Chapter Eighteen

12.30 p.m.: sunday 31 october

Ashworth Hall

0 miles and 3 hours and 30 minutes until the wedding

Joe hadn't been wrong about Sandy's reaction to Ashworth Hall if her squeal as Kay drove beneath the archway at the bottom of the driveway was any indication. A shiver of magic started at Kay's head and passed all the way down her spine, similar to when she'd crossed into Leon's witches-only restaurant. Glancing in the rear-view mirror, she saw some very old runes carved around the plaster images decorating the wide brick arch. Was that the protective magic that was linked to Harry's tattoo? Part of her wanted to go and do a tour of the house, grounds and Biddicote as a whole so she could see exactly how much there was that she, and everyone else, appeared to take for granted.

It couldn't have been designed to deter non-magical people though, because none of the others in the car even blinked or looked mildly uncomfortable. In fact, as Kay followed the gravel driveway, flanked by Scots pines, up to the front of the house where it wrapped around a circle of grass with a large rowan tree at its centre, it was clear from the bridesmaids' faces that – despite not having any clue the house had been home to witches for over three hundred years – they thought the place was pretty magical.

Kay parked over to one side and they all stepped out of the car, faces tipped up regardless of the slanting rain, to stare at the imposing manor house. Mansion? Kay wasn't sure at what point it tipped over. She'd always just thought of it as ‘the Hall'.

Somehow, the rain had made it even more attractive, dampening the orange brick to a warm ruddy colour, the stone lintels around the doors and windows bright in contrast and the tiles on the dormer roofs glistening.

Sandy covered her mouth, tears coming to her eyes. ‘I can't believe it,' she mumbled behind her hands. ‘I thought we weren't going to be able to get married at all, and now we have this place …' she broke off with a little hiccup of a sob.

‘Right, get those tears out now,' Sandy's cousin, Erin, instructed her firmly, while placing an arm around her shoulders. ‘Because no crying is allowed once your make-up is done.'

‘But we should go inside before you start crying,' Chelsea, Sandy's friend, said, hurrying up the steps to the double doors. ‘Don't want to waste those tears out here, if the inside is a wreck.'

‘It's definitely not a wreck,' Kay assured her with a rueful smile. It had been a long time since she'd been in there, but she remembered the big rooms, tall ceilings, massive fireplaces, richly varnished wood. The way she didn't want to breathe on anything in case she broke it. The way she couldn't breathe whenever she'd spotted Harry, dressed up in dark trousers and a white shirt, but his freckles, wild hair, and wide smile always there, stopping him from looking formal and imposing. Like a flame in the darkness.

Her chest ached at the memory – that brand from his smiley face was back to burning a hole over her heart, an old injury she'd aggravated so it gave her phantom pain.

The door opened, but instead of it being Harry, her dad was standing there. Marvin was slightly taller than average, his short, curly dark hair going to salt and pepper, but still looking younger than his years. Witches did tend to age well and live long lives, between whatever different chemistry there was in their bodies and their ability to make use of healer magic. But it wasn't always a guarantee – Harry's dad was proof of that.

‘Marvin.' Sandy pulled away from her cousin to throw her arms around Kay's dad in a familiar, comfortable hug. ‘You're here already?'

He embraced his future daughter-in-law back with the same ease and pulled away to smile down at her. ‘Yeah, been here for about half an hour. No time to waste. Harry's already shown me the rooms for you ladies. Let's get you out of the rain.'

Kay hung back, letting the others grab their bags from the boot before she locked the car up and followed them inside. As she dried her feet off on the enormous doormat inside the entrance hall, the bridesmaids were doing their meerkat routine, looking around them like their necks were adjustable periscopes.

On the centre table in the vestibule was a cornucopia display with an array of pinecones, mini squash and pumpkins spilling out, russet and gold and cream colours bringing an immediate sense of warmth and welcome to the home. A touch of magic wafted off it to create that hospitable atmosphere. It curled around her like sitting by a fireplace and made her feel a much-needed sense of serenity.

She wondered if that was Harry or his mum's doing. With his dad being so ill, his magic would be drained … What did that mean for the magical tattoo? She couldn't remember exactly how Harry had explained it, they'd both been so tired, but surely it didn't use them like a battery? If it did and Adrian Ashworth was ill, the tattoo couldn't be helping. Maybe he'd had it removed and all of that burden was falling to Harry now?

