Constance Hardbroom should have nursed a grudge against her sister. Her half sister, as her mother was so fond of reminding her, her mouth twisted in disapproval. Constance should have been too young to be tasked with listening to all the bile but the atmosphere in the house had changed so dramatically since that woman had banged on the door and crashed through their lives that she had no choice but to absorb it. Her father had started being absentminded, ignoring his first child, anxious that his lies and secrets had been revealed by a lower class of woman than he'd married.
While the storm had raged in the hall, nobody had noticed that Constance was standing on the stairs watching it all unfold. Not until when her aunt had looked up in exasperation and noticed the dark shadow hovering above the hurricane. The noise and rage were suspended in thin air. The girl's face was unreadable. Her aunt rushed up to bundle her away to explain to her what was transpiring. Ever the obedient child, she went where she was pushed. She never said a word, just stared at the parents accusingly as they fussed and bumbled over their explanations. It was her aunt that had banished the lot of them, safeguarding her and rocking her to sleep in soothing silence. Constance sought her out after that, more than she ever had before, needing a lighthouse amidst the storm. The atmosphere in the house was battering her mind.
Constance had been the golden girl, the one and only, showered with attention and affection. But the arrival of a problem that would never go away in the form of this desperate and angry woman with a burden in tow had shattered that sheltered existence forever. There were arguments and cold silences, punctuated by her aunt's admonishments. Ernestine Broomhead had never liked the cad her sister had married and had made her mission to be the bane of his life since. As his indiscretions had been revealed, she'd left most of the ranting and weeping to her sister and sought to protect Constance who had been thoughtlessly pushed aside. To everyone's surprise, she had made it possible to include the new addition to their family.
'How could you let her come in and take over?' Hissed Wilhelmina at her sister.
'I'm not letting her do anything' she said stiffly. 'You know what I think of Aloysius and his philandering. I told you not to marry him but you didn't listen. Now we are stuck with the consequences of his ill-thought actions. That woman would not normally be welcome here. But she is having a baby and the least the father can do is provide for it. I will not let an innocent child suffer.'
Constance listened to the whispering behind the door and felt her heart shatter. From that point on, Wilhelmina was lost to her daughter, too absorbed in her misery. Constance felt like she was trapped underwater with no way of escaping. She became quieter and more withdrawn, escaping into her books for company. Potions particularly soothed her. Potions made sense. You mixed something with another and got the same result. There were clear guides on what would happen if you mixed that something with something entirely different. You'd created something new. But each time you did it properly, the result would be the same. Potions steadied her, gave her some structure in a crumbling world. Ernestine spent all the time she had with her niece, teaching her magic that should have been beyond her capabilities. Every single piece of knowledge she had, she passed on. Constance had mastered it all, in time.
'I will not stop you from thinking what you like about your mother and father. And that dreadful woman' Ernestine sniffed. She bade her niece to be civil to them all for appearance's sake. It didn't mean deference, not one of them deserved it. Ernestine had no respect left for any of them anymore, despising her sister as weak and whining, her brother-in-law as feckless and untrustworthy and Gertrude as cold hearted and common. But for the impending arrival, Constance was instructed to help her aunt protect it from neglect and cruelty.
'It is our job, Constance, to make sure that this child does not end up like any of the parents in this house. We must guide, care for, encourage them. Give them the affection that I think they will not get at the hands of Gertrude. I don't trust her one bit. She has ice in her veins. We must create the safety this child needs.'
Constance nodded and solemnly vowed. She didn't know how to feel about this new baby. But she supposed that her aunt was right.
To add insult, the new sister was born only a couple of weeks after Constance's 9th birthday. They would share a birth month together, though not a star sign. Ernestine had appointed herself the adult in charge. As she had with Constance, she ushered Hecate into the world. Even Gertrude grudgingly admired her for taking charge and delivering the baby. She had been given the lodge house on the grounds and had accepted acidly. Aloysius Hardbroom had resignedly registered her birth and the new child entered the family with a frosty reception. Gertrude had hardly got through the door with the baby when Wilhelmina started snarling at her. Verbal abuse was hurled and the man of the house had to step in and try to tame it. Ernestine tutted and ended up shouting in exasperation which woke the baby. At a brief lull in the fight, a steady voice piped up.
