"Or too much wine.” I held up the half empty glass on my bedside table.
This was just getting silly. I sighed in frustration, snapped the PDA case closed, and padded to the kitchen with my wine glass. Perhaps I was losing it. Fancy thinking I was turning into a witch.
Then I remembered what I had said about a month before Harvey and I became intimate. When I'd given him that first reading, I'd teased him that I would become a fully fledged witch.
"God, wouldn't that be awful, Pud—if things I said really did come true?” I grinned as Pudding gave a long “meow".
I rattled out his bedtime biccies and scratched him behind the ears as he crunched away. My grin faded as I thought back on all the predictions I had made. The way I'd correctly predicted my callers’ fortunes, the stabbing of Bridget's husband, my uncanny ability to pick up on the dramas in clients lives. It was pretty bizarre, but surely all my correct predictions were down to luck and logic. There was no way I was really psychic. It just wasn't possible.
Of course, there were a couple of other strange things. Hadn't Tanya told me just the other day that Stuart was now working at the Pig ‘n Whistle? Last time I'd seen him in the pub and he'd given Tanya his pirated music CDs, I'd told him he'd end up ‘behind bars'. Then there was old ‘Wacky Walter’ from school who I always used to say would grow up to be a right nutter—Managing Director of KP Kashews now, wasn't he? There was also that weird ‘out of body’ experience I'd had at the lecture. I'd foreseen the tramp coming over to give me a kiss of life before it actually happened. Could Trish have been right? Was it down to some kind of psychic ability?
I looked at the empty bottle of wine I'd just drunk. 13% Volume. No wonder I wasn't thinking straight. I shook my head again and clinked the bottle into my recycling box. Tanya's hippo laugh would be in overdrive if she knew what I was thinking. I yawned and flicked off the kitchen light, headed into the bathroom, and grabbed my toothbrush from the glass shelf. I squeezed a generous lump of striped paste onto the bristles and tutted at my reflection.
"For Christ's sake, Amber, pull yourself together,” I said under my breath. “Just because you found a hair on your chin, and you've had a weird growth spurt doesn't mean you're turning into a witch. And you're certainly not suddenly psychic.” I brushed my teeth a little more fiercely than usual.
When I turned off the gushing tap, I heard the phone ringing. I made a dash for the landline in the lounge and snatched it up. There was no mistaking the posh accent on the other end.
"Monique?"
Before I had a chance to say anything else, she started jabbering like a terrier on speed. “Daarrrling. Thank god you're still up! Did you hear about the break in? I can't believe that some barstard broke into my place. Took everything you know, jewelry, clothes, even underwear. The barstard took my saleswoman of the year trophy too, can you believe? There's nothing left of me. Not a jot here."
I blinked in shock as I thought of poor Monique without her designer undies.
"That's dreadful—,” I began but she cut me off.
"Isn't it just. And I can't believe you predicted it too!"
"What? Don't be silly, Monique, I never—,” I frowned.
"Yes, you really must be psychic, sweetie. Don't you remember with the witches stones? That horrid little knife one in the middle of my chart? And Tanya too, can't believe she's preggers, just like you said."
"I did?"
"Yes you did, darling. ‘Feminine creativity heading into her orbit'. Don't you remember? I told you dabbling with the Ouija was dangerous, you never know what can happen. Anyway, sweetie, I need somewhere to stay so I was wondering, can I come to your place for a few nights? I know it'll be a squish in your little flat, but we could manage couldn't we? Just until the insurance comes through."
I swallowed slowly. Monique's words had made my skin prickle and a peculiar sense of dread uncurled in the pit of my stomach. This was surely one coincidence too many? It was absurd, impossible, ridiculous! I'll never know whether it was my spontaneous streak that made me do it, or just because I wasn't thinking rationally at the time, but I made a decision there and then. I had to know for sure, and there was only one place I could think of that would give me the answer.
