The Christmas Witch Page 7

  Mina scurried over to a spare fabric ‘swing’ in a middle row. The tattooed male instructor, wearing only bike shorts and a beanie, spotted her and made a beeline in her direction. His buff physique may have been another reason the dark witches were such fans of the class. With a hint of impatience, he told her how to climb into the hammock and hold on for dear life.

  As he stepped away and began talking them through different maneouvres, she tried to concentrate on the weightless feeling … rather than how klutzy she must have looked. After her nonna’s mishaps last night, she was definitely steering clear of magic.

  The blood rushed to her head as they were directed into hanging upside down, their limbs hooked around the lengths of fabric. Her vision clearing, she zoomed in on the back of one ponytailed head at the very front … Gardenia, looking the business, even inverted, in a silvery crop top and hot pants. No doubt her cronies were dotted among the other hammocks too. So much for them all nursing hangovers.

  As Mina gingerly swung back to sitting, she noticed one other familiar woman, in pomegranate-pink lycra, beside Gardenia. While she was as stunning as the dark witches, she definitely wasn’t one of them.

  So, where did Mina know her from? Could she just be one of those Instagram stars she thought she knew because they were always in the media, or worse, a SilverTrade customer, visiting a different neck of the woods?

  The instructor guided them into folding forwards over the hammock and swinging, arms outstretched, like they were flying. Mina’s brain continued to whir. The tumble of treacle-coloured waves … the honed Latina curves … the red-painted nails …

  In an instant, it hit her, almost making her upturn on the hammock. The brunette was Arlo’s wife, Camila! The woman who got to have sex with him every night, for the rest of her life, if she so chose. She didn’t appear to be suffering any post-baby body blues either.

  Mina had only ever seen her in the flesh after ‘stalking’ Arlo outside that restaurant. This was probably because, according to Mina’s (embarrassing) internet deep dive, the couple now lived on the town’s outer fringes and likely found it easier to shop in the bigger centres or even down on the plains, where Camila was from. As smug marrieds, the pair also didn’t have reason to hang out at Mina’s usual haunts, like The Jungalow … until now.

  ‘Slow down a bit,’ the instructor barked across the room. ‘You look like you’re about to take flight; all you need is a broomstick.’

  Embarrassed heat flooded through Mina as she realised he was talking to her. Some cackles emanated from the other hammocks. The only saviour was that Camila wouldn’t know who she was.

  ‘Oops,’ she muttered, praying the remainder of the class would be over soon.

  She should have trusted her instincts; it was the last time she’d ever set foot inside an aerial yoga class.

  A text chimed in Mina’s handbag as she hurried past a row of shops that afternoon. She’d driven down the freeway to see another SilverTrade customer on the plains. If only the distance meant she could escape her mind and all the problems she’d left behind in Hilforest.

  Unusually, she was dropping off her latest spell kit at her customer’s workplace. The woman had been called in to do an extra shift last minute. But Mina figured it’d be okay, just this once, seeing as the lady worked somewhere as hippy-dippy as a massage salon. Though, that reminded her … she hadn’t heard back from her last client. Perhaps Katy had just been too busy getting it on with her husband.

  Mina paused, fishing her phone out of her bag. Lotta’s name glared back on-screen. Gulp. Pushing her shades up on her head, Mina clicked open the message, scanning the contents.

  ‘Hey, weirdo. I got invited to a work thing Tues nite—the launch of a botanical wares studio. Thought it might be up ur alley. I can flick thru the invite. Wanna join me?’

  Mina’s shoulders relaxed. One good thing about being sisters was their spats never lasted long and were easily forgotten. Maybe Lotta even felt a bit guilty about blasting Mina for something she and their elders couldn’t help—being witches. Clearly, not bad enough to refrain from calling Mina a ‘weirdo’, though. Mina sped-typed back her acceptance while pondering when exactly nurseries had started calling themselves ‘botanical studios’ and florists ‘botanical stylists’. Being a crazy plant lady had never been so hip.

  She put her shades back on, adjusted her beret ‘disguise’ and headed off again, counting down the street numbers. Slivers of sunshine warmed her skin, in between the shadows of the shop porches. Everything looked washed anew after last night’s downpour. A car flew past, blaring Little Mix’s Black Magic. She ignored it, continuing past an Asian grocer’s, a trophy-engraving store … then ground to a halt.

