Page 17 of The Trouble With Love

‘Well, think fast then. These pants are new.’

I smoothed my page out along my thigh and began scribbling an amendment. ‘Excitement of the right kind, not anything stupid or shallow. The kind that shows you what life is really all about.’ I was about to add something about ‘with definitely no men in it’, but Megan wrestled the paper from my hand and hurled it into the boisterously rolling water.

‘Sorry, Holl, but I don’t want to get piles, not if there’s some gorgeous man out there with my name on. I really can’t see him getting far with the whole worship thing if I have to sit on a special cushion, can you?’

My page caused the scummy brown fluid to rise several centimetres up the inside. A grey froth overflowed and hit the Primus, causing a round of steam and a smell like the inside of a tramp’s shoe. We all coughed.

‘So that’s it?’ I went to stand up. ‘Ritual over?’

‘Oh no.’ I didn’t like the way Vivienne was looking at me. ‘Now we drink it.’

The chorus of disgust almost drowned out the vague, distant sound that I’d been hearing for the last few minutes. Somewhere, out on the edge of hearing, was a humming. A vibrating, like a nest of wasps. I tipped my head on one side.

‘What’s that noise?’

But the other women were still being revolted, and didn’t hear me. Vivienne had produced a large silver tablespoon which she dipped into the water.

‘It’s fine.’

‘It’s boiled frog!’ Isobel looked horrified. ‘And owl bits. I can’t possibly drink that. I’m a vegetarian!’

It was more the thought of the toenail that bothered me. And that noise, which was beginning to sound familiar.

‘It’s been boiled. It’s sterile. And the animal bits are all roadkill, so it’s not like they died for you.’ Vivienne raised the spoon to her own lips and drank. I stopped being bothered by the noise and stared in horrified revulsion as she swallowed. ‘Tastes a bit like chicken.’

Megan went next, pulling terrible faces and only managing to lick the very tip of the spoon before she drew away. Then Isobel, who at least managed to get a mouthful, then collapsed retching on the grass. Eve and I looked at each other.

‘After you,’ she said.

‘No, I insist. You first.’

Eve’s mouth did its best to get away from the spoon, but she persisted. A drizzle of greasy-looking foam fell from her lips and her eyes went very round, then her throat worked like a python trying to digest a goat. ‘It’s not so bad,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Go on, Holly.’

Like Vivienne had said, it was boiled. How bad could it be? I dipped the spoon under the surface to avoid the speckled film forming on the top of the pan, and put it to my lips, trying not to look at it or smell the steam rising. It was hot. I blew on it for a second, then grabbed my nose and tipped the lot down the back of my tongue. ‘Errgh. Delicious.’

For a moment it felt as though someone had hit me on the back of the head, very hard. My thoughts fragmented and the earth shuddered underneath me, shaking itself like a wet dog before my head cleared and I opened my eyes. Isobel was still retching, Megan had her tongue stuck out and Eve was frantically draining the last of the Evian water from the bottles. ‘Wow. Did anyone else feel that?’

‘Fee’ whap?’ Megan looked down at her tongue, grimaced and left it sticking out. ‘Ah dimp fee’ anufin’.’

I looked at Vivienne, who had rather a smug expression on. ‘Did you put drugs in this? Acid? No, that would be destroyed by boiling . . . there was something, some kind of, I dunno, hallucinogen. Very quick, very short acting.’

Vivienne shrugged. ‘Not of my doing, Holly. Perhaps it was the magic you felt, the spell taking effect.’

‘No, it was more . . . what the hell is that noise?’

Isobel managed to quell her stomach for long enough to give a short scream. ‘It’s motorbikes! Men on motorbikes, riding around down there at the edge of the wood.’

‘Probably some kind of motocross rally.’

‘Vivienne, it’s dark. No one does motocross in the dark.’ I looked where Isobel was pointing. At least three figures were visible, riding high-framed dirt bikes. Every so often one of them would point our way, but it looked as though they were holding back from approaching us. Scoping us out, maybe?

‘Let’s go.’ I tipped the remains of the liquid onto the grass.

‘But we need to cool the Primus down.’ Vivienne protested.

‘Look. There’s five of us. Three, maybe four of them. They don’t look like they’re up to any good; they could be drunk, they could be high. Now, you might fancy your chances against a possibly armed crackhead, but me, I’m not so sure. Leave the bloody Primus.’ I helped Eve to her feet. ‘And they look like they’re closing in, so I’d hurry, if I were you.’

With a little yelp Vivienne snatched up her bag and pan, and with the rest of us hanging on to one another, we flew down that hill like the witches we weren’t.

---