Golden Girl

by Cathy Hopkins

  No. No. I will not waste time on someone who has a line of girls after him. What would I be? Number sixteen? Seventeen? One hundred? Oh, I don’t know. No, I do know. I want to meet my soul-mate. I want to meet a boy who makes me feel alive like I’ve never felt before and who feels the same way about me – but I’m not convinced that’s going to happen where I live in North London. Most of the local boys (apart from Finn) wear those falling-down jeans that show their bum cracks and Calvin Kleins. So not sexy, at least in my book.

  ‘I think I may stay in and catch up with some study,’ I said, as the girls discussed going to a movie.

  ‘No way!’ said Effy. ‘Why don’t you want to come with us?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Because you’re a singleton?’

  ‘Ish. Look, I’m cool with it. You guys go. Have a good time.’

  ‘You don’t need to be single, Jo. You could have boyfriends,’ said Tash. ‘Loads of boys fancy you.’ She pulled her red beret out of her rucksack, put it on and tucked her hair up into it. Her real name’s Anastasia, but we call her Tash. She has shoulder-length, titianred hair that goes frizzy in the damp weather. ‘Bane of my life,’ she always says. She carries her beret everywhere in case of showers, which is a shame because I think her hair suits her curly. No-one’s ever happy, though. Effy has long, silky blonde hair and she curses about it being so fine. My hair’s dark, dead straight, and half way down my back and I’d love to have Tash’s waves, whereas she’s jealous of me and Effy being able to just ‘wash and go’ without battling with the GHDs.

  ‘Yeah. You’re way too picky when it comes to boys,’ agreed Effy.

  ‘I just don’t want to compromise, that’s all.’

  ‘I don’t think you should, either,’ said Tash. ‘I think you should wait for the One.’

  ‘Oh, get real. I mean, we all want to meet the One,’ said Effy, ‘but until you do, you should get some experience. We’re only seventeen. Practise your snogging!’

  And so it went on as we waited for the bus. Same old Friday conversation. Same ole, same ole. It’s not that Effy and Tash aren’t romantic. They are. Way more so than me, in fact. Out of the three of us, I’m the one with my feet most firmly on the ground. I’d like to do journalism, which means thinking rationally, researching ideas, getting facts. Tash and Effy do art and literature so are encouraged to live in the realm of imagination and dreams. I’m right brain, they’re left. Effy is an Aries and, even though I’m not as into astrology as she is, I can see that she’s typical of the sign and rushes into things at full speed with great enthusiasm. Tash is a Pisces, the sensitive dreamer, and I’m Taurus. Stubborn, says Effy. I prefer to focus on the other qualities, like being loyal, practical and sensual. Whatever the explanation, we’re different, but our friendship seems to work despite that. Effy is also a giggler. It’s one of her most endearing qualities. It’s so easy to make her laugh. Ever since I met her back in junior school, Effy has cracked up at the most inopportune moments, in assembly for example, when Mrs Burton, our headmistress, says something about stealing in the cloakroom or we have a guest speaker talking about their passion for a cause and we’re all supposed to be focused and taking it seriously. Effy’s shoulders will start shaking with silent laugher. She tries to hold it in but usually fails. And that tends to set me and Tash off too so we all end up in detention for being giddy. Effy’s also endlessly curious. As well as astrology, she’s into clairvoyants, tarot cards, visualisations and anything alternative. Miss New Age Nutjob, I call her. My mum’s into all that stuff too. She and Effy get on like a house of on fire. Most times, I just switch off from both of them when they start ranting on about life and all its mysteries.

  Effy glanced at a poster on the wall by the bus stop. ‘Hey, look. The fair’s coming to the Heath this weekend. Tell you what, let’s go on Sunday afternoon. The boys are playing footie, then meeting up with mates afterwards, so it would just be us. We could go to the fair, have some girlie time, win a few teddy bears then head back to yours, Jo, for a sleepover. You in?’

  I knew Mum was working late on Sunday night so it was either the fair and a sleepover or staying home alone. ‘Sounds like a plan,’ I said. ‘I’m in.’

