The Language Of Spells

Gwen opened the door and stepped smartly back into the hall, the full force of Ruby being too much to take in a confined space.

‘Oh for goodness’ sake. You were still in bed.’ Ruby shrugged off her jacket and put down her leather handbag. ‘You can’t open the door like that. I could’ve been anyone.’

‘Not really.’ Gwen turned and headed back up the stairs. ‘Put the kettle on.’ She had to be dressed to deal with Ruby.

After hastily pulling on jeans, a shirt and hoodie, she found Ruby in the kitchen.

‘This place is a museum.’ Ruby frowned at the painted walls. ‘It’s not even tiled.’

‘I like it,’ Gwen surprised herself by saying.

‘Really?’ Ruby raised her eyebrows. She looked around. ‘I suppose you could knock through and make a proper family kitchen.’ She wandered through to the dining room next door, then hastily returned. ‘Did you know the ceiling’s sagging in there? It looks like it’s about to come down.’

Gwen concentrated on pouring hot water onto tea bags.

Ruby opened some cabinets, ran a finger along the shelves. ‘She was very clean, anyway.’

‘She’s got a cleaner. Or a housekeeper. I’m not sure of the difference.’

‘Fancy.’

‘I think she needed someone at the end. I wish we’d known.’

‘It’s not our fault,’ Ruby said robustly. ‘She could’ve called.’

‘She might not have known you lived in Bath.’ What an awful thought. Iris all alone out here, her great-niece just down the road.

Ruby shrugged. Then she said, ‘It’s weird that she left you the house, though.’

‘I know.’ Gwen said, feeling awkward.

‘She always liked you the best.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ Gwen said. ‘I actually can’t remember her at all. It’s a bit odd.’ Which was an understatement. Ever since getting the letter from Laing & Sons, she’d been thinking about Iris and finding a strange blank, like typed words snowed over with Tippex.

‘God, do you remember that chicken she had?’ Ruby paused, hand on hip and a faraway expression on her face.

Gwen shook her head.

‘Oh, you do. It was like her pet or something. You nearly stood on it, remember? Iris went mental, but it wasn’t your fault. I mean, who keeps a chicken in the house? Bloody disgusting.’

‘I don’t remember.’ Gwen closed her eyes. A wave of nausea, like she was riding a roller coaster, swooped through her stomach and she opened her eyes again.

‘You must,’ Ruby was saying. ‘You cried all the way home and Gloria took us for ice cream. She never did that. You must remember.’

Gwen’s mouth filled with saliva. She tasted strawberry at the back of her throat and almost gagged. ‘I remember the ice cream. Just not Iris. Not the house.’ She gestured around. ‘I don’t remember any of this. Not at all.’ And that couldn’t be right.

‘Well, we only came here once or twice. And you were young.’

‘Not that young. Thirteen, maybe?’ Gwen had a horrible feeling she knew why there was a blank in her memory. She’d probably asked too many questions and Gloria had solved the problem with a memory charm. Charms and hexes and simple casting were the kinds of thing Gloria had taught Gwen while other mothers were showing their kids how to bake fairy cakes.

Ruby shrugged. ‘Well, you’re not missing much. Apart from the chicken, it was pretty boring. Gloria and Iris talking and pretending they weren’t arguing.’

‘I don’t remember,’ Gwen said again, hating that she sounded so forlorn, hating that being back in Pendleford was reminding her of all the things she’d tried so hard to forget.

‘I don’t care,’ Ruby said robustly. ‘It’s all in the past. Gloria’s escaped to Oz and Great-Aunt Iris is dead; what does any of it matter?’

Gwen pulled a face. ‘I just feel guilty. I don’t deserve this place. I hardly knew the woman.’

‘Well, according to Gloria, we were better off without her.’

‘I guess.’ Gwen handed her a mug, then sat down at the table to sip from her own.

‘It’s not our fault,’ Ruby said. ‘Gloria’s the one who cut contact. We were just kids.’

They had been forbidden from having anything to do with Iris. In fact, sitting in her house was probably still a capital offence. Whether she had passed on or not. Gwen was just going to ask Ruby if she had any idea what had caused the schism between Gloria and Iris, when Ruby said, ‘Look, she was a grown woman with her own friends and family and life. We weren’t part of it, through no fault of our own, but that doesn’t mean we missed out or that she missed out.’ She looked around the kitchen again. ‘It doesn’t mean anything.’

‘Then why leave me her house?’

Ruby frowned. ‘How the hell should I know? Dementia?’

