A spark of bitterness flared within her as she looked across at her sibling. It was Jenny’s fault she’d had to leave her magical life in Paris, with a job she loved, friends who liked her for herself, and even a passionate romance.
Then she sighed. She couldn’t hold on to her rage at her sister. She’d never been anything but kind to her, albeit aloof, and it wasn’t her fault that their parents liked her better. Jenny had even let her choose her own bridesmaid dress, a black one they knew their mother would hate, but Jenny had stood up for her, insisting it was not negotiable. Reluctantly she acknowledged that her sister wasn’t to blame for the fact that she was stuck here. Her mother on the other hand…
“I need some air,” Beth muttered, turning to go, but Patricia clutched her arm in a vice-like grip and glared at her.
“We talked about this, and you are going to be sociable,” her mother said sternly. “Now come and speak to the Starks. You know your father is trying to close the deal with them, so make an effort for god’s sake!” Then, pasting on her dazzling but hideously fake smile again, Patricia turned back to the room and dragged her daughter with her.
“Anne, darling, how have you been?” she purred. “You remember our daughter Elizabeth don’t you, the one who’s been away travelling?” The disdain in her voice was impossible to miss, but the smartly dressed woman she was addressing held out her hand to Beth, a genuine smile on her face.
“Of course sweetie, how have you been? Your father mentioned that you’d been off on a grand and wonderful adventure. Paris, wasn’t it?” she asked kindly, and with real interest. “That would have been incredible.”
Beth took a deep breath and tried to relax her racing heart, nodding as enthusiastically as she could in response.
“Et j’espère que vous avez rencontré aussi de charmants garçons français,” Anne said cheerfully, and Beth was amused to see her mother’s horrified expression as she and Mrs Stark spoke to each other in a language she couldn’t understand. It also made her smile that this woman would want her to have met some lovely French boys – a thought that would horrify her mother if she knew.
“Un ou deux,” she grinned. “Et j’ai fait de merveilleux amis. Mais je ne pouvais pas manquer la véritable roman de Jenny, alors je suis ici.” She had made some wonderful friends, but sadly she couldn’t miss Jenny’s true romance, so here she was. She tried to keep her tone light, tried to keep the anger and bitterness from her face, but it was tough.
Anne laughed, which cheered her up, but Patricia looked uncomfortable and ready to lash out at both of them for being so rude as to exclude her from the conversation. God, did she always have to be the centre of attention?
“Is Mike here too?” Beth asked Mrs Stark, switching back to English so her mother would know she was doing her bit for the family plan. “I haven’t seen him for more than two years, which sounds crazy. Where did that time go?”
Taking her arm, Anne smiled at her, eyes twinkling with mischief, and led Beth over to the other side of the room, leaving Patricia stranded and momentarily lost for words.
“Mike sweetheart, you remember Beth don’t you?” Anne asked her son, and Beth could have kissed her for using her preferred name, instead of the formal version her mother used, which always filled her with dread.
“You used to keep each other company during those infernal business conferences our families attended – although she’s all grown up now, and has been living in London and Paris and thoroughly enjoying every minute. Beth, I salute you for your courage in leaving the safety of the village, of the familiar, and going off to create your own life.”
Gratitude swept over her at the recognition and acceptance in this woman’s tone, and for the first time since returning home she felt somewhat understood. Her good mood stayed when Mike turned to face them, hand extended, and a cheeky smile lighting up his face.
“Of course I do, but I’m not sure Beth would remember me. I was just a kid when she headed off to see the world,” he replied, voice friendly and a little deferential, and much deeper than it had been the last time she’d seen him.
Beth held out her hand too, and muttered that of course she remembered him – then as their eyes met and their fingers touched, she froze, jolted by the spark of electricity between them. What the hell was that?
