A Touch of Magic

Chapter 8: Hocus-Pocus

I stood at Gladys's gate, feet together, pretending I had a decision to make. Do I go home and carry on with life (do homework, cook chips, watch TV), or do I step inside and learn about my inner magical nature? It felt like a significant moment. I paused long enough to feel I'd satisfyingly marked this pivotal point in my life.

An inner voice told me to get on with it, so I unlatched the gate and moved forward, breathing in the floral scent of the winter garden. The path sparkled in front of me, a magical sign if ever I saw one.

"Fairy dust," I whispered, before slipping up and landing on my backside.

"No darling, frost and ice," Gladys said appearing on the doorstep. "Come in, it's minus one and that's no place for your bottom." She moved into the kitchen without checking to see if I could get up on my own.

A familiar cat jumped out from a bush and meowed around my legs before I'd a chance to go inside. The door snapped shut, narrowly missing its tail.

The kettle was on as I entered the once humble abode. I gasped, eyes flittering around the transformed kitchen. I'd always loved Minty's clutter; it made the place so homely, but this was something else. The cupboards were newly sanded and the walls whitewashed. The mixture of wrought iron and fine china felt right. Begrudgingly, I knew Gam would have loved it.

"Do you approve of the changes to Jasmine Cottage?" Gladys asked, as she warmed the teapot up with steaming tap water.

"Yes." I didn't know what else to say. Obviously, 'how did you do it so quickly?' was a stupid question to ask the person who was about to teach me magic.

"I was fortunate to find a card in the post office advertising a willing handy-man team desperate for work," said Gladys.

"Oh," I said, feeling stupid for the second time in five minutes. Everything was just so 'ordinary'.

I pulled out a heavy chair, trying not to scrape it along the newly polished floorboards, and sat down at the rustic oak table. On taste, it beat the melamine retro version Minty had used for years.

Gladys wiped her hands on a tea towel and then hung it on a hook by the sink. "Tea? I have nettle, camomile, jasmine or green."

My nose screwed up; had I heard right? "Nettle?"

"Good choice," she said opening a cupboard door above the kettle.

I didn't bother to correct her. I'd try anything once.

"Did you do your homework?" Gladys asked.

My answer was delayed as I watched for the nettles. I wanted to see if she used the leaf or the stalk. Gladys got out two teabags from a cardboard box and popped them into the warm teapot.

"Yes," I said, bending over and pulling the charm out of my school bag. I kept my eyes on Gladys. Where was the magic? I wanted a small sign. Even a magical lifting of the kettle to pour the water would do.

"Well?" Gladys encouraged.

"I think my charm is made from Oak because of its association with protection. I think Minty was protecting me."

I paused. No response from Gladys to suggest I was right or wrong, as she stirred the tea, so I carried on.

"It also gives strength and courage, which I'm short of. Oh, I felt drawn to the yew tree when thinking about the runes."

Gladys's eyes flickered my way briefly. "Why?"

"I'm not sure, but the website said yew's connected with our ancestry."