Chapter Eleven

Libby collapsed onto the lawn, exhausted after a ten mile run. Still, the endorphin high was a must when she faced two days off. Since the grounding exercise, she'd had no inappropriate thoughts about Robbie and their working relationship continued as if the hug never happened. He'd still be uncommunicatively grumpy in the morning, ignoring her, but at five when she'd head into the kitchen to drop off the key, he'd be waiting with a glass of wine. They never mentioned policemen or errant wives, keeping their chat to the health and well-being of the horses, yet here she was, already wishing she could pop round for a post work wine. She'd miss him.

Jack appeared from the kitchen doorway, the door now absent. 'Good run?'

Able to breathe again, Libby nodded and went into the kitchen for a glass of water.

'Xander's in training for the Lum Valley Fell Race and he's daring me do it too.'

She drained her drink, watching Jack hammering at the doorframe, his muscles tensing as he ripped the rotten wood from the wall. In his black work trousers and sleeveless t-shirt, with a tool belt hanging around his waist, he could easily have stepped from the cover of some erotic novel.

He must have rough hands. Why isn't he single? He'd so do me. Crikey, he could so do me.

The shrill doorbell yanked her from her reverie and she came back to reality, realising she was staring at Jack. And he was returning the favour, flashing a cheeky smile.

'You going to get that?' he asked, turning back to the frame.

Oh god, he so knew she'd been perving at him. Grateful for the excuse to run away, she ran to answer the door. Sadly, Andy was waiting on the other side, in his uniform, including the hat.

'What?'

'Can we talk?' Andy had his hands shoved in his pockets, and he glanced at his feet for a moment. 'Please?'

She wanted to tell him to bugger off, but instead, she stepped back and they went into the living room.

'Look, Libby,' he said as he perched on the windowsill, 'I'm sorry.'

She sat down too, but as far from him as possible. 'What do you want?'

He still had his hands in his pockets, staring at his boots. 'You.'

'No, you want Holly.' She narrowed her eyes as he opened his mouth. 'Don't bother lying.'

He swore and turned to her. 'But come on, Lib. We understand each other. That weekend was amazing, wasn't it?'

Yes, the weekend had been amazing, but it was somewhat undermined by him closing his eyes and thinking of his ex-wife.

'It doesn't matter what-' She stopped as Stan wandered in carrying a coil of blue piping. He nodded at her and she forced a pleasant smile.

Andy used the interruption to edge closer. 'We could start over.'

'What, so you can close your eyes and pretend I'm her again? Not a chance.' She stood up, moving away from him. 'I'm worth more than that.'

'You are.' He grabbed her wrist, gently pulling her to him. 'I'm sorry.'

She tried to move back, but found herself against the wall, staring into those stupidly blue eyes. Oh god, why were his eyes so mesmerising? She shook her head. 'No. I'm not going to go out with someone who wants someone else. It's wrong.'

'You and your morals.'

'Yeah, well, you don't appear to have any and look how life's working out for you.'

He held her against the wall, one hand pushing a wisp of hair off her face, the other behind her back, stroking the bare skin at her waist. 'Okay, if I'm honest, I love my ex-wife, but that's not something I can just turn off. Does it mean I can't get to know someone new?'

Honest? Oddly, she believed him. Thirty years old, good-looking, blue eyes not brown and finally, honest. Was this who she'd summoned? Was PC Andy her true love? The way he'd treated her was borderline immoral. She'd rather run off to London to be with Paolo than feel second best.

'No.'

'But you're driving me mad.' His eyes pleaded with her. 'I haven't stopped thinking about you for days.'

'Get off me.' She tried to wriggle away, but his hands tightened.

'Tea, Libby?' Jack stood in the kitchen doorway, with Stan hovering behind.

Andy stepped away, releasing her.

'Yes, please,' she said, her heart thumping. What on earth was Andy doing?

'Andy?' Jack glared at him with absolute disgust.

'It's okay. I'm going.' Andy turned to Libby, giving an apologetic smile. 'I mean it, Lib. Don't run.'

After the front door closed, Libby slumped against the wall.

'It's like I said.' Stan watched as Andy crossed the square. 'What happens when the siren doesn't desire the man anymore?'

'Oh shut up, Stan.' Libby pushed past him and Jack, grabbing her cigarettes on the way to the garden.

She sat on the patio steps in her usual spot and, from the small pocket in the back of her leggings, she took out the little silk pouch. 25-35, good-looking, non-brown eyes, honest. She should've been pickier.

'Grace has a little bag, just like that. Carries it everywhere.' Jack sat next to her. 'What's in it?'

'Nothing of any worth.' She tipped the dusty contents into the grass. Why did Grace have a pouch to summon her true love? Grace had Jack.

'Not seen our Andy get like that before. He seems a bit obsessed with you for someone still in love with their ex.'

