by Kirsty Ferry
My smile widens when I tilt my head on one side and hear the sweet sound of Clarence’s car engine turning over and the throaty roar as they speed off into the night.
‘Coffee?’ says Ewan finally. ‘Coffee? Yes. Yes I think I wouldn’t mind a coffee, Nessa. Unless you’d prefer tea?’
‘Hell no,’ I say. ‘I’m not drinking that stuff.’
Chapter Eighteen
EWAN
Nessa is pretty insistent that we have another cup of coffee. I don’t know how many cups of coffee I can take, but I know she won’t entertain us having that ginger stuff her brother gave her.
Nessa looks at the teabags in the caddy that Schubert seemingly opened and then leans her head in to sniff them. ‘They still don’t smell right,’ she says, ‘and I don’t think they would taste that good. I’m not one for stuff like that. Seems a bit fancy to me.’ She pulls a face, then puts the caddy back on the shelf at the very back. She picks up the cups Fern and Clarence used between her thumb and forefinger and puts them in the tiny sink. Then she squirts a ridiculous amount of bleach and washing up liquid into them.
I didn’t do that well in chemistry, but I’m hoping there’s no chance of an explosion or any likelihood of poisonous gases seeping into the air.
‘Coffee’s probably better anyway,’ I say. ‘It’s a long drive back and it’s getting pretty late.’ Nessa falters while she spoons instant coffee into my mug but doesn’t answer me immediately.
‘Do you want to go straight back?’ she asks. ‘Just let me know before I boil this up again.’ She taps the spoon against the kettle, which is vanilla-coloured and patterned with roses.
‘Well. Not really,’ I say carefully. ‘I don’t want to go back any time soon. It just seemed like the proper thing to say. I mean, with the bump to your head and everything. I don’t know if I would even let you drive just yet. I’d have to do it and I can’t imagine you being happy about me taking control of Winnie.’ Even as I say all that, I know it’s just an excuse. Somehow, I think she knows too.
‘That’s good,’ she says, not looking at me, ‘because I don’t want to go back either.’
‘Mow wow,’ says Schubert.
‘And neither does Schubert,’ Nessa translates. ‘Are you all right about breaking up with Fern?’ she asks. ‘It happened a bit quickly. Like I said, don’t be rash on one silly little incident.’ She brings the coffee over to me and then sits down opposite with her own.
‘It wasn’t one silly little incident. It’s been boiling up for a while now. I guess this was just the last straw. I mean, who in their right mind brings a newspaper reporter all the way up here to try and catch their partner out?’
The more I think about it, the more ridiculous it is.
‘It would have been different,’ says Nessa, ‘if anything was going on. But as far as I was concerned, we came up as friends. You had a girlfriend. Well, you had a girlfriend this morning. I don’t think you have one now, do you?’
I can’t help laughing. ‘No,’ I say, ‘I don’t have one now.’
‘That’s good,’ says Nessa. I shoot a glance at her, but she’s got her eyes lowered and her nose buried in her coffee cup.
‘Do you know something, Nessa?’ I ask suddenly. ‘I never even asked you if you had any better offers this weekend. God, I’m so sorry. I’ve dragged you into the mess that was my relationship and for all I know, you’ve got someone waiting anxiously to hear if you’re okay and who wants to see you tomorrow – like a new boyfriend or somebody. And we’re stuck here.’ As I speak, though, I recall that I’ve never seen any potential boyfriends come through our joint front door, just a varying collection of indistinguishable McCreadie brothers that look a lot like Nessa. Apart from her family’s fleeting visits, it’s always been just Nessa and her cat. I doubt that this weekend would be any different, but I still feel bad, just in case.
‘I haven’t planned to see anyone else tomorrow, and you know I haven’t got a boyfriend,’ says Nessa. ‘But thanks for checking. I didn’t need to have a random boyfriend anyway. I was waiting for the right person to come along.’ She shrugs, her hands still around her coffee cup, but she won’t look at me. ‘Or at least I was waiting for him to be free.’
My heart does a little lurch and I look at her. She still doesn’t meet my eyes – she’s staring at something on the floor down past my ankle.
