Page 29 of Uncharmed

Her mother’s fall had not been through any fault of Cressida’s own, her magic caught up in the mess that Griffin left behind, so Annie practised sympathy for the bitterness and animosity that her mother had harboured.

When Griffin Wildwood abandoned not only his morals, his senses and his decency, but his family, too, Cressida and Annie were left bound in a kind of poisonous rope: a bind that held them together while causing more damage as it tightened; a woven confusion and wonder at where he’d gone and how they had been so oblivious to it coming.

These feelings weren’t fair of her, after everything Cressida had been through. Her mother only wanted what was best for her. She meant well. And she owed her so much. Everything she’d lost had been a step in Annie’s gain.

Fortunately, the spell was the one thing that her mother had left behind for her daughter. It dulled anger down to keep her reactions in check. Anger was not a pretty feeling.

Annie dragged her mind back to the here and now.

‘So where’d she go?’ Maeve asked. Annie was strangely touched to notice a fraction of tactful softness in her tone.

One day on her usual errands for her mother, Annie had arrived home to find a cigarette still burning and a note scrawled in haste.

The words were so brief and thoughtless, yet managed to confirm everything that Annie had already begun to believe.

At some point, everybody left her sooner or later. She wasn’t worth staying for.

Gone to find your father. You understand x

‘Your guess is as good as mine, sweetheart. The Christmas cards stopped a long time ago and my communication spells have always bounced back. She’s a complicated woman who’s been through a lot,’ Annie said sadly, shyly treading her way around memories of the people that she tried not to think about.

‘But, before all of that, she appreciated beautiful, exquisite things. She needed looking after and loved to feel special. She enjoyed spending her fortune on nothing in particular...’

Maeve inhaled a sharp breath. ‘Fortune? Wait, you’re telling me this whole time we’ve been cooped up in this place but you’re rich? Why aren’t we on an all-powerful witch yacht right now?’

‘Wrong. I was rich,’ Annie laughed. ‘Growing up, yes, my father was an important warlock who mixed with other, even more important warlocks. My mother had a huge inheritance, our family moved in the right circles...Our circumstances changed.’

‘More complications,’ Maeve said with raised eyebrows. ‘For someone who seems so perfect, you sure come with a bit of baggage, don’t you?’

At that, Annie laughed again. ‘That’s one word for it. But I don’t think any family relationships are straightforward, do you?’

‘I wouldn’t know much about them.’

Annie stiffened. Why had she asked that?

‘Do you remember your mother?’ she asked tentatively.

They were growing closer now that they were coming to somewhat understand one another, but the subject of Maeve’s family was one that neither witch had dared to broach until this unfortunate mutual ground had revealed itself.

She wasn’t sure how the question, burrowing a little deeper than they had done so far, would be received.

Annie prepared for a blast of sorcery fire to make its way somewhere between her eyebrows.

Instead, Maeve swilled the black coffee around in her cup, determinedly focused on the inky contents. ‘Mine left me behind, too. I don’t remember much about her. Hardly anything at all actually.’

Annie let Maeve sit with her words for a moment. Outside, a beat of rain had started to strike against the window frames, the sound like a smattering of pebbles on the glass and the cushioned thatched roof. Inside, the heart of the cottage felt warm and safe.

‘She was young, so it’s not all that surprising that she left me,’ Maeve ventured. ‘I used to be so angry at her for it. But I don’t hold it against her any more. You have to be pretty desperate and clueless to abandon a kid, don’t you? I figure she must have been having a hard time.’

The vivid picture of a little, lonely version of Maeve being abandoned was one that felt acutely devastating, a prick so sharp and sad against Annie’s heart that she almost buckled.

A ferocious, stormy defensiveness whipped itself up inside her like a hurricane, with an overwhelming wish that she could go back in time and protect that little girl.

She would settle for looking after her just as she was now.

‘There’s no question that she must have been frightened,’ Annie said. ‘But I’m sure you were, too.’

Maeve took a sip of coffee. ‘It’s actually a really weird story.

I was only found because the bloody postman heard me calling out for her.

I snuck a look at my records once and they said that the house was empty, as though she and anyone else around had just vanished.