"Amber? Are you still there, sweetie? You're not in the middle of a psychic vision are you? Now say I can come and stay."
I turned my eyes to the ceiling and clenched my jaw, taking a breath before I replied. “Of course you can come. Just, I won't be here from tomorrow, that's all. You're welcome to use the place, and feed Pudding, I've got to go away for a few days for something."
"What do you mean? Where are you going?"
"Blackpool. I've got someone I really need to see."
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Chapter Seventeen
Psychic Express
As I sat on the train and watched the fields skim by through the scratched window, I sighed deeply. I sifted through recent events trying to work out what the hell had possessed me to jump on a train to Blackpool so see Madame Pungenti. My rational mind still screamed there was a logical explanation for everything that had happened, but the facts just didn't seem to add up. I had even correctly predicted Monique's break-in. Hadn't I told her in the Pig ‘n Whistle if she lost any more weight there would be ‘nothing left of her'? Those had been her exact words when she spoke to me on the phone.
And Monique had been right about Tanya too. Since she'd told Titus she was up the duff, he'd swept her off her long legs and was moving in with her. Her femininity had cemented her relationship, just like I'd foretold with my witches stones. Of course, I was relieved that things were working out for Tanya, I'd been really worried about her. Unfortunately, my own problems now seemed to loom larger than ever.
After further unsuccessful forays on the internet until the battery on Tanya's PDA died, it made sense to rule out Monique's notion that I was psychic. Even considering this possibility made me cringe, but the more I scrabbled to find a foothold on normality, the more it crumbled away from me. And Monique didn't help.
"Well, sweetie, you know I read somewhere that gypsies can curse you if you offend them. I wouldn't be the least surprised if it's all related,” she said when I explained about my trip to Blackpool.
"Please don't mention anything to Harvey.” I hugged her small frame.
"My lips are positively padlocked, sweetie."
I hoped I could trust her. I could imagine what Harvey with his scientist's brain would've thought. I chewed on my thumb nail as the train clattered over a bridge, trying to imagine sharing Monique's psychic theory with Harvey. The more I thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed that my physical transformations could have anything to do with my prediction of becoming a witch. There must be another explanation. There was the possibility suggested by ‘Net Doctor’ that I was having delusions of some kind, but I didn't feel like I was crazy. Was I really just imagining things?
The train whistled though a tunnel, and I stared at my reflection in the window and bit my lip. I didn't look very different to an outsider, but I could see the changes. Judging from the sleazebag that had tried to sit next to me, blokes still saw me as fair game. At least I could still be ‘bewitching'. I narrowed my eyes at my reflection and shivered involuntarily. Since the chin hair incident, I'd been searching my face for more but there'd been nothing yet. However, there was no escaping the fact that my feet had definitely grown. Shoe shops had even confirmed it. I couldn't remember reading that witches had big feet, but Monique insisted that all the pictures of them in her childhood storybooks showed that they did.
Following this chain of thoughts always bought me back to the same source, my supposed ‘psychic ability'. I had predicted the transformation at least twice, in jest, of course, but I had predicted it nevertheless. How ironic if Monique was right and universal energies actually responded literally to things one said.
I wondered what else I might have predicted without realizing and tried to re
member what I had said in Harvey's reading. Harvey. My throat went tight. I'd sent him a text telling him that I was going through a personal crisis and needed some space. Harvey hadn't accepted that and had chewed off most of Monique's ear this morning when he phoned to try to speak to me before I'd even left. It was sickening, the one person I really needed and I couldn't talk to him.
My chest constricted and I blinked back the tears that welled up whenever I thought about what would happen if I lost him because of this. I dug my nails into the palm of my hands and clenched my jaw. I willed the train to get to Blackpool faster.
Everything was fine before I saw Madame Pungenti. Christ, maybe Monique's right and she did put some kind of curse on me and Tanya after all. I thought.
