Kitty's Witch

Chapter 2

Serena.

Charles had returned - much to my astonished surprise. I was pretty sure that if a date's cat had pissed on my leg, I would have written that person off as 'things to never do ever again'. He seemed determined, a little overly so, which probably meant he hadn't seen a vagina in more than six months and mine was the closest to a goal that he had.

He wasn't bad to look at; tall, dark and sort of handsome. If you liked that preppy, stuffy look and weren't overly bothered about what came out of his mouth. Of course, my mother approved, which should have sent me running straight away. But then, it was sort of nice to have her approve of something for a change - even if it was a slightly boring, obsessive tie wearing, probably hadn't experimented much past missionary, average human.

Witches weren't the biggest fans of long-term. My own father being a witch who was currently somewhere in the party Island of Ibiza living it up with his girl of the month - who may or may not be, a few years younger than my own age of twenty-three. Considering our longevity, it was certainly plausible to run far and fast from having to stick with the same person for the rest of our very long lives. I mean, I couldn't imagine my father staying with my mother for over a thousand years - I couldn't stick her for more than twenty minutes - it would be a crime to ask him to. Not that he was such a breeze to be around either - the perpetual Peter Pan condition - although throw in the inability to be anything close to responsible and you get my father. I couldn't fathom what put the two of them in a room together long enough to create me - during my education they'd passed messages to each other through me as if I was their own personal pigeon mail. My mother insistent on referring to my father as 'The Turkey Baster', and my father returning the slur with his own - 'Wicked 3' - something he'd revelled in calling her since the late nineteen thirties due to the unfortunate production of the 'Wizard of Oz'. It's a constant source of surprise that I managed to reach adulthood without any serious mental illness.

Although Charles had phoned this morning to ask me out for lunch, he had also specified that we meet at the restaurant - the fact that he refused to pick me up and plainly didn't want another Cat episode wasn't obvious at all. I let him off the hook this time - I doubt he'd managed to get the acrid smell of cat pee out of his three thousand pound suit trousers, and for a man as prissy as Charles, that would hurt his soul a little. As expected, the restaurant he'd picked was a Michelin starred bistro in the small village of Bray, half an hours drive from my house. I wouldn't have presumed anything less from Charles Windsor the third, and not for the first time, I gagged a little at the thought of his full name.

As I hit the miles long country lanes that swung through farmland and great open forestry, Hayley's name popped up on hands-free. I cringed before answering - the girl definitely had some powers of premonition and she was lying when she denied it. "Hi, Hails."

"Serena?" Her sad puppy tone came loudly through the speakers. "What are you doing?"

"Why don't you tell me, you goddess-damned gypsy fortune teller."

She peeled off in musical titters of laughter, and I'm pretty sure glitter poofed through the phone line. "I'm not a gypsy, Serena, I just know you very well."

She did actually. Having known each other for nearly twenty years now it was almost impossible to keep anything secret from her. She was still a fucking liar. "Well if you insist on me putting it into words - I'm on my way to meet Charles for lunch."

Her little disappointed sigh was almost on par with my mothers, and I narrowed my eyes wondering if it was time to stow Hayley away somewhere that my mother and her little expressions couldn't rub off on my best friend. "I wish you'd listen to me about him."