I'll Be There For You
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Louise nodded, her face worried.
‘I’ve not been feeling myself for a while now,’ I said, talking fast because I just wanted her to know now I’d started. ‘I’m out of sorts, I feel like I’ve lost control.’
I gripped her hand a bit tighter.
‘I think I’ve got some sort of depression,’ I said, looking down at our intertwined fingers. ‘And as well as feeling rubbish generally, I’ve lost my powers.’
I paused. Louise let out a sigh.
‘Oh thank god,’ she said. She brought our hands up to her mouth and kissed my fingers. ‘Oh, H. I thought you were ill ‒ dying ‒ or leaving me.’
‘I’m not leaving you, and I’m not dying,’ I said carefully. ‘But I think I am ill.’
‘Oh darling,’ Lou said. ‘I know, of course I know. I could see things weren’t normal but it’s hard to talk about it, isn’t it, when it’s a gradual decline.’
She looked at me.
‘You’re so thin,’ she said. ‘And no witchcraft?’ She shook her head. ‘I should have said something. I should have noticed.’
‘I’ve been working quite hard to pretend everything is normal,’ I admitted. ‘And things have been crazy.’
Louise put her hand to her mouth.
‘I’ve just taken that job,’ she said. ‘I need to tell them I can’t do it.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s fine, honestly. Do it. I’ve got a plan to help myself get better.’
Louise looked doubtful.
‘Are you going to the doctor?’ she asked. ‘It might be a good idea. I can come with you.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I think I will. And I’ve found some help online actually.’
‘On your site?’ she asked, smiling. ‘That’s good.’
I told her about Mildred Hubble and how she’d said to be kind to myself.
Louise nodded.
‘So you’re going to take some time off?’ she asked.
‘I thought three months,‘ I said. ‘Nessa can cope and my brother will be back soon, so he can help out if he’s needed.’
‘Makes sense,’ Lou said. ‘Will you be okay with having the twins while I’m working so much?’
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘In fact, when I’m with them I feel better.’
‘Maybe we should look into putting them in nursery for longer hours,’ Louise said. ‘Give you some time off.’
‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘Especially if I’m not working. Let’s just see how these three months go, shall we?’
We chatted for another hour or so. There were tears from both of us. I felt like I was cutting myself open and exposing every flaw to Louise.
‘I’m just so worried that you love me because I’ve always been so together,’ I sobbed. ‘Because I’m in control. And now I’m not.’
Louise stroked my hair.
‘I love you whether you’re in control or not,’ she told me. ‘I love you because you’re you.’
It wasn’t easy telling her how I’d been feeling but, as we talked, I started to feel a tiny bit better. That I wasn’t alone and that the people who loved me still loved me, even if I wasn’t feeling like the immaculately dressed, high-achieving businesswoman I’d spent my life becoming right now.
Eventually we came up with a plan. Lou was going to carry on with the undercover role, on condition that I kept her completely up to date with honest reports of how I was feeling, I was to cook proper meals for myself when she wasn’t there, and she would cook for both of us when she was around. Despite what Mildred said about a fitness regime, she made me agree not to take up running (it didn’t take much for me to agree ‒ I’d never been much of a runner) but she also made me promise to go back to my old yoga class. I was not to worry about my lack of powers but instead to let Esme take charge and keep an eye on the twins’ developing witchiness while I was out of action. It took me a while to agree to that.
‘Esme’s just not a natural witch,’ I protested. ‘She’s not going to nurture the twins’ talents.’
Louise gave me a stern look.
‘She loves the kids,’ she said. ‘And she loves you. She’ll make sure they’re okay. A bit of a shaky start isn’t going to damage their long-term prospects of ruling the witch world.’
‘Fine,’ I said sulkily. ‘But I want to oversee it all.’
‘You should phone your mum,’ Louise said as we cuddled up in bed much later. ‘You need looking after and if I’m not going to be here to do it, then she’ll want to be.’
‘I don’t like worrying her,’ I said. Mum had recovered from her breast cancer now but I was still very protective of her.
‘She’ll want to know,’ Lou said.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I’ll call her. Just not yet.’
Chapter 11
I woke up the next morning after what seemed like ten minutes’ sleep, feeling physically exhausted but mentally much better. Telling Louise had made me feel less alone. I knew now that this wasn’t the real me and I hoped that with a bit of care and kindness, like Mildred had said, I would get back to normal.
I stretched out in bed. Louise had already gone to work. Her undercover job was going to be tricky. She wouldn’t – couldn’t – tell me much about it, but I knew she and her team were determined to expose something that was going wrong in a big company. She’d implied the whole thing had to be handled very delicately as there were some pretty influential people involved and it all sounded pretty murky. Someone from Louise’s team was already working for the company and now Lou was going to go in, posing as a consultant, to try to find the evidence they needed. I was nervous about her working long hours in such a difficult role but I was proud of her too.
I heard Finn shouting from his room so I went to see what they were up to. He was standing in his cot, lobbing toys at his sister who was still fast asleep across the room, face down in her own cot.
‘Finlay,’ I said in mock horror. ‘What are you doing to your poor sister?’
Finn gave me a heart-melting smile that showed off his little teeth and held his arms up to me.
‘Mama,’ he said.
I picked him up and kissed him.
‘Big day today, Finnbo,’ I said. ‘We’re off to see the witches.’
‘Wuh,’ he said, twirling my hair round his fist. ‘Wuh.’
