Scandals of an Invisible Girl (Love & Magic Book 3)

Chapter Three: hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have

"You don't have to say that. It's not OK." I swallow, breathing hard as I continue upwards.

"No, no, it's not OK. But you've done everything you could possibly do. I love you for that."

"They said miracles aren't like wishes. You make a wish and it comes true, not always in the way you want, but miracles... they're not as obvious. Not as clear. It's more like knocking down dominos. One thing leads to the next until..."

I hear the desperation in her voice, her desire for this to work. Misery can be like a heavy cloak, weighing you down, and then you remember there are people like Sophie in the world and maybe the horrors feel a little less. Her magic might not be working, but she's doing more than she realises.

"Maybe... maybe."

Sophie falls silent. In the background, I can hear Kira's grit-laden voice, the cries of a newborn waking from sleep.

"You need to go."

"I do. Kira's had about two hours of sleep in two days and I think she's close to a breakdown."

"Send her my love."

"I will. And Lola?"

I drag myself out of the stairwell and stumble into the hallway. My front door is in sight. I'm practically shaking with exhaustion now. There's cold sweat on my forehead.

"Sophie?"

"Willow says she's going to try again."

My back snaps straight and I lean against the wall. Closing my eyes, I ground myself with the familiar stale scent of the hallway, and the dim sounds of families waking. The feel of the peeling paint beneath my fingers.

"She's back in Bristol for a few days. And she's going to have another go. Her powers are growing and..."

I want to tell Sophie that Willow shouldn't be trying, but I can't. I want her to succeed so badly I can't taste it on my tongue.

"I... don't know what to say... I'll thank her next time I see her and Henry."

I drag myself upright and unlock the door. Walking into the flat as Sophie says her goodbyes.

The noise hits me first, and I smile. Home might be a tiny flat that perpetually smells like fried food from the takeout restaurants on the street below, with second-hand furniture and damp on the walls, but it's mine and I've worked damn hard for this place.

On the TV in our messy front room, a Disney film is blaring out loudly, almost but not quite covering the other noises. Flesh slapping against flesh, pans sizzling in the kitchen, and a loud voice talking in medieval English. All combine to form the chaos of the home I love.

I walk out of the hallway and into the open-plan kitchen and front room. Steam travels to the ceiling, adding a dramatic flourish to whatever scene Mary is rehearsing.

"My army, my dear country, will you follow me, into the darkness, into the abyss of blood and war.... for I am the Queen of... oh shit!" The quivering lid flies off the pan, and bubbling water hisses against the stove.

"Is that in the script?"

Mary quickly removes the pan, swearing under her breath.

"No, this series is more fire and brimstone. Less boiled egg and soldiers."

I drop my bag on the counter and search the room for the source of the other noise.

"What's the show?"

"Oh, you know. Just something small I might have an audition for." For an actress, Mary is a terrible liar. But I won't push for the truth. Mary's desperate for her big break. She's been trapped in extra purgatory for a few years now. Partly because she's been here, helping me to drag myself out of the mess her brother left me in.