Free The Garden of Magic by Sarah Painter

lesson and, in that instant, Iris grasped that he had locked her out of the house to punish her. Whatever slight Roberta had been guilty of (and Iris found it hard to imagine such a thing, Roberta was so quiet and cowed), she had been dealt a cruel punishment. The sort of punishment that could only be devised by a cold and disturbed mind.
    Iris could never hear the word revelation without a twinge of pain. Her revelation that day had been swift as a knife. James Farrier, the man she loved and had promised to join with in matrimony, was a monster. Or, if not a monster yet, had all the makings of one. Iris had seen enough of human nature in her short life to know one thing: no matter how powerful your magic, you could not change the essential nature of a person.
    She’d broken the engagement, horrifying her parents and, it seemed, the entire town. And then she’d buried herself in her calling. If she was a witch then she would be one straight from a storybook. Alone. Austere. Powerful. And, while she had no urge to grow warts or become ugly, she welcomed the notion that girlish prettiness was no longer of consequence. If it was no longer the most important thing about her – her passport to marriage and children – then it wouldn’t matter if she didn’t have it, or that it would decay over time.
    She’d never truly intended to become mean, though. Or ‘harsh’, as the child, Rebecca, had said. Iris wiped at her eyes. Damn things were watering again.

Chapter Six
    Bex was working on her CV when her phone buzzed. It was a text from Jon.
    Film night?
    She pressed the call button to speak to him. ‘Didn’t we do that on Tuesday?’
    ‘You think we’re in a rut?’ Bex could hear the smile in his voice. ‘I’m still taking your mind off your troubles.’
    It was a bad idea, Bex knew, but her mouth overruled her brain. ‘What time?’
    All the way to Jon’s house, Bex rationalised her bad decision. They were friends. More than that; Jon was her best friend. It wasn’t late, which meant his housemate, Ben, would be around and he could sit in-between them on the sofa. Make it seem less like a date.
    Bex knew that spending the evening with Jon was flying in the face of operation ‘get over him and get a new life’, but she shoved that knowledge down and paused in front of a shop window to take her hair out of its ponytail and brush it over her shoulders. In defiance of the sensible voice which was telling her, quite insistently, that she ought to turn around and go home, Bex added a slick of tinted lip balm to her lips before knocking on Jon’s door.
    ‘I’ve been cooking,’ Jon said. He had a checked tea towel slung over one shoulder. ‘It’s supposed to be a nice surprise, but I’m not sure –’ He broke off, his mouth twisting. ‘Put it this way. I hope you’ve already eaten.’
    ‘I’ve eaten,’ Bex said. Four bowls of cereal and half a loaf of bread.
    ‘That’s a relief,’ Jon said. ‘I’ll just go and dispose of the evidence.’ He disappeared back into the kitchen and Bex heard the sound of a plate being scraped into the bin.
    ‘When’s Ben back?’ His mountain bike had been missing from the hall.
    ‘Oh, he’s staying out tonight,’ Jon called back.
    Bex ignored the treacherous flair of excitement and joined Jon in the kitchen. ‘He’s missing film night, again? You did invite him, right?’
    ‘He’s busy,’ Jon said, opening the fridge and getting two beers. ‘You know Ben.’
    Not really, Bex thought. Jon’s housemate was more elusive than the yeti. ‘Does he hate me, or something?’
    Jon had a funny look on his face when he said ‘No, of course not’, which made Bex think the real answer was ‘Yes, he finds you deeply irritating. Soon, I will have to choose between you and you will come off worse; after all, I live with Ben.’ It was a lot to get from one funny look, but Bex was highly trained at deconstructing and decoding Jon’s every move, word, smile and