by CJ Bridgeman
“You don’t have any choice!” Oliver cried, raising his voice. “They’ll come looking for me, and they’ll destroy anyone who gets in their way. Do I really have to remind you where we are? If they find me, they find your friends - and they won’t show them any mercy. Hollie and Jamie will die just because you wouldn’t trust me. Is that what you want?”
Felicity stared, speechless.
“If we go together, we have a fighting chance,” Oliver continued. “I can read the spells in your mother’s journal. There was a defensive one, do you remember? I can use it to protect us if the others catch up. Then no one has to die, Felicity. No one. You and I will be away from here before anyone gets hurt.”
A fire burned behind Felicity’s eyes as she thought of her two best friends coming to harm. They had been so good to her, even when she hadn’t wanted them to. They had accepted her, taken her in despite how awkward she was in social situations. Hollie had made her part of the school community. Jamie had helped her with her homework on numerous occasions. Between the two of them, they had done more for Felicity than anyone else she had ever met.
She couldn’t stand the thought of them being hurt, or - she shuddered - killed, especially because of her, but she didn’t trust Oliver, either. How did she know these so-called ‘others’ were even coming? But could she take the risk that they weren’t, that he was bluffing and none of them were in any real danger at all?
It was all too much. She had to get out of there.
Surrendering to her fear and confusion, she turned away from Oliver and sped up the cellar steps.
“Felicity! You can’t leave. Come back, damn you! Come back!”
She ignored him, just as she ignored Hollie’s concerned and surprised cries as she fled the house and began to run as fast as she could.
The sky was lighter now, and there were more people on the streets. A few of them stared at her as she ran past, but she barely noticed them. She didn’t take notice of anything but the fast, steady beating of her heart and the deep breaths that left her chest heaving. It was only as she arrived at the familiar block of flats that she realised where she had ran to, and it was strange that her mind would have directed her legs there; but when all was said and done, perhaps it really was the place where she felt the safest.
By the time she had ascended the stairs, her brisk walk had left her cheeks rosy and her lungs in pain from the harsh iciness of the air. Her father was standing with his head in the open fridge when she opened the door. He looked up, and it was evident that he was surprised to see her.
“Oh, uh,” he bumbled awkwardly. “I saw your bed was empty. I didn’t think you’d be here for breakfast.” He closed the fridge. “I was going to make myself some cereal but, uh...” He looked around the kitchen. “Do you like pancakes?”
Felicity stared at her father, quite unsure of what to say or do, and then, with a sense of relief that made her want to weep, she sighed. The normality of the situation was so soothing that it almost allowed her to forget the strange things that had happened and dare to believe that everything was normal. She nodded at the suggestion of pancakes and once the imperfect circles were made, her father dished them out onto two small plates without so much as a playful toss. They sat together in front of the television, absently and silently watching the flickering images.
Felicity allowed herself to forget Oliver in the few minutes it took her to eat the undercooked and overly thick pancakes. Instead, she thought of her mother. It was impossible not to, considering that she was one of the reasons why Felicity had gone back to her father’s flat in such a hurry. She couldn’t remember much about her early childhood, but she knew it hadn’t consisted of frequent cuddles and affectionate kisses. She could, however, recall how absent her mother had been as Felicity had grown up. It wasn’t just boarding school that had kept mother and daughter apart, for even in the holidays Felicity’s mother had rarely been at home so they hadn’t talked much; Felicity was hard-pressed to think of a meaningful, lengthy discussion between the two of them.
She looked at her father. Perhaps now was the time to start having meaningful, lengthy discussions.
“How did you meet - my mother?” she asked abruptly. She had wanted to say ‘mum’, but it just didn’t seem like the right word.
The question caught him by surprise; that much was obvious. He raised his eyebrows and muttered some incoherent sounds before finally clearing his throat, shuffling on the sofa and replying: “It was, uh, at a club in town. Not there any more. Ikon.”
He didn’t look at her. Both of them continued to stare at the television, though neither of them had much interest in it.
After a long pause, during which she had done much deliberation, she asked another question. “Did you buy her a drink?”
Her father cleared his throat again. “Yeah.”
“Did you dance?”
“Yeah.”
This was clearly awkward territory for him. He kept shuffling as if to make himself more comfortable, and he wouldn’t look his daughter in the eye. Felicity had learnt many things about her mother in the last day or so, but those things were strange, foreign and unbelievable. What she really desired was something real, positive and - above all - normal. But her father was clearly frightened of the discussion; he had probably been dreading it since the day she moved in, Felicity thought, so she reluctantly and sadly gave in.
She was astonished when her father spoke again.
“She was standing by the bar when I saw her first,” he said quietly. “Talking to another lad. Well, he was the one doing all the talking. She was listening - she was good at that. Listening.” He paused for a few seconds before continuing. “This lad. He was giving her a bit of trouble. Bothering her. So I went over and, uh, pretended like I knew her. That she was my sister, or some other fib. Well, that got shot of him.”