‘That’s not funny,’ Gwen said. After a moment, she added, ‘She sent me birthday cards.’

‘Did she? When?’

‘Every year after I turned thirteen. After we stopped visiting.’

Ruby opened her eyes wide. ‘That’s weird. What did she write?’

‘Nothing. Just her name. Just her initial, actually. I used to hide them from Gloria. Did she—’

‘No. Nothing.’ Ruby shook her head. ‘She never sent me anything. Didn’t give me a house, either. It’s not fair.’

Gwen thought that Ruby was only half-joking. ‘Good thing you married rich.’

Ruby looked around. ‘Can you imagine what David would do to this place?’

Gwen shuddered. David was a good man, but he was an architect and didn’t seem able to appreciate a house unless it had weirdly big windows or a glass atrium in the middle or a roof made out of turf.

‘Well…’ Ruby had stopped assessing the house and focused on Gwen. It was disconcerting. ‘I see you’re still dressing like an art student. People will think you’re mad.’

‘I look fine,’ Gwen said. ‘For my job, this is normal.’

Ruby pulled a face. ‘If you say so.’

Gwen thought about telling Ruby about the people she knew from the art fair circuit. Next to Bonkers Brenda, who crocheted bikinis and embroidered them with little faces, and often wore her creations on the outside of her clothes, she was positively conformist.

After a moment of silence, Ruby said, ‘Are we going to pretend the last year didn’t happen?’

Gwen realised that she didn’t have the energy for a showdown with Ruby. The stress of the last few weeks and the oddness of being back in Pendleford crowded everything else out. ‘I really don’t want to argue. I’m too freaked out by all this.’

‘Fine with me,’ Ruby said. She pursed her lips. ‘It’s unseemly.’

Gwen laughed. ‘Unseemly?’

‘And it’s bad for my chi.’

Gwen stopped laughing.

‘I’ve had a course of colonics and I don’t want to retox.’ Ruby spoke as if expecting a medal of some kind.

‘You had what now?’

Ruby gave her a withering look. ‘You know perfectly well what it is.’

‘And you paid for that?’

‘Mock away. I feel lighter.’

‘I bet you do.’

‘In my soul,’ Ruby said and the shock of hearing Ruby saying a word as loaded and mumbo-jumbo as ‘soul’ shut Gwen up.

‘I’m doing yoga now, too,’ Ruby said.

Gwen looked at Ruby in disbelief. ‘Yoga?’

‘It’s transformed my life,’ Ruby said. Her expression was a mix of anxiety and defiance, exactly the same as when she’d brought home a copy of Smash Hits magazine, aged ten. ‘Marcus says I’m a natural. He says I’d be able to take the teaching course if I wanted, set up my own classes.’

‘Marcus?’ Gwen instantly pictured a bendy-limbed Lothario leaning towards her sister, his long fingers reaching for her golden hair. She suppressed a shudder.

‘He’s been brilliant,’ Ruby said. ‘And the yoga really helps with stress.’

Gwen refrained from snorting at the idea of Ruby being stressed. Ruby led a charmed life straight from the pages of a John Lewis catalogue while she’d been living like … Well. If she was being kind to herself, she’d say a free-spirited artist. If not, she’d have to go with hobo.

‘You wouldn’t understand,’ Ruby said, as if reaching into Gwen’s mind and plucking her thoughts clean out. ‘You’ve never faced up to responsibility. As a mother—’

‘Here we go,’ Gwen said, irritation leaping to the surface. ‘I’m not a mother so I don’t understand.’

‘Well, you’re not. And you don’t.’

This was why she shouldn’t spend time with her sister, Gwen thought. At a distance she felt almost fond, at close quarters she could happily strangle her. ‘Do you meditate?’

Ruby looked startled. ‘Of course. The mind–body connection is fundamental to—’

Gwen shook her head and then found she couldn’t quite stop. She clenched her fists, digging her nails into the palms. A tight ball of anger lodged in her stomach and, all at once, she realised why. ‘Let me get this straight,’ she said, surprised at the venom in her own voice. ‘All this time, I’ve been keeping away from you, not wanting to infect your precious life, your precious family with my “alternative” ways and you’ve been doing bloody yoga.’

‘You make it sound like a bad thing. I thought you, of all people, would be pleased.’

Gwen closed her mouth. There was nothing she could say to fill a pit of ignorance that deep. The unfairness of it burned bright and Gwen was surprised that Ruby couldn’t see the raw energy sizzling under her skin. She counted to ten to stop herself from saying something she would regret later and then settled on, ‘You must’ve had quite the epiphany.’

