Miss Spelled Read online

  The adrenaline courses around my body again. ‘How did you get this number?’

  There was a short pause on the other end. I can hear Hunter smile. ‘Cressida gave it to me. She was very obliging after I told her about your little visit tonight.’

  There’s a tingling sensation deep inside my chest and my gut is churning. It’s started already. Hunter didn’t waste any time. This is really happening.

  ‘You’ve already told Cressida?’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ he says smugly. ‘And she was very interested in your past— in our past together. She can’t wait to give Aiden a history lesson.’

  My eyes fill with tears, because Cressida will waste no time in telling Aiden. She’s probably already rung him.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be a fly on that wall?’ he says.

  My mouth opens but no sound comes out. All feeling has left my body.

  ‘Imagine that,’ Hunter continues, ‘to be able to watch little Aiden St. James’ heart breaking. I wonder what kind of noise it would make?’

  From my toes the tingle of rage begins. It moves up my calves to my legs, bringing me back to life.

  ‘I wonder, in the seconds after he absorbs the news, what he’ll be feeling? Will it be shock, disbelief?’

  The rage spreads to my hips and stomach where it curls and knots itself into tight little balls that whizz around my insides like a pinball machine.

  ‘Or maybe sadness and loss?’

  The rage evolves into heat that surges through my chest, setting my tingling heart on fire.

  ‘Or, most likely, just plain old betrayal, disgust even, that I have been inside your body,’ Hunter says and lets out a low grunt of pleasure. ‘Hmm, yes, I think that will be it. The very thought of you will repulse him, when he thinks of me pleasuring you, and of you crawling all over me with the curvy little body he knows so well.’

  The heat and rage travels out along my arms and hands until my hands are overtaken with violent trembling.

  ‘I may even have to paint a mental picture for him. Who knows, this could be a bonding experience for us, comparing notes on you.’

  My face flushes hot as the rage finally reaches my head. The pressure is building and I am overwhelmed with the need to yell and scream at the top of my voice. The desire to call Hunter every name under the sun, loud enough that the entire Universe can hear, is almost too much. But part of me knows my display of anger will only increase his pleasure. Instead, I use inordinate amounts of energy to control myself as I search the walls and lounge room floor for the answer. Within seconds my eyes fall on the laptop on the coffee table. Majique. The spell!

  ‘I could tell him about the time we…’

  Mel’s face drops as she mouths her favourite name for him, ‘Rat bastard’.

  Suddenly, Hunter’s continued taunts don’t faze me. My only thought is to cast that spell.

  ‘Or there’s the weekend in Ibiza, remember, you wore that…’

  Feeling no pain as I stab my finger with a needle and squeeze three drops of blood into the contents of the bowl, I stand up to my full five foot two, surging with the strength of a gladiator.

  ‘So, sadly Lou, it appears that your fairytale has come to an end. You’ll have to hand back that sparkly diamond ring he gave you and cancel your plans for a huge wedding and happy-ever-after, because it’s over for you. You’re history.’

  In a voice that echoes of restrained anger, I take Hunter’s lock of hair in my hand and say in a low, controlled voice, ‘Don’t bargain on it, Hunter. I’m not finished with you yet. You are not going to win.’

  I hand the phone to Mel, who disconnects his call, and focus all my attention on paying for this spell.

  ‘Nothing’s happened,’ I say after what feels like a lifetime.

  ‘It takes time to generate the password to unlock the spell and directions. Give it a second,’ Mel says.

  Two minutes later still nothing’s happened. By now I am pacing like an expectant father, unable to sit down or remain still. Hunter has pushed me over my limit.

  ‘Shit! We’ve been scammed. I’ve just handed $700 over to some scammer.’ How could I have been so incredibly, monumentally stupid? Gullible is my new middle name. ‘We’ll have to think of something else. But what?’

  ‘Wait, there’s an email. Look! It’s from Majique. It’s here, Lou! It’s here!’

  Holy shit! I am almost launched into the ceiling with excitement. Something has worked. This is a good sign. It may be just a $700 password, but…

  ‘Oh, thank God! Let’s see what we have to do next,’ Mel says.