Everything was as though she left quickly and meant to come back, teacups on the table, half-eaten bowls of porridge in the kitchen.

..Isn’t that crazy? And I was sitting at the bottom of a closed wardrobe, playing with a doll.

I’ve always assumed that she got herself into trouble and she had to run, but. ..pretty bleak stuff, isn’t it?’

Annie could only nod at the top of Maeve’s bowed head.

‘I seem to attract...bad things. Dark things,’ Maeve said with a breathy laugh, quieter now.

She began to tug at the skin around her nails again, but promptly picked herself up.

‘Like I said, I don’t have many memories because I was a baby.

Only about four. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that she was kind.

And she’d draw really good pictures for me to colour in when we woke up early. I guess that’s where I get it from.’

‘Maybe you’re like her in lots of ways. Probably more than you know.’

Maeve made a ‘ hmm ’ sound, twiddling the end of Karma’s tail. ‘I can’t say whether that would be a good thing or not, so I’ll just claim the art for now. Are you anything like your mum?’

‘I hope not,’ Annie said before she could stop herself. Her hand shot to her mouth and both girls giggled at the revelation. ‘I just mean we’ve never had a lot in common,’ she hastened to add. ‘Apart from our appreciation for the importance of the right handbag. She could be a bit...ruthless.’

‘Ruthless?’ Maeve said, surprised. ‘The total opposite to you, then.’

Annie squared her shoulders. ‘I can be ruthless if I want to be.’

Maeve rolled her eyes while draining the last of her coffee. ‘We’ve only known each other for a few days and I’ve already seen you cry maybe one hundred thousand times.’

‘A witch can cry a lot and still be a tough cookie.’

‘Sure she can, but you cried when I managed to successfully brew a cat-ears potion, Annie. You’re the most sensitive, compassionate person I’ve ever met. I don’t know how you ever get anything done.’

‘It does get in the way a bit,’ Annie admitted. ‘I do sometimes wonder what life would look like if I didn’t pay so much mind to what anybody else was thinking or feeling.’

‘Maybe it would look like it was your own.’

It was a revelation to hear aloud, so earnest and simple.

‘Don’t look so surprised,’ Maeve went on. ‘You’ve admitted it all in bits and pieces. Exhibit A, you’re working too hard at your bakery. Which is great, obviously, but you’re allowed to let it go and watch it float away if it’s not making you happy.’

Annie squinted at Maeve, eyeing her up suspiciously. ‘Are you sure you’re fifteen and not a wizened old warlock in a particularly convincing disguise?’

‘It’s just not that deep. I let things go all the time,’ Maeve said with a lolloping stretch against the side of the armchair.

‘It’s like grabbing a balloon at the fun fair.

You enjoy it for a while, but then it becomes this annoying, cumbersome thing wrapped around your wrist that bashes you on the head all the time as you’re trying to walk along.

Sometimes it’s better to untie the bow and let it go. ’

‘Maeve, it’s not that easy.’ Annie’s gaze fell onto their matching fluffy socks, bright orange and leaf-patterned, resting either side of the long, stretched-out cat.

‘Why not?’

‘Because letting people down is the worst feeling in the world,’ Annie replied in a quiet voice. Even saying it out loud brought a pebble-sized lump to her throat. It was supposed to be her teaching things to the girl, not the other way around.

‘But this is your life and you’re letting people make you unhappy in it,’ Maeve said, her voice rising in such a passion that Karma squinted one unimpressed eye open.

‘Just because you’re not doing what they expect of you.

Keeping everyone happy, pleasing everyone all the time.

..It’s just a thankless game of putting out fires, one after another.

’ Karma let out a passive-aggressive sigh, displeased that Maeve’s rant had resulted in a lack of continued strokes.

‘It’s pointless, isn’t it, Karma? Stoke your own fire instead. ’

Life with Maeve Cadmus was one reality check after another. Annie exhaled deeply, then reached for a sofa cushion and gently batted Maeve around the head with it.

‘What was that for?’

‘For being too smart for your own good, little witch.’

‘Not fair,’ Maeve added, her grumpy tone firmly returning. ‘And yes, I do realize the irony of me talking about fires, when it’s exactly what has led to us both being stuck here.’