Bobbles and Broomsticks Page 2

  I argued against any ornamentation. Violet was somewhere in the middle. When I explained the dilemma to Gran and Sylvia at the most recent vampire knitting club meeting, Sylvia said she had just the thing. Sure enough, next evening, she brought me a lovely tiara, something that a lesser royal might wear. She wanted to lend it to Alice for her hen party. I looked at her with suspicion. “This isn’t real, is it?”

  Sylvia was very old, very rich and loved jewelry. I wouldn’t put it past her to send us out with a headpiece once worn by Catherine the Great. She smiled at me, clearly reading my thoughts. “No. This one’s made with crystals. I keep my good tiara in the safe.”

  Of course she did.

  Sylvia also had a solution to the satin Miss America-style sashes that I knew would horrify Alice. “We’ll knit you all pretty cardigans to wear. They’ll be special but not vulgar.” Alice was an excellent knitter, and I knew she’d approve, especially as Sylvia was designing the cardigans herself. And so the vampire knitting club got busy. Always happy to have projects to fill the long night hours and knitting at such speed it looked like a blur to the naked, human eye, they turned out knitwear at an astonishing rate.

  I ordered in plenty of wool in the exact shade of the bridesmaid dresses, a soft pink. Alice’s sweater was the prettiest and said Bride in white letters on the back of the sweater and then underneath it, Alice and Charlie and the date of the wedding.

  Sylvia said they’d fancy the sweater up with beautifully crocheted rosettes on the front and buttons shaped like tiny brides and grooms. The rest of us had the same sweater, without the rosettes or the word Bride. Just Alice and Charlie and the date of the wedding.

  I was thrilled. It seemed to me that we’d exactly found the compromise between humiliating Alice with a garish display and still having the fun of dressing up and going out to celebrate her wedding. I hoped she agreed.

  Violet and Alice had grown so precious to me in the time I lived here that I was thrilled to be a part of the ceremony. I was excited about this evening, my first British hen party.

  I opened the bottle of champagne I’d bought at Marks & Spencer’s and poured us all a glass. I was going to make a toast when Alice put up her hand. “Bride’s prerogative. Everyone will be making speeches about Charlie and me, but while it’s just us girls, may I make one?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  She gathered her thoughts for a moment and then raised her glass. “I’ve never made friends easily. I’ve always been rather shy. When I first began working at Frogg’s Books, I fell in love with Charlie on the first day. Of course, he never noticed me. And we’d probably have gone on like that for years and years until he married someone else, if it hadn’t been for you two.”

  Violet and I exchanged a glance. We never talked about it, but Alice had been so desperate to have Charlie fall in love with her that when Violet said she had a friend who was a witch and could make a love potion, she’d agreed. The trouble was that Violet thought I needed more practice in our craft and had insisted I help make the love potion, under the direction of a very powerful witch and the head of our coven, Margaret Twigg. The whole thing had gone dreadfully wrong. Fortunately, everything worked out in the end, and Charlie and Alice had fallen in love as they were meant to. Still, if anyone ever asked me to brew a love potion again, I would run screaming in the other direction.

  “I wouldn’t be here today without the two of you. You gave me the courage to believe I deserved a man like Charlie, and you’ve been my greatest support throughout my engagement.” She raised her glass even higher. “To the two best bridesmaids a girl could have.” And then her forehead creased again. “Of course, Beatrice has been my friend for most of my life, and I love her like a sister. There’s just something special about you two.”

  I’d invited Beatrice, but she had an appointment for a facial so she was meeting us at the restaurant.

  We sipped our champagne, and then I brought out the sweaters that Gran and Sylvia had organized. Dr. Christopher Weaver had made Alice’s. Of all the vampires, he was perhaps the most artistic and flamboyant in his woolen creations, and her cardigan was truly gorgeous. Where other brides might preserve their wedding dresses for posterity, I hoped she’d keep that sweater always. It was a work of art.

  I’d wrapped all of the sweaters in pink tissue and put them into gift bags. I passed Alice hers first, hoping very much she wouldn’t be too embarrassed to wear the sweater. The vampires had gone to a great deal of trouble.

