Suddenly Psychic

by Melanie Baxter

  "What's happening to me? How do I get back to normal?"

  Madame Pungenti folded her arms and her mouth returned to a straight line. She looked at me with a mixture of pity and contempt as she leaned forward and said in a low voice, “The answer to both questions is Karma. And now I will tell you what you must do."

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  Chapter Nineteen

  A Karmic Twist

  "Give me your hand, your left hand. Now!"

  Madame Punjenti rapped the table sharply, making me jump again as I quickly offered my sweating palm. She gripped it and traced the center of my palm with her finger.

  "Yes. It is as I said before, you have a powerful gift indeed. But with the gift comes responsibility. Have you been responsible?"

  I swallowed nervously. “Well, I've tried to help people who've come to me, I suppose."

  She narrowed her eyes before looking down at my hand. “You have not been responsible. My third eye shows it is so. You have a karmic debt to pay. It is written in your palm. Look.” She pointed to a thin silver line running from the base of my thumb to the middle of my palm.

  "But that's a scar I got from our cat when I was a baby."

  "Exactly!” She cried, the onion on her breath was as overpowering as her third eye. “Karma! Everything that happens to us is a result of our past actions. Perhaps you were cruel to a cat in your former life. Or perhaps your cat was even a scorned lover from previous existence."

  I raised an eyebrow in disbelief, but she looked up fiercely, her wig now askew enough to reveal the bulging red mole in the middle of her forehead. Unnerved by the sight of her ‘third eye’ I blinked and looked down at my palm as she did the same. She pointed to a crisscrossing of different lines just off center.

  "This ... this karmic scar touches your fate line and life line exactly at the point you are now."

  I nodded mutely, trying to follow the bizarre conversation while my head felt increasingly like it was stuffed with cotton wool.

  "Because of your recent actions, your karmic debt is manifesting on the physical plane. If you do not put right what you have made wrong, you will be forever trapped."

  "Trapped? So what exactly do I have to put right?” I bit my lip, half dreading the answer.

  "It depends on who you have wronged."

  I gulped as I thought about Bridget stabbing her husband.

  Madame Pungenti leaned forward, breaking wind loudly. A putrid smell wafted towards me as she shuffled back in her seat and flapped her sari. I wanted to gag, but I couldn't risk offending her. I tried not to wrinkle my nose, studying her dark lips instead as she gripped my palm.

  "You will need to think about all the ways you have not been responsible. Lives you have wronged. It may be one big sin or many small ones. Meditate hard to discover your karmic debt."

  I could tell by the way her eyes shone that she was thoroughly enjoying herself, and I had to wonder if she was just making the whole thing up. Common sense was quickly swallowed by fear as I thought about Bridget, my first psychic caller. I had to know.

  "Well ... erm, there was this woman who killed her husband because she misunderstood my advice.” I bit my lip as her brown eyes widened then narrowed.

  "Aha. It is as I thought. You have been so foolish as to commit the ultimate karmic sin. You have caused the taking of a life."

  I shook my head at her accusing expression and snatched my palm away from her grasp. “But I never intended for anyone to get hurt by my actions. It can't be my fault."

  "Ah, ah.” She silenced me by pointing to the timer which had a tiny amount of blue glitter left, spilling quickly through to the glass below.

  My heart beat thundered in my ears at the thought of leaving the tent with no answers. I quickly I put my hands together in prayer and bowed low to her in ‘submissive posture'.

  Her ego must have won as she snorted before answering. “I am too kind to you. I will tell you how to repay this ... this gross karmic debt and save your soul."

  I held my breath.

  "But first it will cost you more money. Another fifty if it is pleasing you."

  "What?” I swallowed in disbelief. I only had 150 on me and had already spent 60 on Madam Pungenti. All the plans of new clothes and presents for Harvey I was going to buy with the extra money I had made from The Rowan Tree dissolved.

  "But I can't afford it. Isn't 60 enough?"

  Madame Pungenti's, lips curled in a sort of satisfied snarl. “I am sure you will be fine to work it out by yourself. My wise words are not always necessary.” She gestured to the tent flap and a wave of panic engulfed me.