‘Really?’ I ask.
‘Yep,’ she says.
The atmosphere has somehow shifted and I think I know why my emotions have been so crazy today. And not just today.
They’ve been crazy every time I’ve seen her for the last three years; every time I’ve thought about her. Every time I’ve spoken to her. I couldn’t wait to spend the day with her and I don’t want to go home and not have her there. It’s finally time to admit it.
It’s her, isn’t it?
She’s the one I should be with.
It’s always been her.
‘Nessa—’
‘Ewan—’
We both speak at the same time and before I know it, the coffee cups are on the floor and Nessa is in my arms and we’re holding each other properly and kissing each other. And I know that it’s exactly what I’ve wanted to do for years. And it feels good.
‘God, Nessa. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,’ I murmur between kisses. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have realised. I’m sorry.’
‘That’s fine. You just had a different plan for a while. I’m pleased you haven’t got that plan any more. I’m very, very pleased and what I said earlier is right. I’m very happy doing this and I want to do it for a very long time.’
Her words are also punctuated by my kisses and thank God these bunks convert into a double bed because for once I kind of know what’s going to happen next and I certainly didn’t plan it. But she doesn’t seem to be objecting.
Maybe she planned it?
Ah, hell. Who cares?
I love Nessa McCreadie. There. I’ve admitted it properly now.
‘I love you, Nessa McCreadie,’ I say.
‘I love you too, Ewan Grainger,’ she replies and I know in a moment things are going to escalate sky high.
‘But what about Schubert?’ I say, remembering the all-seeing eyes of half a ton of cat.
‘He’s gone out the cat flap, he’s fine,’ she says. ‘I unlocked it earlier.’
And then I don’t worry about Schubert any more.
But I briefly wonder why she never mentioned the cat flap at all before now.
Nessa will always be full of surprises.
I’m quite looking forward to being surprised for a very long time.
Chapter Nineteen
NESSA
The drive home today is very different from the drive up here yesterday.
Today, I feel like I’ve achieved something, which is a very nice feeling. Even nicer than that, was the feeling I had when I woke up with Ewan. Yes, it was a wee bit chilly in Winnie this morning, but I have plenty of rugs and woollen blankets, so we were nice and cosy.
It was also nice to lie there all cocooned in said blankets with Schubert and Catnip reclining on my feet and watch Ewan make us all breakfast. I’m so pleased I thought to bring extra milk and fresh bread and butter and honey and cereal with me. Fancy that. And I got an excellent view of Ewan’s tattoo as he stood there over the toaster with very little on. His tattoo is one of those Celtic crosses entwined with roses and a skull. It’s really, really sexy and obviously part of his DJ alter-ego.
I’d caught sight of the tattoo as he came out of the tiny shower room as well. He was pretty surprised to be told that the shower room was there, but I think he enjoyed the shower, even though I had used most of the hot water beforehand.
Ewan doesn’t seem to feel the cold as I do.
But anyway, I know that I have much to thank Aggie for; and there is also something I need to ask Alfie about as well, next time I see him.
Ewan’s voice interrupts my deliciously wicked thoughts – thou
ghts in which his tattoo plays a major part – as we drive through the countryside. ‘I’m not going to have your four brothers after me for keeping you out all night, am I?’ he asks. I’m not quite sure if he is fully joking as he looks a little concerned.
‘Oh no,’ I reassure him, ‘they’ll be very happy for me. They know what it’s been like for the last few years and have told me to get a wiggle on, on more than one occasion. Especially Alfie. He feels it the most, I think, being my twin.’
‘Your twin?’ repeats Ewan. Then he laughs. ‘Nessa, don’t ever stop being yourself, eh? You’re going to keep surprising me for the rest of your life, aren’t you?’
‘And beyond,’ I tell him, quite seriously. ‘I’ll haunt you, don’t you worry about that.’
Ewan laughs and shakes his head. I don’t think he believes me, but it’s true. Aggie told me. But it won’t be for years and years and years yet. We’ve got an awful lot of living to do first and several babies to have as well.
