I can't remember how I got to town. My body automatically walked down the hill as my mind processed the world according to Gladys Jones. I'd spent so long thinking about the charm, I'd never considered that the magic came from me. I concentrated on that thought. Was there a decision to be made? Did I really want to go back? Though not a lot had happened, the change in my life felt good and I was reluctant to let it go.
Me, magical? Did I want to be? Who in their right mind didn't want the ability to pass exams without studying or to buy prezzies without money? I shuddered at the downside. I didn't want to grow apart from my friends and family like some religious freak or weird scientist. And, would this make me some kind of witch...?
I gasped as my eyes took in a welcome vision of loveliness. Gorgeous George. My brain switched from magic to lust as I watched George Charmers cross over the road with an energetic leap. The driver of the four-by four, who had to suddenly stop, honked the horn. George looked up at her and cheerfully grinned. I bet her heart flipped. Mine did. Something in a shop window caught George's eye and he stopped for a second, giving me time to casually catch up. My mind flittered over subjects... what would I say?
"Hi Minta." He smiled. He actually smiled at me.
"Hi Gor- George. You shopping?" Stupid question.
George nodded. "Yeah, just a quickie, my dad's sister's visiting. She's gone non gluten and dairy. I'm off to Waitrose to pick up anything saying 'free from' on the label." He looked highly disturbed. "Mum's going frantic with worry. You know what she's like."
I laughed. "Good luck with that. What caught your eye here, an antique non-dairy milk jug?" I pointed to a curiously spouted object displayed in the window.
"Everything catches my eye in 'Of Bits Bizarre'. It's not just incense and crystals; it's full of weird and arty gismos."
"I hadn't really noticed the florist had gone."
He rolled his fabulous eyes. "That was ages ago. I'm surprised, I'd have thought you'd have been in loads?"
I looked alarmed, "Why's that?" I must be weird, because I certainly wasn't arty.
George laughed and put his arm around me reassuringly. I nearly passed out with euphoria. "Don't worry, I meant, you always seemed a little way-out. I remember playing outside your great aunts with Shelly and Josie. You were always in your own world, dressed in Minty Fager's clothes and beads. You liked talking to the fairies, if I remember rightly." His arm dropped away.
I remembered. Good times, long gone. "Are you still good friends with Josie? I mean, I see you around with Shelly occasionally but..." I hoped I looked casual and that he couldn't tell I was crossing my fingers.
"Well, yes and no." He began to walk off in the direction of the shops. I followed, happy to be in conversation with the guy I'd fancied for years.
Was it too soon to propose?
George continued, "Shelly still makes an effort and comes out with my mates. We get on really well. Really well."
I didn't like George's emphasise on the second 'really well' or the sly smile creeping over his face. Hope dropped off like melting snow as he put his hands in his pockets and shrugged.
"But Josie," his mouth turned down at the corners. "I don't know. It's funny; I always...." He shook his head. He didn't look at me as he spoke. The conversation was more George-to-George than George to me.
"What? Go on?" I was interested. Really interested.
We crossed the road. I don't know how old George believed me to be, but I think his mind was stuck on playing outside Minty's. He actually put his hand on my coat to usher me across the road. This was where we'd go our separate ways.
He smiled again, a little wistfully, "I used to like Josie a lot." His face changed suddenly. I knew he remembered something he didn't want to really share.
I wanted to know and touched his coat. The fabric felt cold on my fingers.
"What happened?" I knew I wouldn't like the answer.
George was still for a moment. We hadn't really talked for years, but somehow, for some reason, I could feel him letting go of his reservations. "After a few drinks at a party last year, Shelly told me Josie blamed my father for her dad being stationed in the Middle East. Well, not my father exactly, but the whole political party. Apparently, after his death Josie gradually felt she couldn't bear to be around my family anymore."
I wrinkled my nose, not knowing what to say. Some of it was true, Mum had said as much. But surely Josie couldn't blame George's dad for being a local councillor?
George tilted his head. I knew what was coming next.
"Do you feel that too? I never get the feeling you do."
I shrugged. "No. Dad was in the army because that's where he wanted to be. Josie's dad was the same. Best mates; in it together knowing the risks, right up to the end. It was the reason my parents divorced."
George tried to smile. "Sorry Minta, I didn't mean to mention it."