Thinking about the logistics of it unsettled her. When it came to the magic for the wards and deflective spells, how was Harry to know when his magic would be called upon? They were reactive to things outside of his control. If someone – like her – was having an off day on the edge of the village, risking a non-magical person spotting something they couldn't explain, did that mean he would suddenly find himself wiped out? Like he'd been when they needed to move the car? Would the magic even have communicated with him when he was that far away? Or was there some other charm that avoided that?

Her curiosity over how it worked was interrupted as her dad left the rest of the bridal party to join her, opening his arms, a little hesitantly. ‘Kay. Hey there, sweetheart. Can I have a hug?'

A wave of guilt added to her niggling concerns. How awful was she for making her own dad unsure about whether she'd welcome his hug? She didn't insult him by saying of course , because it wasn't a given with them. Instead, she just stepped forward and hugged him. ‘Hi, Dad,' she said.

‘I was so worried about you.' He gave her an extra squeeze.

It was on the tip of her tongue to question that because it wasn't like he'd tried to contact her to see if she was OK at any point over the weekend. But then, they'd grown used to mainly communicating through Joe until they met up in person.

She'd spent so much time in the lead-up to the wedding thinking about how to help her mum get through all the forced-proximity with her dad – dreading it, if she was honest – but those weren't the thoughts coming to her mind now. Perhaps it was because of finding out how ill Harry's dad was, or perhaps it was because she'd had a wake-up call about how prejudiced she'd been about influencers in general, but part of her was wondering if she'd let her bad feelings towards her dad go on for long enough.

So, she didn't give a barbed retort, she just squeezed him back and said, with all honesty: ‘It was quite an adventure.'

‘You'll have to tell me all about it later. You always did want to do a road trip. Just like life to give you what you want and disguise it as a problem.' Her dad stepped back and nodded at her hair. ‘Did you do that for your brother?'

Kay laughed. ‘Joe said that, too. Football on the brain, the pair of you.' And so alike. It was part of the reason she and Joe had fallen out so badly when the divorce had happened and she was full of rage and disappointment in her dad. They were so close; Joe had probably felt like she disapproved of him as much as she did of their dad. She'd put the blame entirely on their dad for the divorce. For stringing her mother along for so long when he didn't love her. She'd picked a side, she realised now. Whereas Joe had refused to.

But she and Joe had still been able to mend things. Eventually. All the bridge-building between them had taken place away from home because there had been no room near their mother for the messy, honest feelings they needed to unpick to make it better … which, now Kay thought about it, hadn't been overly helpful of Tallulah.

Shaking off the thoughts, she gave her dad a smile. ‘How is it all going?'

‘Like a military operation. I got the manager at the old venue on board with letting us use the plates and cutlery and tables and chairs as planned. And I got some of my team on it.'

‘You got your football team here? That's like having an army at your disposal.'

‘Sure. We needed it. We can't use the furniture here – a lot of them are antiques – and I needed a crew for some heavy lifting. They were happy to help.'

She raised her eyebrows.

‘They genuinely were! It's a little-known fact that footballers are romantics. No additional persuasion was required.' He made a cross over his heart and she shook her head with a soft laugh.

‘Someone thinks he's the Ted Lasso of Surrey,' she joked.

He gave a sharp blast of a laugh, his eyes wide with a little bit of shock. ‘Please, I was motivating footballers when he was still growing his moustache. Come on. I'll show you the rooms and then I'll get back to mobilising the troops.'

Marvin picked up as many of their bags as he could manage and led the way up the wide staircase, which curved around the entrance to a gallery. There were paintings hanging on the walls, a mix of landscapes and portraits, some very old, some modern. Her legs were sluggish as they went up yet more stairs, a buzz starting in her chest in a way that worried her – like static on a broken TV.

If she lost her grip on her magic at the wedding … Set fire to something in this old house full of people …

But maybe the sensation wasn't anything to do with her magic at all and she was just jumping to negative conclusions like she always did. Coming back into the Hall as an adult, no longer used to the constant magical atmosphere of Biddicote, it was even more obvious how the house was infused with it. Partly by design and partly just because of the long-standing history of the witches who'd lived there.

