I put on my posh accent again as I pretended to be from Hodgeson's Solicitors. After a few seconds, I was put through to Bridget.
"Hello?” I recognized her hoarse voice.
"Bridget how are you? It's Amber, I'm the psychic you rang the night you killed your husband."
There was a pause. “Sorry? Who?"
"You know, ‘it will take all your strength and it will be hard but.'."
There was a sharp intake of breath. “Oh it's you. Are you representing me now? I suppose you know what the prosecution will come up with and what the verdict will be already."
"No, no, Bridget. I just said I was your lawyers assistant so that I could speak to you..."
"My God. That is so sweet of you to call. Look, I don't know how to thank you, you're a life saver, you really are."
I blinked in surprise at the warmth in her voice. “You mean you don't blame me?"
"Blame you?” she laughed. “For getting that bastard out of my life? Course not. He was coming at me with a broken bottle anyways, it was him or me. The way he ran into my kitchen devil was fate. Little tart on the corner shop told me I did her a favor too. And the kids have been to see me just like you said."
I gripped the phone and said slowly, “But Bridget, I didn't mean for you to kill your husband, I don't think I'm even a proper psychic. I was doing it for the money."
There was a silence and I imagined her absorbing my confession.
Finally she said, “Who cares. He had it coming. You just made me realize I was stronger than I thought that's all. You deserve to be paid for the favor you've done me. Not that I want to be in here, of course. Lawyer reckons they'll let me off with manslaughter so hopefully I won't be in the clink for long. It's hardly a fun factory, but I'm safe, and I've made a couple of mates. The wardens let us do craft too some days, you know, making clothes for charity."
I twisted the telephone cord between my fingers. Some kind of course? New circle of friends? These were all predictions I'd made to Bridget that night. I tried to concentrate.
"What about his family? Will they give you any trouble?"
"He hasn't got any. Just me an’ the kids, and they hated him more than I did. Poor little blighters were in care since they were babes."
A male voice interrupted the line. “Time, please, Mrs. Francis."
The warden used my pseudonym, and I cringed as I realized he could have been listening in.
"Oh, heck you better go, love, before they drag you in here too. I'll see you in court?"
"Yep. I'll try and be there. Good luck, Bridget."
I slowly placed the receiver down, trying to absorb what she had said. She'd treated me as if I was an old friend. The swirls of the paisley carpet in the lobby seemed to blur before my eyes, and I gripped the edge of the counter to steady myself. So the karma score was even as far as Bridget was concerned. What next?
There was only one place to turn to, really. I couldn't afford the Bed and Breakfast for the next couple of nights, and I wasn't ready to face going back to London yet. I fumbled in my jacket pocket and slotted in the coins before dialing.
"Hello, Mum."
"Well, hello, stranger. You've finally decided to grace us with a call, have you? Well, about time too."
"Sorry, Mum, I've had a lot of things happening. Can I come and see you? I thought I'd drop by for a couple of nights on my way back from Blackpool."
"You're in Blackpool? You didn't tell me you were going away. What are you doing up there?"
"It's a long story"
"Too long for your poor mother, I suppose. Goodness, young lady, I might as well ask someone in the supermarket what my daughter's doing because they probably know more than me. It's always the same with you isn't it,"
"Mum, please..."
"Alright, let's not argue over the phone. Of course you can come. Sophie's up for the week too so you can see your little nephew."
"Oh good."
I groaned inwardly. It was going to be very difficult to have a serious conversation with the ‘she devil’ at home. Little Adam could be positively angelic at times, but when Sophie was around he was mainly into flushing everything down the loo and flashing his ‘dangly’ at grownups whenever he could. I didn't blame him for attention seeking though. His mother soaked up so much limelight she was positively radioactive.
Mum was still talking. “Mind you, I dare say he's forgotten what you look like. Your father and I certainly have."