Libby nodded. That's what scared her. What if she had summoned Andy and now he was obsessed? What if she had no idea of the power of the spell? What if Stan was right? She shook her head, dismissing ridiculous thoughts. When did she start taking this Wiccan mumbo-jumbo seriously? Maybe the day she stood in the garden and grounded herself with the Earth Goddess and the Sun Star. She had to get a grip.

'You okay?' Jack asked

'I'm fine.'

'You don't look fine. You have this big old frown.' With his thumb he gently rubbed her forehead, never dropping his eye contact with her, never dropping his sexy half-smile.

'Stop it,' she whispered.

'Stop what?' His thumb trailed down the side of her face, brushing her neck.

'You have a girlfriend.'

'And if I didn't?'

'What?'

He leaned closer, his green eyes promising nothing but fun. 'What if I didn't have a girlfriend?'

She held her breath, the heady combination of Lynx and hard work battering her will power. Oh god. A loud beeping brought her to her senses.

'Oh, for...' Jack checked a beeper clipped to his belt and swore before dashing into the house.

Libby followed, her heart beating. What was going on? First Andy turns stalker on her then Jack nearly kisses her. She'd come back from a run; she had to smell like an old trainer. What was it with these guys?

'What's the beeper for?' she asked.

'A call out. Got to go.'

'A call out for what?'

Jack stopped, turning to flash his cheekiest grin. 'I'm a fireman. Play your cards right, Tinkerbelle, and you might get to see me in my uniform.'

And he shot her a wink.

Oh god. A fireman? Desire shot through her. No, no, no. He might be good-looking, in his late twenties with non-brown eyes, but he wasn't honest. Libby couldn't have summoned Jack.

She watched as he sprinted across the square. But why did he have to be a fireman?

*

The MasterCard bill from hell peeked out of her handbag, but Zoe refused to open it. Five grand. It'd be five grand. What if it were more? What was the card limit? Ten?

Through the kitchen window, Zoe watched as Jack stripped off his t-shirt then picked up the handsaw. The working week was finished, Greg was coming round later and she had eye candy to ogle in the meantime. It would be a great weekend.

'Right, I'll be off.' Sparky hovered behind her, his t-shirt abandoned the second she'd arrived home. The boy was ripped, killer abs but Jesus, you'd have to put a bag over his head.

Zoe handed him an envelope stuffed with twenties. 'Thanks for everything. I'll give you a bell when we're ready for second fix.'

And she watched another three grand of her money walk out of her life.

The Manchester flat had sold without fuss and after paying off the mortgage, she'd walked away with forty grand, twenty of it clear profit. Sadly, money pit bloody cottage was swallowing it at an alarming rate.

Had she been greedy? Was coming here a mistake? If she'd have sold the cottage as was, she'd have paid off her mortgage, and be worth two hundred and forty grand in property and cash. But if she stuck to her plan, then in the New Year she'd have three hundred grand cash. This plan left her sixty grand better off than not renovating the cottage. It was worth it. She just needed to sell a house. And soon.

Time to be brave. After a hefty sip of her wine, she slipped a letter opener into the envelope and tore open the bill. Eight grand? How the hell had she spent eight grand? It had to be wrong. Surely someone had cloned her card, charged her twice. She scanned the items. All valid purchases. Balls.

Her phone beeped. Greg's timing was impeccable.

'What's up?' she asked, resigned.

'I can't come round.' He gave a huge sigh. 'Lisa just turned up.'

Poor Greg, now he'd spend the night, putting up with Lisa and her melodramas. That woman thrived on conflict. Zoe said goodbye, her tone sweet, reassuring him, but her right hand stabbed letter opener into the wooden chopping block.

'What are you doing, psycho?' Libby asked.

'Greg's just stood me up.'

'Crikey, you've a gift for picking the bastards.'

'He's not a bastard. He's just a bit too soft with his ex.' Zoe sighed. 'What I need is to make him realise I'm the one, then he'll tell that stupid cow to piss off.'

'Well, you can't need any more shoes to help. The delivery guy nearly put his back out. I see Jack's still here.'

'Hanging around to see you, I'd say.' Zoe copped another eyeful of the eye-candy. 'Stop avoiding him. He's fit and a fireman.'

'He's a fit fireman with a girlfriend.'

'I bet you've already pictured him, dashing out of a burning building, sooty smudge on his cheek, carrying a puppy.'

Libby turned redder than the MasterCard bill. 'It was a kitten and I hate you.'

'At least the spell's working for you.'

'Spell? What spell?'

Zoe turned to Libby, surprised by her defensive tone. 'The one on the house. You fancied Andy and now he sends you flowers every day. Did you get the restraining order yet? You fancy Jack and he tries it on. Even Paolo still rings once a week, don't think I haven't heard you talking to him. I'd hoped it might work on Greg too.'

