Spellweaver (7 page)

When she reached the
door to the flat and went inside, she was surprised to find the
light on and her father standing expectantly in the middle of the
room. He had his hands in the pockets of his boiler suit and he was
looking at her with a very unimpressed expression.

“Where have you been?”
he asked her.

Felicity was not in a
talking mood. “Out,” she said simply, and headed to her
room.

He blocked her path.
“You were at that club, weren’t you?”

Felicity frowned, and
then she suddenly remembered her father’s objection to her visiting
the Talk. She opened her mouth to respond but took far too long to
decide whether to admit that she had gone against her father or lie
to him, and it was this hesitation that revealed the
truth.

“I told you not to go
there,” he said, pointing at her aggressively. “Why did you go when
I told you not to?”

“I’m sorry, I
-”

“You’re sorry?” he
interrupted her, raising his voice. “You deliberately break the
rules and you’re sorry? That isn’t good enough, Felicity. You need
to do as you’re told. You need to show me some respect. I’m your
father!”

His hostility was on
the increase, and it was beginning to frighten her.

“You can’t behave this
way,” he continued, his voice almost amounting to a shout. “You
can’t come waltzing in here at any time you please. This isn’t a
hotel - it’s my home!”

Although he instantly
realised the mistake he had made, the damage was done. Felicity’s
fear vanished, replaced by a sudden burst of anger. She pushed past
him and stormed to her room, slamming the door behind
her.

Her father let her go.
He could have easily stopped her, for he was a man and she was only
a young woman, but his guilt rooted him to the spot. Once the door
slammed he turned to face it, considering whether or not he should
go and say something, apologise maybe. But then his shoulders
slumped and he trudged unhappily to the fridge for a can of
beer.

Within the privacy of
her room, Felicity sat on her broken bed, hugging her knees close
to her chest. She had always suspected that she was not welcome in
her father’s flat, and now she was certain. She had invaded his
space, interrupted his routine and was a drain on his hard-earned
resources. This wasn’t her home - it was a place where she was
living, where her father was obliged by law to keep her, but only
for a time; in a couple of years, as soon as she was sixteen, she
would find somewhere else to go and wouldn’t bother him any
more.

She didn’t admit to
herself how much his words had upset her.

5.

Hollie couldn’t stop
talking about Oliver at school the next day. Although she did
enquire after Felicity’s health upon meeting her at the gate, she
spent their walk to registration asking questions, answering them,
formulating theories and expressing her exaggerated heartache over
the failure of her date. She desperately wanted Felicity to tell
her what had happened in the alleyway, but reluctantly settled for
her friend’s explanation of ‘nothing’.

For it had been
nothing, Felicity had convinced herself. The more she had
considered it, the more she was certain that she had imagined the
glowing orb of light that had seemed so threatening. Perhaps she
had even imagined Oliver’s presence. She felt quite silly, thinking
about it now, and wished fervently that Hollie would cease her
endless - and very vocal - train of thought on the
subject.

Her relief came in the
form of Mr Oakley, the School Counsellor, who approached the two
friends as they left their registration form.

He smiled brightly at
Felicity. “Ah, there you are. Are you ready for our next
appointment?”

Felicity blinked,
surprised. “Uh, right now?”

Mr Oakley nodded.
“Right now,” he said, and headed off down the corridor.

Hollie sighed. “I
suppose we’ll talk later,” she said sadly, but as she was about to
leave, she noticed Felicity’s panic-stricken face. “What’s up,
Fliss? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost!”

Further down the
corridor, the counsellor had stopped and was waiting expectantly
for his client. “Miss Lucas?”

Felicity glanced
pleadingly at Hollie, desperate for any source of aid, but she
quickly realised that she could not evade her counselling sessions
forever. With a heavy heart and her eyes down, she followed Mr
Oakley to his office, dreading what was to follow.

In spite of the
freshness of the September morning, the office was still dull and
musty, except this time Felicity caught the distinct aroma of
coffee. She breathed deeply to calm the flitting butterflies in her
stomach as she sat down on one of the cushioned chairs, telling
herself repeatedly that it would all be over soon. At least this
time she would be prepared for the blunt nature of his
questioning.

Clipboard once again
in hand, Mr Oakley sat opposite her, smiling in a way that was
intended to be comforting. If only he knew, Felicity thought, that
there was nothing he could say or do that would make her feel more
at ease - except, of course, allow her to leave.

“So how are you
today?” he asked her.

“Fine,” Felicity replied quietly.

“I spoke to your form
tutor. She said that you’ve befriended a -” He glanced at his
clipboard. “Hollie Clarke? Was she the girl with you in the
corridor?”

Felicity relaxed
slightly; this territory was safe. She nodded.

“This is my first time
visiting Greenfields so I’m not familiar with her,” Mr Oakley said.
“But I gather that she’s quite a popular girl. That should make
things easier for you.”

Felicity
shrugged.

“So did you do your
homework?” he asked her, and then, upon seeing her slightly dazed
expression, he added: “I asked you to write down some of your
feelings.”

Felicity had entirely
forgotten the counsellor’s assignment. “No,” she said. “I’m
sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Mr Oakley
said, waving his hand dismissively. “But I want you to make sure
you do it for next time. It’s really important for us to form a
basis for our talk. Whatever you write could be the key to helping
you deal with your loss.”

Felicity nodded
helplessly. She had no intention of writing down her
feelings.

“Good, good,” the
counsellor said happily. “So tell me about your mother. What did
she do for a living?”

The question caught
her off guard; she had just managed to calm herself, to convince
herself that she could handle this intrusion into her private life,
when he began asking about her mother again. She opened and closed
her mouth like a goldfish.