I remembered the last time I'd been on this journey with Tanya and thought about my telephone conversation with her the night before. She had just had her first scan.
"Yer what, girl? Huh. Forget what Monique says. Don't be bonkers. Get your arse over ‘ere and help us celebrate, that's what you need. You've been spending so much time on this psychic crap, you're starting to imagine things."
"But you know that my feet have grown, and I told you that you'd have two kids and a mortgage before you knew it, didn't I?"
Tanya roared with laughter and I held the receiver away from my ear.
"You did get the two kids bit right, I s'pose. Gawd, girl, can you really believe it, twins? Can't believe they can tell already—two little heartbeats on the monitor. Hey, if anyone's doin’ the transforming around here it's me. You think you've got it bad turning into a witch? Well I'm gonna be turning into a whale soon. Look, I gotta go...” I could hear a low murmur in the background, “Titus is ‘ere and these preggy ‘ormones are making me dead frisky. Stop by tomorrow and we'll ‘ave a proper chin-wag."
She'd rung off before I had a chance to tell her I was going up to Blackpool, but I was sure she'd be too wrapped up in Titus to miss me. I sighed and pulled out the red and gold pack of tarot cards from my jacket pocket, running my thumb along the serrated edges of the cards and making them whir. Since the night before, I'd been too freaked out to do a reading for myself, but I'd felt compelled to bring them along. I held my breath as I fanned them out in my hands and picked one. I closed my eyes and held it for a moment before turning it over.
The old bearded man hunched over his staff outside a cave. The Hermit. I swallowed as I remembered the meaning from my tarot book. ‘The querent is about to progress to a new stage of life and may experience loneliness and isolation. Completion of events will take place and the querent will achieve greater wisdom, self-awareness, and understanding.'
"Couldn't have been more appropriate if I tried.” I certainly felt lonely and isolated, but I didn't feel any the wiser yet. I sighed and returned the cards to my pocket.
I'd hardly slept a wink the night before so it wasn't surprising that I drifted off to sleep on the train. I was jogged awake by someone knocking my rucksack next to me as they stood up in the aisle. I rubbed my gritty eyes and swallowed nervously as I saw the sign that indicated we had reached Blackpool Station. I hitched on my backpack and joined the crowd leaving the train. I'd missed breakfast and my stomach was cramping with hunger so I decided to stop at a café just off the station for a hot chocolate and a huge sticky bun. After I'd had my second hot chocolate and my headache had eased a bit, I took a couple of deep breaths and tried to steady myself.
"I embrace the change with love and light,” I whispered to myself. Trish had sworn the ‘positive affirmation’ had helped her though difficult times, especially the menopause.
Problem was, I didn't really embrace the change. I didn't want any change at all.
I couldn't wait any longer. I wasn't even going to drop off my bag at the Bed and Breakfast I'd booked. I headed straight for the tram that would take me to the end of Blackpool pier and the answers I craved.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Eighteen
In Madame Pungenti's Tent
A thousand questions bombarded my brain as I fastened my denim jacket and set foot on the pier. There wasn't another tram for 20 minutes so I decided I might as well walk it. Was Madame Pungenti still there? Would she recognize me and refuse to see me? Could she help me at all? Why the hell was I even here? The eerie cries of seagulls and choppy, grey swell of the sea didn't lift my spirits as I clomped along the stained, wooden boards. I hardly dared look up as I headed towards the spot that she had pitched her tent in February in case it wasn't there. I focused on my boots for the first twenty paces, but eventually I forced my head up and squinted into the distance, my eyes watering in the wind.
"Thank God.” I breathed as I saw the gaudy red and green tent flapping in the distance. “She's still here."
I quickened my pace until I was almost running towards it. I hurried past an American tourist just as he was taking a photo of his kids peeping through the head-holes of cartoon swimmers on big painted boards.
Bet he never expected to capture a witch on camera. I had to try to see the funny side, I suppose.