Her dad took them into a large suite decorated in pale green and cream pinstriped wallpaper, with a soft patterned carpet, a four-poster bed and a view overlooking the lawns out the back. There was a family-sized adjoining bathroom with double sinks, two dressing tables, a wardrobe with full-length mirrors on the doors and a sofa and armchairs. Other than some faded patches on the wall as though pictures had been removed, like it had belonged to someone who'd left, rather than meant just for guests; it was the perfect bridal suite. Sandy restrained herself from squealing and crying this time, but she did hop up and down on her toes a little bit, making them all laugh and tease her.

Marvin dropped off their bags and went over to assure Sandy that he and Joe had it all under control and she was to relax, pamper and enjoy herself. And if Kay thought he might have used a little bit of his influence to motivate his soon-to-be daughter-in-law to leave the stress behind and enjoy this part of her wedding day, she couldn't really hold it against him.

In a frenzy of excited chatter, they all began hanging up their outfits and organising the space, ready for the hair and make-up artist to arrive. Chelsea pulled out two magnums of champagne and a set of half a dozen plastic glasses from her case. Remembering the atomic-level hangover Kay had experienced after the hen do, she wasn't entirely surprised. Chelsea had been the one leading the group challenge for most shots consumed and yet still looked to be the soberest of them all at the end of the night. Erin had brought along a bunch of silky dressing gowns too, and they all took turns showering, donning the dressing gowns and making up ridiculous toasts to Sandy and Joe.

Something loosened momentarily inside Kay as she settled into the fun and anticipation of the day. She needed to get her mind off things, particularly her magic. Focusing on it, even clamping it down, never seemed to work. Distraction definitely seemed a better tactic, or concentrating on positive feelings, like Harry had helped her with on the ferry—

There was a knock at the suite door and Sandy jumped up with a whoop, opening it to let in the hair and make-up artist.

‘Kay, wow, what are you doing here?'

She slid off the end of the bed in surprise as she looked over and saw Tina parking a large wheelie case over by the dressing table. Luckily, her feet found the floor before her butt and she only splashed a little champagne onto her robe. ‘Tina.' She hadn't seen her old friend in anything but passing in the village since the summer they'd fallen out. Over Joe. She went to join Tina and Sandy at the dressing table, glancing between them. ‘I'm one of Sandy's bridesmaids.'

‘You two know each other?' Sandy smiled, like it was the best surprise in the world. She leaned in closer to them and lowered her voice. ‘I should have known, with you both being witches from Biddicote.' She winked and practically skipped back over to the bed. If Kay's dad had used magic on her, it was working in tandem with champagne now.

‘We went to school together,' Tina said, unzipping her case and starting to get out smaller bags and packages. Her eyes caught Kay's and she gave a chagrined smile. ‘I had the biggest crush on her brother.'

‘No way! You didn't date, did you?' Chelsea roared with laughter. ‘How did you not know this, Sandy?'

‘It's not like Joe helped me pick my make-up artist.' Sandy had flushed as red as her dressing gown.

Tina's eyes were rivalling the size of the powder puffs she held in her hands. ‘You're … you're marrying Kay's brother, Joe?'

Sandy nodded silently.

‘I think we need more champagne,' Erin announced, grabbing the bottle to top everyone up, and bringing Tina a glass too.

Kay put her hand over her mouth, her own awkwardness paling as she watched Tina shove her hands inside the deep pockets of her chunky cardigan. Her eyes met Tina's again and her old friend suddenly laughed.

‘Don't worry, Sandy, I have a partner and it was just a crush when I was, like, seventeen. Well over it now. I swear I won't ruin your make-up or hair.' She made an X sign over her chest and help up three fingers. ‘Brownie's honour.'

Sandy laughed, but still looked a bit weirded out.

‘How about I go first?' Kay offered. ‘So Tina and I can catch up.'

Sandy nodded her head vigorously and Kay perched on the edge of the vanity.

‘Well, shit,' Tina said in a soft voice as the other bridesmaids put on some music from the playlist they'd had at the hen do. ‘I think this is what you call karma.'

Kay tilted her head. ‘And why would that be?'

‘Oh come on. I only brought up the crush as a reason to apologise to you. I was out of line with how I reacted when you told me Joe didn't like me back.'

Kay took a sip from her drink and shrugged. ‘That's OK.'

