Kerry Barrett - I'll Be There For You

This time I scrolled through the sections – spells and charms, nope. Health ‒ maybe, but no, there was nothing there about losing powers. Witchcraft facts – urgh. Lots of rubbish for those ‘civilians’ who fancied popping on a pointy hat and lighting a few candles. Annoyed, I clicked on the search box and typed in ‘losing powers’.

Result. The first entry took me to the forum. Why hadn’t I thought of that? It was by far the most popular part of our site – a private, safe and informative area for witches to chat about anything and everything.

There were all sorts of messages from people who had lost powers after an accident, or while they were ill, or whose powers flickered on and off like lights during a thunderstorm. I read them all, and read the answers, disappointed to discover that in most of the cases their powers came back just days – or even hours – later.

I sat thoughtfully, with my fingers resting on the keyboard. I was logged in as myself on the site but I couldn’t post a message under that name, it was far too risky. There weren’t many Harmonys around.

Quickly, I set myself up a new email address using the name Jasmine. Esme had loved the film Aladdin when she was small and had always said I looked like the princess. I gave myself Louise’s surname, Baxter.

Then I registered on the site. My username was Jasmine55. My location showed as Edinburgh, but that was fine – there were loads of witches in this city and I wouldn’t be identifiable just from that.

I took a deep breath and started to type.

Chapter 5

From: Jasmine55

I need some help. Since my partner and I adopted our babies almost a year ago, I’ve been struggling. We wanted children so badly and I adore them. I love my partner and on paper things are great. But I’m not myself. My life has changed so much and everything just seems ‘off’. People keep telling me that I’m not myself and they’re right. Because the truth is, my powers have been diminishing. Now they’ve gone completely. I wondered if anyone else had suffered in a similar way and, if so, what you did about it?

I pressed send and shut my laptop before I had time to think about it. Then I went to find Nessa so we could work out the staff rota for next month.

The good thing about the spa was it was never, ever quiet. As soon as our doors opened, there was a steady stream of people coming in for treatments, counselling and classes. Or just to sit in our relaxation area ‒ a gorgeous garden under glass with a hot tub, wind chimes and tropical plants. It was called Star’s Garden after a former member of staff who’d passed away and I loved it in there.

As I walked past the door I peeked in. It was glorious today because it was so sunny outside, and there were women in the hot tub and lying on the reclining chairs. I smiled. Personally I preferred to sit in the garden when it was a miserable day outside and I could hear the rain hammering on the glass roof, but I could see why people liked it on sunny days too.

Nessa was in reception, showing round a couple of prospective members. She nodded to me to show she’d be there in a minute. I mimed drinking at her and she smiled so I grabbed her jacket and mine and waited for her by the door.

When she was done we walked to a nearby cafe and sat down.

‘Just going to nip to the loo,’ Nessa said. ‘Back in a mo.’

While she was gone, I watched the people around me, eyeing a couple of young women sitting opposite who were deep in conversation, their heads close together.

Not so long ago, I’d have been able to poke about in their minds and find out what they were saying ‒ or at least get an idea. Now, even though I stared at them, I couldn’t catch so much as a whisper. Things really were pretty dire.

When Nessa came back, we went through the staff schedule for the next few weeks, making sure every therapist had a treatment room, that every yoga class was booked into the studio, and that anyone who was on holiday had cover. Then Nessa paused.

‘I’m thinking of going away myself,’ she said. ‘In August.’

I took a mouthful of coffee, hoping she wouldn’t see how much the thought of being without her terrified me.

‘Great,’ I said. ‘Where are you going to go?’

‘Just to France,’ she said. She looked at me from under her blunt black fringe. ‘Will you be okay?’

‘Oh I’ll be fine,’ I said blithely.

Nessa played with the handle of her coffee cup.

‘Harry,’ she said. ‘I know we’ve not known each other that long. But I knew all about you long before I met you – with the website and then the spa – and now I like to think of you as a friend.’

She looked at me in a questioning way and I gave her a weak smile.

‘I think of you the same way,’ I said, lamely.

‘It’s just I can’t help thinking you’re not your normal self,’ Nessa went on. ‘That you’re in some sort of trouble.’

The temptation to just unload all my problems on to her was huge. But I knew if I suddenly announced I was a witch who couldn’t do witchcraft, the problems I had now would be nothing compared to what came after. The witchy world wasn’t hierarchical or structured but, even so, I had a reputation as one of the best. Who knew what could happen to my businesses if word got out. My plans to expand the spa into a new site in Edinburgh and maybe further afield would be derailed, that was for sure.

‘No trouble,’ I said. ‘I’ve just been really busy, with the kids and then these new plans ‒ I didn’t expect to find a new site so fast. But it’s all underhand. I mean, in hand.’ I smiled at her again, a bit manically ‘Under control.’

When I’d recruited Nessa it was with the intention that she could cover my adoption leave, and then move across to manage the Morningside salon when it opened. Now I wasn’t sure how that would work, given that I needed her so much at my side. But I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.

‘So you’ll be fine to take on all the counselling when I’m away in the summer?’ Nessa said, looking at me searchingly.

‘Absolutely.’ I lied. ‘No problem whatsoever.’

As we walked back to the spa, my mind was racing. I had a little over four months to sort out my magic. Otherwise, as soon as Nessa went away and I took over, my clients would realise what was happening. And then I’d be well and truly stuffed.

Back at my desk I logged into InHarmony again, and was relieved to see I had lots of replies to my message.

Until I read them, of course.

‘Can you tell us how powerful you were before this loss of magic?’ asked one user called WonderWitch. ‘It’s likely you’re remembering things with rose-coloured specs and actually you weren’t that strong to begin with.’

‘Oh yeah?’ I said out loud, bristling at the implication. ‘Strong enough to make life tricky for you, love.’

There were quite a few messages along those lines. I was surprised people took the time to reply to a message in such an unhelpful way, but perhaps it made them feel better about themselves, I thought.

Other people told me it was hormones and a normal side effect of giving birth. They’d obviously ignored the bit where I told them my children were adopted.

A bit further down there was a message from someone called MildredHubble. I grinned at the reference to the Worst Witch books, which were my favourites growing up, too.

‘Sorry to make this about me,’ Mildred began. ‘But a similar thing happened to my former best friend when her brother was going through a rough time ‒ I think it was triggered by the stress and I also think she was suffering from depression. For various reasons I didn’t help her as I should have. I saw her recently and she cut me dead ‒ not surprisingly. I feel awful about it, and I think helping you would be a good way to make amends.’