  ‘I need to go outside and read this spell while I set fire to the items in the bowl,’ I say, continuing to read aloud.

  ‘Wait, there’s a warning here, Lou. This spell is best performed on a waning moon because waning moons give special power to spells of banishment or removal. What kind of moon is it now?’

  The night sky is pitch black when we look out the window, ‘I don’t know. I can’t see any kind of moon. Does it really matter? I mean, I can’t wait for the perfect moon phase, it’s got to be done right now,’ I say.

  ‘You’re right.’

  ‘Anyway, if a waning moon is good for removal spells, then no moon must be better, because there’s…no moon. It’s gone completely, removed from the sky. Right?’ I say, confused at the point I was trying to make.

  Mel looks the way I feel. ‘Yeah, right. You go outside and I’ll wait here.’

  ‘You’re not coming with me?’

  ‘It says that only one person should perform the ritual, so as not to confuse the energies. This spell uses the most powerful forces of the supernatural world.’ Mel continues to read the instructions. ‘It was used by kings and sorcerers in the ancient world and calls forth great magical powers. Vivid dreams and astral travelling are signs that the spell has worked.’

  The ingredients are ready to go, so I move out into the backyard and set myself and the witches’ brew up on my temporary altar, AKA my outdoor picnic setting. My heart has slowed a little but the fire of anger is still luminous.

  Satisfied everything is ready to go, I wind the clock back to ten minutes before midnight, hold it against my chest and begin to recite the spell.

  ‘Back in time, back in time,

  Back before I made you mine,

  Rewind, rewind,

  For another you shall find.’

  I then wind the clock back to six and continue the spell.

  ‘The path we took was no good,

  Beside you I never stood,

  Erase me from your mind,

  For another you shall find.’

  I wind the clock back to twelve again and finish the spell.

  ‘Another on that night,

  Will be in your sight,

  Erase me from your mind,

  Another you shall find.’

  I strike a match, its iridescent glow temporarily blinding me, and set fire to the contents of the metal bowl. As if on cue, the wind slows and a small crack of thunder rumbles in the distance. The items burn in a brilliant light that illuminates the entire patio. After a few seconds, there is nothing left other than ashes, a little smoke and the awful smell of burning hair.

  Suddenly, a cloud hovers above me, looking like a huge black cloak descending from the heavens. After the brightness of the flame, the backyard seems even darker than before and tingles run throughout my entire body.

  As instructed, I turn my palms upwards to the universe and say, ‘Please, please, please let this work. Please make Hunter forget me. Please make everything turn out the way it’s meant to for Aiden and I.’

  Chapter 6

  Sleep comes after my adrenaline stores run out completely and my dreams are indeed vivid, just as Majique’s website suggested. I’m back in the pub in London the day Hunter and I met, standing with a group of newly-made friends when he entered the room as though it was obligated to him. He is wrapped in a cloud of charisma, charm and raw sex appeal t
hat renders women helpless in his wake.

  For the first time, I feel the sensation of instant attraction. There is no doubt that, like the rest of the female population in the pub, I’m throwing pheromones in his direction in the hope of being able to be close enough to smell him, or even better, to touch him. Never one to sleep with a man on the first night, my loins are speaking loudly. In fact, they are screaming that they just have to have him.

  But unlike our first meeting, Hunter doesn’t make his way over to talk to me, or buy me a drink, or ask me to dance, or stand so close that our bodies touch. Nor does he touch my hair and send shivers all over my body. He doesn’t place his hands on the small of my back and press his athletic body against mine for an agonising 40 minutes before we leave the bar and hurry back to his flat. Instead, he chooses another blonde to sit next to, dance with, to touch and eventually leave with. It is so odd, and my ego is a bit dented that I have become invisible, even if it is only a dream.

  The alarm goes off at 6:20. Even though tiredness has invaded every part of my body, I am desperate to find out if the spell worked. If it did, then that’s the best news ever. If it didn’t, then…well…that’s not so good.

  ‘Rodney? Rodney, are you taking the dog for a walk this morning, darls?’

  ‘Yes, Dee. I’m just finishing my cuppa, love.’