Confused, she stared at him. He was right. When she’d been stuck talking to him in the past, he’d seemed so much younger than her, thin and gangly and obsessed with comics and skateboards, and perfectly content to live in this village forever. She’d thought that was terribly lacking in imagination – she couldn’t wait to escape their small town, and meet new, older guys. Now though, he had definitely grown up, and filled out too. And irony of ironies, he was more attractive and seemed far more mature than any of the guys she’d met in London or Paris, not counting her supposed boyfriend.
A stab of pain shot through her as she recalled their last meeting, but she masked it with a smile. “It’s good to see you Mike,” she said, as soon as she’d composed herself a little. “Do you want to leave the oldies for a while? I’ve got some new music we could listen to.”
Nodding happily, he followed her upstairs, then blushed as she opened the door to her bedroom. Grinning wickedly, she pulled him inside, then took pity on him and pointed to the purple beanbag near the window.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to drag you into bed with me and have my way with you,” she teased, although she realised it wouldn’t be the worst choice she’d made of late. Instead she handed him a pile of CDs and told him to pick one, then sat down on the floor opposite him.
Once the music started they both relaxed, and she spoke about her travels, and some of the places she’d been to and the people she’d met, while he told her his plans for university and what he dreamed of doing with his life. He seemed genuinely interested in her and what she thought, which was so nice after her last… well, was boyfriend even the right word?
She’d had a passionate love affair with Andrew, an English guy she’d met at an alternative music festival in Brittany. They’d been together for five months, her falling deeply in love with him, and he making all the moves and acting as though he felt the same way. Then a week ago, out of nowhere, he’d told her that he had to return to London, effectively ending their relationship.
She’d been totally heartbroken, so when her sister invited her home for five weeks of festivities – a bridal shower, hen’s weekend, kitchen tea, dress fittings, rehearsal dinner and eventual wedding ceremony – she’d agreed. Admittedly it had been with an ulterior motive – she’d managed to bury her dread at being with her family under the excitement that she would be able to continue her romance with Andrew. But he’d been less than thrilled when she’d told him she’d be going back to England too and could still be with him – and he’d disappeared from her life as quickly and mysteriously as he’d entered it.
“Are you okay?” Mike asked, breaking into her reverie.
Slowly she became aware of her surroundings again. God, had she just totally zoned out? “I’m so sorry Mike,” she stammered, and was surprised to realise that she actually was. “That was rude of me, I apologise. It’s been quite a culture shock to come back home – and back into my old childhood bedroom no less,” she shrugged. “But tell me more about your life. What do you do around here for fun these days?”
* * * * *
Three nights later, Beth found herself standing at the bottom of a staircase in a new age store filled with crystals, candles, cauldrons and velvet robes. Soft golden light spilled out onto the landing from a room at the top, and the gentle murmur of voices seemed to beckon her forward.
But she halted. What the hell was she doing here in some hippie shop, about to climb the stairs to spend time with the very villagers she’d been so eager to escape? This was madness, surely, trying to fit in here.
Cursing under her breath, she spun around, determined to flee – and walked straight into a woman dressed in a long a
nd floaty deep green gown, dark hair tumbling loose and wild around her kind face, and a beautiful pink crystal nestled above her heart. She was probably around her mother’s age, late thirties or early forties, yet she couldn’t have conjured a person more different than the uptight Patricia if she’d tried.
“Welcome,” the woman said softly, with a smile that somehow filled Beth with a sensation of joy and comfort. How was she doing that?
“I’m Rose, the priestess leading the circle tonight,” she continued. “Are you here for the ritual? It’s just up here,” she added, shepherding her back towards the base of the stairs.
Beth shook her head. “I was just leaving. I’m, well, a friend told me I should come along tonight, but I don’t want to intrude. I should go,” she stammered.
“Nonsense Beth, you’re more than welcome,” the enigmatic figure replied.
