The Enchanted

By Katrina Deverill

The Enchanted

Lotte has a new adversary, TIME! When Lotte made an unexpected purchase, her life changed. Deciding to return it to the strange shop, Lotte discovers the invoice states it wasn't a purchase but a six-month loan and no one in the shop knows anything about it. As the new talent Lotte now possesses takes hold, she fears losing it and with it her entire future.

Lotte turns to her best friend Vicky when her future becomes tainted by her unexpected purchase. They must work together to solve the mystery, but time is their adversary and now both their futures depend on the eventual outcome. Can a memoir solve their problem or is the future already written? It's a test of their friendship and the lengths they will go to rewrite their own futures.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katrina Deverill
• Release date: Jan 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215780756

Katrina Deverill

I live on the beautiful island of Cyprus where the sea is cobalt blue, and it rarely rains.  Because I believe some of the best books are the ones that have yet to be discovered, I read on average four novels a month, sometimes more, but I schedule my writing time into each day. It’s a full-time job. There’s something special about curling up with a book and being transported to another dimension. Although I write in several genres, they all have one thing in common: mystery. I’m a sucker for whodunits and whether there’s a ghost, some historical data, a smattering of magical realism or a full-blown serial killer, the characters guide me through all the way to the end. If you enjoyed this title, all my books are on my website in my portfolio, where you’ll find both my current titles and those soon to be released. You can also sign up for early-bird offers, news and giveaways, but if you're more interested in leaving a comment or asking about a particular character, I’d be happy to respond. I look forward to hearing from you when you visit my home from home https://katrinadeverill.com Katrina Deverill

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

Life can be full of ‘regrets’, but at just 18yrs old, it might be the hardest subject to be confronted with for a final submission towards an A Level English exam. I had gone through school with a laissez-faire attitude to education, I hated math, sucked at science and wasn’t much cop at English, accept I loved reading. But hey, Vicky and me don't give up easily and got together for a brainstorming session. Somehow, I came came up with an idea. In the end, after copious amounts of coffee and a guilt complex from the empty chocolate wrappers liberally strewn around the room, me and Vicky had at least some semblance of an idea, not the same one, but thankfully one each. I had decided to use my imagination and lie my way through the essay and so I wrote about the fact I hadn’t one string to my bow! Not in a literal sense you understand, but just that I had done nothing particularly well and my accomplishments were nil pointe. I had no real talent for anything and hadn’t even been interested enough to try to play at least one musical instrument, when everyone of my friends learned to play at least something in our music lessons. It seemed to me like everyone I knew played something and Vicky could not only read music, but she’d joined a band and played lead guitar like a pro. Me, I was a musical dumbo, I couldn’t even play a triangle and as for reading music, bah, I couldn’t tell you where to start! To me a staff was something Joseph carried in the school Nativity play!

But that’s it, somehow this dumb idea ends up changing my life in quite a dramatic way. following my essay on 'regret', everything changed. I became acquainted with a strange shop and a mysterious elderly woman, who somehow convinced me to purchase an antique. That's when strange things start to happen, suddenly I’m drawn to this antiquity, it seems to have a life of its own and from a rather talentless me, I emerge as Loti the talented and capable of more than I'd ever dreamed possible. But there's a catch and I begin to see I’m only the puppet. Am I in danger, where did this item come from, is there a puppet master, I need to know, but I’m not sure I want to? But what I do need is, Vicky to help me to uncover the mystery as it unfolds. We need to turn detective as things keep getting weirder, but she sticks by me; after all we’re best friends and that's what best friends do, right!

CHAPTER 1

Regret, a lesson in make believe

As I walked casually down the High Street, I could smell the faint metallic aroma of the recent shower and the pavement still glistened with the damp residue, now drying in the warm sunshine. I passed multiple shop windows, some sported huge sale signs, while other looked drab and unappealing and I found myself glancing in with little to no idea what I was looking for. All I knew was I had money in my pocket and it was burning a hole. I decided it was about time I crossed the road to look at the shops on the other side of town, which I thought might appeal more, being a little trendier (one of mum’s favourite words), but as I turned towards the edge of the pavement an elderly lady bumped into me and I stumbled. She made no apology for her clumsiness, how rude I thought, but by the time I had regained my balance she was gone. I stood there seething, why did my elders always seem to think they were immune to displaying good manners. Wasn’t mum always instilling in me that ‘Manners Maketh Man’ and I chuckled to myself; she should have said it didn’t apply to old women. Now, instead of standing waiting to cross the road, I found myself facing a shop window that I hadn’t already seen and it was then that it drew my attention. It wasn’t something I had even considered and truth be known, I had no idea why I was even drawn to it, but I felt this compulsion to check it out regardless.

