I stared at her long fingers, her row of silver and pewter rings, her pointed nails. My own fingers, stubby and with half-bitten nails, grasping hers. I looked up at her face. Her eyes were shining as if the moon was behind them.
‘Wouldn’t it be worth it?’ Zoe said, in a breathy voice. ‘Wouldn’t it be worth trying anything, to get what you want so much? I know I would do it, if it was me.’
I swallowed. Zoe’s words made me feel as if it was somehow wrong not to try. It wasn’t a bad thing to want, was it – your mum and dad making up with each other? It wasn’t like having someone get hurt. It wasn’t mean or spiteful. It wasn’t greedy, like asking to win the Lottery. It was a good thing to want. A normal thing to want. Me, Mum and Dad, all back together again. Like it was before.
‘What would I have to do?’
Zoe squeezed my fingers. ‘I needed to ask you if I could bring all my things to yours anyway. I mean my witchcraft stuff. If my mum finds it she’ll have a fit and she’ll probably throw it out. So we can have the rituals here. And then if we both put our energies into it, let’s just see what’ll happen.’ She gave me a shivery, wide-eyed smile.
‘Did you ever do that vanishing spell you were on about?’ I asked, grinning at her and rolling off the bed to change the music. Just the words ‘spell’ and ‘witch’ sounded daft to me. Childish. Which wasn’t like Zoe.
Zoe made a downturned mouth. ‘I’m still working on that one.’
There was a tap on the bedroom door. Mum opened it and put her head around. ‘“Bela Lugosi’s Dead,”’ she said.
‘Who’s she?’ I asked.
Zoe giggled and so did Mum. ‘That’s the name of that song I was on about this morning.’
‘“Bela Lugosi’s Dead”. Bauhaus,’ said Zoe. ‘It’s a brilliant track. Have you actually got it?’
Mum smiled at Zoe. ‘I said it was your sort of thing. No, I hated it.’
‘Did the name just come to you in the middle of selling a house, then?’ I asked.
‘No,’ Mum said. ‘It drove me nuts trying to remember and the office internet was down all morning. In the end, I called your dad and asked him. He knew straight away. He even sang it down the phone. If you can call it singing. I was in stitches.’ She was really smiling.
When Mum closed the door, Zoe turned to me with a smug sort of face. ‘She so still loves your dad,’ she said. ‘She’d have him back, I bet you.’
I thought about this. Maybe Zoe was right. Maybe there was a chance. And I would be doing it for Mum, not just for me.
I turned the conversation round to ask Zoe if she’d heard any more about the band and joining them on some of their gigs. For days afterwards, she’d talked about Tom at every opportunity and it was obvious she was really keen on him. And she was dying to go back to one of the band’s concerts and dance on the stage. But she hadn’t mentioned him for a little while now.
She picked at some threads on the cushion on my bed. ‘I haven’t had a call from Tom,’ she said. ‘He didn’t actually give me his number. At least, I wrote his number down, but it wasn’t the right one, I must’ve got it wrong. He took my mobile number too, but I just wrote it on the back of his hand. I’m guessing he’s had a wash since then.’
‘Hang on,’ I said. ‘I’ve had a brainwave.’
Zoe looked up.
‘You are going to love me,’ I said, getting up and rummaging in one of my bags.
‘I already do,’ said Zoe, with a shrug.
‘Even more, then,’ I said, fishing out from the very bottom of my bag a dog-eared old flyer for the band. I handed it to Zoe. ‘Here. It’s got a list of some of the band’s other dates. You could go to the next one and remind him what a brilliant performer you are.’
Zoe stared at it and a smile spread slowly across her lips. ‘Thanks, Anna. You’re a star.’
I smiled back and went downstairs to make us a drink and take some biscuits. Mum was doing a word search in her magazine.
‘So,’ I said, filling the kettle. ‘Did Dad have much to say? Apart from singing some ancient song down the phone?’
‘It may be ancient,’ Mum said, ‘but your friend likes it, doesn’t she? Yes, we had a bit of a chat. He was quite upset about you falling out with him at the weekend.’
I pouted. ‘He was a complete pain. And then his girlfriend turned up. I wasn’t very happy about it either.’
Mum passed me a packet of chocolate fingers. ‘She wasn’t supposed to gatecrash, though. He apologised for that. He wondered if you could give it another go on Saturday.’
I scowled. ‘I’ll think about it.’
‘I’ll tell him.’
I looked at Mum in what I hoped was a questioning way.
She shrugged. ‘I said I’d ask you and that I’d ring him back tomorrow.’
I spooned chocolate powder into two mugs. ‘You’re getting on very well all of a sudden.’
Mum chewed the end of her pen. Then she said: ‘Yes, we are, I suppose. It mightn’t last, of course.’
I carried the mugs upstairs and pushed the bedroom door open with my foot. Zoe was sitting on the chair staring out of the window, apparently at nothing but the grey pavement and the orange glow from the newly-lit street lights.
The next morning, it was raining again as we walked to school. Every day in June was heavy and cold and horrible. On the news, they were predicting a washout summer. Kerry was wearing the sort of big padded coat that I hadn’t had since primary school. Zoe kept walking behind her and pulling
