, trails of moss as thick as pistachio cream lined the gutters, and the wooden slats of the walls were a hodge-podge of wonky angles and slipped lines.

A crowd of tangled greenery wound its way up the building, one crooked window peeping through the leaves, with red gingham curtains just about visible behind the murky glass like an embarrassed blush.

It was a pocket-sized, abandoned trinket left behind, as though someone had left their most prized possession hidden away to come back and collect later, but moved on and forgotten all about it.

‘Come on then,’ Maeve called, already skipping ahead through the tawny long grass.

‘Mmmhmm,’ Annie replied through pursed lips.

In her admittedly unsuitable footwear choice, she delicately followed Maeve who had already reached the porch, chasing the winding path towards the burgundy front door.

The circle of woodland around the meadow blazed with autumn colours and encased the cottage in a backdrop of fiery oranges, rich scarlets and buttery yellows.

As she approached the boarded porch, which housed a broken swing that blew in the breeze, Annie spotted clusters of polka-dot red mushrooms nestled in the beige grass, bursts of soft heather and bunny ears like cream-coloured, fluffy fountains.

And, she had to admit, the wildflowers in lavender and blue that bloomed through were beautiful and matched the evening sky perfectly, as though the meadow had decided a handful of sprinkles would be a suitable finishing touch.

‘Well, this is...quaint. Rustic. Um, pastoral?’ she said, mustering her last drop of positivity as she stepped straight into a muddy puddle.

Splendidus Infernum was being tested to its limits.

The hex would need considerable attention this evening.

Her stomach plummeted even further as she realized – the spell.

Would she even be able to manage it here?

Did filthy, abandoned cottages come equipped with large bathtubs and a full arsenal of quality alchemy ingredients to peruse?

Annie let out a squeal and karate-chopped the air as a persistent dragonfly began to circle her head, accidentally wobbling the string of lanterns that hung along the breadth of the porch.

She cursed her signature sweet vanilla scent.

Maeve on the other hand had perked up dramatically, impressed by the reveal of her first ever magically disclosed secret location.

She did a terrible job at suppressing a loud laugh as Annie battled the dragonfly, then excitedly discovered the front door was already unlocked after rattling the handle.

They stood side by side as it swung back with a pained squeak, as though its bones were aching and hadn’t been moved for quite some time.

Maeve was quick to hop inside and gave a little shiver as she stepped across the threshold.

It was chilly – colder inside the place than out, having evidently been left empty for quite some time.

‘Home sweet home,’ Maeve laughed as she rushed into the kitchen, clearly finding the whole thing hilarious.

Annie laughed too and her hands flew to her hips. ‘There must be some mistake.’ The heel of her shoe promptly slipped through a gap between the floorboards as she followed the girl inside. She clung onto the doorframe to wrestle herself free. ‘They can’t possibly expect us to...’

‘This is the right place. Look, that stamp is from the coven, isn’t it?

I recognize it from the paperwork the sisters gave me at my endarkenment,’ Maeve said.

She had picked up a black envelope, adorned with an intricate silver star illustration.

It was addressed to Andromeda Wildwood and had been lying patiently on a simple square dining table for her to find.

She took it from Maeve and began to read, the copperplate handwriting lighting up with an amber glow as her eyes scanned the page.

Magical correspondence always glowed whenever it was read by the eyes of wicchefolk.

Andromeda,

I trust you shall find your accommodation satisfactory.

We were in somewhat of a pinch to house you and your ward in such last-minute circumstances, as most of the coven’s usual options were already reserved for October.

It is of course busy season in this line of work and wicchefolk do enjoy their inane mini breaks for Samhain celebrations. Most inconvenient, if you ask me.

Arden Place belongs to a trusted and acclaimed coven member but has remained unused for some time, so the cottage is yours for the task at hand.

I thought its understated, solitary nature would provide a suitable and safe blank canvas for you and young Maeve to become comrades.

