The Sunday Post (Inverness)

A wizard of an idea

All Rosie wanted was some fireworks and a light dusting of magic in her relationsh­ip

- HILARY SPIERS

It’s just . . .” Rosie tailed off, avoiding her mother’s eye. She sighed as though she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. Pam waited, knowing there was nothing Rosie hated as much as silence. Such a drama queen! Everything was always just a bit heightened with Rosie. a minor problem was inflated into a catastroph­e; the slightest setback was an utter disaster.

Still, Pam had to concede that Rosie’s current dilemma was important.

“Thing is,” Rosie said, “i watch my friends with their boyfriends, when we’re at a party or even just the pub.

“And – I don’t know – they just seem so much more exciting.the boyfriends, I mean.

“Lively. Much more obviously in love. Don’t get me wrong, I know Sam would do anything for me.”

Pam nodded, trying to remain neutral. It was hard. She was very fond of Sam; she’d liked him from the moment Rosie brought him home. a great bear of a man, he was gentle, self-effacing and one of the kindest men she had ever met.

Her late husband had been in the same mould.

But she had to agree with Rosie – Sam was not one for grand gestures.

You could see in his eyes that he adored her, but he shied away from any signs of affection in public.

It was always Rosie who took his hand, she who leaned in for a kiss or hug.

Pam knew he had had a difficult childhood and she suspected that had made him wary of showing affection, to protect himself from further hurt.

“I know it makes me sound shallow, but just for once I’d like some fireworks.

“You understand, Mum, don’t you?” Rosie entreated, eyes brimming with tears.

Pam shook her head.

“Fireworks last seconds; rocks endure. I know which one I’d rather have. Besides, kindness, loyalty and devotion are commoditie­s in short supply these days, so treasure them. Give the man some credit – he is taking you to that Harry Potter thing for your birthday.”

“Only because I went on and on about it!” Rosie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Darling, be fair, I think it’s meant for children. You are 29!”

“But I love Harry Potter!”

Pam knew better than to argue when Rosie was passionate about something.

“I’m sure it’ll be terrific.and don’t forget to thank Sam properly. I’m amazed he’s going with you.”

“Oh, you know Sam. He wants me to have a lovely day and it wouldn’t be so much fun on my own.and I do love him, Mum.”

Pam waved her daughter off, then closed the front door, a small smile playing about her lips...

Rosie was enchanted by the guided tour, the extraordin­ary costumes and, best of all, the ride on the Muggle Train out from central London to the studios.

Sam, plodding patiently behind, took endless photograph­s, finally agreeing to a picture of them both outside the shops on Diagon Alley. Rosie gazed up at him adoringly as the obliging official took the snap.

“This is the best birthday present!” she enthused.

“What’s this shop, then?” Sam looked up at the sign over one door. “Ollivander’s,” Rosie replied. “it’s where Harry buys his wands.”

“Wands? Would you like one as a souvenir?” “Yes, please!”

Rosie was beside herself with excitement as they entered the shop.

The shopkeeper, an elderly man with twinkling eyes, beamed at them from behind the counter.

“It’s a wand you’re after?”

Rosie nodded.the wall behind him was stacked with thousands of boxes.

“It’s for Rosie.” Sam put his arm around her. “Ah. ”the man turned to scan the boxes. “Rosie, Rosie . . . let me see. Wouldn’t you know it? Right at the top.”

He slid a library ladder along the shelves and climbed up, then extracted one long, thin box. He peered at the label.

“Rosie Maclean, is that right?” he called down.

Rosie looked up, astonished, then at Sam, who seemed as surprised as she was. “Yes. But how did you know my –”

The man climbed down.

“Why should you find it so extraordin­ary, young lady?

“Isn’t that why you came? This is where magic things happen.”

He handed her the box.

Rosie opened it and withdrew a slender wand with a gnarled wooden handle. a tiny velvet bag was tied to it.

“Well!” the shopkeeper said. “What on earth is that? Most irregular! Someone’s been interferin­g with my stock. “You’d better see what’s inside, my dear.”

Rosie opened the bag and inserted two fingers, to pull out a tag with something hanging from it.

She gasped.

The tag read, will you marry me? Tied to it was a ring sparkling with diamonds. “Well?” Sam asked anxiously. Rosie threw her arms around his neck.

“Yes, oh, yes, please!” The shopkeeper leaned towards a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, his words booming. “she said yes!” From all sides came applause, whoops and cheers.

Sam nodded his thanks to the shopkeeper.

Gently slipping the ring on Rosie’s finger, he bent down to find her lips.

And then, as if by magic, the fireworks began.

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 ??  ?? For more fantastic fiction pick up The People’s Friend
For more fantastic fiction pick up The People’s Friend

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