She wondered if she'd have found it as easy to forgive Harry if he had approached her with such a direct apology as soon as they'd bumped into each other in Prague. She wasn't sure she would have. Tina's behaviour had hurt her, but it hadn't been entirely out of character. They'd been close friends and Kay had missed her, but it hadn't felt like a betrayal, just something inevitable brought about by her gift. A lesson learned about keeping it to herself.

‘I blame all the books and TV. They're always telling us when boys are rude to you it means they like you. Sexual tension, blah-blah. No. Turns out they really just think you're their little sister's annoying friend.'

Kay burst out laughing. ‘Fiction has a lot to answer for.'

‘Older brother's best friend trope, huh?' Tina smirked and Kay forced a smile as her laughter faded. There was the Tina she remembered; tongue as sharp as a sewing needle. The pricks might be small, but they could still draw blood. ‘Shall we get started?'

Tina set to work with a mixture of make-up and magic. Nothing permanent, but as she applied minimal blush, Kay's cheeks naturally pinked, as did her lips under the application of the lipstick. She took her glasses off and kept her eyes shut as Tina worked on the puffiness and bags from lack of sleep, feeling the skin tingle and rejuvenate beneath the smoky eyeshadow.

Opening her eyes briefly for the mascara application didn't compromise anyone's privacy; she was sitting so close to Tina the bonds between them were just a glimmer in her periphery as Kay fastened her gaze on a high point. When that was finished, she slipped her glasses back on and smiled at her reflection. Roadkill she wasn't, thank the Goddess. And – even better – Tina's magic wouldn't fade until the following morning.

As she worked Kay's hair into an updo that involved a thick plait across the top of her head, pushing her hair forward and allowing tendrils to escape artfully around her face, there was another knock at the door.

This time, Chelsea flung it open, causing a shriek from Erin, who was being helped into her second layer of Spanx by Sandy. Both women hit the deck behind the bed like a gun had gone off, and everyone else broke out with laughter. Kay still had it on her lips when she looked over to the door and saw Harry stood there with a familiar-looking dark-haired young woman – his cousin, Becca. She was the photographer, it turned out. Was there a witch in Biddicote not working on this wedding?

Harry had changed, into a pair of light blue jeans and a beige cable-knit sweater, and looked like he should be posing for an aftershave commercial, broad shoulders hunched, hair windblown, in the middle of a forest. His blue eyes met hers in the mirror, lips parting, and she felt like she was the one who had taken the bullet to the chest, heart stuttering and heat blooming.

‘So, you're the hero of the hour?'

He dragged his gaze away as Chelsea spoke to him. She was looking him up and down with a slow smile.

‘This is your place?'

‘My parents. They're the heroes. I'm just … helping.'

Sandy came out from behind the bed, tightening the belt on her dressing gown. ‘We're so grateful.'

‘Yeah, if there's any way we can thank you,' Chelsea flicked her hair over her shoulder and Harry winced and took a step back towards the door.

‘No need. You're busy and I should get going.'

‘You're coming to the service and the reception?' Sandy checked.

‘I'll do my best.' He stuffed his hands in his pockets and backed out the room, with a final, darting glance at Kay. ‘Give me a shout if you need anything. Becs knows where to find me.'

‘Oh, we will,' Chelsea hung out of the door into the hallway, calling after him as he presumably escaped. She closed the door and scanned the rest of the women with a devilish grin. ‘I call dibs if he's at the reception.'

‘Before you say anything more,' Becca said, unhooking the camera bag from her shoulder. ‘I feel I should point out; Harry is my cousin.' She glanced at Kay for a long moment and Kay wondered if she'd recognised her too from the festivals at the Hall when they were kids. Back before Kay had had the courage to talk to Harry and just had to be content with watching him from across the function room.

‘That is bad luck for you,' Chelsea retorted. ‘Tall and cute and loaded and —'

‘ And terrified of you, judging by the way he ran from the room.' Sandy laughed.

‘It's like watching a velociraptor ambush someone when you spot an attractive man,' Erin said drily, fully ensconced in her Spanx now.

Chelsea shrugged. ‘You snooze you lose.'

Kay forced a laugh, conscious of Tina's eyes on her, and tried to push away the desire to run after Harry and confirm that he'd come and find her at the reception. Not the blonde, leggy force of nature that was Chelsea. Kay could tell him that she wanted to do more than dance. Because it wasn't a lie. She did want more.

