Page 14 of The Vanishing Bookstore
‘Trust me, a bit of stodge in your stomach will help quell those nerves. The fizz will help too.’
Dora didn’t think it would, but she did trust her aunt more than anyone else in the world. She had nobody else. Her parents had died a few days after she’d been born, in a tragic car accident. Lenny had stepped up and taken over. Her aunt had always been there for her, taking care of her, teaching her, supporting her and loving her when no one else would. She’d taught her everything she needed to know, but the subject of her parents’ deaths had always been out of bounds. Lenny had said it was too painful for her to talk about it, but one day she would when the time was right. Even though this part of Dora’s life had been blocked since she could remember, she wouldn’t press her aunt too much, not if it was so hurtful for her. Dora was respectful of everything Lenny did for her and tried her very best not to upset her too much.
When the waiter popped the cork and passed her a glass, she began to sip it, pretending she hadn’t seen the price of the bottle and food on the menu. Lenny wasn’t usually so extravagant, and she wondered if she was nervous about flying too. Lenny’s emerald-green eyes settled on Dora’s slightly paler ones, and she shook her head.
‘I’m not nervous, I’m celebrating finally getting my niece on a plane to go on holiday. It’s been a very long time coming, Dora, I’m proud of you.’
Dora stared at her aunt. Her normally wavy, wild, silver hair was in a sleek chignon, and she was wearing a black trouser suit. She was the essence of pure style and Dora thought that she’d look quite at home in aVoguephotoshoot. It was then that she realised her aunt had read her mind, something Lenny was annoyingly good at.
‘Did I say that out loud?’
‘No, you really need to work on hiding your emotions. You’re like an open book, Dora, anyone can see what you’re thinking.’
‘They can?’
Lenny tipped her glass to her lips and drained it, then lifted the bottle out of the ice bucket and refilled it.
‘Yes, they can. It’s such a lovely innocent trait but it’s going to get you into trouble when you don’t want people to see inside your soul who have no business looking. And, my dear, there are people out there who love to look into innocent souls, they thrive off it and take great pleasure from trespassing into our most intimate selves.’
Dora took a sip of her champagne. ‘See into my soul. You say the strangest things sometimes, Lenny, where do you get this stuff from?’
Lenny laughed. ‘I do, when you’ve been around as long as I have you get a little muddled, it’s to be expected. Sometimes I forget how little you remember. I can’t wait to show you Salem. Thank God it’s a gorgeous place now, it wasn’t always. At one point it was a pit of human depravity and bitterness, but those days have gone. I have some, actually,wehave some family over there who I want you to meet.’
‘We do? Since when? And why have you never mentioned this before? Who are they?’
‘I didn’t mention it because there was little point when you wouldn’t travel on anything other than a bus, car or train.’
Dora felt a stabbing pain inside her heart at this somewhat casual revelation. Why had she not known she had other family members? Why had Lenny felt the need to keep this important information from her? She had missed out on so many years of getting to know them. But it did explain the feelings she’d had since she was a child of never quite being alone, the occasional flashes of her doing impossible things she knew she never had. When she had told her aunt about the two women who looked like Lenny that she sometimes saw in her dreams, Lenny had told her it was her overactive imagination. But had those been actual memories she’d blocked out now resurfacing?
This time it was Dora who drained her glass. ‘You really are full of surprises, Lenny; all this time I thought it was the two of us and now you’re telling me I have more family. Who are they?’
Lenny smiled, reaching for the bottle and refilling Dora’s glass. ‘Honey, you have no idea. You have another aunt.’ Dora raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘But that’s all I’m saying until we get there, okay?’ Dora nodded her head, intrigued. ‘It’s far easier for you to meet them in person than me try and tell you about them,’ Lenny said.
The waiter interrupted them with their toasted sandwiches and Dora’s stomach let out a loud growl. She hadn’t realised how hungry she was. Maybe the fizz had loosened her up, or had it been Lenny’s revelation that they had family out in Salem? She had thought it had been her and Lenny against the world, no one else but the two of them. As she nibbled her toastie she glanced at her aunt, wondering how many more secrets she had kept from her and what this other aunt was like. She knew better than to keep asking Lenny because she would clam up and not say another word. If her aunt was anything it was stubborn.
9
SALEM, PRESENT DAY
Sephy lovingly peeled and chopped the squash, carrots and onions, grinding the freshly picked herbs from the garden. She put them all into the pot ready to make a hearty autumn broth for Lucine. Humming to herself as she worked, she felt lighter knowing that Lenny was bringing Dora home, where they both belonged, where they had always belonged. No matter how far the pair of them ran, Salem always drew them back.
As she stirred the vegetables into the slow cooker, she smiled, remembering the days she would cook in a huge cast-iron pot, over an open fire of wood chopped from the forest and brought back to their cottage by the armful. Electricity had been a welcome necessity, but food cooked over an open flame would always win on the taste test. Closing her eyes, she whispered her intentions for the broth – filled with love, healing and warmth it would be delicious as long as she didn’t overcook it.
This life so far had been the most peaceful yet lonely. She counted on her fingers. The year 1692 was the first time they died, well were murdered. This was their eighth life. They had lived through so many changes, had seen so much history, some good, some dreadful, but they always died young. They always lost Lucine first, and then Dora. Dora was cursed never tolive past thirty-five years old. It didn’t matter what they tried, Corwin eventually tracked her down again and again, leaving Sephy and Lenny to live until they were sixty if they were lucky, then usually dying in some terrible accident. He had cursed them with this in 1692 – promising to never let them rest, never let them be happy. Life was supposed to be a wonderful thing, but sometimes life was not as good as you imagined. Especially not if you spent most of it without your family, or watching your niece, who had all the potential in the world, die far too young.
They had always known Dora was the key to breaking the curse. But year after year nothing had changed. They’d forced her away from Salem this time, hoping it would bring her memories, her powers, back quicker – and stronger. But if anything the opposite had happened. Still, Dora had no idea who she was. Of the power she held. Of the curse on her. Of the time running out.
Mrs Pitcher was coming over to sit with Lucine for a while so Sephy could meet Lenny at the airport. She didn’t particularly enjoy driving into Boston, especially the airport, which was such a busy, horrible place, but she couldn’t leave them stranded and she knew how much Lenny disliked the train. Plus she was too excited to see Dora.
There was a knock at the door. Sephy looked at the cat who was lying on her side and purring on the rug.Be nice to Mrs Pitcher, Ophelia, no jumping on her and no scratching. You know she doesn’t like cats.Ophelia glanced at Sephy then turned away and began cleaning herself which Sephy took as a direct refusal to be nice. Wiping her hands on her apron, she rushed to the front door and opened it wide, smiling at her neighbour. Well, Mrs Pitcher lived a few houses down but still she was the closest neighbour who would come into Sephy’s home, and as far as Sephy could tell she didn’t have links back to the witch trials, which meant she trusted her.
Mrs Pitcher looked around the hallway, peering around Sephy.
‘The cat is on her best behaviour, she’s been warned.’
‘She is?’
‘Absolutely. I’m sorry about the last time you were here, and she caught your pantyhose. She’s a playful thing at times.’
