I Put A Spell On You

“Then you call me Louise,” she said. “I just phoned to see how you are.”

“Oh you know,” I said, plopping down onto my bum and stretching my legs out in front of me. “Back to work. It’s strange, without Star.”

“I’m sure it is,” Louise said. I could tell the sympathy in her voice was genuine. “Are youokay?”

“It’s easier to keep busy,” I said. I paused. “Louise.”

“Yes?”

“I went to Star’s house.”

She groaned.

“I knew you were up to no good,” she said.

“I found something.”

“What did you find?” She sounded annoyed.

“Some photos of Star. I need to show you really,” I said, knowing I could easily just tell her what was in them.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m free later – I could come to the spa?”

We made arrangements to meet, and I hung up feeling slightly relieved but nervous about what she’d say when she saw the pictures. Would she be angry I’d not shown her straight away?

I turned my phone over in my hand, knowing I had another call to make. Then I leaned over, picked up my diary, found the number and dialled before I had time to change my mind.

The phone rang once, twice, and then a voice answered. Star’s mum.

“Mrs Douglas?” I said. “It’s Harry.”

“Oh Harry,” she said. “It’s good to hear from you.”

I had a real soft spot for Star’s mum, who was an old hippie just like mine. Star and I had laughed about our hippie names many times and shared stories about being sent to school with lentil cutlets in our lunchboxes when everyone else had square crisps. Talking to Mrs Douglas now made my eyes fill with tears.

“How are you?” I said.

“We’re getting on,” she said. “It’s hard.”

“I’ve put Star’s things together,” I said, swallowing my tears. “I’ve got them at work. I thought you might want them. It’s just stuff from her desk – but I didn’t want to throw it away.”

“You’re so thoughtful,” she said. “Fiona’s here – I’ll get her to pop down this afternoon if that’sokay?”

Fiona was Star’s best friend.

“That’s great,” I said. “I’ll see her then.”

As I took a shower I wondered if I could ask Fiona about the photos. I knew she and Star had been very close and thought Star had been bound to tell her friend if she was worried about something.

But later, Fiona looked blank when I asked her if Star had confided in her.

“She was hurt?” she said, looking horrified. “How was she hurt?”

“She was in a car accident,” I said. “And she cut her head. I just wondered if she thought the two things were connected?”

Fiona put down the box she was carrying – the box holding Star’s things – and rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand. She was a large woman, with dark red hair and pretty freckles.

“She was coming to see me,” she said. “When she crashed her car. She was coming across to Fife to stay for the weekend.”

I didn’t speak – I wanted her to keep talking.

“She was so stressed, her mum thought it would do her good to get away. I knew she was worried about something but she wouldn’t talk about it on the phone.”

She paused again.

“But I didn’t know she’d hurt her head. When did that happen?”

I shrugged. Fiona carried on.

“She wasn’t looking after herself. Her doctor changed her pills and I don’t think she was taking them. She wasn’t eating right…”

She started to cry.

“I should have come down to see her. I could have done something to help.”

She wiped her eyes clumsily with her sleeve and I picked up the tissue box we kept on reception. It was empty. Fiona sniffed loudly and I subtly waggled my fingers over the box and watched as tissues appeared inside.

I handed her the box with what I hoped was a sympathetic smile.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

Even I didn’t believe myself, but Fiona gave me a grateful look, then took me by surprise by throwing her arms around me. I tried to wriggle out of her hug, but she just squeezed me harder.

“Thank you,” she said in my ear. “Thank you for caring about Star.”

As if I didn’t feel bad enough.

After Fiona left, I was edgy and nervy. If I’d felt bad before, meeting Fiona and seeing her grief close up made me feel even worse. I felt dreadful about Star and I was desperate to find out more about what had happened to her.

Listlessly, I drifted around the spa, unable to settle to anything or concentrate on any of the jobs I had to do. Eventually I sat down at my computer and forced myself to do some admin on the website. I had a manager who ran it for me now – she was brilliant – but I liked to keep an eye on things.

As I scrolled through the site, making notes on things that needed tweaked or changed or deleted altogether, Xander put his head round my office door.

“I’m just popping out,” he said. I eyed him suspiciously; he never, ever went out during the day.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m meeting Esme,” he said. He looked very pleased with himself. “She’s going to give me a lesson.”