do the spell thingy anyway? It will be fun – like that time we made a love potion for the new boy at school.’
‘That wasn’t fun; he was sick all over my school bag and we got a detention. Plus, I’m not sure we made or administered the potion. I was an innocent bystander – one who had to buy a new school bag.’
‘Oh come on, writing a name on a candle and letting it burn out is simple enough,’ Jess persevered. ‘Lots of old charms and spells use candles. They light the way and dispel the forces of darkness. The ancient Egyptians used them, and just about anyone involved in any hocus-pocus has jumped on the bandwagon. Churches buy them by the barrow-load. Very symbolic.’
Lucy remembered Jess’s passing white witch phase well. Jess did lots of activities in phases. There was the gym phase (she had a massive crush on one of the personal trainers), the knitting phase (in solidarity with her friend – but she was all fingers, thumbs and bad language) and currently the beauty therapy phase (self-taught via YouTube and a bit random). No explanation for that had been forthcoming but Lucy suspected it was a combination of trying to win over Dashing Daniel from work and her plans to earn some extra money on the side giving facials, manicures and a bit of intimate waxing.
‘And even though I haven’t met this George of yours—’
‘He’s not my George.’
‘—this George your dotty neighbour’s got earmarked for you, I think I should give him the once-over. If he’s got potential, we’re definitely doing this candle malarkey, because even if he was your type, you’d live next to him for twenty years and never have the guts to ask for so much as a cup of sugar.’
‘That’s not fair. I’ve already been in his house. And practically seen him topless. I even got a flash of nipple.’
Jess spat out her mouthful of Diet Coke and wiped her dribbly chin with her free hand. She didn’t drink tea or coffee, which made her volunteering to do the tea round seem even more magnanimous.
‘You’re one secretive bunny, Miss Baker. This bloke has been in your neighbourhood for a whole fortnight and you’ve only told me about him today as an aside to your locket conundrum. You do know best friends are supposed to text each other this stuff on an hourly basis, right?’
‘You know I’m not that sort of person, and anyway, seeing him topless was a by-product of Brenda getting caught in the rain. Nothing happened.’
‘Nothing? You’ve seen his nipples! I think you may have missed out great chunks of this tale – the juicy chunks. Come on girlfriend. Spill.’
So Lucy went back to the beginning and told Jess about the allergy-inducing cat. And the wandering neighbour. And the nipples.
‘Right, I’m coming home with you tonight, so I can suss out this George for myself.’
‘You can’t just invite yourself over. I might have plans.’
‘Yeah, right. The only plans you’ll have are to watch non-stop Craft and Create on TV with your gang of knitted friends, as you run up a quick Aran sweater with your size twelves.’
‘Number fives,’ muttered Lucy.
‘I’m so jealous of all this,’ Jess said, abandoning a hastily collected overnight bag in the middle of the hall and curling up on the sofa next to Thor. ‘There’s no one watching you, clocking when you go out or come back in. I couldn’t bring a bloke back to our flat. Mum would either embarrass me or start flirting with him. But it’s what I need, Luce. Someone to whisk me away from it all. Preferably a bit of a looker, not short of a bob or two and with his own place.’
‘I don’t know why you love it so much. My flat is a mess,’ said Lucy, defensive about the state of her home and painfully aware of her shortfalls from the comments her mother made every time she visited.
‘But everything is so woolly and welcoming. It’s full of colour and knick-knacks and it doesn’t smell of takeaways or stale smoke. Because, seriously, if the gin doesn’t get my mum, the fags will.’
Lucy started the meal, leaving the chilli to simmer, and returning to her friend in the living room. She picked up her knitting and chatted away without once looking down to see what her fingers were doing. Jess was impressed with the half-knitted Poldark and pushed Lucy to consider setting up a website, as she’d done many times before.
‘I’ve told you people would pay good money for them. I bet I’m not the only one who would buy a knitted sex god. Got to be better than an inferior flesh one. They don’t answer you back or make you sleep in the wet patch, but you still get a cuddle. Think about a Facebook page, at least.’
‘I don’t think they’re good enough, but thanks for the vote of support.’ Lucy added Poldark’s second nipple, double-checking it was level with the first.
‘So when does the monosyllabic giant return home from work?’ Jess said, leaping up to peep around the living-room curtains. She’d clearly been expecting George to be conveniently striding around his front garden, possibly topless, when they arrived so that she could suss him out.
‘It varies.’
‘What does he even do?’
‘I think he makes boxes. Brenda said he’d mentioned E.G.A. Packaging to her. It’s that huge factory on the industrial estate near the old airfield.’
‘Oh, well…’ Jess almost sounded disappointed. ‘He’ll do nicely for you. You can sit and knit bed socks while he tells you all about the benefits of cardboard over bubble wrap.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ Jess, with her limited attention span, came away from the window. ‘Let’s eat. It must be nearly ready because I can smell delicious aromas drifting down the hall and garlic always makes me salivate. We can crack open the cheeky little bottle of red that accidentally fell in my overnight bag on the way here.’
The girls ate a spicy beef chilli together; Jess appreciatively hoovered up every last morsel while Lucy pushed forkfuls around her plate like a croupier moving the chips on a roulette table. Jess being there made her nervous. She generally admired her friend’s enthusiasm and energy except when it was being directed at some aspect of her own life. She hadn’t forgotten the enforced make-over last month. Horrible, horrible experience. A blob of mascara and a smattering of face powder usually sufficed.
‘So are you going to do the spell?’ Jess asked
‘To be honest, I’m not sure I want Mr Aberdour launching himself at me.’ Lucy curled her top lip. Although, and she would never admit this to Jess who would happily add two and two and make sixty-seven, she was intrigued by this solitary man. There’d been no visitors since he moved in, and he came across as brutally abrupt – but she was certain he’d picked up on her distress when Brenda had gone for her wander. His fleeting touch of concern had given her goose bumps.
‘At the moment, honey, I don’t think you are even the tiniest green dot on the edge of his radar, so doing one simple spell won’t do any harm. And if you think it’s
