colour for you,’ said Pat, tapping the side of her nose with a long talon, pierced with a small four-leafed clover charm, then she held out the
same hand for the crystal ball. Receiving it, she closed her eyes and tilted her head backwards in concentration whilst taking in a slow deep breath.
‘Oooh interesting,’ she said, tantalisingly.
What, what?
thought Carla.
‘I can see a cat. A big black cat.’
Carla felt the anti-climax right down to her shoes.
‘Have you got a cat, lovey?’ Pat asked.
‘No,’ said Carla.
‘Not
yet.
’ Pat wagged her finger. ‘You must look out for this lucky black cat. It will bring you luck.’
What else would a lucky black cat bring but luck?
thought Carla, disappointed by that prediction. Fleas, perhaps – or dead mice. She didn’t have a cat, never had had a cat
and wouldn’t be getting one, either.
‘I sense a man,’ said Pat. ‘Deception. Past the point of no return.’
Carla’s eyes widened.
‘I see him clearly. You have to forget him and move on. He won’t come back to you and if he does, you must say no, lovey.’
Pat noticed the small twitch Carla’s head made. She’d cocked up slightly saying that. How? She slid into repair mode.
‘I mean he may try to contact you and ask for forgiveness. Not necessarily in person.’
Carla gave a slow heavy nod. Ah, thought Pat. That struck a chord. He’s dead.
‘He has passed. You are full of questions that he cannot answer. You must let him go, lovey. The answers would only hurt you.’
Carla burst into tears.
‘There is great loss here,’ said Pat with her best nasal sympathetic voice. ‘Far more than just the man. There are material things. You must let them all go. Start
again.’
Carla was nodding like the Churchill dog. Pat had struck gold.
‘Think of the lipstick. You have yourself and your woman power and that will carry you forward, lovey. You need fresh things. Leave the memories. They aren’t good.’
Pat handed Carla a box of pink tissues from which Carla ripped two, blowing her nose on one, and wiping her eyes with the other.
‘You think I should let it all go?’ asked Carla.
‘Yes, I do,’ said Pat. ‘I can feel no positivity in hanging on to your past life. I feel very strongly that you must go forwards. Even if you do feel as if you’re going
backwards for a while, getting away from your past life is most definitely moving forwards. Trust in pink, lovey. And look out for the lucky black cat.’
A black cat was always a good thing to say, Pat thought. Who didn’t see a black cat occasionally? And when this poor cow saw the black cat, she would perk up and the positive energy would
propel her up and on. What was wrong about telling someone that good things were around the corner – it was as good as magic, even if it was bollocks? She held out her hand for her forty
pounds. Her client was wet-eyed but smiling.
Ker-ching.
Another satisfied customer.
Chapter 11
Will Linton opened the door to two men who looked as if they had just swaggered out of
Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels
. One, small and squat in a black leather
jacket and a gold medallion around his neck that would have had Mr T turning green with envy; the other thin, haggard and hard-faced, with skin that told of cigarettes and too much alcohol,
possibly a lasting legacy of drugs from his earlier days. It was the latter who spoke, in a surprisingly genteel voice.
‘Mr Linton. Mr Will Linton?’
Parked on the road outside their house was a long truck. Will closed his eyes and shook his head slowly from side to side.
This couldn’t be happening. Everything was moving too
fast.
It was only a week and a half ago that Cecilia Williams had told him that the bank was giving up on him.
Mr T was holding a clipboard and a pen. He could tell from Will’s expression that he knew why they were there.
‘I’m here for your car sir, unless you can give me a cash amount of . . .’ he referred to his paperwork ‘.
same hand for the crystal ball. Receiving it, she closed her eyes and tilted her head backwards in concentration whilst taking in a slow deep breath.
‘Oooh interesting,’ she said, tantalisingly.
What, what?
thought Carla.
‘I can see a cat. A big black cat.’
Carla felt the anti-climax right down to her shoes.
‘Have you got a cat, lovey?’ Pat asked.
‘No,’ said Carla.
‘Not
yet.
’ Pat wagged her finger. ‘You must look out for this lucky black cat. It will bring you luck.’
What else would a lucky black cat bring but luck?
thought Carla, disappointed by that prediction. Fleas, perhaps – or dead mice. She didn’t have a cat, never had had a cat
and wouldn’t be getting one, either.
‘I sense a man,’ said Pat. ‘Deception. Past the point of no return.’
Carla’s eyes widened.
‘I see him clearly. You have to forget him and move on. He won’t come back to you and if he does, you must say no, lovey.’
Pat noticed the small twitch Carla’s head made. She’d cocked up slightly saying that. How? She slid into repair mode.
‘I mean he may try to contact you and ask for forgiveness. Not necessarily in person.’
Carla gave a slow heavy nod. Ah, thought Pat. That struck a chord. He’s dead.
‘He has passed. You are full of questions that he cannot answer. You must let him go, lovey. The answers would only hurt you.’
Carla burst into tears.
‘There is great loss here,’ said Pat with her best nasal sympathetic voice. ‘Far more than just the man. There are material things. You must let them all go. Start
again.’
Carla was nodding like the Churchill dog. Pat had struck gold.
‘Think of the lipstick. You have yourself and your woman power and that will carry you forward, lovey. You need fresh things. Leave the memories. They aren’t good.’
Pat handed Carla a box of pink tissues from which Carla ripped two, blowing her nose on one, and wiping her eyes with the other.
‘You think I should let it all go?’ asked Carla.
‘Yes, I do,’ said Pat. ‘I can feel no positivity in hanging on to your past life. I feel very strongly that you must go forwards. Even if you do feel as if you’re going
backwards for a while, getting away from your past life is most definitely moving forwards. Trust in pink, lovey. And look out for the lucky black cat.’
A black cat was always a good thing to say, Pat thought. Who didn’t see a black cat occasionally? And when this poor cow saw the black cat, she would perk up and the positive energy would
propel her up and on. What was wrong about telling someone that good things were around the corner – it was as good as magic, even if it was bollocks? She held out her hand for her forty
pounds. Her client was wet-eyed but smiling.
Ker-ching.
Another satisfied customer.
Chapter 11
Will Linton opened the door to two men who looked as if they had just swaggered out of
Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels
. One, small and squat in a black leather
jacket and a gold medallion around his neck that would have had Mr T turning green with envy; the other thin, haggard and hard-faced, with skin that told of cigarettes and too much alcohol,
possibly a lasting legacy of drugs from his earlier days. It was the latter who spoke, in a surprisingly genteel voice.
‘Mr Linton. Mr Will Linton?’
Parked on the road outside their house was a long truck. Will closed his eyes and shook his head slowly from side to side.
This couldn’t be happening. Everything was moving too
fast.
It was only a week and a half ago that Cecilia Williams had told him that the bank was giving up on him.
Mr T was holding a clipboard and a pen. He could tell from Will’s expression that he knew why they were there.
‘I’m here for your car sir, unless you can give me a cash amount of . . .’ he referred to his paperwork ‘.
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