My encounter with the women and my subsequent stumble forgotten, I stood up and tentatively opened the shop door. I heard the ‘tinkle’ from a little brass bell on top of the door as I stepped through. The shop had a weird heady odour, it wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it struck me as strange. I saw the item that had drawn my eye. Shacking my head, I wondered what I was doing, I had no use for it and it would be well out of my meagre price range, even if for some strange reason I actually had a use for it. I felt a bit stupid walking into the shop only to turn around and leave, it’s just one of those awkward moments when you start to question your own sanity, so I decided a closer look wouldn’t hurt. To say it was beautiful was an understatement, the depth of colour in the grain said to me that it was expertly made and it oozed quality. Although it was worn in all the places you’d expect for an item that was obviously pretty old, it seemed to add to its overall charm and it far outweighed anything else I had considered. Then again, I’d been looking for a new sweatshirt, jeans and trainers. I was just about to come to my senses when a voice came from the back of the shop, Pick it up and feel the quality, it won’t bite you know. It was then I realised the voice belonged to the elderly lady that had almost knocked me down. That’s a coincidence I thought. It was if she didn’t recognise me as she still made no apology for her earlier mistake, but it felt strange to see her again in this setting. The next thing I knew it was in my hands. It felt so right, like it already belonged to me and I suddenly felt compelled to make it mine. What was I thinking, this was madness!

It was then that I thought back to the day my best friend and I had resorted to a brainstorming session for our next essay. Why I should think of it now was beyond me, but my mind drifted back to the problem we had faced together as the subject matter had really stumped us. We’d been set a task to write a piece about ‘regret’ and neither Vicky nor I had a clue where to start. What did we know about regret, we hadn’t been around long enough to rack up anything more than a few stupid impulse buys, so nothing to really lament over? Anyway, we decided to pen a few ideas and for some reason, unbeknown to me, I decided my biggest regret was not to be accomplished in at least something. I had gone through school with a laissez-faire attitude to education, I hated math, sucked at science and wasn’t much cop at English, accept I loved reading. Sadly though, I read, what Mrs Carmichael our English teacher, would more than likely class as crap. You know the stuff, ‘teenage vampires’ and ‘boy meets girl’, not you’re ‘A Level’ grade literature; but at least I could read. I chuckled to myself and Vicky just shrugged at me and rolled her eyes. In the end, after copious amounts of coffee I ended up with another massive guilt complex as I realised just how many empty chocolate wrappers were liberally strewn around my room and the majority of them were mine!

Well at least by now, me and Vicky had at least some semblance of an idea, not the same one, but thankfully one each. I had decided to use my imagination and lie my way through the essay, what else is a girl to do when she has not encountered this alien emotion ‘regret’, well it was to me. And so, I wrote about the fact, loosely speaking, that I hadn’t one string to my bow! Not in a literal sense you understand, but just that I had done nothing particularly well and my accomplishments were nil pointe. I had no real talent for anything and hadn’t even been interested enough to try to play at least one musical instrument, when everyone of my friends had learned to play at least something in our music lessons. It seemed to me like everyone I knew played something and Vicky could not only read music, but she’d joined a band and played lead guitar like a pro. Me, I was a musical dumbo, I couldn’t even play a triangle and as for reading music, bah, I couldn’t tell you where to start! To me a staff was something Joseph carried in the school Nativity play!

Why I had suddenly felt regret for my lack of musical accord I have no idea, I don’t much care for music and I don’t have the interest in bands or pop culture like many teenagers seem to acquire; maybe I’m just a little odd. After all, this wasn’t even a true account, it was a made-up scenario just to get my essay written and in on time; something else I regularly failed to do. But the more I dwelled on it, the more bereft I felt. Vicky laughed, You know you’re really strange, all these years and all you wanted to do was as little as possible at school, now you’re suddenly regretting not taking music, Well, it’s true I said indignantly, only then realising again this was, according to yours truly, a work of fiction. What was I thinking? To which she chirped Get a life. That’s my best friend, say it how it is, I think to myself.

Now two weeks later and the day after I had my essay back and marked A star plus, I’m here holding an aged piece of wood with strings. The fact that I have no idea how to hold it properly, never mind play it! At that moment I had an overwhelming urge to hold it up, place my chin gently on the rest, put the bow to the strings and play. Yeah, as if; I must be having an episode caused by exam fever of something. I chuckled inwardly and turned to set the instrument down, but the shopkeeper said, "Have a play, it’s been tuned this