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understand.’
    Â â€˜No, you wouldn’t. Few daughters have the faintest clue how much power her mother has over her.’
    Â â€˜No, my mum always had the right idea. Right from the start she said my husband wasn’t right for me.’
    Â The gin whirred in my head. I hadn’t a clue why I was telling a stranger about my love life but I couldn’t quieten my words. They seemed to spill out of my mouth without my knowing. ‘Mum said he was a low achiever, that he would stray, and that he wouldn’t have my best interests at heart.’
    Â â€˜And that was right?’
    Â â€˜Well, he owned his own successful marketing company and he never had any affairs as far as I know, but he did abuse me in the end.’
    Â â€˜How did he abuse you?’ She poured us both another. We drank.
    Â â€˜It was just after Rosemary – Rosie – was born. He couldn’t accept that she was a helpless little child who needed every second of my attention. I think he felt, in some way, cheated by the fact I didn’t have so much time to devote solely to him. I think he felt that I neglected him, he told me I was an overzealous, paranoid mother. He wanted me to go for nice meals out, and just forget about Rosie.
    Â â€˜How could I do that? She’s my own flesh and blood. He had no idea of my feelings for her. And it seemed he had little or no feelings of his own.’
    Â The bottle glugged as Miss Metford poured us both another. I noticed it was half-empty but it didn’t matter. It was good to talk. The blood-coloured gin seemed to dance, to sing in my ears, making me say things I never thought would leave the murky depths of my mind. It was like a mysterious potion that had a strange, tongue-loosening spell cast upon it.
    Â â€˜You see there were complications with Rosie. My pregnancy was fine but for some reason she decided to come into the world too early. I haemorrhaged during labour and Rosemary was whisked away from me into intensive care.
    Â â€˜For three days, I was unable to leave my bed to see her and, poor mite, she was not fit to be brought to me. When I finally made it to her side, I saw she was the most beautiful, most precious little girl I’d ever seen. Her perfectly formed nose, fingers, and toes didn’t explain why she couldn’t breathe for herself. I vowed that moment, there and then, never to leave her side again.’
    Â â€˜Let’s have another drink,’ said Miss Metford, slurring her words and spilling half of it on the table as she tried to look earnestly into my eyes. I don’t think she could focus.
    Â By this time my head was already spinning but the gin seemed to call my name. Vivian, Vivian, Vivian …
    Â â€˜Do you know my father made this?’ she said, hiccupping.
    Â â€˜I know, you told me,’ I slurred, smiling at her mistake.
    Â â€˜Did I?’
    Â â€˜Yes.’
    Â We both collapsed into fits of giggles.
    Â â€˜You know, Mary, can I call you Mary?’
    Â â€˜It is my name.’
    Â â€˜Well, Mary if I didn’t know you better, which I don’t really but I will. Anyway, if I didn’t know you better, despite the fact I hardly do at all. Where was I? Oh yes, I would say you’ve cast a spell on me.’
    Â â€˜What makes you think that?’
    Â â€˜This,’ I said, raising my glass and swishing its contents over the side, ‘this is a magic potion.’
    Â And with one last gulp, my glass was empty.
    Â â€˜A witch can’t cast a spell on another witch.’
    Â â€˜What do you mean?’
    Â â€˜You, Vivian, you are a witch just like me.’
    Â â€˜Arrgh, get off, I’m drunk just like you.’
    Â â€˜Come with me,’ she said, signalling to the door.
    Â Outside the air felt crisp and cool. It hit me like a tidal wave, nearly knocking me clean off my feet.
    Â â€˜Look up there,’