Seeing Stars (13 page)

Amber sighed. ‘Neither am I. At first I thought it would only be for a few weeks, then I fell in love with – er – the village
and wanted to stay for ever, and then I thought it wouldn’t make financial sense to stay and – I’m still not sure …’

‘You’ll know in a month’s time,’ Mitzi lifted her face to the sun. ‘One way or the other. Believe me. This place has a magic
of its own. It’ll enchant and entrance you.’

Oh, dear. Amber looked doubtfully at Mitzi. She’d seemed so normal. Now she was another one talking about magic as if – as
if it were
real.

‘Do you believe in magic? Truly?’

‘Oh, yes. Well, in magical properties in the elements and in herbs and stuff, at least. And don’t look like that. I’m not
away with the fairies. You’ll soon find out that there are more things governing our lives than those we can see and touch.
After all, don’t you think us meeting like we did was just a touch of midsummer magic?’

‘Coincidence,’ Amber laughed. ‘Chance. Definitely not because of the summer solstice or because I made a green-cheese wish
or anything …’

‘Cynic. And you admit to making a St Bedric’s wish, so you must have thought—’

‘I only did it because everyone else was and because I didn’t want to upset Gwyneth. I didn’t really believe it for a minute.’

‘You’ll see,’ Mitzi grinned. ‘My elder daughter Doll didn’t believe in magic at all until something inexplicable happened
to change her life. You’ll be the same – I’ll put money on it. Now, I suppose we ought to get back to business. Gwyneth is
helping out at tonight’s party, so you can get a lift over with her and Ida, and I’ll meet you there at around six-thirty.
Oh, and what about suitable clothes? Black skirt and white shirt and comfy shoes? I should supply them, I know, but I’m not
that organised and—’
‘I think I can dig out something along those lines,’ Amber assured her, relieved to be back on subjects she understood. ‘And
I’ll try really hard not to let you down. Thank you so much.’

‘Don’t thank me too soon,’ Mitzi beamed. ‘You haven’t met Tarnia Snepps yet.’

Stars Look Down

Whatever else Amber may have been expecting from her first night’s employment, it certainly hadn’t included having Lewis as
a chauffeur.

Not having given any thought to how they’d travel to Tarnia Snepps’ party, the Hayfields van turning up outside Moth Cottage
came as a complete surprise to her – but not to Gwyneth and Big Ida.

‘Neither of us drives, duck, so Lewis always obliges,’ Gwyneth puffed happily, using Big Ida’s cupped hands as a leg-up and
catapulting into the van. ‘Hello, Jem.’

Amber, trying to look nonchalant, clambered in behind her under her own steam. Unfortunately, the clambering was made less
than elegant by Pike lolloping in over the top of her and plonking himself on Jem’s lap.

‘You’ll have to sit in the back,’ Lewis grinned over his shoulder at her. ‘Sorry.’

‘’S OK,’ Amber said, wishing that her black skirt wasn’t so short or her white shirt so tight or her sandals so spindly.

The sandals were not a good choice, she knew. Her feet would be screaming before the evening was half over. Sensible shoes,
as prescribed by Mitzi, simply weren’t in her wardrobe. The only flat things she had, apart from the
pink slouch boots, were trainers and they, with the skirt and shirt, made her look as if she were going to a schoolgirl fetish
party.

At least Lewis looked more friendly than he had the last time they’d met. She’d never ask him anything about his father again.
Once bitten and all that.

‘Hi, Jem.’

Jem, now practically hidden beneath a mountain of doggy fur and lolling pink tongue and dribbly jowls, struggled out, turned,
and gave her a true reprobate’s wink.

Yep, the bubble mixture would have been a
huge
mistake.

Lewis smiled at her through the driving mirror as they rumbled out of Fiddlesticks. ‘Great news, you getting the job with
Mitzi Blessing. You’ll have a blast with her. She’s cool. I used to fancy her daughter.’

‘Which one?’ Gwyneth edged forward on her seat. Her legs didn’t touch the floor and protruded in front of her at right angles.
‘The bohemian one or the nurse?’

‘Both,’ Lewis grinned. ‘But thanks alledgedly to Mitzi’s herbal recipes they’re now both spoken for and permanently in lurve.
No doubt everyone’s told you about her hedge witch cookery? And what it can do?’

‘Sort of,’ Amber nodded. ‘Not that I believe it any more than all the astral stuff.’

Jem snorted and raised his eyebrows.

