Kerry Barrett - I Put A Spell On You

I laughed out loud and whacked Xander round the head. He was shocking. I was just glad Esme loved Jamie so much.

“Let’s go,” I said.

There wasn’t much to do. We tidied up a bit, and Esme hoovered the reception area. I looked at the chair where Star had sat, then shook my head. Xander understood and, without speaking, he wheeled it outside. I went into my office and got the chair from there.

“I’ll order a new one,” I muttered as I pushed it under Star’s desk, then I wandered over to tidy the magazine rack.

Xander sat down and switched on the computer.

“We need to send out a flyer,” he said. “We’ve been closed all day. People will wonder why. We need them to know we’re still here and we’re still in business.”

I looked over his shoulder.

“Don’t put any prices on that,” I said. “We’re exclusive. Just put what we do.”

Esme looked intrigued. She leaned over Xander’s other shoulder to see what he was typing.

“How are you going to do that?” she asked. “How are you going to tell people what you do, without actually, you know, telling them what you do?”

Xander looked round at Esme. His face was far too close to hers for my liking – he was so cheeky – and I gave him a nudge.

“We don’t tell them on a flyer,” Xander said. “We work hard to attract a certain type of client.”

“What type?”

“Rich, of course. But also creative, open-minded, interested in things a bit wooohooo.” He waggled his fingers in front of Esme’s face and I was pleased to see her pull back.

“And the most important trait,” I said, “is that they’re a little bit unhappy.”

“Oh yeah,” said Xander. “You know the sort. A bit dissatisfied, looking for more. So they’re amenable when we offer our spiritual services.”

“That is shocking,” Esme said. “Have you no shame?”

“Nope,” I said cheerfully.

“Of course some people only want yoga lessons,” Xander admitted. “We cater for them, too.”

Esme perched on the edge of the reception desk and studied Xander.

“So, Xander,” she said in an overly casual manner. “Are you, ahem, one of us?” She looked at me. “What’s it called when men do it?”

“Some people say warlock,” I said. “But that’s got a bit of bad history attached to it – mostly now men are just witches too.”

Esme nodded and looked back at Xander.

“So are you a witch?” she asked.

A shadow crossed Xander’s face.

“No, unfortunately,” he said. “I just look after the business side of things.”

“You can learn,” Esme said. “Harry says anyone can learn. I’ll teach you.”

There was a pause.

“Are you serious?” Xander and I asked together. I knew I sounded disbelieving – after all, it wasn’t that long ago that Esme herself was the pupil. Xander, however, was more enthusiastic.

“Can you do that?” he asked.

“Of course she can’t,” I said abruptly. “She’s busy. She’s got a job and a fiancé and a wedding to plan.”

Grumpy suddenly – it was always weird when two friends got on and left you out – I stood up straight.

“I’m going for a wee.”

But when I came back to reception, Xander and Esme were chatting, their heads close together.

“I’m going to give Xander some lessons,” she said, a hint of defiance in her eyes.

I looked round me.

“Have you started already?” I asked. I could sense some magic in the air.

Esme looked alarmed.

“No,” she said, looking at Xander. “We’ve just been sorting out a date to get started. I’ve not done anything.”

She lifted her head and sniffed the air like a bloodhound.

“There’s something here, isn’t there?” she said. “A feeling.”

I nodded. I felt very uneasy.

“You want to learn the basics?” I said to Xander suddenly. “Why don’t we go over some now? I want to do a rebalancing spell.”

“What do you want me to do?” Esme asked. I didn’t really want her to do anything; I was quite capable on my own. She was obviously trying to prove she was able to teach Xander so because of that, I said: “Just stand there and look pretty.”

Esme rolled her eyes at me and I nudged her.

“I was joking,” I said, though I hadn’t been, not really. I picked a piece of chalk out of Star’s pen pot and drew a pentangle on the floor. A rebalancing spell had no need for a pentangle – in fact in all my years of casting spells I’d never come across a spell that needed one – but Xander looked impressed and I felt it was important to instil a sense of theatre into the proceedings.

I sat on the floor next to the pentangle and Esme sat opposite me. We held hands over the chalk outline and I murmured the words, quietly and softly. As I spoke, the air above our heads shimmered and soft drops of invisible rain fell onto our shoulders.

Xander breathed out. I caught Esme’s eye and winked. And then her phone rang. With the Bewitched theme tune.

Embarrassed, she jumped to her feet and scrabbled in her bag, trying to find it while I laughed.

“Jamie’s idea of a joke,” she said as she grabbed it and answered.

I watched as she spoke to Jamie, turning away from us as she told him she was coming home now.

“Put the wine in the fridge,” she said. “I’ll be home in half an hour.”

She kissed me on the cheek, threw her phone in her bag and picked up her coat. Then, awkwardly, she kissed Xander on the cheek too.

“Nice to meet you finally,” she said.

“I’ll call you,” he said, giving her a wink.

She giggled like a schoolgirl and stumbled out of the door, gawky and blushing.

I had a very bad feeling about this.

Chapter 5

It was strange going back to work the next day, knowing Star wouldn’t be sitting at reception, her blonde curls bouncing and her smile welcoming. She wouldn’t bring me a cup of tea, or tell me about her weekend. I got to the spa early, so early it was still dark outside, and printed out a notice. I found a photo of Star taken at our opening party – she was laughing and looking over her shoulder at whoever had taken the photo – and she looked lovely. I added it to the poster and wrote a brief announcement explaining Star had suddenly passed away. Then I pinned copies on the front door, the reception desk and in every treatment room. I wanted to make sure people saw it; I couldn’t face having to tell clients over and over again that Star was dead. Then I looked in the stationery cupboard and found a new notepad and a nice pen, which I left on the reception desk so people could write messages of condolence in there. I thought I could pass it on to Star’s parents later.

I took over on reception that morning. But I didn’t have the smile, or the ability to remember every last detail about clients’ children/husbands/parents/dogs that Star had. By lunchtime I was convinced I was actually putting people off so I rang a temping agency and asked them to send me a receptionist.

“We’ve got a lovely lady called Nancy,” the consultant said. “She’s free all week. She’s very experienced – one of our more mature temps.”

“How mature?” I said suspiciously. “Is she healthy?” I couldn’t bear the thought of having another receptionist expire.

She assured me Nancy was in fine fettle and I booked her for a fortnight. She arrived within an hour, a neat woman in her fifties with a sleek grey bob and a pale pink cardigan buttoned all the way up and I almost kissed her, because I was so pleased to see her.

The rest of the day went in a blur. I was so busy I didn’t have time to fret about the photos we’d found in Star’s house. I didn’t even have time to look at them until the next day. I worked late on Tuesdays, so I started late too.