'Zo, promise you won't laugh?'

She promised no such thing and did indeed giggle when Libby told her about keeping Maggie's box of witchcraft and the spells she'd done.

'Fuck me, you're a dark horse at times, Ms Wilde.' Zoe stood up. 'Let's do it.'

'Do what?'

'The Summoning Spell. I'll summon Greg, and you can summon... well, someone that isn't Robbie, Jack or Andy.'

'Really?' Libby wandered, frowning, to her bedroom. 'Well, there's no messing around and you have to do the Grounding thing first.'

Although amused at how earnest Libby sounded, that evening, after a bottle of wine, Zoe soon found herself sitting cross-legged in the middle of the back garden, no longer worrying if anyone could see them. This whole Wicca thing was nothing more than superstition and fantasy, utter mumbo jumbo, but under the mackerel and mares tail sky, highlighted with pink and oranges from the setting sun, Zoe frowned at her blank piece of torn wallpaper, nibbling the end of her pen.

'What are you putting?' she asked Libby.

'Good looks, 25-33, nice eyes (not brown), English, honest, good morals, single. That should rule out Robbie, Paolo, Andy and Jack.'

Zoe wrote: A great shag with plenty of money.

*

Splattered with mud and shattered, Libby doubled over, gasping for breath.

'You just couldn't resist, could you?' Grace strode down the steps outside the Vets surgery, her arms wrapped around herself. 'We've been going out for seven years. Seven years. He's fucked ten other girls that he's admitted to me.'

'But I haven't-' Libby panted, with her hands still on her knees, and glanced to the cottage. Would her legs get her there?

Grace's eyes were puffy, red and filled with hatred as she stood, hands on hip, her foot tapping. 'Usually, he gets wasted, shags them then buys me flowers to say sorry.'

'But I haven't shagged him.'

'No, you won't, so what does he do? He splits up with me. Why couldn't you just shag him, get it out of his system?'

Jack had split up with Grace? Libby's head swam as she straightened. 'Grace-'

'Don't you dare. He told me about Friday night. Jack might wander every now and then, but he tells me everything. Like the little red silk bag you carry everywhere with you.'

Libby blinked, the corner of her mouth twitching. 'But how do-'

'Who did you summon, Libby? My boyfriend?'

'No. Not intentionally.' Her words were a whisper, mortification rising from her toes. Had she summoned Jack? He fit all the criteria. He was even honest and single. 'It's just a silly spell. It's not even real.'

'You've got Maggie's book, haven't you? You're messing with something you don't understand. You've come here, a bloody off-comer with your hoity-toity accent.'

'I didn't-' Libby held her side, now cramping.

'Look at you. You're knackered. And you think you can do the Lum Valley Fell Race. In your dreams. You're a middle distance runner at best. You haven't got the stamina for fifteen miles.'

Libby's back stiffened. Stamina? Grace dared question her stamina. She had no idea what Libby could run through, dance through. 'I can do the race. Xander reckons I could go for the women's record.'

Grace laughed. 'I'll see you at the start line and I'll be waiting for you at the finish.'

Libby frowned, looking over Grace's curves. All the fell runners she'd seen had zero body fat.

'You've picked the wrong person to make an enemy of,' Grace hissed. 'You're going to regret this.'

'I haven't done anything.'

'You keep telling yourself that.' Grace stomped back into the vets, leaving Libby not knowing if she should cry or scream.

'Libby?' Jack hovered at the front door, several lengths of timber resting against his shoulder.

'This is your fault,' she snapped, pushing past him. 'Why couldn't you just leave me alone? You're an unfaithful arse. Do you honestly think I'd be interested in someone who behaves like that?'

He threw the wood down, sending it crashing onto the floor as he strode away. 'Yeah, well, she'll kick your arse in the fell race. She holds the women's record and wins every year.'

How could everything go so wrong? All she'd wanted was a fresh start, but somehow she'd ended up with an obsessed stalker, encouraged Jack and incited a feud with Grace. Flopping onto her bed, Libby's foot hit the plastic storage box containing Maggie's wiccan trove.

She pulled out the box and frantically threw in the symbolic candles she had stationed around her room, the sleeping charm from under her pillow, the little red summoning spell pouch she carried everywhere and finally, the spell book. Maybe it was mumbo jumbo or maybe it was more real than she'd ever imagined, but either way, Grace was right. Libby had no idea what she was messing with.

As she rammed on the lid, Hyssop padded across the bed to her. After a brief rub of his head against her hand, he batted something shiny with his paw. Libby picked it up. The little silver amulet showed a naked woman holding an offering over her head. It supposedly promoted new beginnings and as Hyssop's purr soothed her frustration, Libby closed her hand around the amulet.