  "No ... No please, here take it.” I handed her another fifty quid and she nodded as if I had made the right decision.

  "There are two things. First you have ended a life so now you must save a life, but...” she paused and glared at me with her dark eyes, “your motives must be pure. If you do it for karmic gain, you will not cancel out the karmic debt."

  I rubbed my forehead as I tried to take in her words.

  "Hang on, I'm totally confused. You're saying I have to save someone's life because some woman took what I said the wrong way?"

  Madame Pungenti raised her hands towards the sides of her head and shook them fiercely in the air, her gold bangles jangling. “You are like a baby who understands nothing. You are responsible, do you not see? You must save a life with pure motives. You must repay karmic debt, or karma will take matters into own hands. You will no longer be master of your own destiny."

  "Right,” I said slowly, “so I have to save a life and what's the second thing?"

  "You have damaged your karma badly with your deception and need to strengthen it with something sacred, something ancient that has the power to restore your energies to attract the higher guardians, guardians to help set your destiny straight again."

  "Something sacred? Something to help my karma? But where the hell am I supposed to get that?” Despair dropped over me like a sodden blanket.

  Madame Pungenti smiled slowly and raised one of her finely painted eyebrows. “I am seeing you are in trouble. I would not normally help one who has mocked me, but in this case ... as your situation is serious, perhaps I could be persuaded."

  I swallowed the bile that had risen in my throat. I had to get her to help me, if there was even the glimmer of possibility she spoke the truth, it seemed she was my only hope. “Please, Madame Pungenti, I promise you won't regret it. Please tell me where to get..."

  She cut my words off with a gesture and then reached under the table cloth, she slowly pulled something from beneath the table. My thoughts whirled as I imagined what she might bring out. An ancient budda statue? A vial of holy water? An old piece of onion pie? She lifted a small wooden box with Indian designs on the lid onto the table. It was about the size of my hand and looked old with ornate patterns. She wiped the dust off the surface with the edge of the table cloth.

  "Behold. This is one of my most prized possessions. I came by it on my travels in Tibet. It's power is ... well, you can feel the vibrations for yourself.” She placed my hand on top of the box and I was sure I felt my skin tingle in response.

  "What's inside?” I whispered.

  "The Karmic Egg.” Madame Pungenti smiled and opened the lid very carefully.

  Inside was a turquoise, egg-shaped stone laid on cotton wool. Even in the low light of the tent, flecks of gold and iridescent pink glimmered under the surface of the stone. It looked valuable and I felt a little overwhelmed by her generosity.

  "Thank you so much, I don't know how to repay you..."

  I reached out for the box but Madame Pungenti snapped the lid shut.

  "No. I didn't say you could have it. I couldn't part with something that is linked to strongly with my soul. Some say that it was laid by mighty Buddha himself..."

  "But, please, I need the Karmic Egg.” My heart was pounding. Perhaps she would take money. “I've only got 40 left. It's all I have, please, take it."
<
br />   She sighed reluctantly and shook her head. “Sadly 40 is not enough. You see that would only pay for the box. The egg is ... well the egg is almost priceless."

  "Perhaps I could just hire the egg—you know, I'd return it as soon as my Karmic debt is paid."

  Madam Pungenti tutted and pulled the box back towards her.

  "But I haven't got any more money. Please take this cash.” I opened my purse and pulled out the notes.

  Madame Pungenti held up a finger as her eyes lingered on my purse. “Of course, I may be able to take a credit card on this occasion, as it is so vital to your karma."

  I swallowed and looked again at the turquoise egg. It looked like it was pretty valuable. Even if I had to pay for it now, perhaps I could sell it on later and not lose too much money.

  "How much?” I asked flatly.

  Madame Pungenti had me and she knew it. She was like a boa constrictor, slowly crushing the life out of my bank balance. “It is for my greater karmic good that I do this.” She looked up at the apex of the tent. “For you, a special price. For you five hundred pounds only."