I shook my hand at him and tried not to sound too wistful. "It's ok. I can talk about it. Mum helped me through everything when Dad and Uncle Dave were killed." But poor Josie, she'd had to get by alone. A wicked stepmother didn't count, and my aunt or not, that's exactly what Tracy was. "George, I'm not sure how Josie feels about anything. You should talk to her if you get the chance."
George grinned again, back to his good-humoured self, ruffling my hair in proof that he still believed me to be aged four. "Yes Miss. You're lovely Minta." And with that he pulled his hoodie over his head and jogged off on the icy path.
For a split second the words hung in the air like icicles and I cherished them. A tense excitement made me shiver again. I wanted George, badly, and not just for Christmas. It wasn't simply a long-standing infatuation; it was the knowledge he was amazing, lovely, gifted and perfect. Good-looking and rich didn't even come in to it, much. Once-upon-a-time, that unique feeling of being singled-out and talked to by the most wanted male in school was all I needed. That and my dreams, but I'd finished window-shopping for boyfriends. I wanted to buy.
If this magic thing was really for me... Could I? Should I? Would it be possible to get George to notice me and then let the rest happen by itself? Nothing more. That seemed fair, and a lot easier than turning mice into men or whatever Gladys said I'd be able to do.
George strode through the snow in between the crowds of happy Christmas shoppers and disappeared in the distance. I sighed.
'Of Bits Bizarre' looked strangely inviting. Real snow nestled in the Georgian windowpanes and a warm light glowed from a small lamp. Two female figures stood behind a counter, talking as they tottered about, organising strange and wonderful objects and then chatting to customers.
One seemed familiar... Iona. It was odd seeing her out of school. More to the point, it was odd seeing her so at ease. Was she with a sister? The other girl shared similar features, the eyes and mouth, except she was perfect in a way Iona could never claim to be. I couldn't drag my eyes away. I couldn't say why, either. Maybe it was her perfectly oval face and hourglass figure, or maybe the silky sheet of raven hair. More likely, it was the lyrical way she seemed to listen, move and then hold herself still.
I placed my hand on the window hoping they'd notice. A part of me wanted to let Iona know I'd seen her. But I couldn't quite bring myself to make a noise, and intrude. Iona and I had never exactly been friends. She'd always seemed aloof and weird, until now, because funnily enough what I considered weird had dramatically changed. This was the most comfortable I'd ever seen the peculiar Irish girl; she was lucky to have a sanctuary out of school.
Unlike Josie.
I blinked.
The need to fix things washed over me again. But fix what?
*
One computer. One charm. One tin of biscuits.
The decision as to whether I would go back to Minty's cottage could only be made by investigation.
First things first: skim through 'Ugric's Magic of Runes' and then surf the web. It wasn't easy. Gam's, or rather my runes, were Anglo-Saxon Futhorc. Not many people wrote about them with magic in mind. I had twenty-four runes, which was normal, though in some sets there were up to nine more. I felt pretty confident about the mechanics of casting and what each symbol meant on the face of it, but the deeper meaning remained allusive and harder to pin down.
I laid the discs out on my desk in the same order as I'd seen in the book. Three sets of eight, with the first six spelling out f u th o r c. Pulling out the three runes I'd chosen at Gladys', I pondered their meaning whilst tracing the burnt markings with the tips of my fingers. Someone, many moons ago, sat and etched these symbols with their hands and Gladys had asked them to 'reveal my path'.
"Gyfu. Gift: A gift for one who would otherwise have nothing. What gift? Is it for me, and is it George shaped?" I huffed. I don't know what I was expecting, but increasingly I felt something should happen. Maybe a tingle in my stomach or a spark in the sky.
"Wynn means joy. Should I be feeling joy for being magic? No. That's not it. I know that." I just didn't know why I knew it. I drummed my fingers on the desk, thinking.
"Alright, Nyd. Need. What do I need to do?" That wasn't it either. I looked at the three discs; they stared innocently back. Were they even in the right order? No. I switched them round so they read from right to left as Gladys had told me to do. "Three rune casting. The right is the present, the centre is the action, the left is the outcome." That much I'd gleaned from the book. "Need came first, followed by gift, then joy." I sighed. "Maybe I need something now. Someone will give me a gift that will bring me joy in the future." It made sense, but it still didn't feel right.