Shock crossed the younger woman’s face, but Rose chuckled. “Don’t worry, it’s no magic trick,” she said, her voice soothing her fears. “Mike mentioned that you might be coming. He’s upstairs with Violet. Come on, we can go in together,” she added, taking her arm and steering her up the first steps. “You’ll see that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
And despite Beth’s misgivings, Rose was right. It was one of the strangest yet most magical nights of her life. Suddenly she didn’t miss Paris any more, or yearn for Andrew, or feel stressed about her overbearing mother. She felt understood, and a part of something, welcomed with open arms into a community of warmth and caring. How was that possible?
When she entered the sweetly scented candle-lit room with the priestess, everyone was standing in a circle, hands linked. Beth looked around wildly, heart beating in panic, with no idea of what to do. They all looked so natural. Like they belonged. Again she turned towards the door, determined to leave this time, but her companion gently propelled her further inside, guiding her over to two women with long, loose hair who were wearing flowing gold dresses. Unlinking their hands, Rose walked between them into the centre of the room, then beckoned Beth forward, smiling as the gold-clad women each took one of her hands, including her in the circle.
The priestess made her way to an altar piled high with fresh flowers and golden candles. Then, raising her arms above her head, she began to speak, and Beth stared at her, awestruck by the air of power that was swirling around her, and through the room. She could even feel it touching her.
Most of them went over her head, yet Rose’s words, as she welcomed everyone then explained that she would invoke the god and the goddess and call in the elements and the directions, touched a part of Beth’s soul that she hadn’t even been aware of, and she felt her heart breaking wide open and filling with joy and light. Despite her nerves, and her fear that she would do something wrong, she felt herself falling into the enchantment of the ritual, and opening herself up to all the potential and possibilities of her life, things she’d never dared to contemplate before.
When people started to move, she nervously copied the women who’d been holding her hands, as it seemed that each person was taking it in turns to leap over a huge pot. Or was it a cauldron? That sounded far more witchy, she thought with a giggle. It was burning fragrant herbs in the middle of the room, and the sweet scent spiralled around Beth, weaving itself into her mind and imagination.
But nerves shot through her too, as she watched each person speak aloud their wishes and hopes for the coming month as they leaped over the fire. Just as she thought about slipping away again, she felt Rose’s eyes on her, and would swear she heard her voice in her head, telling her to relax. And the next person who jumped over the flames did so in silence, with a dreamy look on his face as he sent his wish skyward, which gave her enough confidence to leap across the fire, as gracefully as she could, and offer up her own silent prayer.
Later, as the evening wound down, Beth sank into the meditation the priestess led, no longer worried that she might appear foolish. And when the deities were farewelled and the circle was closed, she felt warm and floaty, stripped of stress and expectation. She hadn’t noticed just how weighed down she’d been feeling this week, how trapped, until some of the load had lifted, like magic, during the ritual. In this moment, a sensation of joy and peace enveloped her.
Self-conscious again as people broke into groups, she anxiously searched for Mike. He was talking to someone across the other side of the room, and Beth wondered whether it would be okay to go over and say hello, or if she should wait. She didn’t want to interrupt him, or annoy him in any way, to turn him off her before they’d had a chance to take anything further.
Before she could decide what to do, a pretty, faery-like girl with long dark hair and a vibrant green and gold dress skipped over to her corner and held out a hand to her.
“Hi, Beth?” she asked, voice kind and welcoming, and just a little unsure. When Beth nodded, the girl scooped her into a hug. “I’m Violet, Rose’s daughter. Mike said you might be coming tonight, so I wanted to say hello.”
A rush of jealousy stabbed at Beth, as she thought about how wonderful it must have been for Violet, growing up with such an amazing mother. She couldn’t bear to be in the same room as hers, the same house, but here Violet was, working magic alongside hers. Clearly she loved and respected her mum, and the feeling was obviously mutual. Who’d ever heard of a teenager wanting to spend time with their parents?
She bet Rose understood her daughter too, and encouraged her and accepted her and loved her. She probably even got on well with her friends and approved of her boyfriends. For a moment her resentment boiled over, until she realised Violet was still speaking, and tried to shake off her bitterness and pay attention.
