Spellbound Chapter 7.

Chapter Seven.

More Magic.

“Bread day,” announced Aunt Meg. “You can help me mix the dough.”

They measured out the flour and added water. Sophie spent a hard half‑hour working the mixture until it no longer stuck to her hands. “Finished already?” said Aunt Meg, frowning slightly. “You’re quick today. Fetch that bowl from near the fire,” said her aunt.

Sophie brought it over. Inside was a bubbling, creamy mixture. Aunt Meg poured some into the dough.

“That’s what makes the bread rise,” she said. “Without it, we’d be eating flat pancakes.”

Sophie kneaded until her arms ached. The dough was shaped into round loaves and slid into the oven. “We’ll look at it later,” said Aunt Meg.

The kitchen soon smelled wonderful. Sophie was delighted to be given a piece of hot bread with some of the cheese she had helped make.

Over the next few weeks she was kept busy. She fed the chickens, collected eggs, helped around the house, and best of all, watched over the goats. When she was alone, she used her magic to make the work easier — always careful not to let her aunt see.

The more she practised, the easier it became. One day, a kid slipped on the stream bank and fell into the water. Without thinking, Sophie pointed at it and lifted it back onto dry land. It shook itself and ran to its mother. Sophie’s heart raced with excitement.

Another day she was helping with the cheese. She poured curds and whey into a cloth draped over a bucket, squeezed out the liquid, and set the cloth aside to drain.

“It’s like magic,” she said without thinking. “The way milk turns into cheese.”

“There’s no magic about it,” snapped Aunt Meg. “It’s perfectly natural.”

“I’m sorry,” said Sophie. Curiosity got the better of her. “Why don’t you like magic? My mother could do it.”

“And it got her killed,” said Aunt Meg sharply.

Sophie gasped and burst into tears. She ran out of the dairy and along the stream until she could run no more. She sat on a boulder, crying until she had hiccups.

When she finally stopped, she said aloud, “I can do magic, and whether she likes it or not, I will do it.”

She pointed at the boulder and concentrated. The boulder crumbled silently, collapsing into a neat heap of pale sand. “Whoops,” she said. “That was naughty.”

Halfway back to the house she met her aunt.

“I’m sorry,” said Aunt Meg before Sophie could speak. “Your uncle told me off for being cruel.”

She sat down on the grass. “Please sit with me.”

Sophie sat.

“I get cranky when I’m tired,” said Aunt Meg. “I fly off the handle. I know I shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t have asked about magic,” said Sophie. “Uncle William warned me.”

Aunt Meg sighed. “When I was your age, I wanted nothing more than to do magic. I tried and tried, and nothing ever happened. When I met your mother, she could do magic without thinking. I was jealous. Then William was made an outlaw, and we lost our home. Your parents tried to help, but instead of being grateful, I grew angry. Next to your mother, I felt useless.”

“You’re not useless,” said Sophie. “You make the best cheese anyone has ever tasted. People bring their milk to you because you’re better at it than they are. You bake wonderful bread. You’ve made a home for Uncle William in a beautiful valley. You don’t need magic — you already do amazing things.”

She giggled. “Mum wasn’t good at everything. She couldn’t cook to save her life. Dad always said she could burn water.”

“You’re joking,” said Aunt Meg.

Sophie shook her head. “Dad always did the cooking. He said it was cheaper than throwing away the things Mum ruined.”

“Well, well,” said Aunt Meg. “I never knew that.”

Neither of them heard Uncle William approach.

“A fine thing,” he said. “You two sitting in the sun gossiping, and me needing my food.”

“Whoops,” said Aunt Meg, jumping up. “Come on, Sophie — let’s do some magic on his lunch.”

Sophie followed them back to the house.

That night she found it hard to sleep. She thought about the boulder she had turned to sand — the rush of power, and the fear that she had done it in anger.

“What if it had been a person?” she whispered.

She thought of Aunt Meg snapping when tired. “What if I do something cruel without thinking?”

She reminded herself that her mother had used magic to help people. Then she remembered the kid she had rescued from the stream, and with that happier thought, she fell asleep.