Felicity imagined the scene running through her head. “What was she like?”
This question appeared to pose a bit more difficulty. Felicity’s father frowned as if thinking and concentrating, searching his mind for the memories he had locked away for so long.
“She was fun,” he answered at length. “She knew how to have a good time. Was full of jokes and always laughing. A bit silly, too. Girlish and young and pretty. And...” He paused. “Mysterious. Didn’t talk about herself much. Seemed more interested in finding out about me, but I’ll never understand why.”
Felicity nodded, understanding more than her father knew.
“She was... grateful,” he continued. And then, as if he knew that his daughter was picturing that night in her head, he added: “Red. She wore red.”
It had been a beautiful, romantic event, Felicity decided. She saw her mother sitting at a crowded bar, wearing a long, red, glittering gown and with not one but several men all fighting and bartering for her attention. But she didn’t give them a second glance, because Felicity’s father had entered the club. With one look from him, the other men left her alone, and from that moment on, it was true love.
She didn’t ever want that memory to change, although it had been shaped to her own recommendations and didn’t even belong to her. She would still cherish it as if she had been there and seen it all herself.
But she did want to know one thing, regardless of the risk it posed to this newfound, borrowed memory. There was a few moments of silence as she worked up the courage to ask that important question, and then: “Why did you split up?”
Her father let out a long sigh, as if he had been expecting those very words for some time. He looked at her for the first time since the conversation began. “She was very young, your mum, when she found out she was going to have a little baby. You,” he added, as if the point required clarification. “I wanted to do right by her, to marry her and bring you up.”
He stopped, so Felicity prompted him. “But?”
“But things don’t always work out like you plan,” her father continued. “Your mum wanted to take you somewher
e else, somewhere nicer and better where you could have a good life.” He let out another sigh and turned to the window. “I had to let her go. It wouldn’t have been right, keeping her here.”
“Why didn’t you go with her?”
“I wanted to. But your mum... she didn’t want me. And who can blame her?” He sighed sadly. “So I let her go.”
The perfection of the memory shattered and Felicity felt a sudden and almost overwhelming sadness. For the first time, a strong wave of emotion surged inside her, and it was all directed towards her father - a feeling of sympathy for what he had sacrificed to allow another to be happy.
“That’s how things work sometimes,” her father added quietly. “You can either hold on to the thing you love most, even if it would ruin them, or you can let it go and just be ruined on your own.”
With that, he got up from the sofa and wandered unhappily over to the kitchen. Felicity listened to the familiar sound of the fridge opening and the clinking of glass as her father rummaged for a beer.
She sat alone on the sofa. She had got what she wanted; she felt that she knew her mother better - and her father, too - but the feelings were not what she had expected. She must have known, deep down inside, that there would have been a depressing end to the tale, since her parents had not stayed together. But when she had heard her father talk about her, her spirits had lifted; she had noted the fondness in his voice and imagined scenes of romance and happily ever after.
Real life wasn’t like that.
Felicity was left with an unsatisfying animosity towards her mother now, as much as she tried to fight it. She wanted to remember her mother with the same fondness her father did, but unlike him, she found herself unable to forgive her. The years she had spent living in that big, old house in the distant countryside instantly tasted bitter. Her childhood should have been happy, and though it hadn’t exactly been the opposite, it had been empty; it appeared that that was all her mother had left her father with, too. Emptiness.
Everything that Oliver had told her suddenly came flooding back to her in crashing waves, as if they had been held back for far too long and their dams had burst from the pressure. They swept aside the calm sadness that had been her father’s story about her mother and reunited her with the anxieties she had attempted to abandon. She remembered what he had said about the ‘others’, how they were on their way and would be here soon. A sense of panic made her heartbeat quicken.
She didn’t know what to do. Her father’s flat felt very inviting then, for it seemed worlds away from the cellar at Jamie’s house and all her problems. She could just stay there and forget than anything strange was happening at all; she could pretend to be normal.
That was one option.
Option two was to assume that Oliver was lying, that there was no one coming to get her and that he was only saying it to escape his predicament. Felicity, Hollie and Jamie would have to decide what to do with him later.
And the third and final option was to accept that Oliver was telling the truth and set him free. Of course, there was the chance that he was lying and would attack her as soon as his hands were loose, but Felicity had thought of that. The one thing that Oliver wanted the most was the journal, so she would hide it somewhere safe so he wouldn’t be able to harm her or her friends if he wanted to get hold of it.
But once the two of them got out of London, all bets would be off. She would have to give him the journal and run the risk of being attacked as soon as he possessed it, or refuse to give it to him and run that very same risk. She couldn’t use it to protect herself forever.
Oliver had been right about one thing: Felicity was brave when she saw Oliver restrained and unable to cast his magic, because that was when she had the power. But as soon as he was free and had the journal in his possession, she would have nothing, no authority over him at all, no bargains to hold sway over his actions. She wouldn’t be able to protect herself, and that was what terrified her the most, for she had seen what Oliver could do and what the others had done to her mother.