‘Start believing,’ Lewis advised cheerfully. ‘People have had all sorts of magical experiences after eating Hubble Bubble
recipes. And as we’re rapidly approaching Cassiopeia’s Carnival, when you get an evening off I’ll explain the Fiddlesticks
celestial stuff properly if you like – just so you don’t make any mistakes.’

Amber met his eyes. ‘OK. It’s a date.’

‘Oh, no,’ Lewis swung the van away from the Bagley-cum-Russet turn and towards Hazy Hassocks. ‘It certainly isn’t one of those.’

Jem and Big Ida chuckled.

Sod it, Amber thought. How
needy
had that looked? ‘No, of course it isn’t. I mean, not a going-out-together sort of date. I know that. I’m not daft. It was
just a figure of speech. I meant, yes, thanks I’d love you to explain the star stuff sometime and – oh!’ She caught Lewis’s
eye in the mirror again. He was laughing. ‘Very clever …’

‘I thought so,’ Lewis looked innocently at her. ‘One-nil to me.’

Behind her hessian curtains, Zillah watched the Hayfields van drive away from the cottages. Strange how quickly things could
change. How silly had she been? It no longer worried her that Lewis and Amber were in the van together. Well, they were more
than adequately chaperoned after all, but even if they’d been alone, Zillah didn’t think she had much to concern her.

Certainly the panic she’d felt about Amber’s arrival had subsided considerably. Whether Amber fancied her son wasn’t clear,
but Lewis had shown no interest at all, and as far as Zillah was concerned, that was all that mattered.

Also delighted that Amber was going to be working for Mitzi and therefore not freeloading on Gwyneth’s generosity, she’d now
changed her mind about Amber on all counts. She’d been wrong about her and she didn’t mind admitting it.

Amber had proved to be a far more pleasant and feisty young woman than Zillah had expected. It was totally unreasonable, she
knew, to imagine that every girl would be like she’d been so many years ago: silly, vulnerable, naive, trusting. Girls were
different these days – far more grown up and worldly wise. No, Amber wasn’t going to make Zillah’s mistakes. She didn’t need
Zillah’s protection.

It was just that Lewis was so like his father.

Oh, God – Zillah pushed the feelings away.

No point in going down that route. She had to get ready for work. But the memories, so carefully buried for so
long, had emerged and engulfed her all day.

If only Big Ida hadn’t mentioned the summer solstice.

Mitzi was waiting for them outside the ornate electric gates.

‘Welcome to Tarnia Towers.’

‘Crikey!’ Amber blinked at the outrageous OTT house in the rosy glow of midsummer evening. ‘It’s like
Footballers Wives!’

‘It’s the absolute worst of tacky tat taste that money can buy,’ Mitzi agreed cheerfully. ‘Tarnia thinks it’s classy. And
if you think this is bad, you wait until you see inside.’

Gwyneth, Pike and Big Ida had trundled off towards the field earmarked for car parking; Lewis and Jem had whizzed away in
the Hayfields van, laughing together. Whether or not they were coming to collect everyone at the end of the evening Amber
hadn’t asked. It seemed enough to be going on with that she was meeting Lewis in The Weasel and Bucket next Saturday for her
instruction in celestial magic.

As they scrunched up the vast curl of the shingled drive, Amber gazed at the veritable army of people swarming everywhere,
and at the seemingly endless sumptuous swathes of land surrounding the house. ‘She must be rolling to own all this! And all
these people … Are they the guests?’

‘Goodness no. These are simply the minions employed by Tarnia to make the party go with a swing. She never lifts a talon herself.’

‘Oh, right – and oh, wow!’ Amber almost clutched Mitzi’s arm in excitement. ‘She’s got a fairground!’

‘Just for tonight. It’s not a permanent fixture. She’s also got a zillion-pound fireworks extravaganza – supplied by The Gunpowder
Plot, who are the biggest pyrotechnics company in the south of England, run by a bloke called Guy Devlin who is simply sex
on legs and who Tarnia fancies the pants off, poor sod – and a …’

Amber didn’t hear the rest of the line-up. She was far too entranced by the fairground: old-fashioned traditional rides in
deep colours and burnished gold. It was so beautiful. And nostalgic. None of the hi-tech, white-knuckle rides that seemed
to grace every fairground these days. It was like looking at a picture book: there was a helter-skelter and a big wheel and
a ghost train and hurricane jets and a caterpillar and oh yes, oh joy – galloping horses!

The huge roundabout with its intricately-painted horses suspended on their barley-sugar, twisted brass rods, stood silent
and still in the evening sun, glowing like a casket of jewels, a thousand glass prisms reflecting rainbows of sparkling light.