  But when she saw it, her obvious hesitation disappeared. She squealed and jumped up, immediately slipping the cardigan on over her flowered dress. The dress was imprinted with old-fashioned roses and green stems. The sweater could have been made to go with it. She twirled around the room, laughing. “I can’t believe it. It’s so beautiful. Thank you for not making me wear one of those awful Bride sashes that light up.” She inspected herself in the mirror, then she looked at me wickedly. “And I know you didn’t make it, Lucy.”

  We all laughed. It was no secret in this room that I wasn’t much of a knitter. Violet and I had discussed it and decided that Violet would have to take the credit for this sweater. “But,” she protested, “no one will believe I knitted a dozen sweaters all by myself in a couple of weeks.”

  “No.” I paced up and down and then came up with a solution. “We’ll say we found a place online. They exist, you know. You can hire people to knit things for you.”

  I gave Violet her sweater and I slipped on my own. Alice looked out the window as though her gaze were drawn to Frogg’s Books across the street. “That’s odd.”

  Naturally, Violet and I both walked up beside her to stare out the window. A well-dressed couple was just heading into the bookshop holding a large, gift-wrapped package. The silver paper and bow gave it away as a wedding gift.

  “What’s odd about it?” I asked.

  “The address on the wedding invitations is my home. All the gifts have been going there. Who would bring a gift to Frogg’s Books?”

  “I don’t know,” Violet said.

  “I don’t recognize that couple, either. Of course, Charlie has friends and relatives I haven’t met yet.” She put on a bright smile. “Do you mind if I pop over and meet them? I hate the idea of strangers at my wedding.” She blushed. “Besides, I want to show Charlie the sweater. You two come along, and then we’ll go straight to the restaurant.”

  And so the three of us headed across the street in our matching bridal sweaters. We walked into the bookshop to find Charlie in the arms of the woman. She was wrapped tightly around him, her arms twined around his neck, while her male partner looked on, rather foolishly holding the gift.

  Over the woman’s shoulder, Charlie looked red-faced and embarrassed. His expression filled with relief when he saw us. “Good. Alice.” He put his hands on the woman’s shoulders and pushed her away. She seemed to go with reluctance. “Sophie, I’d like you to meet my bride-to-be. Alice Robinson, Sophie Wynter and her brother, Boris Wynter. Boris and I were at school together.”

  Something about Sophie Wynter reminded me of an icicle. Partly it was her white-blond hair, and she was so thin, her edges seemed sharp. She had large, deep blue eyes set in a pale, narrow face. Her brother, Boris, was tall and strapping. He shared the pale blond hair and the big blue eyes, but while she seemed all wisps and angles, he was as solid as a brick wall.

  Alice stepped forward. “I’m so pleased to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand. She shook hands with first Sophie and then Boris. He held on to her hand. “I was delighted when I heard Charlie was getting married. Oh, but he was a lad. I could tell you some stories about our Oxford days.”

  Charlie put on a false chuckle. “But I beg you won’t.”

  Boris guffawed. “No, no. Your secrets are safe with me.” Then he winked broadly at Alice. “But I’m open to a bribe.”

  “Really, Boris,” Sophie said in a cold, irritated tone. “No one thinks you’re funny.” Her cool gaze swept ove
r the three of us. “Have you three been volunteering at the hospital or something?”

  We looked at each other in puzzlement, and then Violet laughed. “Oh, you mean the matching sweaters. They’re for the hen party tonight.”

  Alice hastily said, “These are my bridesmaids. Lucy and Violet.”

  Violet and I both knew the guest list for tonight’s hen party by heart. There was no Sophie Wynter on it. “We didn’t realize you’d be in Oxford already, Sophie. Please, you must come to the hen party. We’re meeting for dinner in an hour.” I gave her the name of the tapas restaurant.

  I thought she was going to refuse, but Boris said, “Splendid idea. You head out with the girls, Soph. I’ll keep the old man company for his last days of freedom.”

  Charlie did not appear thrilled at the thought of spending the evening with Boris. “Actually, I was hoping to catch up on some work tonight. I’d like to get ahead before going on holiday.”