‘I think it’s about time I put you right on something first, though,’ I tell him, feeling the need to be honest. ‘Last night, when I was in the forest, I really did see Aggie – and the Roman soldiers. Aggie told me lots of things and I saw a few things too. It was Aggie who gave an indication of what might happen with Fern. She said if everything was to work out as it should, I had to have faith in my powers and do the car thing.’
‘The car thing?’ Ewan asks. ‘What, when it broke down?’
‘Yes. She said there was an awful lot to be said for positive thinking, so I thought positively and it worked.’ I risk a glance at him and see that he is staring at me with his mouth slightly open in disbelief. I try not to think about what that mouth did to me last night, but fail and swerve slightly on the narrow roads back towards Edinburgh.
Ewan leans over and grabs the wheel, straightening Winnie up, but he still looks confounded.
I pull myself together and continue. ‘So when the car failed to start, I knew she was right. And I knew that everything else she told me would happen. It was just a matter of time.’ I smile. ‘Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long for it to happen.’
‘But what about Fern and Clarence falling for each other?’ asks Ewan. ‘She couldn’t have predicted that, surely?’
‘No, but when Schubert made me use those tea bags, I knew he was in on the plan too. He knows Aggie, you know. I wonder if familiars can reincarnate?’
The thought sends me swerving towards another verge until Ewan grabs the wheel again.
‘But the tea bags …’ he says, leaving the sentence unfinished.
‘A nice touch weren’t they? That was definitely Alfie. I do need to see him about that. It’s made me wonder whether, if I have powers, then with him being my twin, whether he has them too, but he knew about it already.’
‘I see,’ says Ewan. But I don’t know if he does really.
Ewan looks adorable when he’s discombobulated.
‘Anyway, I don’t need my wand anymore. Aggie says I don’t need a knobbly old stick to work magic, I just need to believe in myself. And she suggested I dismantle my altar at work as well.’
‘What, in case it generates evil or something?’ asks Ewan, and I’m not too sure whether he’s being facetious or just trying to understand.
‘No. Don’t be silly, Ewan. It’s Wicca, it’s not the Dark Arts. No. Aggie said a tidy desk was the sign of a tidy mind and anyway Mr Hogarth might get a bit worried if he comes into the office and finds me mumbling into a plant pot. And so,’ I say frowning, ‘might the clients. Oh well. But you know, having thought about it, there are a few things that have happened recently that I’ve wished for ...’
I raise one hand from the wheel and count the wishes off, holding my fingers up in front of Ewan as and when necessary. ‘I wished that Sticky would go after Fern instead of me, and he’s gone after her big time. I wished we could spin out yesterday longer and we did. I wished – well, I wished that certain things might happen in the camper van last night.’ I blush. ‘And they did.’
‘Several times,’ adds Ewan, and I can tell he has a knowing grin on his face.
‘Several times,’ I agree. ‘But there was other stuff that didn’t happen.’
‘Mow wow,’ comes the aggrieved voice from the cat carrier in the back.
‘Yes. I wished Schubert wasn’t so opinionated, but I’m fine with that, really I am. It’s what makes him special. But the important stuff happened. And I’m happy with that. Are you happy, Ewan Grainger?’
‘I am indeed, Nessa McCreadie,’ he says. ‘At last, I am. And it’s all because of you.’
I am very glad that he seems to have accepted the fact I’m a little strange and most probably a fledgling witch.
I nod, confidently. ‘Aggie said you would be happy. I’m glad.’
‘But can I ask just one thing?’ he says tentatively. ‘Something that’s been turning over in my mind for a little while? Or at least since last night.’
‘You may,’ I say.
‘When my car didn’t start yesterday morning, was that magic as well?’
I grin.
‘Of course not, Ewan. That was purely mechanical. I’ve got the bits in my flat. You can have them when we get home.’
‘Wonderful, marvellous girl,’ he says, reverently.
And he lifts the hair from the back of my neck and kisses me on the nape, which almost makes me swerve into the verge again.
But it’s worth it.
Good Lord, it so is.
Chapter Twenty
NESSA
Some Months Later …
I’m still on a bit of a high and it’s now March – it’s almost the Spring Equinox, or as it’s also known, the Vernal equinox or even “Ostara”. At Christmas, I lit a candle for Aggie, because if it wasn’t for her, things might have been very different.