“Come and have something to eat – you need to ground yourself after a ritual,” the girl was saying, and although Beth didn’t understand what she was talking about, she obediently followed her over to a long table laden with food.
“I feel all weird and floaty if I don’t have a cookie straight away,” Violet explained, grabbing Beth’s hand and dragging her to the end that was filled with sweet treats. Taking a bite out of a piece of shortbread, and motioning for Beth to do the same, she poured cups of tea for the two of them, raised an eyebrow to enquire if she wanted milk, then grinned.
“Mike won’t be long, he’s just talking to our history teacher – trying to get another extension,” she explained, rolling her eyes in mock horror. “But he told me that you’ve been living in France. Is it amazing? Do you think you’ll go back? Are the people as wonderful as I’ve heard? Oh, I’d love to go there some day,” she continued wistfully, leaving no space for Beth to answer, but amusing her with her bubbly personality and sweet, innocent smile.
“I want to walk through the countryside there, clamour into the ancient burial mounds, dance in stone circles...”
The girl’s eyes had a faraway gleam in them as she finally paused for breath. “Gosh, I’m so sorry, here I am babbling on at you without pause, asking you questions but giving you no time to answer them. And you might want some quiet time after the ritual?” Violet offered, although she was clearly eager to keep chatting.
Beth surprised herself by shaking her head. “It’s fine, really. I am a bit spacey, but I’m glad you came over. I was feeling a bit shy, not knowing anyone,” she admitted. For some reason she liked this kind young woman, who looked so vibrant and alive with her crown of ivy and flowers woven through her hair, so she cheerfully answered her queries about France, while furtively casting her eyes over to Mike every minute or so.
“Everyone here is really friendly and welcoming,” Violet said, breaking into her thoughts, and Beth realised she’d been gazing at Mike and daydreaming about him again. Oops! Reluctantly she brought her attention back to the girl she was standing with, and was supposed to be conversing with.
“You’ll have a room full of friends in no time,” she continued, and Beth smiled with relief that Violet didn’t seem offended by her vagueness and lack of attention.
“So are you and Mike school friends?” Beth finally asked her, casting another wistful glance in his direction, and hoping to get a bit more information about him.
A strange look flitted across Violet’s face, but it was gone before Beth could identify it, and her bright smile returned. “You could say that. We’ve been dating since… I don’t know. Mum loves telling everyone that we declared our engagement when we were six years old, and planned how many kids we’d have by twelve, but I think she’s exaggerating a little,” she revealed, laughing and rolling her eyes. “But it seems that he’s finished hassling Mr Arthur,” she added, and took Beth’s hand to lead her over to Mike.
Struggling to control the fiery blush that lit up her face at this admission, Beth barely heard Violet’s next words. He had a girlfriend. Panicking that she would give away her distress, she quickly tuned back in to the conversation.
“Hey you, you’re neglecting your guest,” Violet scolded Mike, but her voice was gentle, with a smile in her words, and he glanced up at her with such a loving expression that it pierced Beth’s heart. “I’ve got to help Mum pack up, but it was lovely to meet you Beth. I hope you’ll come to more rituals, and maybe hang out with us sometime?” she asked, leaning in to give her a quick hug.
“And I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said to Mike, with a grin and a hurried kiss on the cheek, before flitting off to Rose’s side.
Beth was amazed. She wouldn’t be leaving her boyfriend alone with a strange woman, who’d been invited to the event by said boyfriend, for even a minute. Yet what did that say about her compared to Violet? Was Rose’s daughter so secure in her relationship with Mike that she didn’t feel threatened by a pretty girl coming along to spend time with him?
Or did it mean that it had never occurred to Violet to cheat on Mike, and so she assumed everyone else was as principled as she was, and it simply hadn’t crossed her mind that she had anything to worry about? And what did it say about her, that she assumed every man would cheat?
Into the Storm: Into the Storm Trilogy Book One Page 3