‘It’s not the same as your … stuff,’ Ruby said. ‘Yoga has been around for hundreds of years; it’s a spiritual thing, it’s not dangerous, it doesn’t ruin people’s lives,’ she counted the points off on her fingers, finishing with, ‘and it doesn’t mark you out as a weirdo. Not these days. I mean, you can buy yoga pants at The White Company.’

‘Well, if that’s what’s most important to you. The look of things—’

Ruby shrugged. ‘It’s a factor. Especially for Katie. You remember what school was like.’

Gwen repressed a shudder. Millbank Comp had not been a friendly place. Not for either of them. ‘I haven’t seen you in ages. I don’t want to argue with you,’ Gwen said. She pushed the anger and hurt back down and forced out, ‘If yoga makes you happy, I’m happy for you.’

Gwen couldn’t look Ruby in the eye, though. Instead she began to explore. She opened the door to the larder. Old newspapers were stacked neatly in a cardboard box on the floor, a broom hung from a nail on the back of the door and there were empty glass jars filling the top shelf. A spider ran across the floor.

Ruby called across from the living room. ‘It’s got the original fireplace.’

Gwen joined her, trying not to shiver. The living room was misnamed. The walls were painted in oppressive purple which, combined with the patterned carpet and sofa, made Gwen’s eyes itch. She sniffed. There was the shut-in house smell, but with something else underneath. A herb of some kind?

‘Good cornicing.’ Ruby pointed upwards.

Gwen pulled the curtains back, revealing big sash windows. ‘These are nice.’

‘Original?’ Ruby said.

‘I think so. I don’t think Iris got around to doing a modernist makeover.’

Ruby prodded the sill. ‘Probably rotten. Nightmare to look after, but people lap up this kind of thing. Very saleable.’

‘Mmm,’ Gwen said non-committally. She showed Ruby the upstairs, pausing underneath the loft hatch. ‘I suppose I should look up there.’

‘I’m not doing it. That’s what a man is for.’

‘How very 1950s of you.’

‘Oh please. Spiders, itchy insulation, low ceiling. Why keep a dog and bark yourself?’

‘True romance indeed. How is David?’ Gwen asked, smiling as she pictured her brother-in-law. He was married to his work somewhat, but a good guy nonetheless.

‘Busy. As usual,’ Ruby said.

‘But still utterly besotted.’

Ruby grinned. ‘Of course.’

He and Ruby had met at the same time Gwen was putting in regular time in the back seat of Cam’s car. When Ruby found out she was pregnant, David didn’t hesitate to drop to one knee and, this was the part that would endear him to Gwen for ever; he made it look like he’d been planning to propose for months. Ruby had believed him and so she’d said yes and then he’d worked like a dog to finish his architecture degree while supporting his new wife and baby. Nobody could resent the beautiful house they now lived in, their Audi and healthy bank balance. Well, Gwen corrected herself, someone would. Someone always did.

The third bedroom at the end of the corridor was filled with cardboard boxes and black bags. ‘What a mess.’ Ruby wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t envy you this.’

Gwen barely heard her. Ruby’s voice had retreated, become thin and insubstantial, leaving space for the all-too familiar sensation of Finding. Not now. Not in front of Ruby. Not when she was being so friendly and yoga-calmed.

It was no good. She couldn’t fight it. The tunnel vision had arrived, the edges of the room filled in with black shadows and she knew that the only way to get things back to normal was to obey the impulse. One of the bin bags was calling to her. Inside there was a tangle of old handbags, shawls, scarves and gloves. Gwen’s hand plunged in and her fingers closed around something slippery and cool. A Liberty-print silk scarf with the peacock design it was almost impossible to find these days. She stared at the scarf and saw it on the stall, knew it wouldn’t stay there long. Then her hand itched again and she reached back into the bag. A matching clutch purse. Barely able to breathe, Gwen clicked open the clasp and checked the lining. Immaculate.

Gwen didn’t believe in signs. She knew she had an uncanny knack for finding lost things, but she didn’t believe it meant anything. Not like Gloria reading palms and tarot cards and – on one memorable occasion – an oil leak from a red Volvo. She turned the purse over in her hands and tried to ignore the feeling that the house was trying to tell her something.

‘Gwen? Gwen?’ Ruby was frowning at her. Then understanding dawned across her face and her scowl deepened. ‘Oh God. You’re not—’

‘No! It’s nothing. I just found this—’

‘I don’t want to hear it.’ Ruby put her fingers in her ears, just like when they were kids.