  But Boris was having none of it. “Nonsense. Business can wait. I’ll make a few calls. We’ll get some of the old crowd together.” He laughed heartily. “May run into you girls painting the town red.”

  Sophie sighed as though the whole evening out was a great imposition. “Well, if I’m to go to a hen party, I must change. We’ll go to the hotel at once, Boris.”

  She ushered the three of us toward the door as though she were a farmer and we were three pink-clad chickens. Alice sent a last glance back toward Charlie. I felt that she wanted to stay and speak to him, but Sophie was very commanding, pushing us all out the front door so that we were standing on the sidewalk on Harrington Street before we knew it.

  “Well,” Violet said, “we should head to the restaurant and make sure we’re the first to arrive.” Luckily the tapas restaurant was within easy walking distance from Harrington Street. Everyone who wasn’t close enough to walk was either staying with a friend or, like Boris and Sophie, had booked a hotel in town. There would be no driving this evening. Violet would stay with me, and Beatrice had invited Alice to stay in her hotel room. I had a feeling they were looking forward to gossiping and catching up.

  Boris and Sophie headed off to change and we three continued to the restaurant.

  We arrived at the tapas bar fifteen minutes before the guests were expected. Beatrice was already there, finishing up the decorations. Alice laughed and clapped her hands when she saw big pink balloons and the banner that read, “Congratulations, Alice.” Each of the three of us carried a large carrier bag that held the gift-bagged sweaters. Fortunately, the vampires had knitted two spare pink sweaters on the off chance that Alice would have a couple of extra girls at the hen party. I was heartily glad for Sylvia’s foresight, as now I had a sweater for Sophie Wynter.

  Since we had encouraged Alice to start wearing clothes that fit her better, she seemed to feel more comfortable in her own skin. Alice had dark hair, which she often wore coiled at the back of her neck. It would look severe and formal except for the wispy ringlets that always escaped to curl around her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were clear gray behind her glasses. She had a straight nose, full lips, and beautiful skin. She was, in fact, a beauty and tried to downplay her looks, but her bashfulness somehow only emphasized them.

  Polly and Scarlett were the first guests to arrive. We’d all grown to be close friends when we worked together on a college production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. They seemed truly happy for Alice, hugging her and asking if she was nervous.

  “I’m not nervous about marrying Charlie. It’s a dream come true. It’s when I wake up in the middle of the night and worry that I’ve dreamed my engagement that I get nervous.”

  Scarlett laughed. “Sounds like true love to me. And you don’t need to worry about Charlie. He’s crazy about you.”

  We’d ordered pitchers of sangria and soft drinks, and we started the evening by clinking glasses of sangria.

  More women began arriving. I didn’t know many of them. They were friends of Alice’s and, in a few cases, of Charlie’s.

  Sophie Wynter was one of the last to arrive. She looked around at the giggling gathering of women and paused on the threshold, her eyebrows raised slightly. Something about her entrance cast a chill into the air. It reminded me a little of when Margaret Twigg took her place at the head of our coven of witches. She was a powerful witch, but she was also a bit mean and definitely condescending to me. Sophie Wynter had that way about her, as though she’d stumbled into the wrong room and was meant to be with much more interesting people.

  For a second, everyone stared at the woman standing at the entrance, and then Alice went to her. “Sophie, I’m so pleased to see you. Come on in and meet everybody.”

  Liva, a Danish woman who had dated Charlie during university and returned for the wedding with husband and baby in tow, rose and went forward. “Why, Sophie, it’s so nice to see you again.”

  Apart from a slight crispness to her words, Liva had almost no discernible accent. Sophie didn’t look particularly pleased to see her, but they air-kissed on both cheeks European-style anyway. The two women seemed friendly enough, but there was a strange energy between them. In fact, since I had first seen Sophie, my witch senses had been tingling. It was like a low-grade alarm. I made a mental note to keep an eye on her. Since my love potion had helped to bring Alice and Charlie together, I felt a vested interest in the success of the whole enterprise. I wasn’t going to let some cold-looking woman with hard edges slice Alice’s happiness to ribbons, and my intuition said that’s what Sophie Wynter had in mind.