There may be a minor issue with the hot water,* but surely nothing that a little magic can’t fix.

You’ll find the wood supply out back (I imagine you are a dab hand with an axe), along with the bathroom facilities.

I shall be monitoring closely and aim to be in touch in due course when Maeve’s magic has settled to something more harmonious.

I would ask you to remember your esteemed duties to the coven above all else and, as previously agreed, to report trouble to me immediately.

Strays can be unpredictable and Selcouth does not appreciate anomalies.

Have jolly good fun and do send a postcard. Address it to Bronwyn, as I shan’t care to read it.

Morena

* See also, the electrics, the heating, the lights, the locks. There may also be rather a lot of creatures about the place. I cannot confirm any further details than that, for fear that you may leave and never return.

‘Bathroom facilities? Out back?’ Annie spluttered.

She sprinted to the rear window and smeared a clearing through the grime with her sleeve to press her face against, leaving a touch of lipstick on the glass.

True enough, a small wooden outhouse stood in the garden – which was in fact just more meadow, surrounded by even more woodland.

She spotted the basic facilities: a water closet, a free-standing sink, a silver metal tub and simple shower system, all behind a movable wooden privacy screen and directly beneath the stars.

A small, babbling stream of periwinkle blue wrapped around it all like a ribbon.

She gulped so hard that it may have been audible, as Maeve stepped closer looking concerned.

‘Everything alright?’ Maeve peered through the window next to Annie, her glasses slipping and clinking against the glass.

‘Absolutely. Couldn’t be better,’ Annie rushed to reply.

Her grin stretched a little madly. ‘Well, you were right. This really is the place.’ She had to force herself to turn back around and face the girl.

The pair stood in silence for a moment with matching, uncertain expressions – Annie’s slightly maniacal, Maeve more intrigued, as they took in their unexpected new home.

To one side of the cottage was a small open kitchen, everything made from rough-hewn wood and worn brass.

A line of well-used copper pots and pans was hanging from a rack above the stove range and a rusting, scratched-up cauldron had been left to the side, an encrusted layer of something dark green and over-stewed sitting in the bottom.

Bunches of old dried herbs hung with damp-stained string from the ceiling beams. The few shelves were packed with a clumsy clutter of half-empty jars.

The kitchen’s one saving grace was the wide window above the sink, which, although filthy and framed with frankly offensive lace curtains, offered up a view of the glade outside.

The other side comprised the living room: a flattened sofa, one threadbare armchair with stuffing weeping through the seams, a rocking chair.

The hearth was covered in a thick layer of soot and feathers that had tumbled down the chimney.

Crowded bookshelves flanked the fireplace, but were thick with dust.

Even as someone with a terrible habit of landing herself in unwanted situations to keep others happy, this one had to take the biscuit.

And the cake. And the cinnamon bun, too.

What had she gotten herself into? The pair of them clearly had next to nothing in common, polar opposites in all ways.

That fact alone was guaranteed to make it next to impossible for Annie to have any kind of breakthrough or teach anything of value.

The girl clearly thought she was hopeless and would take no notice of her if she attempted any discipline or learning.

It was like adding unwanted sugar to a distinctly savoury recipe, two different flavours that clashed dramatically.

Although – Annie’s optimism elbowed its way through as Splendidus Infernum fired up – someone had invented salted caramel with entirely excellent results, she contemplated.

And ketchup, as a concept. And apple sauce, specifically on a roast dinner.

Perhaps she and Maeve could be a similar unexpectedly sweet combination.

She clapped her hands together decidedly, making Maeve jump.

‘New plan. This place needs a magical makeover and, if there’s one thing I know, it’s makeovers,’ Annie chimed.

‘It’ll be like we’re on one of those home-renovation shows.

An extreme deep clean, a lick of paint, some throw cushions, a drastic and immediate change of curtains.

..This place will be gorgeous. Right?’ Her fingers waggled as her imagination began to awaken and a spray of pink sparks glittered around her waist.