Chapter Eighteen
Hester House, November 1994
Red glowed between Sonia’s lips, an ember stolen from the coals of a nationally guarded heart. Dark curls spilled over bony shoulders; a frame that stood on its own yet swayed in the wind and stood strong in a storm.
“Tell me that isn’t a cigarette.”
Flicking ash from what indeed was a cig, Sonia smirked “Wotcher, Charles.”
“Your mother will be furious.” Charlie said sternly, stepping into the shadows.
“She would be if it was a real cigarette, yeah.” Shrugging gaunt shoulders, her pink lips held onto the cigarette tighter than she’d ever held onto anything else. “This however, is not a real cig. I am a witch, you know.”
He chuckled “I do, and a good one at that.”
“I’m fantastic, and we both know it.”
“You did learn from the best,” he said, taking the cigarette and taking a drag himself, smiling at her badly hidden shock “Trying to prove a point here, Sonia.”
Snatching it back, Sonia scowled at him; it made her usually pretty face rather unpleasant, and a little comical. “It does no harm, so why shouldn’t I smoke it? Mother doesn’t need to know anyway.”
Charlie looked sad “Why do you call her mother?”
“Well she is, isn’t she? My mother, I mean.” The wind blew Sonia’s smoke rings into Charlie’s face, and he gave her a look while waving them away.
“You used to call her ‘mamma’.”
“And now I don’t.”
“Why?”
“I grew up.” She said simply, tilting her head slightly to get a better view of the moon. “I guess I haven’t finished quite yet though.”
Leaning against the house, Charlie’s shoulder brushed hers. He tried not to think too much. “I don’t think we ever cease growing up.”
“Maybe.” She sighed and twirled the cigarette between her fingers, the glowing tip looking like an angry firefly in the darkness. “Can I tell you something?”
Charlie nodded, keeping his gaze straight ahead “Of course.”
“I was almost looking forward to this wedding.” She laughed, but Charlie didn’t think it was because she found it funny. “I had a dress and everything.”
“Maybe you’ll get another chance to wear it?” he suggested, imagining briefly what Sonia would look like with her hair swept up, something glittery around her neck and a formal dress hanging from that skeletal body.
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