Page 68 of Uncharmed

Chapter Thirty-Two

APRICITY

T he tinkle of the bell above the door of Celeste sang out.

It was a softly mournful but fond farewell song, as it had been every time Annie returned since making the decision to give up the bakery.

There was definitely a sadness, one that inevitably came with any kind of change or the start of a new chapter – even a happy one – but a loose-fitting, easy contentment, too, a feeling of peace that balanced the scales as though she were weighing out flour and sugar.

Less of a harsh pain now that she had let go and more of a nostalgic, wistful ache that squeezed her hand and reminded her with tenderness that she was making the right decision.

Sometimes the right decision was a release, when it was tough to let go of something, but wonderful to let it float away. Like a balloon.

In that same way, it felt good to cross the threshold of Celestial Bakehouse, her name no longer above the door and the sign now painted a soft shade of cornflower blue, rather than pink.

It felt good to enjoy the foundations she had laid and not feel dread about her day or worry about the workload or a pressure behind her eyes as she tried to prioritize everything she was struggling to spin at once.

To know that she was free and that the place was passing into good, loving hands brought a serenity and lightness with it.

Annie had dragged Maeve away from her coffee and sketchbook time, only with the promise of coffee and sketchbook time plus freshly baked pastries.

Life had slowed down considerably and they had plenty of time to stop by when Maeve wasn’t doing something or other with her new friends, who she had made quickly and easily at her new school.

Swinging by the bakery meant that Annie could gather up the last few things that she had left in the back room and give her friends a fresh start in their own space, which felt important.

Plus she was fairly certain there were at least two pairs of shoes, if not more, lurking in her dressing area, which was also the last place she’d seen her favourite feather-trimmed blazer a few months ago.

After an emotional and frank conversation about her decision to leave, which left Annie and Pari both in tears and even Faye having to turn away to hide a wobbly bottom lip, they had come to the comforting conclusion that, although they would take over the rental agreement and make Celeste their own, Annie would always be at the end of the phone.

For creative input, for secret recipes, for the inevitable collection of pink bows and hair clips that seemed to materialize of their own accord.

And for firm friendship, above all else.

They still had a very important Halloween costume tradition to uphold, after all.

‘I can’t believe I missed it,’ Annie pouted, genuinely devastated to have broken their age-old tradition of trio Halloween costumes, despite having had arguably more important matters to handle.

She wondered whether Maeve and Hal would be interested in joining the breakfast ensemble next year, but suspected she already knew the answer to that one.

‘No big deal,’ Faye said, wringing out the soapy suds from her dish cloth as she finished the last plate.

‘We went as egg and soldiers instead, you would have approved. Right, let me just...’ She threw off her rubber gloves and moved to empty the bin under the sink, just as there was a loud clatter.

Maeve had been fiddling with the finely curated collection of vintage china cups.

Three of them toppled from the shelf like dominos.

She was just about quick enough with her magic to send them into slow motion, grabbing one in each hand, before the third hit the deck with a clatter and smashed into several shards.

‘Oops.’

Fortunately for Maeve, still not quite used to keeping her magic hidden in the non-wicche realm, Faye’s head had been stuck under the sink the entire time as she struggled to pull out the rubbish.

‘Maeve,’ Annie sighed from her favourite seat in the bay window, where she was arranging a big bouquet of white winter flowers.

‘Make yourself useful. Take the bins out for your Auntie Faye.’ Annie hit her with a daisy and a wink as she slunk past sulkily.

Maeve rolled her eyes somewhere towards Alaska before taking the bag reluctantly at arm’s length out to the cobbled back alley.

‘You’re still sure that this is the right call, Annie?

It’s hard to imagine this place without you,’ Faye said, leaning back against the counter.

She was searching Annie’s face through investigative eyes to make sure that she was getting the truth, knowing that it was rare for Annie to speak up for herself or make decisions that felt truly right for her.

She had always been able to read her like a book.

‘No,’ Annie said honestly with a breathy laugh and a rueful head shake that made her curls bounce.

‘But I’m not sure of anything practical or sensible or expected any more.

..And I think I’m starting to learn that that’s where the magic lies, when there’s a little bit of room for spontaneity and the chance to stumble across happy mistakes. ’

‘You? Spontaneous?’ Faye asked with an entirely serious face.

‘I know, right?’ Annie said excitedly. ‘Who’d have ever thought it?’

‘Well, in that case,’ Faye said, wiping her fingers on the ends of her shoulder tea towel, ‘we’re thinking of having a party tonight. A bit impromptu, I know, but we wanted to celebrate our new venture and...’

‘Tonight?’ Annie gasped. ‘C’mon, Faye, I said “spontaneous”, not “last-minute, unscheduled socializing”. I’m not a madwoman.’

Faye snorted. ‘So what are you going to do instead?’

‘Maeve’s got homework, I’ll help her out with that. Then I was thinking about trying this new recipe I...’

‘Not tonight, you dafty. I mean with your life. Now that you’re leaving Celeste behind, what’s your next move?’

‘For once, I have no next move,’ Annie said, noting the pride in her own voice at the confession.

‘I’ve played my whole life like a strategic game of chess and I’m exhausted.

It’s time to try a different way. All I know is that I want to keep baking.

Hal says there’s a tiny little place up for rent in the village near his cottage, all floral lampshades and lace doilies and frilly curtains.

Low footfall, quiet days, peaceful...

’ Annie said wistfully. The moment that Hal had mentioned the empty cafe to her, she had felt a little tugging of possibility in her chest. A chance to bake for others, but back on her own terms, with the dials all turned down to low again.