The knock at the door
was her saviour. With a frown, Mr Oakley put aside his clipboard
and went to answer it. Felicity emitted a long, deep breath,
wondering how she was going to answer the many questions this
counsellor seemed to have about her mother. The last one was
particularly strange.

Mr Oakley returned to
the room. “Miss Lucas, I have to pop out quickly,” he said,
reaching for his jacket. “You’ll be alright waiting here, won’t
you? I won’t be long.”

He left, and Felicity
heard his shoes clicking in the corridors as he went. As soon as
the sound died, the door opened again, and Felicity looked up to
see Hollie and Jamie entering the room with movements that could
only be described as sneaky.

“Fliss!” Hollie cried
as soon as she saw her, and rushed to embrace her. It was strange,
feeling someone else’s arms wrap around her, fully enclosing her so
that she had no chance of escape, but it was even stranger that
Felicity couldn’t help but hug her friend in return. It must have
been the shock, she decided. It lasted only a brief second before
she pulled away.

“What are you doing
here?” she asked, grateful yet confused.

“We’ve come to rescue
you, of course!” Hollie said with a small giggle. “I saw the look
on your face when that counsellor came to get you. You needed
someone to save you - and who better than me, your BFF?”

“And her idiot
brother.” Jamie moved past them, nodded at Felicity, and then sat
down at the computer. He didn’t look happy.

“You said it, not me!”
Hollie chuckled, and then, seeing Felicity’s enquiring gaze, she
smiled brightly and explained: “We’re gonna get Olly’s phone
number. Just while we’re here, you know? Jamie knows how to get
onto the school system!”

Felicity shook her
head in disbelief. “But - but why?”

“Because she fancies
him, that’s why,” Jamie said over his shoulder, and Felicity could
hear the irritation in his voice.

“Ignore him,” Hollie
said, waving her hand. “He’s just angry because I blackmailed him
into helping me. Oh, it’s okay,” she added, seeing Felicity’s
concerned look. “This isn’t the worst thing to happen at
Greenfields. Last year Callum Johnson locked our teacher in the
cupboard and we all ran off. It took him the whole lesson just to
get out. It was so funny!”

Felicity shuffled
uneasily; the mention of Callum’s name brought back unpleasant
memories, and it wasn’t much easier to hear Oliver’s name, either.
“Why do you need Oliver’s number?” she asked.

“Our date didn’t
really go very well,” Hollie said regretfully, her excited tone
vanishing. “I need to see him again but he isn’t in school today.
Don’t worry, Mr Oakley won’t be back any time soon. We told him
that he was needed at, like, the far end of the school. We’ll be
gone by the time he gets back. Ooh, this is so
exciting!”

With an elated squeal
and a trio of claps, Hollie bounced over to the computer, eager to
watch her brother’s progress. The two of them bickered as Jamie
typed and clicked his way into the system, and Felicity could see
how annoyed he was at being forced into doing it. It had not taken
her long to realise that Hollie was the master of truancy and
homework evasion, and Jamie was her polar opposite. He was
intelligent, well behaved and dedicated to acquiring the best
grades he could. Whereas it was obvious that this wasn’t the first
time he had broken the rules, he did not revel in it as his sister
did.

Felicity stood
awkwardly in the centre of the room, holding her arms tightly
across her chest. She did not enjoy being back in the musty,
cluttered office. It still felt overly warm in there, in spite of
the fact that it had not been used since yesterday. The blinds were
drawn, allowing only the tiniest peep of sunlight to leak inside.
She glanced at the door, expecting it to open at any moment. The
thought of being caught terrified her, for it would mean meetings,
phone calls and letters to her father. At least, that was what she
understood of the disciplinary system, and she wasn’t keen on the
attention such things would attract, not least another
confrontation with her father.

And then she caught
sight of the clipboard on the table, and instantly her anxiety was
replaced with curiosity. She found herself wondering what Mr Oakley
had written about her, and whether or not she could use the
information to avoid more counselling sessions. The opportunity was
too good to miss.

She picked up the
clipboard and began reading almost before she even realised it. The
piece of paper seemed quite standard for a counselling session;
Felicity’s name was printed at the top, along with her date of
birth and address. The reason for counselling was listed as
‘maternal bereavement’. There were a few notes from her teachers
about her behaviour, listing words such as ‘quiet’, ‘unresponsive’
and ‘shy’, but that was not what drew Felicity’s attention.
Attached to the top of the sheet was a scrap of paper with a list
of names. She didn’t recognise any of them, but she instantly
noticed that they were all female. A few of them had been crossed
out. One of them appeared to be of particular importance, for it
was both circled and underlined several times. It was Felicity
Lucas.

Confused and
intrigued, Felicity lifted the page to reveal a bunch of newspaper
clippings. They were not front page news stories, and few of them
had pictures, but as her eyes traced the words of the headlines and
scanned the images, Felicity realised that every article was about
a car accident. She flicked through them, skimming the articles,
until she came across one that she recognised. It was the accident
that had caused her mother’s death.

She was so surprised
that she dropped the clipboard and it clattered noisily as it
landed on the floor.

Hollie and Jamie
turned around at the noise. “You okay, Fliss?” Hollie
asked.

“Uh, yes,” Felicity
stammered as she bent down to scoop up the papers that had come
loose from the clipboard, hesitating as she came across the
newspaper clippings. With shaking hands, she piled the papers back
in the order in which she had found them and replaced the clipboard
on the table. The news article relating to her mother, however,
found its way into her blazer pocket.

Something caught her
eye as she was about to stand up. On the floor, next to one of the
chairs, was a briefcase. It was open, and spilling out from the top
of it was a wide variety of papers, folders and books. It must have
belonged to Mr Oakley, for the way in which it had been so
carelessly packed was reminiscent of the cluttered, untidy nature
of the office.