Page 41 of The Suitcase Swap

She didn’t particularly want to keep chewing – the texture was decidedly strange – but she also didn’t want to spit it into her napkin. Tea, the answer was tea. What problem couldn’t be solved by a good cup of tea?

She quickly poured herself one, surprised when it came out in a stream of blue. She clutched her water glass,washing down the unpleasant bite of sandwich. ‘I’m not sure what they’ve done,’ Sophie finally rasped, ‘but I’m certain it’s illegal.’

Mike stared at her cup. ‘Why is the tea blue? Did I take drugs? Am I on drugs? What is happening?’

‘It probably has butterfly pea flower in it. Edie bought some tea like that once.’ Sophie picked up the tongs, selected a slice of lemon and put it into her cup. ‘It changes colour when you add lemon.’

‘It’s very pretty,’ Mike said. ‘And I’m sure I should be intrigued by the science behind it, but I want – Ineed– a cup of tea. Not . . . blue.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s my fault. I didn’t read the menu.’ He turned in his seat, looking for the waiter. ‘I’ll order another pot.’

Sophie eyed the tiered tray for a long moment before taking what appeared to be a tiny quiche in a filo pastry cup. ‘I haven’t seen our waiter since he bowed away. You might need to make your peace with drinking blue for now.’ She stared at the quiche with trepidation after the cucumber foam, but it looked innocent enough. Steeling herself, she popped it into her mouth and chewed, relieved to discover caramelized onion and some kind of smoky cheese. ‘The quiche is safe.’

Mike didn’t question her, just reached for one and popped it into his mouth. His shoulders, which had been slowly inching up, relaxed down to their normal position. ‘That’s quite nice.’

‘Maybe if we avoid the cucumber foam, we’ll be fine?’ Her tone conveyed it as the optimistic question that her statement actually was.

Mike seemed sceptical about this, but gamely placed a few other items neatly on his plate. Then he sighed and poured himself a cup of the blue tea. He added a slice of lemon, smiling a little as the tea changed slightly in tone,becoming more of a purple. ‘It really is very pretty.’ He sipped it, his mouth twitching down before taking another small, tentative swallow.

‘You don’t like it?’ Sophie asked, feeling the question was a little unnecessary, but asking it anyway.

He sighed. ‘It’s not that I don’t like it.’

‘You just want a cup of proper tea,’ she said sympathetically, because she, too, wanted a cuppa.

‘I do,’ he said. ‘I really do.’ He leaned back in his chair, once again searching fruitlessly for the waiter.

She plucked an innocuous-looking raspberry pink tart up with delicate fingers and bit into it – but instead of the sweetness she had been expecting, the taste was decidedly fishy, the texture disturbingly silky. To her mortification, she spat it immediately back out, only barely getting her napkin up in time.

Mike’s lips twitched into a smile. ‘That bad?’

Sophie whimpered and gulped her tea.

He scoffed, reaching across to take the offending tart from her plate. ‘It can’t be worse than the cucumber.’ He put the rest of the tart into his mouth.

Chewed once.

Froze.

Colour drained from his face.

Sophie carefully handed him his napkin. Mike held it up to his face, his jaw working.

He set the napkin back down and drained his teacup. ‘That was an affront to nature,’ he said, his voice tinged with horror and awe. ‘What was it? What did theydoto it?’

Sophie shook her head, pouring herself another cup of tea. She picked up one of the orange slices and bit into it, hoping it would cleanse her palate. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me we’d just eaten people. It felt that wrong. Cannibalism-level wrong.’

‘Like we’d committed a mortal sin against nature, just by taking a bite,’ Mike said, his voice ominous. ‘An abomination.’

‘I thought it was going to be sweet.’ Sophie had the urge to scrape at her own tongue with her fingers. ‘Was it fish?’

Mike shuddered. ‘Ham, maybe? Is there such a thing as a ham-fish? Because if there is, they made a tart out of it.’ He gave a long blink. ‘That was the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.’

She gave him a faint smile. ‘Worse than what happened at the noodle place?’

‘Yes,’ he said fervently. ‘At least the noodles tasted good. Even coming back up they tasted better than that.’ He eyed the rest of the things on the tray with trepidation. ‘I would rather get a handful of peppers stuffed into my sinuses than eat anything off that tray.’

Sophie silently agreed, turning the tray until she found a toast triangle covered in what she fervently hoped were salmon and dill.

‘You have to be kidding me,’ Mike hissed. ‘Don’t touch it, Sophie – that tray is obviously cursed. We’ve angered a witch.’ He stared ominously at his napkin. ‘Possibly an entire coven.’

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