'Can I hold her?'
The adults stopped snarling at each other and turned to look at the sombre young girl, neat in her Sunday best. She stared back at them. Gertrude looked at her suspiciously. But Ernestine exclaimed it to be a marvellous idea and nodded at the intruder. Reluctantly Gertrude let herself be towed over to the sofa. Ernestine sat Constance down and sat on the other side. Showing her how to hold, the baby was transferred to her arms, letting her discover the weight of the whirlwind that had changed her life forever. Constance looked with interest into the face so unlike her own. A more delicate face with eyes a lighter shade of brown than her own. Baby stared back. Waved a tiny starfish hand around and caught at the older girl's finger, gripping it tightly. The parents looked horrified but Wilhelmina looked proudly on.
Hecate had chosen her protector.
There was no turning back now. They were irretrievably linked.
Hecate would insist on sitting with her big sister at the table, would only be comforted by her and copied Constance in studiously ignoring the surrounding hostility. In autumn they would pick blackberries, in summer they would play out in the fields. Ernestine insisted on home-schooling them to ensure that they would be kept together, for fear of each mother trying to set each daughter apart. She taught them the secrets of potions, spells, chanting and even her favourite languages. Constance was growing up to be a fine young woman and Ernestine wouldn't let the child born on the wrong side of the blanket go the way of her mother. If anything, they excelled as much as each other. The more that Hecate ran towards her sister, the colder that all their parents were towards them both.
The aunt observed them thoroughly, noting their personalities and the way they expressed themselves. Hecate showed affection towards her teacher but she was a very serious child, more so than her sister had been at her age. It was as if she had absorbed the hostility around her and was always on guard. Only Constance could lighten her mood. When Constance left for teacher training for three long years, Hecate didn't cry. Her refusal to show emotion frightened the adults but she took comfort in the fact the only person who truly knew Hecate, was her sister. They wrote to each other every week without fail. Constance gave her the tour of Weirdsister College once it was her turn.
In turn, with Hecate by her side, Constance sensed the fog around her lift, could slowly feel her heart getting lighter. Entering her teenage years, while she never dropped her diligence in the classroom, she started showing signs of rebelliousness and an occasional flash of temper, something she had never exhibited before. Wilhelmina couldn't handle that her once docile daughter was now stubborn and opinionated. But Ernestine welcomed it, glad to see a personality emerge from the shell that Constance had built around her.
Gertrude was of another opinion altogether. She lamented her luck that she was stuck with a spineless man, one who would eventually abandon the family. Her rival was wasting away in a most graceless manner. The old harridan was to be borne. And the older daughter irritated her, though why she couldn't say. It was as if her plain-faced gaze could bore into her and Gertrude didn't like that. She tried her best to get inbetween her daughter and the others but the more she tried, the more Hecate resisted. She was showing great promise, a magical talent to rival her sister's and yet they were closer than half siblings ought to be. It infuriated her that the two of them could jabber away in Spanish and French so effortlessly. They could keep so many secrets from her. She had to admit defeat when Hecate proved herself to be a worthier witch than her own mother.
'Confidence and control, that's the key to success' Constance told her. Hecate never forgot it.
When the time came for each one to graduate, faithfully following in their aunt's footsteps, she presented them with a piece of jewellery embedded with their birthstone. Garnet. A stone often overlooked for a flashier gem but with a true heart and a steady spirit, explained Ernestine. Hecate had received a timepiece that appealed to her traditional tastes. When she clicked it open, she could see her heart and spirit reflecting in the jewel nestled inside. Constance was given something a little more unconventional, a belt buckle in the shape of a gecko, a creature she delighted in observing. Weirdsister College had several of them. The garnet was placed on the underside so that only she could see it catching the light when she looked down.
When the time finally came to prepare aunt Ernestine for her final journey, a woman so proud of them both she may as well have been the only star in their sky, their tears polished their prideful precious finery to shining splendour.
Standing at the grave, Hecate Hardbroom looked sideways at her sister with pride. She knew she could have had such a different life, been so much worse off. But with Constance by her side, she felt like the luckiest person in the world.