Page 5 of Under Your Spell

‘Yeeeeeeeeeessssss!’ Lil shrieks, falling off the kitchen counter.

Serena starts opening the kitchen cupboards looking for a suitable pan. There’s no aged Le Creuset – if we had any to start with, I’m certain it would now be safely ensconced in Len’s new home – but she emerges with a dented frying pan which she seems to think will do the trick.

‘I’ll get the herbs,’ Lil exclaims, and she makes for the front door, swaying slightly on her feet.

‘Serena, this is ridiculous,’ I say. ‘I can’t believe you’re encouraging this.’

‘Why not?’ my sister shrugs. ‘It can’t hurt. It’s not like your luck can get much worse.’

I groan again.

‘Candles?’ Serena asks.

‘Do I look like I’ve got candles?’ I gesture at the barren wasteland of my home. It is hardly an advertisement for Jo Malone.

With a tsking sound she starts opening and shutting drawers, eventually letting out a victorious yelp as she pulls out some half-melted birthday cake candles.

Lil bursts back in, her hands full of greenery. ‘I wasn’t sure if any of these were herbs,’ she says, dumping a pile of weeds on the kitchen counter.

‘I think that one’s sage,’ Serena says, poking at one of the leaves.

‘That’s a dandelion,’ I reply.

‘Never mind.’ Serena waves an airy hand. ‘Lil, put them all in the pan.’

Serena lights the candles and sticks them in the leftover pizza, which makes it look vaguely festive, while Lil dumps all the leaves in the frying pan.

‘This is stupid,’ I try again.

‘Tell that to your bra size,’ Serena snorts.

‘That’s called puberty, not magic,’ I say.

‘We’ve got a great track record,’ Lil giggles tipsily. ‘Remember when Cam and Serena broke up and we cast that spell?’

‘That’s right,’ Serena says. ‘And then her mum found her secret stash of Marlboro Lights under the bed and grounded her for the whole summer, and she missed seeing Shania Twain in Hyde Park. Who had the last laugh then?’

I blink. Maybe it’s this compelling argument, or the unflinching support of my sisters, maybe it’s the wave of nostalgia, or maybe it’s the bottle of champagne I’ve drunk (who can say?), but I’m actually warming to the whole magic spell idea.

‘Fuck it,’ I say. ‘Let’s do it.’

‘Yessssss!’ Lil pumps her fist in the air and then staggers slightly, tripping over the hem of her nightie.

‘What did we use to do first?’ I frown, trying to remember.

‘We need a salt circle,’ Serena says, already liberally scattering Maldon flakes around the kitchen floor. She runs out halfway around, but, undeterred, grabs the pepper mill and starts cranking that instead. Soon all three of us are sneezing our heads off.

‘Maybe sugar would be better than pepper?’ Lil says, eyes watering. ‘It feels like a sugar and salt circle would actually be really, like, symbolic of life – sweetness and… saltiness, you know?’

I’m in this now, and the champagne fizzing through my veins means that Lil’s argument actually sounds incredibly sensible. I grab a bag of caster sugar and finish up the circle. ‘Now what?’ I ask.

Lil takes the pan of herbs and puts it on the floor in the middle of the wonky circle.

‘We have to have music.’ Serena grabs her phone and frowns down at it. ‘Needs charging,’ she mutters, digging around in her enormous handbag and pulling out a charger, which she plugs in. After tapping at the screen for a moment, the familiar sound of ‘Sisters of the Moon’ by Fleetwood Mac rings from the tinny speaker.

‘Yesssss!’ Lil exclaims again, already swaying from side to side. ‘I remember!’ She starts crooning along with the lyrics, and Serena and I join in. I close my eyes, imagining us back in our old kitchen, the music crackling over Mum’s record player, the smell of lavender and mint pilfered from Ava’s garden hanging in the air. Music was a simple thing for me then. Something that filled our house.

Serena shakes out the paper in her hand and begins to read from it: ‘We are the Sisters Weird, and we come here today to ask the Goddess to grant our wishes three!’