He swallowed then, looking away. ‘Very well, Ava.’ He waved a hand towards the back of the shop, and the door that lay there. ‘Though I’ll warn you – the room is a mess.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The room was just as gloomy, just as dusty, as it had been seven years ago. When she, Jem and Oliver had been down here, and she had practised her art for the very first time. That’d been back when her mother was still alive, and Oliver had newly begun to talk about becoming a cook after realizing how much he thoroughly hated being a shop assistant. The room had been organized back then, rather than derelict, and Mrs Foster would not have been glad to stumble upon them, for Jem had been balanced precariously upon a stack of crates, Ava standing before him, while Oliver tore through a delivery of bottles.
‘Somethinghas to contain brandy, surely? Ma always gives it us when we’re under the weather.’
‘Shh,’ Ava said, turning back to Jem. ‘I’m trying to practise here.’
‘Yes,’ chimed Jem. ‘Let your sister convince me I’m a cat, will you?’
She had smiled. ‘That’s not how it works,’ she said. ‘Although Icouldconvince you that up is down, and left is right.’
‘Oliver will manage that readily enough if he finds the brandy,’ said Jem, turning around. ‘Check the ones at the bottom. I’m sure those are cough syrups.’
‘Well then,’ said Ava. ‘Perhaps I’ll get you to fall in love with me. Or recall a particularly flattering memory of me. Whichever one takes my fancy.’
‘Is that why you’re doing it?’ Jem’s frown deepened. ‘You want me to fall in love with you? Did you hear that, Oliver? I think your little sister is quite smitten with me.’
‘Forget memory, you’ll have more success if you can banish one’s demons,’ chimed Oliver, his voice as clear as the clinking glasses he was rummaging between. ‘Christ Ava, the whole world would love you if you could do that. You can begin with Jem’s unfetteredarrogance.’
‘Can you focus please?’ Ava huffed, a flush rising upon her cheeks. ‘Or else I’ll find another practice subject.’
‘Focus on what?’
‘On this.’
She had spent all evening filing a hole through a two-penny piece, and now she dangled it before his eyes, hung from a strip of ribbon she’d pulled from her mother’s dresser. ‘Focus on the coin.’
In her mind, it moved to the same rhythm as her breath, back and forth, back and forth. Behind Jem’s back, she saw her brother turn to watch them, his expression a mixture of fascination and something else. Fear? He needn’t be afraid, she wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Least of all Jem.
‘I think it’s working,’ Jem whispered, his eyes flickering shut. ‘I feel so … sleepy.’
Oliver abandoned the glasses, coming to stand beside Ava.
‘It can’t be working,’ Ava said. ‘I haven’t counted yet.’
‘So … sleepy …’
Ava frowned, though she began to count, loudly at first and then quieter, just as her mother had taught her. His eyes fluttered shut before she’d reached seven, and by the time she hit two, his head had lolled slightly, as though he truly had fallen asleep.
‘Wake him up,’ said Oliver, a scratching edge to his voice. ‘This is unnatural.’
‘He’s not in any danger,’ Ava murmured.
‘Awaken him!’
Ava cast an impatient look at her brother. ‘How am I going to practise if every time I put him under, you compel me to wake him up?’
‘Just prove you can do it,’ said Oliver. ‘And then, once I know he won’t spend his life like Rip Van Winkle, I’ll leave you both well alone.’
She furrowed her brows. ‘Very well. Jem—’ Her voice lowered.Be commanding, her mother had said.Be clear. ‘Jem, you can open your eyes now.’
Slowly, he raised his head, blinking at the pair of them. ‘By Jove,’ he said, a look of utter sincerity upon his face. ‘Ava … I … I think I love you.’
Her heart had stumbled in her chest. And then Jem turned to wink at Oliver, who a moment ago had been tensed like a cat ready to pounce, and now leaned against one of the dark oak shelves, and huffed out a forced laugh.
‘No, truly, I do!’ Jem said, jumping down from the crates and reaching for her hands. ‘Marry me, Ava!’