  For the moment, she and Liva seemed happy speaking together. Liva hadn’t known too many people, and I didn’t get the feeling that Sophie knew anyone at all, so at least they had each other. By reaching over and offering them the jug of sangria, I was able to overhear that they were talking about a weekend Liva had spent in Wembley where she and Charlie had spent time with Sophie and Boris. That seemed innocuous enough.

  “How long ago that seems,” Liva said. “I don’t know if you remember, but I fell ill with the most terrible flu that weekend. I’m afraid it rather put me off Wembley.”

  “It should have put you off Charlie,” Sophie said.

  Liva looked puzzled. “But he was so kind to me. It only made me like him more.”

  Sophie looked suddenly furious. “Well, you and Charlie didn’t last, did you?”

  “No. We were not meant for each other. And now I have the right man, and I’m very happy Charlie has found his perfect woman.” Liva glanced at Alice, laughing with her friends, and there was affection in her eyes. But when Sophie’s gaze followed hers, the expression in them was so cold, I nearly shivered.

  Now that everyone had arrived, Violet and I handed out the gift bags. All the girls looked delighted as they unwrapped their cardigans and immediately put them on. I was really pleased to be able to offer Sophie one as well, so she’d feel welcome and hopefully try to fit in and park the attitude. When I gave her the gift bag, she was momentarily surprised. She opened it and pulled out the sweater. “Oh. I hadn’t thought.” She turned it over in her hands and didn’t put hers on. As though I were looking at it through her eyes, I saw that the bride and groom buttons were cheap plastic, and the way the words Charlie and Alice and the wedding date had been knitted into the sweater looked homespun.

  Perhaps I was being unkind and she was only feeling embarrassed, as she knew she hadn’t been expected. So I reassured her. “It should fit. They’re basically one-size-fits-all.” She still stared at the sweater as though unsure what to do with it. “Alice is so pleased you could make it. We don’t have too many of Charlie’s friends here.”

  A bolt of something very much like fury went across the surface of her blue eyes. “Friend?” The word dripped with significance. “Friend of Charlie?” She stared at me as though I were on one of those awful game shows and I’d given the wrong answer. I was about to be voted off the island, laughed off the stage, tossed out the window. Then she gave a brittle laugh. “Oh yes, Charlie
and I are good friends.”

  Liva glanced at me and then back at Sophie. “You must try on the sweater. They’re so pretty. And in Alice’s wedding color too, I understand.”

  Sophie turned up her nose. “Pale pink. How perfect. If you’re a baby.”

  Fortunately, Alice was happily chattering to some of her old school friends and had no idea that Sophie was being disparaging. I didn’t know what to do, so I gave a helpless look to Liva, who gave me a small nod in return. I took that to mean, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her.” I hoped that was what she meant, because I intended to let her.

  I was getting a bad feeling about Sophie Wynter. A very bad feeling.

  Chapter 3

  Large plates of food began to arrive. There were huge dishes of paella, meat, fish and vegetarian options. There were plates of tapas, olives, cheeses and charcuterie and thick, crusty bread.

  Also salads and cut-up vegetables. Basically, every possible dietary restriction we could think of, we’d accommodated.

  I settled myself beside Violet and kept half an eye on Sophie. Under the noise of fifteen women laughing and having a good time, I rapidly explained to Vi about Sophie’s odd behavior. “Are you feeling anything from her?” I wasn’t always sure of myself, as I was still new at the witch thing. Violet had known she was a witch all her life so was more practiced in her craft.

  My cousin looked puzzled. “Why did she want to come to his wedding if she wasn’t his friend?”

  I sighed. “You’ve seen Charlie. He’s absolutely gorgeous, but I suspect half the time he doesn’t have any clue when women are in love with him. Well, look at Alice. Maybe it happened before.”

  Violet reached for another scoop of paella. “I’m never going to get into my bridesmaid dress if I don’t stop eating this. It’s so good.” She balanced a prawn precariously on top of her mound of rice and vegetables. “So you think Sophie might’ve had a little crush on Charlie?”

  “Maybe. Her reaction was certainly odd.”