Page 81 of Witch You Weren't Here

‘I appreciate you don’t know really him, but he’s my uncle and I know there’s no way he isn’t proud of Harry. How could he not be? Harry gives and gives … it just comes naturally to him. He may have chafed at the other elements of being the Ashworth heir. But looking after everyone,’ she shrugged. ‘It’s just what he does.’

Kay chewed on her fingernail, turning over the risk in her mind. The thought of breaking Harry’s heart, the way she broke her mother’s …

Becca rolled her fingers back and forth idly, making the book in front of her fan its pages slowly. ‘And there would always the option to just … not tell him, wouldn’t there. If that’s what you see. I don’t for a minute believe that you will, but you wouldn’t have to tell him, would you?’

‘I can’t lie. And he’ll know I’ve seen it. I need them both to be in the same room, and he’ll know I’m seeing it as soon as I take my glasses off.’

‘I could figure out a way to make it work, I’m sure.’

‘So, I invade his privacy?’

Becca dropped her hand, the book thudding shut. Then she took a deep breath and linked her fingers together. ‘Please, Kay. I honestly wouldn’t ask this if I didn’t think it was going to help. People are never mad when you give them good news. You will be giving him good news. I’m so sure, I’d bet my … my cat on it. And I love Michael Kitten like he’s my actual child.’

Kay blinked her way past Becca’s offer and searched inside herself, trying to ignore her automatic rejection that her gift might actually be good for something for once, to whether or not she should use it without Harry’s permission. Could she do this? Should she do this? Would she be able to live with herself if she saw something that she could never tell him about? Not without breaking his heart, anyway.

As difficult as that idea was to bear, the thought of turning her back and not helping him when she might have the ability to remove his pain was harder to swallow.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘OK, I’ll do it.’

Chapter Twenty

5.30 p.m.: sunday 31 october

The West Wing, Ashworth Hall

Becca didn’t seem to want to risk Kay changing her mind. As soon as she’d agreed, she was bustled out of the study and up the nearest staircase.

‘There’s not long until the reception starts,’ Kay objected, despite still hurrying after Becca, her shoes in one hand and her skirt lifted in the other.

‘I know. This won’t take long will it. In and out. Uncle Adrian won’t be up to a visitor any longer than that.’

A fuzzy edge of panic surrounded her like a migraine halo by the time they reached the second floor. Becca whispered that her uncle’s room was at the end and Kay stopped in her tracks. Was she really doing this?

Becca knocked on the door, beckoning sharply for Kay to join her. Before she could lift a foot to move in either direction, Harry opened the door. He rested his shoulder on the frame like it was easier to prop himself up than use his own strength to stand up straight.

Why? Why had he pushed himself so hard to make Joe’s wedding happen, when he’d already been exhausted from their troublesome journey home? Was he that kind, or desperate to show he was the right person to safeguard Biddicote’s witching community?

She suspected it was a bit of both, but even if it was just the latter, it was even more important that Kay helped him see he didn’t have anything to prove. Kay wanted to do this for him. And that meant she had to be brave.

She dropped her shoes and slipped her feet back into them, giving herself an excuse for having lingered down the end of the hallway.

‘Everything OK, Becs?’ He’d taken his jacket and tie off, his top button undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

‘Yeah, I brought Kay up because she wanted to say a quick thank you to your mum and dad. Would you take her in?’

‘Kay?’ He pushed himself off the door frame, digging one hand into his hair, as his eyes, their true, bright blue, found her. He glanced back over his shoulder to his dad’s room.

If he said no, this was going to be a short-lived plan.

‘It might give him a boost, eh? Remind him that this place is still the heart of the witching community.’ Becca turned towards her and raised her eyebrows, so only Kay could see.

Kay pressed her sweaty palms together and gave in to the urge to move closer, which she always felt when Harry was near. ‘I’ll be really quick,’ she said, her voice coming out like a bad Marilyn Monroe impression; her lungs appeared to have been steamrollered flat.

His soft mouth compressed for a second, paling under the pressure and showing up those freckles that crept onto the edges of his lips. Then he spoke again. ‘Erm … sure, I think that should be OK, but I’ll check.’

Becca nudged Kay closer to the gap in the doorway as he went back inside. It was dim in there, but Kay could just about make out the bed, and Harry’s mum sitting on a chair beside it. With trembling fingers, she reached up to pull her glasses down, but Harry was already turning back before she even got them unhooked from her ears. She fumbled them back into place and tried to step back, but Becca was right there.

Goddess, what was she doing? Using her gift on him without his permission. How to become a massive hypocrite in three short days? All her doubts came rushing back in.

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