  By Sunday, the rain had gone and it was a glorious sunny afternoon by the time we made our way over the Heath to the fair. The good weather had brought out the crowds and the atmosphere was buzzing. Effy spotted the clairvoyant’s tent almost immediately. She was like a bee to honey. She linked arms with me and pulled me over to read the small sign tacked outside. Betty – Past-life readings, Tarot cards and Palmistry.

  ‘Ten quid to have your fortune told. Come on,’ said Effy. ‘Maybe she’ll tell you if there are any boys in your future.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘I bet she tells everyone there’s a tall dark stranger on the horizon. Honestly, Ef, you don’t really believe in all that rubbish, do you?’ I don’t know why I asked. Of course she did. She was always consulting the cards, the runes, the I Ching or the stars. Last month, she did my horoscope for me on-line. She wasn’t happy when I said that if I met a boy it would be because I’d made an effort to get out there, not because Venus was in conjunction with the moon or whatever. ‘Oh, don’t be a cynic,’ said Effy. ‘It’s only a bit of fun. Pleeease.’

  ‘Yeah, come on, Jo. Let’s give her a try,’ said Tash. ‘Our neighbour, Mrs Adeline, said there was a clairvoyant here last year who was brill.’

  ‘Waste of time,’ I said. ‘I can think of way better things to spend my money on.’

  ‘Then it’s on me,’ said Effy. ‘An early birthday present.’

  I didn’t want to appear ungrateful or hurt her feelings, but I’d really rather have some bath products or a CD . . . still, I eventually gave in.

  Effy went first and came out fifteen minutes later. ‘She’s good,’ she said. ‘You’re next and I’ve paid for you.’

  I looked at Tash. ‘No, you go next,’ I said. ‘I insist.’

  ‘Chicken,’ said Tash, but she went in all the same.

  ‘So. What did she say?’ I asked Effy as we waited.

  She shook her head. ‘I’ll tell you when Tash comes out. We’ll compare notes. I don’t want to put anything into your head.’

  ‘So it was rubbish, then?’

  ‘No. No. Um . . . nothing that specific, though. I’ll tell you later.’

  She went and bought us two candyfloss sticks and refused to be budged any further. Ten minutes later, Tash came out with a big smile on her face.

  ‘Don’t say anything,’ said Effy. ‘Not til Jo’s been in. Off you go.’

  I took a deep breath and entered the tent. It was dark inside and smelled of sandalwood from a joss stick that was burning in the corner. A middle-aged lady was sitting at a small fold-up table which had a crystal ball and a deck of cards on it. She didn’t look like a clairvoyant. She looked ordinary, with short grey hair, a ruddy complexion and a boring outfit of blue shirt, floral skirt and sandals.

  She glanced up at me. ‘Jo?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Sit,’ she instructed and indicated I should take the seat opposite her.

  ‘Give me your watch,’ she commanded, so I took it off and gave it to her. She held it in her hand and closed her eyes. After a few moments, she opened them again. ‘I feel sadness – and also resistance. I feel scepticism, but this will change.’ She handed me a deck of cards. ‘Think about what you’d like to ask, then shuffle the cards.’

  ‘I . . . there’s nothing I want to know specifically.’

  ‘Just shuffle, then,’ said Betty. ‘The cards will reveal all.’

  I did as I was told.

  ‘Now split the cards and put them into three piles from the right.’

  Again I followed her instruction.

  Betty took the top cards from the middle pile and laid them out in front of her. She studied them for a while then glanced at me. ‘Give me your hands,’ she said. I put my hands out and she took them into hers, turned them palm up
and studied them. She closed her eyes for a few moments. I felt slightly spooked. She let go of my hands and put hers over the crystal ball. Again she closed her eyes. I wonder what baloney she’s going to come out with, I thought as I glanced around the interior of the tent. I caught my reflection in a mirror at the back. A tall, slim girl with brown eyes stared back at me. I was wearing my jeans with my favourite jacket: plum velvet with a nipped in waist and tiny buttons right up to the high neck. I got it for Christmas last year from my favourite shop, Steam Punk, and have worn it constantly ever since. I love the clothes there, they’re kind of Victorian Gothic. I’ve asked for a pair of ankle boots from there for my birthday in June. Their Catherine Victorian boots. Black with a delicate heel, unlike the clompy ones that are in the shops at the moment. Effy says I look like Bellatrix Lestrange from the Harry Potter movies. The cheek. We just have different tastes in clothes, that’s all. I like old-fashioned. Effy’s style is more up-to-date.