  I tried not to flinch as she pulled a card reader from underneath the table cloth and held out her hand for my card. I didn't have enough money in the bank, but could put it on credit until the end of the month. God knew how I would find the money to repay it though. I sighed as I handed her the card and prepared to exchange my karmic debt for a cash flow debt. I couldn't believe she was taking so much pleasure out of my predicament. And I couldn't believe I was letting her.

  "And the 40 also for my time.” Madame Pungenti took the money from the table.

  "But I've already paid you...” I began as she swiped the metal over my card and filled in the details on the receipt quickly.

  She smiled as she gave me the slip to sign my name. “As I said, it is your choice. Karmic Egg or battle with destiny without protection. I think you know what you have to do."

  I paused for a minute and looked at her, her dark eyes were stony, the set of her jaw showed no compromise would be accepted. I took the pen and scribbled my name.

  The corner of her mouth twitched and she pushed the Indian box containing the karmic egg towards me. “Now, your time is gone. Get out of my tent, little moth."

  "But I..."

  "Out!"

  I stood up quickly and shoved the box into my rucksack, gulping in the fresh sea air as I stumbled out of the tent flap.

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  Chapter Twenty

  A Karma Drama

  I tried to smooth the frown off my forehead as I walked back down the pier. What the hell had just happened? The giddy fairground music of the carousel and smell of hotdogs faded to the recesses of my senses as I replayed Madame Pungenti's words over in my mind. It all seemed too far fetched to be credible. Of course, I'd heard of karma before, but surely this was taking things too far. Or was it? Perhaps it was logical that there should be a strange explanation for the odd things that were happening to me. I sighed deeply and, in absence of anything else that made sense, decided to pursue Madame Pungenti's theory. At least for a couple of days anyway.

  "So, I have to save a life to get back to normal.” I thought that would be easy enough; all I had to do was to go down to the local clinic and donate some blood. Wait, there was a catch, wasn't there? My motives must be pure. If I was saving a life to restore karma then it wouldn't work. It was not allowed to be premeditated. Damn.

  If only Harvey was here to wrap his strong arms around me and stroke my hair and tell me it was all a silly mistake. God, I missed him. A surge of aching loneliness welled up in my chest as I wondered if I dared break my wall of silence and phone him.

  I stumbled on the wooden floorboards and cursed my big feet. I regained my balance and looked round self-consciously to see if any of the tourists had noticed. They hadn't, but it reminded me that the changes were real. Something weird was happening and I had to do something about it and fast.

  I chewed my thumb nail as I reached the end of the pier. My rucksack was starting to feel heavy. I was so tired, all I needed was to have a sleep and then I could think it through. Luckily it wasn't too far to the Bed and Breakfast. I made my way past the seaside shops and headed uphill from the sea. A bookshop on a street corner caught my eye and I decided to drop in. I needed all the help I could get.

  I scanned the shelves of the self-help bookcase, ignoring the bloke laughing to himself in the joke books section to my right. I spotted the silver spine of a book that could have been placed there just for me. Secrets of Karma. I paid for the book with my credit card and wearily trudged towards the small terraced house with the crocus-filled window boxes where I checked in for the night.

  It had been a long day and I was exhausted both mentally and physically as I climbed into the creaky bed. I reached down to my rucksack and drew out the karmic egg box, opening the lid and gazing at the smooth turquoise stone. It looked different in this light. The iridescent colors were not as visible as they had been in Madame Pungenti's tent. I took it out of the cotton wool and closed my eyes as I felt its cold weight it in my hand. As I tried to focus on the stone, I thought it was tingling a little, getting warmer from the heat in my hand, almost like a pulse. Perhaps it was working on restoring my karma. I'd certainly paid enough for it, but it did look genuinely valuable. I held it for a little longer and then placed it gently back on the cotton wool, closed the box, and put it in my rucksack beside the bed.

  The hot shower and tasteless ham sandwich I'd bought earlier from the newsagents hadn't eased my spirits much. I picked up my karma book and began to read, but the small black print swam before my eyes. Eventually I gave up, put the book down, and grabbed my mobile phone from the bedside table. Twice I put my finger on the button to turn it on. Twice I stopped myself.

