The Garden of Magic by Sarah Painter Page A

to say around the lump that had appeared in her throat.
    Iris gave her a wide smile, showing her grey-ish teeth. ‘We’re going to drink my famous elderflower wine and become the very best of friends.’
    Bex wanted to tell her that it was going to take a lot more than a social drink, but it was too late; Iris was already ringing the Farriers’ doorbell.
    Mrs Farrier opened the door, her expression guarded. ‘Who are you?’ Mrs Farrier was looking past Bex.
    ‘Iris Harper.’ Iris stepped forward and held her hand out. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
    Bex felt like a terrible person for enjoying the way the colour drained from Mrs Farrier’s face, but she couldn’t help it. Being unceremoniously fired had a detrimental effect on your empathy.
    ‘I see you’ve heard of me. That’s good,’ Iris said. ‘We need to talk. The grown-ups, at any rate.’ She stepped smartly past Mrs Farrier and into the hallway.
    ‘It’s late,’ Mrs Farrier said. ‘The children are in bed.’
    ‘Sorry,’ Bex said, reflexively, but Iris was saying, in a much louder voice: ‘Perfect. Is it this way?’
    She took off down the hall at an impressively fast pace and Mrs Farrier had no choice but to follow. Bex closed the front door and trailed after them.
    Mr Farrier was in the formal living room, the one the children weren’t allowed to play in, sitting on the cream brocade sofa with the television remote in one hand. He clicked a button and the widescreen mounted above the gas fireplace went black.
    He was staring at Iris as if he couldn’t believe such a creature existed. His lip was actually curled and Bex felt a rush of protectiveness towards the older woman.
    ‘You can’t just walk into my home,’ Farrier was saying.
    ‘You’d be amazed at what I can do,’ Iris said. She smiled, as if to soften the words, but it had the opposite effect. More like a shark than a dolphin.
    Iris turned to Mrs Farrier. ‘Well, dear. You may not know this, but it’s customary to offer people refreshment.’
    Mrs Farrier had started to sit down on the sofa next to her husband, but she jumped up as if electrocuted.
    Mr Farrier raised his voice. ‘You will not speak to my wife in that tone.’
    ‘We’ve popped round for a nice chat about Rebecca’s future; there’s nothing to be concerned about. But, if you prefer, we could have a more intimate conversation,’ Iris said. ‘The sort which invites confidences. Secrets.’
    Mr Farrier flushed red. ‘You witch. I’ve heard about you. You’re nothing but a –’
    ‘Dear me.’ Iris shook her head. ‘The lack of manners in this household is truly shocking. Rebecca, I hope you’ve been providing a better example to the younger members of the family. There’s still time for them to learn.’
    Bex didn’t know whether to smile or not, but she opted for something halfway.
    ‘Don’t smirk, child,’ Iris said. ‘It makes you look sly.’
    ‘She is sly,’ Mr Farrier said, seizing on the word. ‘She’s a thief. And we are completely within our rights to terminate her employment.’
    ‘Well, since you’ve raised the subject,’ Iris said, settling down into the armchair, ‘we may as well get on.’ She looked forlornly at the coffee table. ‘Especially since it doesn’t appear we’re going to be given anything to drink this evening.’
    Mrs Farrier rose again, only for Mr Farrier to pull on her arm sharply, dragging her back down to a sitting position.
    ‘As I understand it, you have dismissed Rebecca and are refusing her a good reference, upon which her future employment depends.’
    ‘She stole from us. It’s only because my wife is so soft-hearted that we haven’t called the police.’ He fixed Bex with a stare. ‘There’s plenty of time for us to press charges, though, and this little adventure isn’t doing you any favours.’
    ‘And what is Rebecca supposed to have stolen?’
    ‘Cufflinks,’ Mr Farrier said, stiffly. ‘Gold. Very valuable.’
    ‘Perhaps Bex could