  Up ahead, a busty woman, in a see-through negligee, was tying a bunch of pink balloons to a sandwich board. Her only undergarment was a sparkly G-string. Mina didn’t know where to look or go … gah. The over-made-up woman locked eyes with her.

  ‘Blythe?’ the woman said, her ash-brown extensions mercifully swinging over her assets.

  Oh, dear. She’d used Mina’s fake trader name.

  Mina gulped. ‘Nerida?’

  Evidently, Nerida wasn’t the kind of masseuse she’d imagined, into aromatherapy and relaxation music. She was more like Jennifer Love Hewitt in The Client List. As in, she massaged (largely) nude men, with a focus on the groin area, while being scantily clad. Mina wasn’t sure how she hadn’t seen it coming.

  Nerida shot her a friendly beam, which contrasted with her come-hither look. And the neon sign flashing behind her. ‘Hi! I thought you had that spell-making look.’

  Mina hoped the raspberry beret was to blame. She wandered forwards, lessening the gap between them. ‘Lovely to meet you. So, um, where would you like to do the handover? Somewhere private, like the car park maybe?’

  Nerida had requested a spell ‘to get over someone’, which Mina could well relate to. Unless, of course, she’d got her wires crossed and Nerida really wanted to get over a ‘pimp’ or a scary former customer, in which case she’d be better off with the police!

  Nerida straightened, finished with the balloon-tying. ‘You may as well come inside. It’s quiet right now.’ She gestured at her outfit. A silver nipple piercing, underneath lace, caught the light. ‘That’s despite my attempts to drum up more business.’

  Mina swallowed. ‘Right.’

  She followed Nerida into the salon’s reception area, which featured a giant fuchsia desk and leopard-print chairs. A large container of hand sanitiser was also positioned on the counter and an Usher bedroom tune played in the background. A hallway of closed white doors led off from the area.

  Nerida glided behind the desk, graciously pulling on a pink feather-trimmed robe. The feathers reminded Mina of flouncy pampas grass. Or fairy floss. Her mum would have loved it.

  Keeping her shades on, she rootled around in her bag. Security camera, be damned. She plucked out the paper bag she was after, containing ginger, a black cloth and cord, and a typed incantation, and rested it on the counter.

  ‘Did you bring a picture of the person you want to get over?’ Mina asked. ‘It’ll help me talk you through the instructions.’

  Nerida twisted her pumped-up pout. ‘Sadly, I still keep a photo of him in my purse.’

  So, it was a love interest then. Phew.

  ‘It happens.’ Mina shrugged. ‘Though, all going to plan, you won’t be doing that much longer.’

  Nerida fished a snakeskin purse from under the counter, tugging out a passport-sized photo. She gazed at the image for a moment, tracing it with an acrylic, before handing it over. ‘If you knew how short a time you had with someone, maybe you’d appreciate it more then, you know? Would’ve seized the moment.’

  Amen to that.

  ‘Barry married my best friend,’ Nerida continued. ‘Well, my former best friend.’

  ‘That sucks,’ Mina commiserated. She glanced down at the photo and had to press her lips together. The guy was dumpy and past
y-skinned with thinning hair and a penchant for shirts with pen-loaded pocket protectors. Even his mum would have said he was more brains than beauty. Talk about opposites attracting.

  ‘Is your former friend a … a masseuse too?’ Mina couldn’t help asking. Maybe Barry had found all his lovers on the massage table.

  Nerida sighed. ‘No. She’s a football player.’

  Huh. Mina nodded, handing back the photo. She quickly gave Nerida a rundown of the spell. She told her about everything from holding onto the ginger to let it absorb her pain and longing to wrapping up the root with the photo in cloth, securing the bundle with three knots, reciting the incantation, and burying it in the ground.

  As she wrapped up, she heard the shop-door bell jangle behind. She tensed, picturing some slimy customer waltzing in, but a cutesy voice punctuated the air.

  ‘I’m back from my break! Got some more of that sensitive skin massage oil too.’

  ‘Fabulous,’ Nerida said to the new arrival over Mina’s shoulder. Mina stole the chance to look behind her, clapping eyes on a curly-haired blonde wearing tiny denim cut-offs and mustard-y platforms.

