It was all very stressful.
When Leo sauntered into the kitchen on Saturday morning Merry was sitting at the table, a chemistry revision book propped up against the apple juice carton and the trinket box in front of her, next to a ruler.
‘Thought you had some athletics event?’
‘Cancelled.’ Merry waved a hand towards the window, indicating the rain that was gradually transforming the flower beds into mud soup.
‘So what are you doing?’
‘I’m trying to catch it growing,’ she replied, still staring at the box. ‘But it only seems to happen when I’m not watching.’
‘Growing? Merry, it’s a box. You must be imagining it.’
Merry rolled her eyes at him.
‘If you say so.’
‘Well, I wish you’d put it away. It’s really starting to creep me out. Do you want some toast?’
‘Yes, please. And I’ve tried putting it away.’ She sighed and straightened up, shoving the box away from her. ‘The damn thing is following me around.’
‘Once again—’ Leo opened his hands wide, ‘—it’s a box. Not possible.’
‘Really? I put it up in the attic last night, back in the blanket box. This morning, when I woke up, it was on my dressing table. Yesterday I locked it in the garage before I went to school. But when I got home last night, I found it in my underwear drawer.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yeah. Oh.’
Leo plonked himself down on the chair next to Merry and poured himself a coffee. He opened the lid of the box and poked a finger at the contents.
‘Is it me, or is that – hair extension – longer?’
‘Exactly. See?’ Merry snapped the lid shut and turned towards her brother. ‘And don’t ask, ’cos I don’t know. I thought you had to work this weekend?’
‘I called in and told them I had a family emergency. I’ll lose two days’ pay, but …’ He shrugged. ‘I just don’t think you should be in the house on your own at the moment.’
‘Oh. Thanks. I’m sorry about the money.’ Merry closed the chemistry book; she wasn’t taking any of it in, anyway.
‘It’s OK.’ Leo was fiddling with a ten-pence piece one of them had left on the table, spinning it round and round between his thumb and forefinger. ‘The witchcraft – you are being careful, aren’t you, Merry? I mean, you’re not actually summoning psychotic blond boys from the nether world?’ He didn’t look at her, just kept spinning the coin.
‘Of course not, Leo. Honestly, I haven’t done any magic recently.’ Not intentionally, at any rate. ‘I kind of decided to take a break. It’s dangerous, especially if you’re not properly trained. Gran and the rest of the coven can do some pretty impressive things, from what I’ve heard, but you know I had to pick up stuff for myself.’
Yeah, picked stuff up and ran with it. It might have been OK, if you’d stuck to the spell books, hadn’t started experimenting …
Merry tried to remember what magic Leo might have seen her using.
‘What do you think I can do, apart from giving cold sores to unfaithful boyfriends? You knew about that, right?’
‘I did. Though I thought you were only supposed to use the craft to help people. Didn’t Gran make a big thing a few years back about—’
‘Yeah, well,’ Merry interrupted, ‘there’s no need for Gran to know about the cold sores. Besides, since I’m not officially a witch, I haven’t actually had to sign up to the whole good behaviour thing. But you mustn’t tell Mum I used to, well, dabble. She’d go psycho. Probably lock me up in a tower for the rest of my life. So … promise?’
‘Promise.’ He smiled at her and squeezed her hand.
Merry smiled too. She and Leo were a team. Over the years they’d learnt to look out for one another, especially as their mother spent more and more time away at work, and became more and more distant. Things might have been different once, before their father left, but Merry had only been four when he took off. As far back as she could remember it had been her brother who watched her back and took care of her, despite his occasional grumbling. She knew Leo would love her no matter what she did. No matter what she’d done.
He will, won’t he?
Course he will.
Course.
She dropped her gaze as she squeezed his hand back.
Leo tapped the trinket box with one finger.
‘So … ready for our visit to Grandma’s house?’
‘Oh yeah. Got my red riding hood and everything. Let’s hope we don’t meet a wolf on the way.’
Leo laughed.
‘A wolf messing with Gran? I’d like to see one try.’
Gran used to live in the house in which Leo and Merry lived now. She had been born there, grew up there, and stayed there on her own after Bronwen (her only child) moved out and after Grandpa died. But when Merry was born, Gran decided her daughter and son-in-law needed the space more than she did. She sold (or possibly gave – Merry wasn’t quite clear) the old house to the young family, and moved nearer to the town centre. The house Gran lived in now was deeply ordinary: a 1930s semi-detached house pretty much identical to a million other 1930s semi-detached houses across the country. Mock Tudor, bay-windowed, laurel-hedged suburban.
Merry stared up at the house.
‘Do you remember when we used to love coming here? All those weekends we stayed over? The stories she used to tell us, and the games we played?’
Leo nodded.
‘I remember: it was magical. I mean, literally magical. Like all those times we’d sit around the fire with hot chocolate and marshmallows, and she’d make the flames take on the shapes of the characters in the story she was telling us?’
‘Or the time she made it snow for us in the garden in July, so we could build snowmen? But none of the neighbours could see it. We must’ve looked off our heads, prancing around in her back garden, wearing winter coats in the middle of summer.’ Merry smiled. ‘That was a great day.’
‘Yeah, it was.’ Leo sighed. ‘Not so much fun after Mum found out what was going on, and she and Gran had that argument though, was it.’
That argument. It really deserved capital letters: That Argument. In the whole of Leo and Merry’s childhood, Mum had never practised the craft in front of them. She wouldn’t even talk about it; she got cross once just because Merry wanted to dress as a witch for a fancy dress party. Halloween was a no-go area. So when, on Merry’s twelfth birthday, Gran had asked if she wanted to be tested, to see if she was a witch, Merry had hesitated. But only for about two minutes. Sure, Mum would disapprove – if she found out – but to have the chance to learn some of the stuff she’d seen Gran doing … there wasn’t really any question about it.
Merry knew she would remember the night of the test her whole life. Since she couldn’t yet cast any spells, her ability had to be evaluated by seeing how well she could resist spells cast by other witches. Taken to a hidden spot up on the downs, blindfolded and left in the darkness, she had only heard the voices of the witches who were testing her. They didn’t speak to her directly, and half the time they were using a language she didn’t understand; it had taken every ounce of her courage not to tear off the blindfold and run,