"Mum, it's only been a few months.” My headache returned along with the frustration. I took a deep breath. “I'll be catching the 1:30 PM to Bath so I'll be there about fourish."
She sighed and her voice softened a little. “Well I'll get your father to pick you up at the station. Don't be late."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Twenty-Two
Clichés and Clangers
To stop myself dwelling on the psychic curse theory, I decided to thumb through another chapter of my Karma book whilst on the train. ‘The Ties That Bind’ chapter seemed quite appropriate as it was all about being reincarnated with the same family members over and over again. Bit of a recurring nightmare as far as my family were concerned—for them and me. According to author Sunflower Longbottom, we chose the family we were born into before we came into being.
My karmic piggy bank must have been pretty empty since I had chosen the world's fiercest critics as a mother and sister. Although I adored my henpecked Dad, his only advice to me came in the form of misquoted clichés and sayings from the stone age. Retreating behind a wall of proverbs was probably his best form of defense in a relationship with my Mum.
Not that it had been all bad growing up, I suppose. While Sophie was kept swaddled in cotton wool, I was so ‘impossible’ that I was given much more freedom. Dad always slipped me money when I went out, and Mum, having never quite got over the surprise that I had managed to get in to University, took a keen interest in what I did after graduation. She was always telling me, “For goodness sake, if you've got the brains, do something with your life!” I grimaced and wondered how she would react when I told her about my new destiny. She wasn't exactly open-minded when it came to ‘new age’ stuff.
One must rise above petty difficulties, detach, and bring happiness to your family, only then is it possible to move on, said Sunflower, apparently in her thirty-third incarnation with her daughter, who had been her granny, brother, husband and even her pet hamster in a previous life.
I snapped the book shut, gazing out of the window to rest my eyes. The sandstone buildings of Bath had appeared, stained with years of British weather and smog. I thought about seeing Sophie again with her hair-sprayed blond curls, chiseled cheek bones, and petulant pout. We may have been born with the same light grey eyes, but we'd always seen things very differently. A wave of inadequacy melted my self-esteem away as I imagined her familiar smug look when I appeared in my disheveled state.
How do you tell your family you've been on a trip to Blackpool to find out if you're turning into a psychic witch? How was I to get anyone to take me seriously? I gritted my teeth and stood up as the train pulled into the station. Dad stood by the bench, and relief surged through me as I stepped off the train. He was definitely looking older these days. His curly hair now peppered with more grey than black and his faithful old donkey jacket looked looser on him.
His eyes met mine and he quickly dropped his cigarette and gave me a sheepish grin. “It's good to see my little prodigal."
He held out his arms, and I hugged him back hard, blinking back tears.
"Hey, what's all this?” He rubbed my arms and drew back to look at me. “You look like you've seen the host."
"Ghost, Dad,” I corrected him, “like you've seen a ghost"
"Whatever. Come on then, sweet pea, we'd better get a wriggle on. Your mother's put the fatted calf in the oven to celebrate your return, and I promised we wouldn't be late."
He checked his watch nervously, and I linked my arm
through his. Poor Dad, he was certainly kept on a tight leash.
"Thought you'd given up smoking, Dad.” I nudged him as we walked to the car.
"So does your mother, so mum's the word, eh? Besides, a little of what you fancy—"
"Does you good. I know."
I rested my head against his shoulder for a moment and thought of Harvey. The ache of loneliness welled up in my throat, and I blinked back the tears again as I threw my rucksack in the back of Dad's battered old Escort.
We drove in companionable silence for a while, but later he turned the radio on and asked me how things were going in London. I told him about my psychic career and was just getting to the bit about me turning into a witch when he turned the radio up to full blast to hear the results of the football match being played at Man United.
"Dad?"
"Oh sorry, love. Yes, I was listening. I'm sure it's all a storm in an eggcup. Don't worry your pretty little face about it. There's bound to be a few teething problems with a new job."
"You haven't heard a word I was saying, have you?"
