Page 57 of Under Your Spell

‘Mmm,’ Theo tips his head thoughtfully. ‘I think I would have guessed that. You have real middle-child energy.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Like you’re the peace-keeper, trying to keep everyone happy,’ he says, smug about having it all figured out.

‘I’m working on the people-pleasing,’ I huff. ‘What do you think all the therapy is about? Anyway, you’ve got a sister, right? Any other siblings?’

‘Nope, just Lisa.’

‘And I bet you’re the youngest.’

‘Why would you think that?’ he frowns.

‘Because you have real baby-of-the-family energy,’ I grin.

He throws a cushion at my face. ‘I think you just called me spoilt,’ he grumbles.

‘Hey, if the handmade, Italian loafer fits.’

‘You’re the worst,’ he says, but he can’t hide the smile on his face.

‘You love it,’ I shoot back at him, the same way I would at Serena or Lil. I get to my feet, ready to make us both some dinner.

‘Yeah,’ I hear him sigh as I walk away. ‘Yeah, I do.’

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ingrid’s idea to write down my memories of being in the house quickly spirals in an unexpected way. It starts off like that, sure. I find myself giggling as I recall the time Lil became utterly convinced she’d seen a mermaid and the three of us went out with peanut butter sandwiches and the fishing nets we used in the local rock pools to try to catch her. The peanut butter sandwiches had been my idea because I thought it must be extremely sad that you couldn’t grow peanuts underwater.

This led to a rather fraught conversation about what mermaids could eat. When Serena suggested fish, Lil’s face had paled. ‘Like Flounder?!’

All our future viewings of The Little Mermaid had taken a dark turn as Serena yelled, ‘DO YOU THINK MERMAIDS INVENTED SUSHI?’ at the screen.

Only, when I’m writing it down, the story changes into something else. Something about three sisters with magic. Ones who really do find a mermaid and bring her home to meet their grandmother. I hardly even know what I’m writing, just that it’s fun and it’s funny and it makes me think of my sisters and our time here.

The next morning I wake up and am surprised that I’m looking forward to working on it again. Dimly, I have an idea that I will finish it – whatever it is – and share it with Serena and Lil, that they’ll get a kick out of this twisted version of our past. I like the feeling of making something. It’s a million miles from the book outline I’ve been staring at and tinkering with for years. I suppose it’s just another act of procrastination, but it feels nice, it feels light.

I’m still haunting all the job listing websites, so it’s not like I’m not doing anything. It’s more like a sabbatical for my brain. For the first time in five years the pressure of hustling for academic work is lifting off me, and until that happened, I don’t think I realized how crushing it had been, grinding me down inch by inch.

As we move firmly into the second half of our six weeks in Northumberland, I’m no nearer to a plan over what I’m doing next, and though I still find that scary if I let myself think about it too much, it’s certainly not the full-blown panic I was experiencing before. I have money in the bank, thanks to my job here and the zero expenses I’ve had. I know I can go and stay with Mum while I keep filling out applications, which – while not ideal – is a soft place to land and regroup.

After a couple of days, clearly noticing how absorbed I’ve been, Theo asks me how my work is going.

‘It’s… going okay,’ I say, shifting in my chair.

‘Why do you look guilty?’ Theo asks, amused.

I hesitate. ‘Because I’m not exactly working on my research.’

‘What are you working on?’ Theo asks, and I squirm again. The laughter lines around his mouth deepen. ‘Ahhhh, I know. You’re writing smutty fanfic, aren’t you?’ There’s a pause and he asks, hopeful, ‘Is it about me?’

‘No!’

He sighs heavily. ‘Well, I don’t think I like the idea of you writing smutty fanfic about anyone else, Clemmie.’ His bottom lip juts out in a pout. ‘It’s the vampires, isn’t it? I get it, I do. Damn them and their chiselled jawlines.’

‘It’s not fanfic,’ I laugh. ‘It’s… actually, I don’t know what it is. It started off as the exercise Ingrid gave me to write down some of my memories of being here, and now it’s…’ I trail off, hesitate again. ‘Why don’t you just read it?’ I turn the computer screen towards him.

‘Really?’ His eyes light.