I left him in front of CBeebies while I showered in thirty seconds, with the bathroom door open so I could hear him. By the time I was finished, Fiona was awake too. So I got them both dressed, choosing their outfits carefully ‒ I wanted to impress the other witch mums ‒ then threw on my own clothes. At Esme’s baby group I’d worn slouchy baggy jeans with a wide-necked, long-sleeved T-shirt, but today I wanted to make more of an impression. The group we were going to today welcomed parents with kids of all ages – right up until they started school – so I reckoned the women there with older children might be a bit more groomed than those of us with little ones. I pulled on skinny jeans and layered a long-sleeved T-shirt over a vest top and added a shirt on top so I didn’t look too scrawny. It was raining so I would wear my biker boots when we went outside.
I was really nervous. More nervous than I thought I would be. I hoped the other mums would be nice and their kids not too, well, witchy.
Esme said the same when I picked her and Clemmie up a bit later. The witch group was on the other side of the city centre so we were driving across town to get there. The three children sat in their car seats in the back seats and chatted nonsense to each other. Esme chatted nonsense to me in the front.
‘Do you think they do magic all the time,’ she said.
‘Do you do magic all the time?’ I asked.
Esme looked affronted.
‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But you do.’
She had a point. Until things went wrong, I very rarely did anything the normal way. That was why Esme had been so surprised that I’d decorated the twins’ birthday cakes by hand and why I was so rubbish at cleaning the bathroom. In fact, I thought again that I should speak to Lou about getting a cleaner while I was out of action. I had no intention of taking up housework now.
I indicated to turn left, and glanced at Esme.
‘They’re just normal mums like you and me,’ I said. ‘It should be along here somewhere. It’s an arts centre I think.’
‘There,’ said Esme, pointing behind her at a small theatre with metal tables and chairs outside as I sailed past. I swore and she gave me a stern look.
Several U-turns, one-way streets and failed attempts to park later – man I missed my witchcraft when it came to parking and Esme was no use – we finally staggered into the centre. I was pushing the twins in their pram, and Esme had Clemmie in her car seat.
The foyer was deserted apart from a bored-looking woman sitting in the box office.
‘Toddler group?’ she said, without looking up. ‘Straight through the double doors.’
To our left was a cafe-bar, with big windows that opened out on to the street and had the tables and chairs outside – I thought they were being a bit optimistic trying to adopt Mediterranean outdoor eating habits on a rainy April day in Edinburgh but hey ho. On our right a fire door was illegally propped open giving us a glimpse of a tiny theatre with fold-up seats and a small performance area in the centre, where two men and a women in black T-shirts were shifting scenery across the stage.
Straight ahead were the double doors. We pushed them open and went into what could have been a function room or meeting hall.
The set-up was exactly the same as it had been at Esme’s group the day before. Chairs in one corner, a small kitchen where people were helping themselves to tea, and toys scattered across the floor with children swarming over them.
I watched as a boy of about three waved his arm and made a plastic aeroplane fly through the air and into the wall.
‘Henry,’ said a woman with thick blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. ‘Stop it.’
She flexed her fingers and the boy shivered, then looked cross.
‘I’ve bound him,’ she told me, seeing me looking. ‘I always swore I wouldn’t do that but he’s out of control. He’s a bloody nightmare.’
I gave her a nervous smile.
‘Mine have just started,’ I said. ‘I’m a bit out of my depth with two of them. That’s why I wanted to come.’
‘You’re very welcome,’ she said. ‘I hope we can help.’
‘See,’ I whispered to Esme as we released the kids from their straps and let them loose on the toys. ‘They’re nice.’
‘Excuse me,’ another woman said. She had short dark hair and she was dressed exactly like Esme had been yesterday – Breton-striped T-shirt, skinny jeans, ballet pumps – I caught Ez smiling at me over her shoulder and ignored her.
‘Are you Harmony McLeod?’ the woman went on. ‘I recognise you from your spa.’
I was startled. And pleased.
‘Yes, I’m Harmony,’ I said. ‘Harry, call me Harry.’
The woman beamed at me.
‘I’m Susie,’ she said. ‘Everyone, this is Harry. She runs that gorgeous spa – you know, the one in Stockbridge. She’s wonderful.’
‘This is my cousin Esme,’ I said as Susie bustled me over to the chairs and sat me down. ‘She’s a lawyer.’
Esme made a face at me that I took to mean ‘don’t worry about it’. She took herself over to where Clemmie was sitting on a mat bashing two bricks together with glee and was soon in deep conversation with another mum who had a baby boy snuggled into her shoulder.
You know that scene in Legally Blonde when Elle comes home from her date and everyone wants to know if she’s engaged? That’s kind of how it was for me. I was suddenly surrounded by women, all asking me questions and telling me how much they loved me and my business.
‘I go to your spa all the time,’ one woman said. ‘I love your acupuncturist. I’m sure that’s why I got pregnant so quickly.’
‘Do you remember me?’ another asked. ‘I came for counselling just after you’d opened.’ I smiled vaguely. I’d seen hundreds of women for counselling. She didn’t seem to care.
‘I love the way you’ve made a career out of your witchcraft,’ she went on. ‘You’re such an inspiration. I even read about you in the business section of the Evening News a couple of years ago.’
Suddenly I remembered why I’d recognised the mum – Vicky, was it? – at Esme’s group yesterday. She was the reporter who’d interviewed me for that business profile. I felt guilty again for dismissing all those women so easily.
The love-in was carrying on around me. The women cooing over how brilliant the spa was, how amazing I was, how cute the twins were… even how shiny my hair was. It was a bit uncomfortable to be the subject of so much hero worship but I couldn’t help enjoying it.
And then a black cloud came in. Not literally, of course, but though my powers were on the blink I could still sense an atmosphere.
‘Oh hello,’ said a chilly voice.
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