  The blonde blinked back at her. ‘Oh, sorry. I mistook you for one of the other girls for a sec there. Didn’t realise you were a customer!’

  ‘Ah …’

  Mina wasn’t sure what to be more offended by. Or if she should even be judgy-judgy at all.

  Nerida jumped in, saving her from herself. ‘No, Wizzy, she’s here about …’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘… Barry. Remember?’

  ‘Aha.’ Wizzy, whose name, incidentally, was as interesting as her job, nodded while fiddling with a vial of fluoro-green liquid around her neck. Interesting. The accessory was identical to the one Amantha had worn the other night. It must have been from her label. Mina couldn’t help getting a kick out of knowing that the dark witch’s wares were being worn on the seamier side of town.

  Wizzy arched an eyebrow. ‘Well, thank goodness you’re here. I can’t wait until this one stops pining for that toss-bag.’

  ‘That’s the plan,’ Mina said lightly. ‘Anyway, I’d better get going.’ She turned back to Nerida. ‘Good luck with everything. Any questions, please email me.’ Nerida nodded, and Mina headed for the door, glancing at Wizzy. ‘See you around.’

  Wizzy smiled, but just as Mina reached for the door handle, she grabbed her elbow. Mina’s chest tightened. Could Wizzy be onto her witchy ways? Was her sweet-as-pumpkin-pie persona just an act?

  Wizzy tilted her head to one side. ‘Tell me. I must know—where do you get your brows done? They’re amazing.’

  Mina breathed out. ‘Oh … nowhere special. Just a little local place in the hills that does eyebrow threading. Comet Brows and Beauty, I think it’s called.’

  Face palm. She’d just given away the fact that she was a hill-dweller. So much for trying to maintain some mystery before her clientele.

  ‘Ha.’ Wizzy grinned. ‘Sounds like I might have to drive up to the hills sometime soon.’

  ‘Super,’ Mina murmured, definitely not meaning it.

  ‘So, dinner with the Vangelis went well.’

  Mina almost dropped the pod of broad beans she was shelling, hearing her mum’s words that Sunday afternoon. She was sitting with her mother and Nonna Rosetta on their back porch, a bowl in her lap, helping to peel beans for dinner. Fruit trees swayed nearby.

  ‘You think a whirly-wind in a handbag and Mrs Vangeli doing laps equates to things going well?’ Mina asked incredulously.

  Her mother flicked platinum-blonde hair over a shoulder. ‘It could have been worse. Mr Vangeli could have ended up with a wet T-shirt, or his clothes could have been swept away by the whirlwind. Ick.’

  Nonna Rosetta reached for another of the marinated lupini beans she’d been snacking on. ‘Personally, I wasn’t a fan of that centaur statue in their kitchen.’

  As was often the case, her nonna’s comment had nothing to do with anything.

  Sofia brought the conversation back on track. No mean feat. ‘Lotta didn’t say anything about being unhappy to us.’

  ‘No, she saved all her venting for me,’ Mina blurted. ‘As always, I have to be the go-between. Thankfully, she’s since cooled down enough to invite me along to a work party Tuesday night. But you’d better try to act at least semi-normal at the wedding or she’ll seriously disown us, for good.’

  Sofia sat up even straighter in her velvety armchair, which at some point had been relegated to outdoor furniture. ‘A work party. Where? What fabulous shindig has she been invited to this time?’

  ‘A new “botanical wares” studio is opening a few streets away from the antique shop,’ Mina told her. ‘In that old brewery site. They’re having a launch party.’

  ‘A botanical what?’ Nonna Rosetta asked in between pulverising another yellow lupini bean with her stained teeth. Unlike Mina, she also considered dried chickpeas worthy snacks.

  Mina shrugged. ‘According to their website, they sell plant stands, pots, terrariums, and so on.’

  Nonna Rosetta leant forwards. ‘Will there be a sausage sizzle, like when the hardware store had that big birthday?’

  Mina smiled, popping more beans from their pod into her bowl. ‘I think the food will be a leetle fancier than that.’

  Her mum picked up a knife, slitting another leathery pod along its seam. ‘Sounds just like my kind of party. Maybe I could join you girls? It’s been a while since I shook my groove thing.’

