Grey Magic

3. Raven Chicks

 The grumpy nurse behind the reception counter at Saints hospital motions for Raven to take a seat.

"It's full in there," she says, frowning, as if it is Raven's fault that Celeste has friends visiting her to meet her newborn baby. As if Raven is the reason that gentle laughter and helium balloons are spilling out of the private ward where her client is recovering.

"I'll only be two minutes," says Raven, gesturing at the uninspired pharmacy-bought flowers in her hand. "I just came to drop these off."

The nurse purses her lips, crosses her meaty forearms. She doesn't believe a word. She knows how these things work out.

"I'm in a hurry," says Raven. "Shall I come back another time?"

She doesn't like holding newborns anyway. They are too fragile. She imagines their skulls like bird eggs: ready to crack and spill open at the smallest trauma. And their skin! That pink, fragrant, never-been-touched-before skin. Their pink peril is almost too much for her to bear. She had read before that, in the Middle Ages, Europeans wouldn't name a baby in the first year because of the high rate of infant mortality. It was a different world entirely, one in which naming a child was seen as brazen: a way of tempting fate.

"Sit," says the nurse. "I'll chase the others out in five minutes."

Raven sees then that this staunchly-built nurse is absolutely perfect for her job. This is the position of Gatekeeper, not friendly push-over. She's here to protect the new mothers from the barrage that comes with bringing a new life into the world. She will keep the well-meaning crowd from overwhelming the over-vulnerable. Raven sits down.

She pulls out her phone, swears at the number of missed calls and notifications that her iCloud storage is full. She ignores them and checks her Twitter account. May as well do some work while she's waiting.

Dear Raven @turningtricks, reads the first tweet.

I need a spell to help me lose weight. Can you help? #havetriedeverything.

Dear @Jozifoodie, types Raven. There's nothing wrong with a little junk in your trunk. What's the real problem?

@Turningtricks, reads the next one, I need a spell to keep my husband faithful.

A newborn starts wailing in the room next door. It's a brutal sound.

@frankieJ, if you need a spell to keep your husband faithful, you're doing it wrong.

After clicking TWEET she wonders if that was a bit blunt. Oh, well, she doesn't have the energy to sugarcoat it. What else could she say anyway? Maybe he's just not built for monogamy? Not many animals are. Maybe he's just a lying bastard you shouldn't be with? Or maybe he's a wonderful man with a weakness. We all have our flaws. Maybe she should have told her that cheating is a symptom not a sickness and that she needs to find the root cause.

What her followers need most is not magic, but common sense. Sometimes, they just need help to identify the problem correctly. Sometimes, they just need a strategy. A more business-savvy witch would just comply with the requests (at R500 a spell) instead of dispensing practical advice. Today's 58 tweets would certainly come in handy for her giant echoing cave of a bank account.

@Turningtricks I've lost my lucky socks and I have an important game coming up. Can you find them for me?

Dear Ms Kane @turningtricks, my #lavender plants are wilting — any advice?? #Organic #HerbHippie #Notsogreenfingers.

My toddler loves my husband more than me. What can I do? @Turningtricks.

@Turningtricks Do you have a spell to make my mother-in-law vanish? LOL.