Bewitched, Bothered And Bewildered. Kerry Barrett

She paused. ‘You know.’

      I didn’t want to talk about Suky’s cancer right now. I changed the subject.

      ‘So what’s going on here?’ I asked, though I didn’t really care.

      ‘Ooh well there is some gossip. Have you heard it?’

      ‘I’ve only just arrived, Chlo,’ I said.

      She stared at me, as if to say so?

      ‘I haven’t heard any gossip.’

      ‘There’s a hot new man in town,’ she said.

      ‘Really?’ This was interesting. ‘Permanently?’ Claddach had a stream of ever-changing arty visitors but no one ever stayed long.

      ‘Apparently so. For the foreseeable anyway. And…’ She was almost bouncing in her chair with excitement. ‘He’s American. Some dotcom millionaire.’

      ‘Probably one of Harry’s friends,’ I said. Harry’s business – a self-help empire – had started online.

      Chloé looked deflated.

      ‘Oh do you think?’

      ‘Joke.’

      Chloé rolled her eyes and carried on as though I hadn’t spoken.

      ‘Anyway, he’s hot, rich, American – the women of Claddach are in a frenzy.’

      I chuckled.

      ‘Millicent Fry is beside herself,’ Chloé said.

      ‘Who’s she?’

      ‘Oh she’s a treat,’ said Chloé. ‘One of the rat-race escapees.’ Claddach was full of people running from life in Glasgow, Edinburgh or down south. There were writers, artists, poets, potters, silversmiths – all sorts.

      ‘So what does she do?’ I asked.

      ‘She runs the B&B,’ Chloé said. ‘Only she calls it a boutique hotel.’

      She carried on talking, but I had lost interest as self-pity overwhelmed me. All these people escaping the rat race and I couldn’t wait to get back to it.

      ‘Mum wants me to stay,’ I said, interrupting Chloé’s tales of Millicent Fry.

      ‘Will you?’

      I shrugged.

      ‘I can’t really. There’s work…’ I trailed off, knowing it was a rubbish excuse.

      ‘How are things with your mum?’

      ‘Better. The same. Worse,’ I said. ‘I don’t know. It’s going to be strange living in the same house again.’

      ‘Could be just what you need,’ Chloé pointed out. ‘It’s been ten years, Ez, since all the stuff with Jamie…’

      She gasped and put her hand to her mouth.

      ‘Oh my God, I can’t believe I haven’t told you!’

      ‘Told me what?’ I said. ‘What on earth is that?’

      A woman was walking past the café wearing a Barbour jacket with a tartan tam o shanter perched on her blonde curls.

      Chloé turned to look at what had caught my eye. She grinned in delight.

      ‘That,’ she laughed, ‘is Millicent Fry.’

      ‘No!’ I said. ‘Why is she wearing that hat?’

      Chloé chuckled. ‘She’s not Scottish,’ she said. ‘But she’d like to be. She wears a lot of tartan.’

      Together we watched Millicent walk up the path into the town centre. Then Chloé got up.

      ‘I must go,’ she said, giving me a kiss. ‘I need to rescue Rob from the children– he’s due at work soon. Come round for dinner?’

      I agreed to see her later and said goodbye. As Chloé left the café, Mum came in and my good mood left me almost immediately. I knew she was there to do some enchanting and I knew she wanted me to do it too.

      ‘Hello, darling,’ she tinkled at me across the empty tables, falsely bright.

      I heaved myself up from my comfy seat and slunk across to the counter where Mum and Eva stood.

      ‘Hello,’ I said sounding exactly as I had when I was a moody teenager.

      ‘Ready?’

      ‘Not really.’ I was nervous, actually. What if I made everything go wrong? My magic wasn’t great at the best of times.

      ‘It’s all nothing to worry about,’ Mum tried her best to reassure me as she and Eva steered me into the kitchen behind the counter, where Eva had started to bake a big bowl of something that smelled yummy.

      I forced a smile.

      ‘Just tell me what to do, I’ll do it and then I’m out of here,’ I said. I didn’t mean to be so grumpy but somehow I couldn’t help it.

      Mum handed me a wooden spoon. ‘Stir this.’

      I stirred the huge bowl half-heartedly.

      ‘Put some welly into it,’ Eva said, as she reached up on to a shelf for a big bag of chopped dates and passed it to me.

      ‘Add these to the mixture,’ she said. ‘Honestly, don’t worry. You’re not doing this alone – we’re a team here.’

      I poured the dates into my mixture and smiled at Eva doubtfully. I wasn’t convinced by her breezy good humour.

      ‘You don’t know my track record,’ I said, thinking of the broken light bulb in my bedroom and the car hire woman’s computer.

      ‘Doesn’t matter,’ she said again. ‘Stop fretting.’

      I nodded slowly. ‘OK,’ I agreed. ‘But don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

      Wrinkling my nose, I peered into the bowl I was stirring. It was full of a dark brown, lumpy mixture.

      ‘What is this?’ I asked. ‘I’m not sure it’s supposed to look like this.’

      Mum leaned over and looked into the bowl.

      ‘Oh yes it is,’ she said. ‘It’s sticky toffee pudding.’

      ‘And what makes it special sticky toffee pudding?’ I asked.

      Mum and Eva grinned at each other.

      ‘Well, it’s not yet,’ Mum said. ‘But it will be in just a moment. Hold my hand.’

      I put down the spoon and took Mum’s hand in my slightly sticky fingers. Eva took my other hand and linked with Mum over the bowl. She closed her eyes, so did Mum, but I kept mine open. I wanted to see what was going to happen.

      Eva breathed in deeply and began to mutter a stream of strange words. She spoke so quietly her voice was like a breath, yet I could hear everything as clearly as if she were speaking straight into my ear.

      As she spoke, time in the kitchen seemed to stand still. Everything was completely silent – I couldn’t even hear the noise of the coffee machine in the café or the waves crashing on the shore any more. Then, slowly, over the bowl, the air began to sparkle as though someone had shaken a pot of glitter high above the kitchen. I gasped as the sparkles floated downwards into the sticky toffee pudding and disappeared.

      Mum dropped my hand.

      ‘That’s it,’ she said briskly.

      ‘That’s it?’ I asked, still peering into the bowl. ‘What have you – we – just done exactly?’

      ‘It’s for keeping secrets,’ Mum said.

      I raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

      Mum flicked