  And since anyone had uttered such a phrase.

  ‘Lotta’s usually only allowed one plus-one.’ Mina twisted her mouth. ‘So, maybe next time? Anyway, the store will be open to the public from Wednesday.’

  Her mother returned the knife to her side table. ‘The public! Doubt I’ll see any handsome men in suits then. But if you girls must play by the rules …’ She brushed fluff from her maroon blouse. ‘Speaking of handsome suits, how’s your new boss?’

  Mina coughed like she’d swallowed a broad bean whole. ‘Er, he’s my boss, and he’s fine … Not fine-looking. I mean, some people might say that he is, if they didn’t work for him. But, yes, all’s going okay. He has his … crabby moments, but I still have a job at least, for the moment. Apparently, the shop needs to improve its profit margins.’

  She was aware she was rambling, but, hey, she’d had a rather bizarre weekend.

  ‘I see.’ Sofia nodded solemnly, her gaze wandering into the distance. ‘Ooh, look. A spider’s spun down from the railings. The web looks just like a cracked phone screen. We know spider-webs can reveal the future. Shall I read it to see what it says about your … work situation?’

  Mina set aside her yellow bowl, jumping to her feet. ‘No, thank you. As you’re also aware, we control our destiny as much as anything else. Life’s an ever-shifting kaleidoscope, depending on our actions.’

  A thunderous sound bracketed the end of her speech, filling the air with an earthy scent.

  Nonna Rosetta clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘Scusi. Think I had one too many lupini beans.’

  Sofia slapped a denim-clad thigh, shrieking with laughter. Mina just shook her head, swiping the teapot, shaped like a thatch-roofed cottage, from the table. ‘Think I’ll go get us some more chrysanthemum tea. That might help your stomach … and my nose.’

  Chapter 9

  ‘Ooh, there’s that flashy designer guy from the city.’ Lotta darted a look over her shoulder at the botanical wares studio launch Tuesday night. ‘Balthazar or whatever his name is. I’d better go grab a quick party comment from him for the rag. Won’t be a sec.’

  ‘Oh, okay,’ Mina said, though Lotta was already swishing away in her latest Little Black Dress. Alone, Mina toyed with the straw in her cocktail—a blood orange rosemary gin fizz—peering around a fiddle-leaf fig tree at the festivities.

  The crowd were as glossy and hip as the plant stands, pots and botanical art on display in the white-walled space. Hilforest’s elite had, indeed, come out of the woodwork that night. Model-perfect wa
itresses with canapes orbited like moons while wearing ‘living’ air plant necklaces, likely designed by Amantha. Even the plants for sale, from the pink-striped Calathea to the purply Wandering Jew, oozed an aloofness … unaware they’d be binned once their upkeep got too much for their buyers and the indoor plant trend inevitably died. (Sad fact: plants weren’t meant to be kept inside.)

  Central to it all was a gargantuan Christmas tree, reminding Mina of her heritage and lot in life. Other trendy items on show included bottled ‘aquatic’ terrariums with floating moss balls, test-tube vases, and staghorn ferns mounted on backing boards.

  A glamorous couple entered the soiree arm-in-arm, diverting Mina’s gaze. Her stomach lurched, and the abundant TV screens, showing noiseless video clips, blinked, as if in sympathy.

  It was Gardenia, in a dress as white as the flower she was named after, and Jadon, looking devastatingly handsome in a black suit and shirt, no tie. The sight of them together was both shocking and envy-inducing. If only she could flit from one hot male to another, like Gardenia, without it impacting her heart.

  Since the weekend, Jadon had been back to his standoffish self at the shop. She’d even walked in that morning to find her plant stand banished to the back room, along with Sutton’s candles. Which made it ironic that he was now at a plant party, as Gardenia’s latest pet. Though the only garden Mina could imagine the dark witch tending to was her own lady-garden …

  Mina tugged at the coppery silk frock she’d borrowed from Lotta. What she wouldn’t have done to be in her PJs on the couch right then. Parties rarely lived up to their hype—

  ‘Psst!’

  She glanced backwards. But, of course, being the wallflower that she was, the only thing behind her was a retro gold-framed painting of a red parrot. Which meant, now, not only was she Nigella No Friends, spying on others, she was also imagining that people actually wanted her attention.