“This whole time spent trying to channel more magic, and all we needed was props!” I high-five H, dancing in a circle around the room. “We can weave props into our plan, maybe you can hold a book, another person the candlestick. I’m sure we can find an old serving tray in one of these cupboards.”
Harry wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me away from the mantlepiece before I can handle any more of the college’s precious items. “Leave it with us, Natalie. We know this college and all of its hidden secrets better than anyone. We’ll find the perfect items to match all of their roles.”
“Yah, let’s go, Nat,” H whines near the door. “I’m starvin’, we finished up tha last chockie biscuit ‘ours ago. I’m wastin’ away ta nothin’ ‘ere.”
“Okay, okay. I hardly think you’re in danger of fainting from hunger.” Moving towards the door, I call back to Bartie, “Bartie, would you have a moment for a last word before I go?”
Head bobbing, he follows me out of the common room door. “Of course, Ms Natalie. What can I do for you?”
I haven’t forgotten my magical rabbit conversation from earlier in the day.
“You know everyone who resides within the college grounds, correct? The ghostly inhabitants, I mean.”
Bartie pulls a narrow black notebook out of an inner coat pocket. “Absolutely. I have a registry here of occupants and I update it regularly to ensure it is accurate.”
I plow ahead, feeling hopeful. “This will sound weird given the circumstances, but I don’t suppose that the former Chef Smythe has turned up? I know she hasn’t been gone long, but she was here for years and didn’t seem to have another place to call home.”
“Aye, she is here. I didn’t want to mention it as I thought it might make you uncomfortable. She remembers nothing from the day of her passing, if that’s what you were thinking,” Bartie explains.
“Oh no, nothing of that sort.” I wave my hands to dispel the idea. “I had a more, um, traditional role for her. If she’d be interested… and willing. It’s a long shot, but do you think she could cater the event? We’re in desperate need for a chef who won’t be scared off by the murder. If she’s here now, she might be the only one within 100 miles who fits the bill.”
Bartie scratches his chin as he mulls over the idea. “She’s a proud one, already making demands of me and my team. But maybe if we put it to her as a challenge, a last chance to cement her legacy here at the college. She might do it.”
I can’t help but smile as the last piece of my gala plans hopefully falls into place.
❖
Back in my flat, H asks in between bites of a cheese toastie. “Aren’t ya going ta fix yerself some dinner?”
“Weirdly, I’m not hungry,” I shrug. “I’m so excited to see the gala plans come together, I don’t think I can make myself sit still long enough to eat. It’s like I’ve found a second wind or something.”
Eyes wide, H nods. “I know exactly wot ya mean, Nat. When I get like that, I usually run a few laps aroun’ tha gardens and terrorise all tha mice.”
Shuddering at college mice, I size up the rest of his suggestion. “That’s not a bad idea. Maybe I should go for a run, work some adrenaline out of my system so I can rest tonight.”
I slip into my running clothes and snicker at the thought of Edward’s reaction if he could see them. My leggings have giant pineapples on them. He’d have an apoplexy trying to come up with a snarky remark.
H comes into the living room as I do a few stretches to limber myself up. “I’m gunna stay ‘ere iffen it’s okay. I gotta meetin’ with Princess Fluffy later and I don’t wanna miss it.”
“How are you going to get out if I’m not here to open the door?” I’m genuinely curious to hear.
Glaring, H explains, “Iffen I’m inside, I can use tha doorknob on the door to the garden. I got ‘ands, ya know. It’s only a problem if I’m outside cuz you need tha key ta get back in.”
Weirdly, that makes sense. I call out a final set of instructions as I head out the front door. “Make sure the back door closes behind you, please. I don’t want to return and find all my electronics missing.”
H gives me a salute as I pull the front door closed behind me.
My feet pound the pavement as I cross the street and aim for Port Meadow. A cool breeze caresses my body while I count out the blocks. The dark clouds on the horizon threaten to bring rain, but I don’t worry as I’m not planning to stay out for very long. Dark clouds are the standard here in England, barely cause for concern.
There’s hardly a soul at Port Meadow; only a few dedicated exercise enthusiasts are making the rounds on the packed dirt paths. I sink into the zone, revelling in a chance to be alone, with no deadlines and no responsibilities, and no one asking me what we need to do next. The cows and horses are simple beasts, no magic in them to give them a voice. I speed past them, kicking dirt clods up behind me.
I make the loop, turning back to run between the ducks and geese that line the river Thames. A man standing on a houseboat raises his glass in my direction, and I smile in return. By the time I make it back to the park entrance nearest the college, I am drenched in sweat. That’s why