It sounded blissful. And really possible.

‘Sounds perfect,’ Faye nodded.

‘Annie! Annie, look!’

Annie craned her neck to see what all the fuss was about or, more accurately, what Maeve had accidentally smashed this time.

But the girl was dizzy with delight and excitement.

Against the chest of her baggy hoodie, she clutched an impossibly tiny, jet-black kitten with a streak of ginger on his forehead shaped just like a perfect crescent moon, his fur so wildly fluffy that he had the overall appearance of a palm-sized pom-pom.

He let out a high-pitched, screeching meow that sounded very pleased and snuggled himself in closer to Maeve.

‘He was by the bins! Screamed so loudly at me that I thought I must have trodden on him, but on closer inspection I think he’s just gobby.’

Annie rushed over so that they could speak quietly together. ‘Imagine that, hey? Your familiar, a gobby little terror,’ she whispered.

‘You think he really is?’ Maeve asked hopefully.

‘No doubt about it,’ Annie smiled, brushing a finger over the crown of the kitten’s small head. ‘Witches don’t just stumble across kittens for no reason. That’s fate up to her old tricks again. You’re meant to be.’

‘What shall I call him?’ Maeve frowned, opening up the question to Faye, too. ‘Trash?’

Annie gasped. ‘You cannot call that adorable kitten Trash, Maeve. I forbid it.’

‘How about Darkness? Death? Soul Stealer?’

‘You are impressively grim, my child,’ Faye called from behind the counter, shaking her head.

‘Grimm...’ Maeve said, her voice wandering off with quiet approval.

‘He’s totally your familiar,’ Pari chimed in happily as she sauntered back onto the shop floor, arms laden with stacks of her new spiced apple crumble cookies that had recently taken Celeste by storm. ‘Your auras match, both kind of crimson.’

Annie almost choked on her latte, the last dribble of it spilling out of her mouth and straight down her shirt as her brain short-circuited. This could not be real life. She exchanged a panicked glance with Maeve. They both stared at Pari in nervous confusion, unsure of the next move.

‘What?’ she asked off-handedly, placing the cookies in neat columns behind the counter glass with her tongs. ‘All witches need familiars – and clever little Grimm has made it very clear to all of us this morning that he’s Maeve’s. Obviously.’

Annie spluttered a strange, incomprehensible noise.

‘Oh, we’ve known since you moved in,’ Faye said with a shrug, as though it were the most normal thing in the world to be identifying Annie’s highly secretive magical existence as a witch in the non-wicche world.

‘Pari is...of a magical persuasion, as you might say, so she smelt your magic among all the vanilla from a mile off. Knew those éclairs of yours were witchcraft the moment we saw them.’ She turned back to the coffee machine and began to shine the steam spout.

‘Sorry for the shock. Tricky one to just casually drop into conversation, isn’t it? ’

‘Oh, I’ve known there’s something going on with me for years, ever since I was Maeve’s age.

I seem to accidentally make things float, like.

..all the time,’ Pari said, waving her tongs around.

‘Kind of annoying, really. You don’t know of any sort of covens or anything who might be able to help, do you? ’

While Annie and Maeve were frozen mid-motion, it felt as though Celeste breathed a sigh of relief between its walls.

It had grown rather used to having a witch in charge of things, serving the most beautiful, bewitching treats in all of London.

The place would remain magical after all, as it rightfully deserved, with Pari’s undiscovered witchery to take the reins.

The bell above the door caught the peachy light that poured in through the windows as the day’s queue began to form for opening, giving a charmed wink, thoroughly pleased with itself. Business as usual.

The girls returned to Arden Place together that afternoon with linked arms, Annie’s transference spell landing them just on the edge of the meadow.

Two dashes of silver jotted like a spill of metallic ink in the sky as the sun and moon sat together.

Karma had been waiting for their arrival and, more importantly, her dinner.

She leapt up from the porch swing and scampered over to them the moment their tumble of magic arrived on the grass.

Annie laughed as her cloud of a tail bobbed through the heather.

November was already proving extra beautiful.

Maeve skipped ahead towards the cottage, her bag of books slapping her side, the young witch laughing as she chased towards Karma with Grimm, her new familiar nestled in her arms. Mage gave a whinny at the side of the house, evidently feeling much braver around the cat these days – although he would not be pleased that he was now officially outnumbered by felines.

Annie felt her heart flood as she saw Hal step out onto the porch, hands on his hips and his hat pulled low.

Noticing their arrival, he threw an arm into the air and gave a wide wave with a shy grin that he appeared to be unable to control.

Annie waved back, but stood for a second to soak it all in.

Never in her life had she had the time to press pause on any moments that deserved to be held and admired.

To stop and feel, to appreciate the apricity – the warmth of the sun in winter – beaming down onto her face and around her body as though spinning her very own gown of liquid gold.

And she felt it, every inch of brightness in the moment.

She felt it all, so grand and gorgeous that it seemed impossible that the moment could ever end.

It felt as though her whole life was supposed to be this exact photograph, the shades of orange and brown and rusted red in the trees, the sky a brilliant, bold blue.

And an all-important dash of pink from the wildflowers climbing up the beams of the porch like sugar decorations, framing their home together.

But it would change and that would be okay.

She would welcome whatever came next, too.

Annie marvelled at the moments that she must have missed, living for so long in a life that was never truly hers, and maybe she would mourn for them when the dust had settled. But she could have burst with golden gratitude for the ones that she had found for herself now.

Finally, Annie felt it. She felt it all, authentic and joyful and hers.

It felt perfect.