  I jump out of bed like a Jack in the Box. Mum?

  The act of plunging my brain into unexpected motion is against my laws of nature. A slow unravelling of my mental faculties is always my preferred method of starting the day, particularly after such a late, stressful night.

  ‘Don’t forget we’re going to the travel agents at ten. Will you be back by then?’

  ‘Love, I’m taking the dog for a walk, not a bloody hike. ‘Course I’ll be back by ten.’

  Hopefully the boundary between dreaming and wakefulness will be dissolved by shaking my head and rubbing my eyes. This must be the vivid dream that Majique’s website had stated would happen, because what on earth would Mum and Dad be doing here with the dog?

  Hang on! What dog? They don’t have a dog. What’s going on?

  ‘I’m thinking a cruise this time, darls. Perhaps the one around the Mediterranean. What do you think?’

  ‘Sounds great.’

  ‘Or maybe the one around Alaska and the North Pole?’

  ‘Sounds great.’

  They’re going on a holiday? Mum and Dad have never been away on holidays, except to Sorrento for two weeks each Christmas. They’ve never been able to afford one, or the time away from their small businesses.

  ‘Rodney! Which one? Help me choose.’

  ‘I am perfectly happy with either one. Just as long as I’m with you,’ Dad says.

  ‘Aww, Rodney,’ Mum’s voice softens. ‘You’re such a romantic.’

  ‘Happy wife, happy life, love,’ Dad says and then whistles loudly. ‘Gonzo! Gonzo, come on boy, let’s go for a walk. Back soon, love.’

  There is a loud kissing sound, a delighted squeal and some quiet mumbling.

  ‘Ohh, Rodney! You’re such a devil!’

  Urgh! The dream has shifted into nightmare territory.

  My eyes travel around the room. It’s familiar, too familiar. My old bedroom had been transformed into an office when I moved into my cottage, but here it is, in its former state. What a dream! It feels so real.

  I launch off the bed, open the door and walk outside.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Lou. I thought I was going to have to come in and wake you up. It’s nearly six thirty, darls. You’d better get a move on. You’re normally fed and watered and out the door by seven.’

  My eyes continue to travel around the lounge room and kitchen. It’s been renovated and now looks less of an 80s hangover and more like something from Belle magazine. The colour palette is beautiful, similar to my own cottage with whites, browns and aquamarine. The floors are covered in high gloss white tiles, the walls adorned with beachy abstract art and a sense of calm prevails, which is odd because calm is not an adjective that could be used to describe Mum.

  God, this is so surreal! There must have been some mighty powerful magic released last night to make me feel so floaty and real at the same time.

  ‘Love, did you hear me?’ Mum asks and grabs my upper arm with her cold, wet, sudsy hand.

  The sensation snaps me out of my dreamy fog. I reach out to touch Mum. Is she real? No one is supposed to feel anything in dreams, particularly not the wet, soapy hands of their mother. Soap suds rest on my arm and tickle as they pop.

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘No, it’s Duchess Kate. Who else would it be?’

  Well, it certainly sounds like Mum.

  ‘No, I mean…’ I try to gather my thoughts but they were scattered around me in so many pieces that it would be impossible to pick them up again. ‘This isn’t a dream?’

  Mum cackles with laughter. ‘Livin’ the dream. Yes, Dad and I certainly are. But you are not. You have to get ready for work. Mr Fancy Pants Executive won’t like to be kept waiting, I’m sure.’

  I freeze, not wanting to ask the next question, but it falls out of my gaping mouth anyway.

  ‘What job?’

  I’m a teacher, second grade at St. Andrews. I’ve been there for six years. How could I have a new job and not be aware of it?

  Mum continues, ‘That agency sure keeps you busy. You must be a favourite of theirs for all this work to keep falling in your lap. Anyone would think you’d be in your own place by now with all the money you’ve made…’

  The need to sit down is overwhelming. As is the sudden violent swirling in my stomach and head.

  ‘But then again, apparently your generation is renowned for living at home into old age. I guess it is important to have a lovely shoe collection, but Lou, for God’s sake darls, you need to do something with your life.’