Gwen felt sick. She didn’t want to think about it, either. She pushed aside memories of Gloria parading her like a performing monkey. People’s gratitude for their lost car keys overlaid with a shrinking back, a look of fear and horror and, above all, disbelief. ‘How did you do that?’ Like she was conducting an elaborate and pointless scam.

Ruby’s lip was curled. ‘I hoped you’d grown out of that.’

She marched down the stairs and Gwen stayed back for a moment, trying to calm herself. She didn’t want to fight with Ruby. It wasn’t Ruby’s fault that Gwen had inherited the Harper family curse while she’d got to be normal. She headed downstairs, trying to think of a neutral subject. ‘How’s Katie?’ People loved to talk about their kids.

Ruby shrugged. ‘Fourteen. My days of being God-like are over.’

‘That must be a relief.’

Ruby gave her an odd look. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

‘That’s right,’ Gwen said, in familiar territory. ‘I don’t understand true exhaustion, responsibility or In the Night Garden. Thank God.’

Ruby gave a grudging smile. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a BlackBerry. ‘I’ll give you the number of a good estate agent. David’s used him before.’

‘I’m not selling,’ Gwen said. Yet.

Ruby frowned. ‘What do you mean? You can’t stay here.’

Gwen had been about to explain that, barring some kind of financial miracle, she might be stuck in Pendleford for the foreseeable future. Ruby’s response pissed her off, though, so she said, ‘I like it. It’s homely.’

‘You can’t,’ Ruby said, her face suddenly pale.

At once, her joke didn’t seem so funny. Ruby looked genuinely horrified. Nice.

‘What? You think I’ll embarrass you? You live in Bath. You don’t have to have anything to do with me,’ Gwen said. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t bother you.’

‘I can’t believe you’re thinking about staying here. You hated this town, don’t you remember?’

Of course I remember, I’m not an idiot. ‘I didn’t hate it,’ Gwen lied. ‘And maybe I feel like settling down.’ She wasn’t going to give Ruby the satisfaction of knowing her business was in trouble.

‘I really don’t think it’s a good idea,’ Ruby said, still looking thoroughly spooked. ‘I mean, we’re only just speaking again. It might be too much, too soon, you know?’

And there it was. Her typically selfish sister. ‘This isn’t about you, Ruby. I can’t make every decision in my life based on you, or the horrible things you think and say about me.’

‘I was just being honest,’ Ruby said.

Gwen felt her eyes prickling with tears and she willed herself not to think about their argument. A year and a half of avoiding Ruby hadn’t soothed the raw emotion one tiny bit. She still felt like a gigantic bruise. This was why she kept her distance, Gwen remembered with painful clarity.

‘You only ever think of yourself. What about Katie? What about me? David’s business?’ Ruby said.

A part of Gwen wanted to placate Ruby, to make nice. A larger part was almost blind with fury at Ruby’s unfairness. This. Shit. Again. Gwen stared at Ruby and realised something: nothing had changed. Yoga or not, Ruby still thought she was the anti-Christ in tracksuit bottoms. She didn’t trust her and didn’t want her near her precious life. It hurt. She blinked. This was why you didn’t get close to people. They turned their backs on you. Better not to give a damn in the first place. She straightened her shoulders. ‘Go away, Ruby.’

‘We’re in the middle of a discussion,’ Ruby said. ‘We need to sort this out.’

‘I didn’t ask you to come round today, you volunteered. Now I’m asking you to leave.’

Ruby took a step back. Her eyebrows drew inwards as she processed the words.

‘You don’t want to be around me, you don’t trust me or whatever the bloody hell this lovely conversation is about, but I’m not going anywhere. This is my house and I’m telling you to get out.’

Ruby plucked her coat from the rack and slung it around her shoulders. ‘Gladly.’

Well, that went well. Gwen leaned her head against the glass panel in the front door and willed her heart to stop hammering.

To calm herself, Gwen looked at the Liberty purse again. An item like that would sell quickly, she knew, and if Iris had a few more gems like that scattered around the place, she might be able to scrape together enough cash for a deposit on a flat. Not back in Leeds, but somewhere different, somewhere new. Her heart lifted as it always did when she contemplated a flit. There was always the wild hope that this next place would be the one, her forever home.