‘Petronella Bradley and Jack Morlands’s Memory Lane Fair,’ Amber said softly, reading the lettering on the deep-red trucks.
‘Oooh – lucky buggers, whoever they are. Imagine spending your entire life travelling from place to place with all that beautiful
stuff and having ultimate freedom and – oh, crikey – what the heck’s that thing over there?’

‘A showman’s traction engine,’ Mitzi grinned. ‘Have you never seen one? No, I suppose you wouldn’t have – amazing monster
isn’t it?’

‘Awesome … And is that a sort of organ beside it? That ornate thing? Behind the stage? I remember seeing something like that
at Blackpool Tower ballroom when I was a kid …’

‘That’s a fairground organ. The engine drives it – it’s a fantastic sight – and the sound is wonderful. They both belong to
Flynn and Posy Malone from Steeple Fritton – not far away from here. When Posy and Flynn got married last year they went to
church on the engine – all decked out in flowers and ribbons. Brought Steeple Fritton to a halt, I can tell you.’

Amber grinned to herself. This was so cool. They’d never had anything like this back home.

‘And the stage? Are they putting on a show?’

Mitzi pulled a face. ‘Ah now – the stage is for the Bagley-cum-Russet can-can dancers. I had a bit of a hand in that. One
of my Baby Boomers – long story, so many people over fifty on the scrap heap with years and years of useful life ahead of
them and nothing much on the horizon and I found myself being one of them, and well, someone had to do something, so I did
– I’ll tell you all the gory details one day. Anyway, she had always wanted to be in the Folies Bergère, but at fifty-two
it was a bit of a non-starter for her. So we advertised and found a few other like-minded high-kickers in Bagley-cum-Russet
and the troupe was born.’

‘Incredible.’

‘Oh, it’s all pretty incredible round here,’ Mitzi chuckled. ‘Now for the most incredible bit of all. Meeting Tarnia.’

The inside of the house, as Mitzi had predicted, was even more amazingly bad taste than out. Amber blinked in the miles and
miles of marshmallow pink and white hall. There was a burnished and filigreed
Gone With The Wind
staircase and statues and fountains and pink maribou-trimmed mirrors everywhere and a stained-glass window which dominated
the stairwell.

‘Who’s that?’ Amber peered up at the primary coloured panes of the immense window. ‘Stevie Wonder?’

‘We’re not entirely sure. My money’s on Martin Luther King – or Lionel Ritchie.’

Could be, Amber thought, still squinting upwards. Hmmm – probably not Stevie Wonder on second thoughts. No sunglasses.

Mitzi grinned. ‘Actually, originally the window depicted the entire Beckham family, but when they unexpectedly added little
Cruz to their entourage Tarnia commissioned the addition and sadly there was an accident with Victoria’s head during the refurb.
The replacement simply didn’t cut the mustard, apparently looking far too much like Anne
Robinson before the facelift, so Tarnia went for – er – well, whichever gentleman you now see before you. Ah, and here’s the
lady herself.’

Victoria Beckham? Anne Robinson? Amber really wouldn’t have been surprised to see either of these redoubtable women shimmying
down the curlicued staircase. This place was simply surreal.

‘Hello, Tarnia.’

Tarnia Snepps was everything Amber had expected and more. Stick thin, very Botox’d, all-over woodstainorange tan, short black
hair with frosted pink tips and the most amazing leather mini dress in gold and white stripes.

‘I didn’t know you’d taken on help,’ Tarnia Snepps frowned at Mitzi. ‘I trust this won’t mean your prices will be increased
to cover?’

‘Of course not,’ Mitzi sighed. ‘Not that you’d notice a few hours at minimum wage, I’m sure. This is Amber. She’s staying
with Gwyneth Wilkins in Fiddlesticks and is going to be helping me for the summer.’

‘Lovely to meet you,’ Amber held out her hand, still not sure if she was more stunned by Tarnia or the inside of the house.
Both were pretty terrifying.

Tarnia took her hand and shrieked with laughter. ‘That accent! You’re not from round here, are you?’

‘Eeeh, you’re on the ball, luv. Well spotted. I’m from ooop north,’ Amber went into her best Peter Kay routine. ‘On’t trip
of a lifetime to see how t’other ’alf lives. It’s a reet treat t’be ’ere, luv.’

Mitzi was giggling.

‘Yes, well,’ Tarnia bared her teeth. ‘Nice to have you here, I’m sure. Mitzi will show you where everything is and tell you
how I expect my staff to behave.’

‘I’m sure she will,’ Amber resumed a more normal voice. ‘And you certainly know how to throw a party. Congratulations on the
honour, by the way.’