I heard mum come in with Robbie in tow. Football finished late and he always managed to get mum to do the detour to pick him up. Familiar dinner noises hummed in the background as I whacked all traces of runes in my draws. The fist rune I'd nearly chosen at Gam's was last to go in the bag. 'Thorn' was its name and it had associations with evil. "I could do without that thorn in my side." I was thankful I'd chucked it back and chosen the spiral. That had to count for something.
"Tree magical properties of." I typed into the search bar.
"Ah. allthingswiccan.com."
I read through the list of trees, hoping one would grab me. It didn't, so I clicked on the first tree. "Alder means chief and has the power to suppress doubt. Hmmm." Bet that's what my charms made out of. "Even Zara seemed less sceptical when holding it." I had the urge to continue and clicked on the next tree, and the one after that. I could smell food; my interest waned.
"Oak. Offers the gift of strength, protection and courage." I liked this one. My charm called to me. I could feel an urge to extract it from my pocket. I took it out and really looked at it for the first time since Great Aunt Minty's.
"So you're oak. Classy. Come on, lead me to the rune tree."
Hand over the mouse, I'm sure I didn't move it, but the curser slid down the page highlighting the last tree in the section, yew.
"Yew speaks to us of our ancestors and the wisdom from the past. It also speaks to us of fresh growth arising out of death, of our old-selves and old ways of thinking."
"Min-ta, din-na," shrieked Robbie from the bottom of the stairs.
I popped my classy oak charm in my pocket and put the computer to sleep. The call of spaghetti was stronger than magic.
*
Robbie escaped upstairs the minute dinner was over. I sat gazing into space, but feeling Mum's eyes looking over at me broke the spell. She was washing up as usual. I smiled back.
"Are you ok, sweetheart?" she said concerned.
I'd never been good at hiding my feelings but, I'd hoped the preoccupied with big things going on in my life would be disguised by my usual daydreaming. "Yep. I was just thinking about next year and what I should do." Well, it was sort of true.
"Good!" she sounded surprised and then eagerly pulled up a chair. "Did the college brochure help?" Mum looked pleased with herself, so, I knew what the answer had to be.
"Yeah. I'll go to the open day. Zara will come with me."
Mum nodded. "Lovely. I'd go too but I daren't take more time off so soon after Aunt Minty's illness and funeral." She suddenly looked worried.
"Mum, you're a fantastic librarian, you won't get made redundant," I said truthfully.
For a second time, she looked surprised. "...and you are getting to be perceptive."
We smiled at each other, briefly. It was a nice moment. Mum got up and carried on.
'One day', I thought, 'it'll be different for her'. And then I realised that day could start now.
"Here mum, I'll finish off. It'll give me thinking time. You go and do something... different, like plan how you're going to blow some of that lotto money on some decent clothes and definitely a new coat."
This was obviously too much for Mum. Tears welled up in her eyes as she quietly nodded and took off the rubber gloves. I got a hug around the neck as she left the room, and chuckled to myself. So simple, but so sweet.
*
I screamed out loud.
"Minta?"
The light went on. I sat up in my bed, drenched in sweat again. I must've looked petrified. Both Mum and Robbie rushed over.
"What happened?" Mum's eyes were wide, even Robbie looked scared.
"I don't know." It wasn't true.
Robbie, happy I wasn't being murdered in my bed, turned on his heals and stalked off. Mum came over.
"My love, you've not been sleeping peacefully since Great Aunt Minty died." She sat down on the bed. I tried to smile without giving anything away. I wasn't the tidiest person in the house, or the world, so she probably didn't notice the knocked over mug and spilled dregs of hot chocolate.
"I'm ok, it's just-,"
"I know. You were very fond of her; I'm not surprised you had a nightmare. You had them when your father was killed." She stifled a yawn. "Your sleep walking was the worst, at least there's none of that."
I made a show of snuggling down, pretending my eyes were too heavy to stay open. Mum kissed me on the top of my head, as she used to do after a bad dream, then left.
When the house was quiet, I put on the light. Whatever had been in my room hadn't been able to move stealthily, this time.
As my eyes adjusted to light, the large pile of geography work, previously on my desk, lay strewn across my floor. And if I'd unimaginatively thought for one second, that a draft had caused the disturbance, the idea was quickly banished. A single coco-paw print decorated the cover of my geography project.
*************
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