She clicked the catch on the purse and caught her breath. Nestled against the silk lining was a tiny cylinder of rolled paper and a key. She swallowed. They must’ve been there before. She’d been distracted by Ruby. Nothing weird to see here. Move along.

Gwen smiled grimly. She’d spent thirteen years quashing magic nonsense like this, and she wasn’t about to lose control now. The paper would be an old receipt. The key was a dull silver and had simply been hidden against the grey of the lining.

Still, she couldn’t help herself. She unrolled the paper, which was soft with age, and felt vomit rise in the back of her throat. It said:

For Gwen. When you are ready, seek, and you shall find. It is your gift.

‘Sod that,’ Gwen said and went to brush her teeth.

Chapter 2

Gwen had taken a long bath and eaten the bread that Lily had left with the casserole and, by the time she headed into town, she felt almost human again. All she had to do was remain focused. The next time she felt the Finding, she’d just ignore it. Simple as that. Just because she’d inherited one of the Harper family powers, didn’t mean she had to use it. She’d managed to stand up to Gloria all those years ago and refuse any more training, and she’d kept magic out of her life for the last thirteen years. Being back in Pendleford for one night wasn’t going to undo that. No matter how many creepy little notes Great-Aunt Iris had left for her.

The solicitor’s office occupied an imposing Georgian townhouse on the main street. Of course, all of the buildings were impressive, so that diluted its effect somewhat. Gwen hesitated outside the building. It was ridiculous. She had no connection to the Laings, not any more, and she’d never met Mr Laing Senior. There was nothing to worry about. Gwen found the reception and was directed straight into Mr Laing’s office.

‘He’s waiting for you,’ the secretary said, her rose-pink lips pursed.

Gwen opened her mouth to explain that the parking in this undeniably quaint and picturesque town was satanic and the unexpected twenty-minute fast walk had made her late, and then closed it when she caught sight of Mr Laing. The man didn’t look like he had much time left on this earth and probably didn’t want to waste it listening to excuses or parking zone rants.

‘Ms Harper. You’ll forgive me if I don’t get up.’ Mr Laing gestured to his wheelchair. ‘Please sit.’

Gwen sat and tried not to stare at the ancient being opposite. He must have been at least ninety. Well preserved, for sure, his nails freshly manicured and eyes bright, but surely someone who had earned retirement. What kind of firm was this? The kind you could only leave in a box?

Mr Laing picked up a sheet of heavy-weight cream paper and held it out. ‘This is the original of the document that we sent to you. Your great-aunt’s will. I understand there is some confusion on your part.’

Gwen kept her hands in her lap, refusing to touch the paper. ‘Not confusion exactly.’

‘How can I help?’ Mr Laing steepled his fingers.

‘I wanted to know if I could sell the house straight away.’

‘The terms of the will state that the property cannot be placed on the market for six months. After that, you can sell as quickly as you like.’

‘Right. I read that.’

Mr Laing waited.

‘I was wondering, though.’ Gwen swallowed. ‘Is there a way around it?’

‘I’m not sure I understand.’

‘Can I put it up for auction, or something?’ Gwen wasn’t going to embarrass herself by explaining that she needed cash right now. Or that she couldn’t stay in the house because Iris appeared to be talking to her from beyond the grave.

‘Ms Harper was very clear in her instructions. She updated her will six weeks prior to her passing and instructed us to send it to you.’

‘But how? How could she do that?’

Mr Laing’s white eyebrows crept upwards again. ‘She was an exceptionally organised woman.’

‘I mean…we weren’t in contact. How did she know my address?’

‘She was your great-aunt. Isn’t it possible that she spoke to another family member?’

Gwen shook her head. That was most definitely not possible.

‘Is there no way to release equity from the house or something? Immediately?’ Gwen realised that her voice was getting louder and she snapped her mouth shut again. Shouting at a defenceless old man was not cool. It wasn’t his fault he worked in a soulless leather-and-oak hell and looked like an extra from The Godfather.

Mr Laing looked back at her calmly. ‘I see.’

Gwen sank back.

‘If you will excuse me, I will get my grandson in here.’

‘Sorry?’ Gwen sat forward.

‘He prepared this file but…’ Laing paused ‘…became overscheduled and passed the baton to me, as it were.’

‘Okay. Fine.’ Gwen remained perched on the edge of the padded leather chair and waited. She thought of her beloved minivan. It was stuffed full of her possessions and business stock and she barely fitted amongst the boxes. She didn’t want to stay at End House, but she didn’t want to sleep in the van again. Then she processed the word ‘grandson’. It couldn’t be—