He glanced at me sideways. “You sound just like your mother when you say that. Oh, hang on..."
"And he's past number seven, and that's a nice dummy there, and he shoots, and that's a goooooooooal!” The radio commentator's yell echoed the crowd's cheers. Dad beamed and slapped the steering wheel with one hand. “Now, you were saying, love? Your new job's with a cleaning company isn't it?"
"Never mind.” I rubbed by forehead and sank a little lower in the seat. We were almost home. “I'll explain later."
The car bumped over the pot-holed track that led to my parents’ little bungalow. We drew up next to the cottage garden filled with hyacinths and tulips, and I began to wonder why I felt the need to confess to my family. Still it was too late now. If it sorted out the karma drama and got me back to normal then it was worth a try.
"Thanks for picking me up, Dad."
"Pleasure, love. There's your mother."
I glanced up to see Mum dropping a peach-colored nappy sac into the bin at the top of the drive with an expression of sheer disgust. As she looked up, her expression turned to relief and she waved a marigold rubber glove at me. Mum's carefully styled blond hair and liberty scarf were proof that she had kept her glamorous veneer intact.
Dad touched my arm as I got out. “Now, love...” his eyes searched mine, “try not to upset Sophie, you know how sensitive she is..."
I shrugged. “Yes, Dad, I know. She's such a delicate flower that everyone has to tread on eggcups around her."
"Exactly."
Dad nodded, missing my sarcasm completely. Problem was though, I knew I wouldn't be able to help myself. There were always fireworks with Sophie so I might as well be the first to strike the match. I turned to face Mum.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Twenty-Three
Family Fortunes
"You're late, as usual.” Mum gave me a brief and rather stiff hug.
"Hello, Mum, it's good to see you. I like your hair.” I kissed her powdered cheek and breathed in her familiar rosewater scent. The same one Sophie had sprayed into my eye when we had dressed up in her necklaces and high heels years ago.
"You look dreadful. Have you been eating properly? You'll have to do better than this if you ever want to find yourself a decent man like Sophie has.” Mum drew back from me, studying my face critically and tutting as she flicked something off my shoulder.
It was always the same with Mum. She always complained I didn't visit enough, but when I did see her, she seemed to want to drive me off as quickly as she could with her putdowns and patronizing manner. I swallowed the temptation to reply that I could get a man and tell her about Harvey.
"I don't want to marry a robotic nerd like Sophie's better half, thanks."
"Don't you speak about Richard like that, young lady."
"If you haven't anything nice to say, you'll never grow tall.” Dad squeezed my shoulder as he joined us with my rucksack. “Come on, lovey.” He smiled at Mum. “Let's go in. Amber's going to tell us all about her new job."
Mum sniffed. “Huh, the cleaning company. I must say, I thought you could have done a lot better by now."
I rolled my eyes at Dad as we followed her up the steps to the front door, but he put his finger to his lips.
"Sophie's got a new job too, did I tell you?” Mum continued, her tone changing to one of pride. “She's working part time as PA for the Principle at Southwall Girls School. Very high powered, you know, been invited to the staff team-building and everything—she's doing awfully well, and she hasn't even got a degree."
"I'm sure.” I rubbed my temple and followed them inside, being careful to place my ankle boots beside the doormat before stepping onto the green, hall carpet. Vacuum marks were still visible on the soft pile amongst the litter of toys.
"Adam's finally asleep.” Sophie appeared from the lounge as Dad put the car keys on the hook.
As always, I was taken aback by her good looks. Her petite frame, creamy smooth skin and blond curls that belied the snide attitude she always displayed.
"So,” she turned her attention to me, “this is a ... nice surprise."
She stood up straighter and surveyed me from the archway with her little girl smile, her eyes flickering over my windswept hair, and coming to rest on the three pimples on my chin. I also drew myself up a little, knowing I had a good two inches height over her.
I tried to smile brightly back. “Isn't it."
