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Susie and Temperance walked in numb silence over the green, past Stevie on the cash desk at Try Again, and then slumped into their desks in the office.

‘Believe me now?’ Temperance asked, her fingers fiddling with a tape measure. ‘I know you felt that weird magic surge too. And the fire smelled like wildflowers , Suse. Just like I dreamt. This isn’t some boozy nightmare. This is . . . well, I don’t know what it is. But it can’t be good.’

The loved-up wedding gown was lying over Temperance’s desk and she scrunched her fist into the silk skirts, grounding herself with an echo of second-hand joy and devotion.

‘Right. Shit.’ Susie’s eyebrows were up around her hairline. ‘So some sort of magical . . .’

‘Doom,’ Temperance provided.

Susie nodded. ‘Some sort of magical doom is coming for Abel, but we don’t know what and we don’t know why. We just have to stop it. You see, this is where it would help to have a big Buffy -style library full of magic books.’ She kicked her legs up on her desk.

‘Let’s just keep Abel in the village, for starters. Once FairyFest is over we’ll have a bit more head space to work it out. Somehow.’ Temperance winced at the paper-thin substance of her own plan.

‘OK. That makes sense.’ A small smiled warmed up Susie’s features. ‘Do you know what Abel said to me this morning, in the pub?’

Temperance’s head shot up. ’What?’

‘He called me Wipeout. I’d completely forgotten that nickname! From my old surfing phase.’

Temperance couldn’t help but snort a laugh through her nose. ‘I don’t think you can call two weekends a phase. Especially not when you mostly tasted seawater and threw tantrums about it.’

‘I was passionate, you have to give me that. Just not gifted with the right kind of balance, unfortunately. Paddle boarding is much more my thing. Much more chill. Oh, do you remember that last surfing lesson with Abel, where I swore I was on the verge of a breakthrough so you had to come and watch?’

‘Maybe.’

‘You must do! I was absolutely soaked, seaweed hanging off my ears, furious and crying. I came over and plonked myself in your lap to hug it out, getting you wet too? Abel wrapped us up in his towel, insisting his wetsuit was enough. But his lips were fully blue by the time we got to the pub.’

The memory glowed through Temperance but then turned into a singe of bitterness. When Abel left East Prawle he left her out in the cold without a second thought. And this older, meaner Abel wouldn’t wrap her up in a towel, not even if she was on fire.

Susie looked across on the wedding dress. ‘Are you still wearing that tonight?’

Temperance looked up. ‘Yes. Why?’

‘No reason. I’m glad. You look amazing in it.

And if anyone should have the night off to twirl about like a Fairy Princess, it’s you.

And what better way for you to get back on your True Love mission, right.

’ She winked. ‘In this dress, after all. No Goblin King with eyes in his head could resist you. It’s just a shame that it now smells faintly like BO and seaweed. ’

Stevie appeared at the doorway. ‘Isn’t that why you have all the herbs? You’ve got time to give it a quick rinse and let it dry for tonight.’

‘NO!’ the sisters both yelled in unison, making Stevie take a step back.

‘Okayyyy.’ She edged away, her eyebrows drawn together.

‘Um, no, sorry Stevie. It’s just . . .’ Temperance searched for an explanation, ‘there’s no point in cleaning it, only to get it mucky again tonight. The old barn smells like hops and sweat anyway and I’ll probably come home with a tide mark of cider on it.’

Temperance had already caught Stevie admiring their old walnut bureau at the back of the office on her first visit and had speedily fudged an explanation that the dried flowers and herbs inside were there to keep the vintage clothes smelling fresh, and to act as organic deodorisers when they needed to wash the odd garment.

The wildflowers that the Molland women gathered from their own cliffs in East Prawle helped amplify their magic: lavender to counteract memories of anger or fear, to soothe a raging heart and bring balance to the mind; rosemary to treat lingering guilt or shame, to let go of the past and take only the lessons of it into the future; cedar to banish self-doubt and self- loathing, encouraging that void to be filled with confidence and strength one day.

Lee kept a fresh pot of basil growing on the windowsill for any stubborn negative emotions that wouldn’t shift on the first try.

Strongest of all, and used most sparingly, was rue.

When Temperance picked up a piece of clothing and saw only jagged weeping in an endless night, felt the twist behind her ribs of loneliness and hurt, the echoes of betrayal, she knew that rue was the herb to exorcise memories of a broken heart.

It was a unique skill passed through their female family line to be able to feel the emotions that lingered on clothing but Temperance’s mother had also taught her that even when ordinary people weren’t conscious of the memories attached to their clothes, they could still be affected by them.

They thought it was superstitious or sentimental to hold onto a T-shirt they’d raced their first ever 5k in, never knowing that the joy and confidence it carried emanated out when they pulled it back on for their first marathon, keeping their heart full even as their energy depleted.

Or the sting or disappointment that hid in the folds or a daringly loud shirtdress which an old friend had told them was ‘brave for you to wear’ and how that would work its way into the back of their mind every time they went to pull it from the wardrobe, only to falter and shove it back.

The negative energy that had its hooks in a piece of clothing would sit next to the new owner’s skin, leaching into their system, whispering doubts and frustrations and bitterness into their subconscious, distorting how they saw themselves and others.

Like any sort of parasite, these negative feelings wanted to set up home under the surface and would only be forced to leave once witches like Temperance and her family could do their thing .

The Molland women at Try Again didn’t just love vintage clothes for the love of clothes.

That was there, of course: marvelling over a Pucci print, discovering a hand-tailored suit in a battered old suitcase or whispering in awe at a Hermès silk scarf.

They loved clothes the way a vet loved animals: to pet them on good days and save them on bad ones.

With some care and attention, they could tease out the bad memories that had been woven years, even generations, before and send a garment off with a new owner who would really treasure it and perhaps embroider it with their own happy moments.

Temperance knew that Stevie’s love of vintage passion was just as pure, if not a lot more straightforward.

She’d somehow have to try to hide the extra element to their work at Try Again, without dimming the intern’s enthusiasm.

‘How about I grab you when I’m doing my next batch of refreshing and I can . . . walk you through it?’

‘Sure,’ Stevie replied, distracted as she watched Temperance tenderly move the dress onto her lap, like it was a delicate little newborn kitten.

‘Come over to ours at six and get ready with us,’ Susie offered, keen to change the subject from one veering too close to their secret magical ways. ‘We could do you some fancy whiskers with face paint. And then it can get smeared all over the face of one of the hot backpackers.’ She grinned.

Temperance lowered her eyebrows. ‘Not everyone is looking to pull every night, sis.’

‘And not everyone is obsessing over a One True Love like you, sis.’ She stuck out her tongue.

‘Romance isn’t really the top of my list,’ Stevie chipped in, her eyes still on the heavy embroidered bodice Temperance was holding up to herself with one hand.

As if it weighed nothing. But Stevie knew for a fact that it weighed the same as a small pony.

‘I’m just getting a feel for the place, that’s all. ’