Her mother. Had she really been murdered? Perhaps Felicity would never know. She wondered if her mother had thought of her before she died. She wondered if she missed her, if she regretted not spending any time with her only daughter. If there was an afterlife, was Audrey Lucas looking back at her life with pride or guilt? Felicity didn’t hold out much hope for the latter. In spite of everything, she was still angry with her.
And then, as suddenly and unexpectedly as that, her choice was made.
12.
“Where have you been?” Hollie demanded as soon as Felicity came through the front door. “I’ve been worried sick! Why did you run off like that?”
Felicity shrugged awkwardly, searching for a reply, but nothing came to her.
There came some thudding footsteps from upstairs and then Jamie appeared. “There you are,” he said, looking relieved to see her. “What happened?”
Hollie shook her head at her brother and then turned back to her friend. “Oliver’s been dead silent ever since you left. Jamie’s been down to check on him, but he just sits there and stares. It’s... kinda weird.”
“We’re going to have to do something about him,” Jamie said. “Dad comes back in less than a week.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Felicity said quietly.
Jamie looked hopeful. “Did he tell you something useful?”
Felicity didn’t reply, and there was somewhat of an awkward silence in the entrance hall.
As should have been expected, Hollie was the one to break it. “Maybe I should try and speak to him.”
Jamie rolled his eyes.
“Can we... talk about something else?”
The words had come from Felicity. They sounded apprehensive and quiet, and caused Hollie and Jamie to glance at one another.
“Fliss,” Jamie said steadily. “We have to sort something out sooner or later.”
“I know, I know,” Felicity replied. “But - for now, at least - can we just talk about something else?”
Hollie looked somewhat curious, tilting her head to one side as if to question her friend without words, and then she smiled and placed a comforting arm around her. “Of course we can, Fliss,” she said kindly. “Come on.”
The three of them headed to the lounge and turned on the television, which seemed like a suitably simple and normal thing to do. Hollie linked her arm with Felicity’s, just as she had the day the two of them had first met at Greenfields High School, and they sat side by side on the leather sofa facing the television.
None of them were paying any attention to the programme that was showing, although all three of them were watching it. Despite Hollie’s promise that the friends could talk about something else, they ended up talking about nothing at all. Jamie was clearly on edge; his eyes kept flicking to the door as if he expected Oliver to come striding in. Felicity could feel the tension in Hollie’s arm.
Things had changed. Felicity’s life had not exactly been simple when she moved in with her father, but what she had seen and experienced since then had been unbelievable. She had discovered magic, been attacked and found out things that she could never have even dreamt about. But she had not come into the lounge with her friends to dwell on those things - she wanted to forget them.
Hollie was not the kind of person to allow a negative atmosphere to permeate a room. She was well known throughout school for bringing a cheery, bright outlook to those around her when they needed it most, and when she saw the weight of the world bearing down on her best friend, she realised that she had to do something about it.
“Hey,” she said quietly. “Do you remember that English lesson last term when Luke Ryan climbed underneath the tables to write on the backs of all the chairs?”
There was nothing to respond to her but the noise of the television, which was showing an advert for a hair product. For a moment Hollie thought she would have to try something else, and then, from the other side of the room,
Jamie chuckled.
“Miss Anderson didn’t even notice,” he mumbled.
Hollie raised her eyebrows. “You laugh about it now,” she said playfully. “But you were pretty angry about what he wrote on your chair.”
“Yeah, well,” Jamie said, shuffling awkwardly. “I’m not a geek.”
Hollie giggled, and with that, the atmosphere changed. Jamie stopped glancing at the door. Hollie relaxed. This was what Felicity wanted - some normality and a chance to waste time with the two people she treasured more than anything else in the world.
Recent memories of school lessons and lunchtimes made for some much needed cheer. Anyone watching would have thought that these three teenagers were completely normal, that their lives were consumed by nothing more than friendship issues, homework worries and what they were having for dinner. Felicity’s spirit was lifted. Although she was ever conscious of the time ticking away the seconds until the others’ apparent arrival, there still lingered the hope that Oliver was lying and nothing was going to happen. But she was able to shove those thoughts to the back of her mind for the time being and laugh, chat and smile with Hollie and Jamie.
The siblings felt it too. Hollie completely forgot about Oliver as she giggled and joked, happy that she was able to make Felicity feel better. Jamie felt relieved of his personal and self-appointed obligation to protect his sister and best friend, as if there was no danger in the world, for that half an hour at least; in that time, he didn’t have a strange, magical man in his cellar to either get rid of or explain to his father upon his return. Everything was fine; everything was normal.
And yet, conversation was hopelessly and inevitably dying.
“It’s looking pretty grim outside,” Hollie said, flicking a glance out of the window. She sighed. “It said on my weather app that it was gonna be sunny.”
The sky had darkened unusually quickly, the sun hidden by a flurry of grey clouds. As the three of them watched in silence, there was a loud clap of thunder that startled them.