I let go of the door and a gust of wind caught it and sent it slamming shut with a loud bang. I winced as a high pitched wail filled the hallway.
"Oo, sorry, I—"
"You did that on purpose.” Sophie's smile vanished and her grey eyes turned cold.
"No, no, it was an accident, princess.” Dad put an arm round me. “Wasn't it, love?"
"Of course it was. How is little Addy anyway? I can't wait to see him."
"Adam. How many times do I have to tell you his name is Adam, not some kind of snake. Well, I tell you what, since you've woken him up, you may as well look after him while I have a bath.” Sophie smiled sweetly, before flouncing down the hall towards the bedroom door where Adam's tired wails were reaching a banshee screaming crescendo.
Mum put her marigold glove on her hip and shook her head at me. Dad sighed.
Soon I was tickling my two-year-old nephew until his eyes scrunched tight and he squealed with delight. I held him up high up and stuck out my tongue at him, blowing a huge raspberry and deftly dodging the dribble from his mouth while I swung him back down.
"You always get him so overexcited.” Mum put an arm chair cover back on in vain as Adam reached behind me and pulled another one off the back of the sofa.
I put him down gently and he made a dash for the coal scuttle, lifting the heavy brass lid and banging it down like a symbol. Mum winced and dragged the toy box to the centre of the lounge. She shifted the magazine rack to block the coal scuttle.
"I don't know why on earth your father moved this away from the scuttle. Just doesn't think sometimes.” Her tone implied that I was also guilty of not thinking.
"No, Adam, not Grandpa's change, you know you're not allowed that.” Mum lifted him away from the table by the standard lamp. His little legs kicked in the air and he shouted with rage.
I slumped back in the sofa for a quick breather. I had just retrieved my mug of lukewarm tea from the top of the bookshelf when Adam leapt up to show me what he'd found in the toy box.
"Bamba, Bamba!” he shouted, two red trains clasped in his chubby hands.
"Yes, cutie?"
He dropped one in my cup of tea with a splosh and looked up with twin streams of snot running towards his mouth.
"Pay tains!” he demanded, his blond curls forming a halo round his head just like Sophie's had when she was a girl. How could I resist?
"Right, then.” Soon his chubby little hands were clapping for joy as I did the voices of Evil
Diesel and a lisping Percy. An hour later my voice was croaky from the effort and my throat was beginning to feel sore again from growling in Evil Diesel's voice.
"Come on, monster, say goodnight to Auntie Bamba.” Sophie swept into the living room, her cheeks glowing and her wet hair hanging in tendrils to her shoulders.
"Oh, Amber! He's smelly. Didn't you notice?"
"Can't say I did,” I croaked, sitting up on my knees and stretching my aching back.
She leaned closer to him, and he pushed her cheek away with his fist as she tried to nuzzle into his ear. “Has Adam done a little choccy pants? Has he? Has he? Yes, he has. Yes, he has. Now does Adam want Mummy or Bamba to change him?"
"Bamba!” Adam's blond head jerked round and he pointed a sticky finger at me, smiling.
"Oh no, sorry, my Auntie duties don't go that far...” I began.
Sophie frowned and stuck her bottom lip out. “But I've just had a bath and besides, he wants you to do it, don't you ... don't you, my little dirty-wirty."
He pushed her cheek away again and looked at me. “Bamba do it!"
I gritted my teeth and groaned.
By the time Adam was finally in bed, I was exhausted. It was my own fault to a certain extent. Despite Sophie's early attempts to paint me as the wicked auntie, Adam had taken to me right from the start and the feeling had been mutual. He was a sweet kid. Exhausting but very affectionate, and I always tried to give him lots of attention when I saw him. He needed it with a mother like her.
Anyway, I finally had a chance to tell my family the predicament I was in. We had cleared the plates away and were sitting in the lounge with coffee. Sophie was unusually quiet for once whilst Mum massaged and pressed her feet, giving her ‘scientology’ as Dad had called it earlier.
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