I thought that Aggie might have liked the proper Winter Solstice marked in some way as well, so I made a beautiful, natural wooden Yule log and we burnt it in the garden. We’ve taken the fence down between mine and Ewan’s gardens now, so it’s a lovely little area and Schubert enjoys promenading around it with Catnip.
I heard that Fern and Clarence Wood are engaged, so that at least means she’s got something else to focus on apart from me.
And Ewan and I are both very, very happy about that.
Still, it wouldn’t have been like Fern to not orchestrate one last little parting shot and spread a few unholy details around about me.
Ding dong. Ah, and I bet this will be something to do with it.
‘Yes?’ I say, opening the door to yet another worried looking girl.
‘You’re the witch, yes?’ she says, twisting her hands in the hem of her coat. This one, then, is Eastern European. She has a delightful accent.
‘Yes,’ I say.
‘You help me? I think there is a curse on me. I cannot make the man I love want me back.’ She dabs the corner of her eyes with a white handkerchief and I make a clucking sort of sympathetic sound.
‘Oh dear,’ I say, and I mutter the only Gaelic phrase I know, whilst waving my hand over her and liberally sprinkling a bit of glitter in her hair.
The girl cheers up immediately and hands over a fiver. ‘Oh thank you’, she says. ‘Will he love me back now?’
She spits a bit of misdirected glitter out of her mouth and I wait politely until she’s finished spitting, then I speak. ‘If he will not love you back,’ I say sagely, ‘a new man will be in your life soon and he will be better.’
‘You are very kind,’ she says and practically skips away from my doorstep. I shut the door and pop the fiver into a big jar that once held cat treats. When the jar is full, I shall donate it to the local cat rescue shelter place. It shouldn’t be long now. Schubert wanders through with Catnip in his mouth and addresses the treat jar. This is no mean feat with the toy in his mouth.
‘Mow wow?’ he asks it quizzically yet muffled-ly.
‘I know. It won’t be long,’ I
tell him and stoop down to rub the sweet spot between his ears he loves so much. ‘We could get you a friend when we’re there. How would you like that?’
‘Mow wow,’ he says, thinking about it.
I open my mouth to respond, and there is an almighty crash from my lounge. Schubert goes into orbit and I swear and run into the room. I choke on the dust and dirt and bits of plaster that are now littering my lounge. There is a roar like an air-raid siren from downstairs because the noise must have woken the baby up, so I swear again.
I didn’t know my hippie neighbour was pregnant. The kaftan hid a lot. I only found out when I saw them one day in the yard. The baby was screaming with all the power of a fair set of lungs and Rickie (that’s his name. She’s called Nickee with two e’s) was staring at the baby – Zachary Rainbow Starchild – with a really bamboozled expression on his face.
I got an image of Aggie and found myself suggesting lavender to calm him down and something herbal they could use for colic as well.
It must have worked. I found a bowl of homemade lentil soup on my doorstep and some delicious cookies that quite cheered Ewan and I up that night.
Anyway, over the sound of Zachary Rainbow Starchild screaming and Schubert having hysterics and lying flat on top of Catnip to protect him, an apparition appears from the rubble. It’s grey and white and groaning. It reaches its hands out and lurches towards me like a zombie.
I wonder if there’s room for me under the protection of Schubert’s paws.
Then I realise there is a damn big Ewan-shaped hole in my ceiling.
‘It didn’t go to plan!’ moans the zombie. ‘I fell through it!’
‘Ewan Grainger!’ I say, and stand facing the zombie with my hands on my hips. ‘Why can you not use the front door like a normal person? I shall have to sleep in Winnie tonight. Or in your flat.’
‘Mine,’ he says. ‘Sleep in mine. God, I’m so sorry Nessa. I thought I’d live a little dangerously and break a hole through the floor to your house. It would make it easier for us, you know. But it fell through a bit. Did I spoil anything?’ He looks back over his shoulder in a slightly dazed fashion and I follow his gaze. My pot plants are scattered all over the place and the state of my books would make a librarian cry.
