‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, don’t mind me. Don’t forget this.’
She gave her a tiny glass bottle with a clear fluid in it.
‘Just dab it on your doorstep,’ she said.
‘Is this a love potion?’
‘Oh goodness no, you don’t need that,’ said Bronagh. ‘No. It’s for the bond that holds two sisters; one of the strongest things on earth. Forged in steel, hard as iron, easy to burn, never to break. Goodspeed home.’
‘Actually, we’ve been getting on all … Thank you,’ said Carmen, seeing Bronagh’s face. ‘And happy solstice.’
She pulled out her phone, pushing past the Christmas revellers and curling over against the cold wind as she waited to cross Lothian Road, passing happy people on outings pouring into the theatres and concert halls and cinemas that lined it, piling up treats for Christmas, small children gazing in awe at the lights, girls in sparkly dresses, boys clutching bags of Maltesers, enjoying the thrill of being out after dark.
She walked into the shelter of the great red Caledonian hotel, with its black cabs lining up and where elegant ladies in long dresses and men in kilts were disgorging, obviously for some fancy party. She looked at the beautiful women, thinking about Mr McCredie’s theory that they had to all be witches, and shook her head. Then she thought about Oke and Dahlia and found herself oddly sad. He was just … well. He was different to the people she normally met. Mind you, since she’d moved to Edinburgh, everybody was.
She found herself almost unconsciously scrolling down back through her text messages with Blair, even though she knew it was unwise.
She counted back. It was 9 a.m. in LA. He would be in a meeting. She told herself not to send him a message.
Then she thought, Oh hell, what was there to lose?
And she typed, ‘Don’t tell me, your new hotel room is also a living hell.’
She squeezed her eyes shut, then sent it and put her phone in her pocket out of sight, almost daring herself not to look at it again.
She crossed over Queensferry Street and down Alva Street to the beautifully lit, perfect little house. All the houses on the surrounding streets were beautiful too, and many had matching trees in their windows, all with warm glowing yellow lights as if there’d been a New Town community memo. There probably had been. Even so, Carmen’s tired heart lifted to see it. It was such a pretty house and even though Skylar was inside, so were the little people, and, to her own surprise, she knew she would be so happy to see them.
Just as she was looking for her key, her phone buzzed. She jumped like she’d been electrified. It couldn’t be. But … but …
Slowly, like Charlie Bucket unwrapping his chocolate bar in the snow, she withdrew the phone from her pocket.
‘Hell, darling, pure hell.’
There was a picture attached of palm trees waving above a stunning blue ocean, the sun bright in the sky, tanned figures visible running in the surf.
Carmen couldn’t stop grinning, all the way in, taking off her shoes, putting them away TIDILY, as Pippa liked to remind her, unwinding her scarf and hanging up her coat.
Sofia had gone up to bed; Skylar was in the kitchen, trying to teach the children a song about coriander. For once, Carmen felt rather warm towards her. After all, she was just trying to do her best. It wasn’t her fault that Blair had got in touch with her.
‘Hi, Skylar!’
Skylar looked up and sniffed loudly. ‘Oh my God, have you been drinking?’ she said. ‘You can smell it all the way over here. Really, drinking is just like totally going to destroy your liver. Makes you look older too, right, kids?’
The children looked at her.