By the time I got to the tent, I had a sharp pain in my side and my lungs were aching from the cold, sea air. I drew back the flap and poked my pale face round.
There she was, chomping on a huge, onion pastry and staring back at me in surprise, her brown eyes wide, her black wig slightly askew.
"Can you please be reading my sign?” she asked with her mouth full.
"Urm, is it Leo?” I tried to smile engagingly and bowed my head a little to show submissive body language.
"No! My sign outside. It is saying I am on lunch break for two hour."
She waved me away and returned to eating but I stepped inside the tent and put my hands together as if in prayer and bowed low to show her respect.
"I'm so sorry. I can pay double your normal fee. It's an emergency, please, Madame Pungenti, I really need your help.” I looked up through my hair to see her reaction.
Her dark eyebrows drew together as she leaned forward to get another look at me. “Ahhhh. Now I know you. So you come flying back into my tent like a moth to the candle hoping to have more joke at me, do you?"
"No, Madame Pungenti, it's not—"
"But this time you will get burned, little moth."
I kept my head low and sank to my knees, looking up at her so she could see the sincerity in my eyes. “Please, Madame Pungenti, I am so sorry for what happened before. I was immature, unforgivable, but I really need your help. Something strange is happening to me, and you might be the only one who can help."
Madame Pungenti snorted and her eyes narrowed as she looked at me. I let my shoulders slump, dropped my gaze, and hung my head down to concede power to her as Mr. Body Language had taught me.
He better be right.
"It will cost you tree times the normal, and I will give you half the time.” Madame Pungenti said with a smile on her dark painted lips.
I nodded meekly and whispered through gritted teeth, “Thank you, Madame Pungenti."
I'd expected to do a bit of groveling but there was no need for her to be such a bitch. I drew my purse from the front pocket of my rucksack and handed her 60 quid, which she tucked down her purple, starred sari top, and sat down on the stool opposite her. Madame Pungenti took another bite of her pastry and put a sand timer on the low table. I gulped as I checked my watch. Since I only had ten minutes, I better get the crystal ball rolling straight away.
"Since I saw you last month I, well, erm, I kind of decided to become a fake psychic."
Her eyebrows vanished into her wig and a smiled twitched at the corner of her mouth. “Go on."
"Well, the things that I predicted, they've all come true, and, I know it sounds crazy, but now I think I might actually be psychic, you could be right. I have a gift."
"I am always right.” She blinked slowly and swallowed the last of the onion pastry.
"But what's worse is that, I know it sounds ridiculous,” I could hardly bri
ng myself to say it, even to someone like Madame Pungenti, “but strange things are happening to my body, and one explanation I can think of is that I've joked about becoming a fully fledged witch before long to my friends."
Madame Pungenti frowned and tilted her head to one side.
"A ... witch you say?” She shook her head slowly. “But witchcraft has nothing to do with the gift of second sight.” She drummed her fingers on the gold tablecloth for a couple of seconds. “Although you say you predicted a transformation into this ... this witch?"
"Well, yes, I mean, but only as a joke.” I shrugged. “I know it sounds stupid, but all these things are happening to me since I saw you, and I'm hoping you can help get me back to normal somehow."
Madame Pungenti smiled slowly and looked up towards the apex of the tent nodding as if to some divine force. “So now you are bought back by these changes."
I jumped as she leaned forward and grasped my chin, pulling my face into the light of the oil lamp on the table. I tried not to recoil from her cold touch.
"Come!” She said harshly, “Let me see this witch's face."
Her eyes roamed all over my face, and she looked almost cross-eyed as they rested on the middle of my forehead.
She's looking for a third eye. I let out a half sob, half giggle as she snorted and released my face.
"Your head is full of questions. You do not understand what is happening to you and yet it is so simple."
She rocked back and forth on her stool with a low laugh as I drew back from her. My hands were shaking so I clasped them together and pleaded. God. She really did seem to know what was going on.
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