  Oh fuck! My head falls into my hands and the desire to squeeze it like a vice is too tempting to refuse.

  ‘I know we’ve talked about it before, but both your father and I are getting worried. You’re just so…stagnant. You’re not getting any younger, you know. It’ll be slim pickings for you after you hit 31, believe me. The only men who will be left will be the ones no sane girl wants. Or you’ll end up as a stepmother to kids who will never accept you.’

  ‘The agency? The teaching agency?’ I ask, blocking out Mum’s rant.

  ‘No, the temp agency. Lou, are you alright?’

  I feel the blood pool in my feet.

  ‘I’m not a teacher?’

  ‘You were, for a few years. Lou, what’s happening, darls? You’ve gone all pasty,’ Mum says, grabbing my hands in hers, ‘and cold. Lou?’

  ‘What about Aiden?’

  ‘Aiden who?’

  ‘My fiancé Aiden.’

  ‘You’ve got a boyfriend? A fiancé?’

  ‘You’ve never met Aiden?’

  Oh no! Please tell me I’m dreaming.

  Mum shakes her head from side to side.

  ‘Mel?’

  ‘Of course I know Mel. She’s part of the furniture around here.’

  ‘But not Aiden? Tall, gorgeous, handsome, man of my dreams?’

  ‘Never heard of him, darls. Sorry, but if anyone answering to that description knocks on the door, I’ll be sure to let him know you’re available.’

  My bum hits the couch and my head hits a cushion. My entire body prickles and tingles. It’s like being jabbed by hundreds of acupuncture needles all at once, but without any of the therapeutic benefits.

  I grab for my mobile on the coffee table and scroll through the contacts but Aiden isn’t there. Jesus! My breath catches in my throat as my brain attempts to kick-start itself. Maybe he’s under something else, like F for Fiancé or L for Love of my Life?

  I search under every entry there is, but there is no Aiden. Stuff it, I’ll just ring him. I punch in the number and wait. It starts to ring. My heart thumps so loudly I am afraid of not being able to hear his voice when he ans
wers.

  ‘Hello?’ the female voice says, ‘this is Aiden St. James’ phone.’

  It must be Tina, his personal assistant.

  ‘Tina?’

  ‘Yes, who is this please?’

  Oh, thank God. One quick phone call and all of this can be put to rest. Everything’s going to be okay. But why is my breath still rasping?

  ‘It’s Lou, Aiden’s fiancée. Is he available, please?’

  ‘Sorry, Lou who?’

  ‘You know me, we’ve met heaps of times. Aiden and I just got engaged.’

  The silence on the other end of the phone is long enough to induce nausea.

  ‘Ah, I’m sorry, Lou, but I think you’re mistaken. Perhaps you were after someone else?’

  ‘No! No, it’s Aiden I’m after, is he there? Please, this is a…an emergency.’

  Another spell of silence and then muffled voices.

  ‘Aiden, there’s a woman on the phone. She says she’s your fiancée, Lou,’ says Tina. I listen intently, desperate to hear every word. It is definitely Aiden’s voice and my spirits lift with a mixture of apprehension of what is to come and relief that he is alright.

  ‘Lou? I don’t know anyone named Lou. Can you take a message, please?’ says Aiden.

  My heart plummets towards my feet. How can he say he doesn’t know me?

  Tina removes her hand from the phone and speaks in a very professional tone, ‘I’m sorry Lou, but he’s not available right now. Can I take a message for you?’

  ‘He is so available. I just heard his voice. Please, please put him on. Please.’

  More silence and then a muffled, ‘She’s very insistent, Aiden.’

  ‘Okay…hello, Aiden speaking.’

  ‘Aiden! Aiden, it’s me, Lou. I don’t know what happened, but I woke up this morning and everything was different…I don’t know where to start…’

  ‘I’m sorry, but how do I know you?’

  ‘It’s me, Lou, your fiancée. You proposed to me last Friday night, in the Edge, on the Eureka Tower. We’ve been together for one year and we’re so in love, although your mother isn’t too keen on me…’

  Aiden lets out a small laugh. Oh, thank God, he recognises my voice. He knows me! It’s all going to be alright.