But that didn't mean she should have it. It was sensible for her to try to slow this snowball of attraction she had towards him, wasn't it? Even if the thought of coming across him wrapped up in the other bridesmaid's toned arms made her jaw ache from clenching her teeth. Thankfully, her lipstick was all done.

As soon as her hair was finished, Kay shimmied carefully into the golden chiffon bridesmaid's dress and sleek heels in the bathroom, so she could go and meet the minister who would be arriving soon.

She paused at the top of the stairs and took a selfie to send to Ilina, as she'd promised she would once she was all dressed up. Out of the tall windows behind her, a vibrant sun set fire to the sky valiantly behind the heavy clouds, the rain having finally stopped.

Ilina: Stunning. Give your brother and his bride my best wishes. It'll be weird, because they don't know me, but still do it.

Kay laughed as she typed out a reply.

Kay: Thank you. I will. And thank you for the help over the weekend.

Ilina: Which you ignored to take the train with your hot ‘acquaintance'.

Kay: I never said he was hot.

Ilina: You never said he wasn't either. I'm not an idiot. Did anything happen?

Kay: I'll call you tomorrow and tell you everything. Unless you have plans?

Ilina: You had sex! I do have a date myself tomorrow after work. Tuesday?

Kay: Done. Xxx

Ilina: Enjoy the wedding. xxx

Goddess, Kay was really going to try. Picking up her skirt so she wouldn't trip over the long hem, she hurried down the stairs.

They were using the ‘second parlour' for the ceremony and she didn't have a clue where it was. Every corner she turned on the ground floor, there were witches and non-magical people side by side. In the ballroom, tables were being set out. Sandy's mother was decorating chairs, while Jaz set the flower arrangements in the centre of each table, and Sandy's dad looked like he was trying to make sense of the seating plan and place cards. Behind them, a group Kay didn't recognise were laying the head table. She winced as someone knocked a vase on a sideboard, but a witch was there to reach out with their magic and stop it falling the whole way to the floor and smashing.

She inhaled sharply, but no one batted an eyelid, so either they were all witches – other than Sandy's parents – in that room, or the protective magic was working to gloss over the magical act.

Jaz waved like she was trying to flag down a rescue helicopter when she spotted Kay, but all she could do was blow her a kiss and continue her search. She dodged the stream of catering staff who were trooping through the side door towards the kitchens, her heart lifting and crashing each time she thought she saw a glimpse of Harry's coppery hair.

She pressed a hand to her chest and willed the vital organ to get a handle on itself. Walking around this house was like going back in time. The witching community all around her. Her body chemistry making her into a walking bag of hormones. She'd only been there once after Harry had left for university and the memory of how heartsick she'd been smashed into her like a bowling ball in the middle of sponge cake.

There was a reason she was freaking out about these feelings for him. Harry had even said it himself on the ferry, fears were there to protect you from dangerous situations. Letting herself care this way about Harry Ashworth again was a dangerous situation.

Finally, she found the door that had to be the ‘second parlour'.

‘Holy grimoire,' she gasped as she walked in on a scene that was like something out of a Disney movie, with chairs floating through the air and swaths of fabric wrapping themselves around the chairs that were stationary and orders of service floating down to rest on the seat cushions.

Her dad and two other witches swung around to stare at her, everything pausing in mid-air.

‘There must be at a dozen NMs in this house at the moment,' Kay hissed. ‘At least .'

‘It's fine. We're almost done,' Marvin told her. ‘The protective magic would have barred the door. Someone was trying to get in earlier. It only let you in because you're a witch.'

‘Oh, OK.' She took a deep breath.

Marvin laughed and came over to her. ‘You look lovely, honey. Don't get yourself flustered. This house is designed for this kind of event. No need to worry. Have you got time to help us?'

Suddenly all the champagne Kay had drunk was leaching the moisture from her mouth. She couldn't use her magic. Not unless they wanted a chair to smash through one of the Grade listed windows. But she hadn't told anyone about her magical problems – except Ilina and Harry – and now wasn't the time to bring it up.

She shook her head and backed away, relieved she had an excuse. ‘I've got to meet the minister. He'll be here any minute and we'll be coming in here, so be prepared.'

‘We will be.'

She didn't have time to help them. She hadn't even had time to help herself.