  Betty’s voice brought me back from my fashion fantasy. ‘Jo,’ she said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You haven’t found love in this lifetime, have you?’

  Effy’s been filling her in, I thought as I shook my head. I’ll kill her when I get out of here.

  ‘No. Not exactly.’ I laughed. ‘But hey, I’m only seventeen!’

  Betty didn’t laugh, in fact she had a strange look on her face. Her eyes had glazed and, oh lord, she was starting to sway slightly. Should I make a run for it? I wondered as I checked behind me for the exit.

  ‘You have travelled far through time to be here. There is no co-incidence, it is all predestined.’ Betty closed her eyes, became still and started to speak in a deeper voice. A voice that had authority. ‘You have not found love, but you will.’

  Me and a thousand others, I thought but I couldn’t help but listen and stare. Betty was putting on a good act.

  ‘You can find love, Jo. The reason you have not so far is because you have it imprinted in your unconscious that love is painful and that is why you have not found your soul-mate. In this lifetime, you must break the pattern.’

  Whoa, I thought. That’s way heavy. She’s right about me thinking love is painful but imprinted in my unconscious? I did not like what I was hearing. I glanced back at the exit flap. Half of me wanted to run, part of me was intrigued. I decided to stay. I could have a good laugh about it later with Effy and Tash.

  ‘I see a boy – you once knew him and he was your soul-mate,’ Betty continued. She spoke fast, still in the same deeper voice. ‘It was a great love. Powerful. He was your true love. It was in a previous life. We have all had many lives but this love was in your last life. You were a governess . . . your name was Henrietta Gleeson. It was the end of the nineteenth century and you worked in a London doctor’s house. This doctor had children. Two. A young boy who you were employed to care for, and an older one . . .’ She lifted her head slightly to the right as if she was listening to someone. ‘Howard. His name was Howard. A boy of nineteen. He was your soul-mate and yet . . .’ She stopped, as though listening once again. ‘Something happened to keep you apart.’

  Typical, I thought. Bad luck in this lifetime and bad luck back then too. Cool story, though. I wonder how many other people she’s spun it to.

  Betty opened her eyes and looked directly at me. Right into me. ‘Jo. This is important. As you are back in this lifetime, so is he. Like you, he has travelled far through time to be here. In this life, you must find him. He is your soul-mate. You were meant to be together. You must find him if you are ever to be happy in love.’

  I felt a shiver go up my spine but I wasn’t going to let her get to me. ‘Was he by any chance tall, dark and handsome?’

  ‘You may scoff at what you hear, many do. I simply tell what I see. It is always your choice to make of it what you will but this boy from your past, he is your destiny. You can believe me and try to find him or dismiss what I say and drift from one meaningless love affair to another, never finding the true contentment that your soul could know with him. You must choose.’

  You’re beginning to freak me out, I thought, then we both jumped as someone entered the tent behind us. It was a blonde lady in her twenties. ‘Are you still doing readings?’ she asked Betty.

  ‘Have you any more questions, Jo?’ Betty asked me, returning to her normal voice.

  I shook my head. I felt light-headed. ‘Um. No, thanks. I’m fine.’ I got up and Betty beckoned the lady to take my place.

  Another sucker, I thought. I bet she even tells her the same story.

  TO BE CONTINUED . . . IN LOVE AT SECOND SIGHT, COMING SOON!

  Cathy Hopkins lives in Bath, England with her husband and three cats, Dixie, Georgia and Otis. Cathy has been writing since 1986 and started writing teenage fiction in 2000. She spends most of her time in her writing turret pretending to write books but is actually in there listening to music, hippie dancing and checking her facebook page. So far Cathy has had fifty three books published, some of which are available in thirty three languages.

  She is looking for the answers to why we’re here, where we’ve come from and what it’s all about. She is also looking for the perfect hairdresser. Apart from that, Cathy has joined the gym and spends more time than is good for her making up excuses as to why she hasn’t got time to go. You can visit her on Facebook, or at www.cathyhopkins.com