  I sighed deeply before finally flicking the lamp switch off and curling up in fetal position, clutching the lifeless phone to my chest. Harvey didn't deserve my silence, but how could I begin to explain? As exhaustion won over anxiety, my eyelids closed, heavy with the dread that restoring my karma was going to be more difficult than I first thought.

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  Chapter Twenty-One

  Addressing The Score Sheet

  "Sorry, darling, I know I told you it was important to lift your curse, but you simply have to come back. Pudding's doing the most enormous droppings all over the place. I don't know what's the matter with him. I spritzed his litter tray and gave him bagels for breakfast and everything..."

  "You what? Cats don't like perfume, silly, wash it out with water and he'll be fine. And no more treats. Biccies not bagels.” I rolled my eyes as I thought of poor Monique reduced from national sales manager to poo patroller.

  "But we need you back here, now. Pudding keeps trying to jump on my lap. He leaves hair all over my work clothes and he dribbled on my cheek last night while I was asleep. It was horrid, Amber, I thought for a minute it was Jules."

  I laughed despite myself and told Monique to wear her mohair jumper and no one would notice.

  She sniffed. “And you've had lots more calls. Three from Harvey who says he's going to keep ringing every day until you call him back.” My stomach fluttered.

  "One from the landlady who says you owe two weeks rent.” I groaned. “Oh and this strange Jamaican fellow who says you booked a skiing holiday in Barbados."

  I frowned a moment before it dawned on me that the Jamaican chap was obviously another of the prank calls. “It's one of those calls I warned you about. You have to use the whistle I left you. It's on the table next to the phone."

  "But how am I supposed to know whether it's genuine or not? And I can't keep putting Harvey off. I wish you'd just talk to him about your psychic trouble."

  "I've told you I can't. He won't understand. I mean, I hardly understand myself, it's ... complicated. Madame Pungenti thinks it's all about Karma."

  "Well that could make sense, sweetie. I mean all the celebs swe
ar by it; she obviously knows what she's talking about."

  I twisted the telephone cord in my hand. If Monique thought there could be something in it, perhaps it wasn't such a mad idea after all. “Can you manage for a couple more days without me?"

  Monique tutted and gave an exaggerated sigh. “You really are impossible at the moment, sweetie. Okay. But you owe me one big time. Oh, Pudding, No. Get off. He's kneading my Viscose scarf, the brute, I'll speak to you tomorrow."

  Monique rang off and I put the phone back on the hook in the lobby of the Bed and Breakfast. I looked around to see if anyone was listening. Why didn't this cheapo place have phones in the bedrooms? It was my own fault I guess. I'd forgotten my mobile charger. Tanya was always nagging me for forgetting to top up the battery. Now I had no choice but to make my next phone call in a public place. At least there was no one around at the moment. I looked down at the number I'd scrawled on the notepad and clenched my jaw.

  I was feeling jittery and my eyes were gritty despite sleeping deeply the night before. I'd barely read past the chapter on ‘When Karma Becomes A Drama’ before I must have fallen into a dreamless sleep. Not that it had helped much, the book, I mean. I'd skimmed more of it that morning. The gist of it seemed to be all about not taking revenge and trying to live a pure life. Even the small wrongs apparently could create major ripples later on. The author said if you swatted a fly, it was quite possible you could be run over by a bus later on in life. Not that I believed the woman who wrote it. She had an allergy to dairy products and reckoned it was because of her over indulgence for asses milk in a previous life as Cleopatra.

  Still, what could I do? My skin was pale and looked worse than ever under the fluorescent light of the shared bathroom. My nose had not grown any more, but I still felt different. Whilst I covered my skin in foundation and dashed a bit of blusher to my cheeks, I'd thought hard about how to balance my own karma. I had to start somewhere so before I phoned Monique I'd made a few enquiries.

  I had read in the newspaper ages ago that Hodgeson's Solicitors were representing Bridget for murdering her husband. I had put on a posh accent and pretended to be her lawyer's assistant. Luckily they had told me to call back at 11:00 A.M. and I would be able to have a five minute conversation with her. I checked the time on my watch and dialed the number given to me by the warden at the Woman's Remand Center in Hammersmith.