The
13th Destiny
Roger D. Francis
Other books by this author include:
Teggie
When Twilight Falls
Ark Of Hope
The Devil's Locket
Penny Arcade
23 Steps To Evil
© 2017 Roger David Francis
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means - electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise- without the prior written permission of the author Roger David Francis.
To my friends and family for their love and support. Special thanks to my Mum Sylvia Brown for all her inspiration and patience.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
About the Author
Contact the Author
Chapter 1
Beth hesitated. Did she really want to do this?
She stared at the piece of paper in front of her. What she should do was put it in the bin with the rest of the rubbish but she couldn’t take her eyes off the words printed on it. She could feel her nerves jangling, surprised at herself for even considering it.
The paper was cheap and thin, not even coloured, just stark white and the faded black typed lettering was unexciting as if it had been banged out on an old typewriter. The letters were wonky, the spacing wrong but it was the words that had caught Beth’s attention. It didn’t read like an advert, it was too emotional as if the person who’d written it was desperately trying to get the point across. Beth read the words again.
‘Please don’t throw me away. I could change your life forever. I am a physic and astrologist, my name is Shandra and I’m waiting to hear from you. All you have to do is phone me. It will cost you nothing. The first person who contacts me will receive a free reading. I promise to make your dream come true. Please give me a chance, what have you got to lose?’ It was followed by a phone number with a code she didn’t recognise.
The simplicity of the words tugged at Beth. Here was a woman trying to earn a few pounds and Beth immediately felt a bond with her. She knew only too well the struggle to pay the bills every month, relying on a part time job. She would have preferred to work full time but so far an opening hadn’t come up. Beth thought if she had the gift of physic power then she would be using it to try to make some money too. The cheapness of the advert suggested a woman who wasn’t comfortable with computers and the internet; otherwise she’d be advertising herself to a wider audience. There were plenty of physics on the internet with glossy websites.
Not that she believed in stuff like that, no-one could tell you what your future held or make your dreams come true but full marks to the woman for trying.
Beth tried to imagine what Shandra was like. She could be a single mum with several children, unable to go out to work, or maybe she was living on a disability allowance, housebound and desperate. The leaflets had probably cost her a big chunk of her benefits.
The more Beth thought about it the more inclined she was to phone the woman and give her a break.
She stood up and walked over to the gold rimmed ornate mirror that adorned the back wall of her living room.
“Magic mirror on the wall,” she chanted under her breath, “Should I be brave and make the call?” She watched herself grinning, at the same time wondering why she looked such a mess. Her straight blonde hair needed washing; it hung down her neck like a limp rag and without make up her face looked blotchy and tired. She was thirty five years old and thought if she looked like this now she’d be an old crone by the time she was forty. It was an unappealing image. Nothing a bit of lippy wouldn’t fix though.
Her son, Jason, fifteen, put his head round the door. He looked like he’d just woken up. Beth glanced at the clock, twelve fifteen and sighed.
“Have you finished your homework,” she asked and thought if she had a pound for every time she’d spoken those words she’d be a rich woman.
“Mum, it’s Saturday, I’ve got the weekend to do it.” He gave her his moody stare. “Did I tell you my computer was on the blink?”
“Only about a thousand times.”
His tousled black hair fell over his forehead and Beth frowned as he slouched into the living room, his bony shoulders slightly stooped. When had he grown so tall? She was five foot seven but he towered above her. Gets it from his dad, she thought bitterly, Lawrence had been six foot three, a hulk of a man. Jason was thin but he had plenty of time to fill out.
Beth glanced down at the leaflet, the words once again urging her to phone and find out what was going to happen in her life. But now she was having second thoughts. She’d never liked the idea of having her fortune told, it actually scared her a little. The idea that a complete stranger could look into your future and tell you what was going to happen. It was all very well saying you didn’t believe it but once the words were out, the prediction spoken, then you couldn’t take them back. She wondered if it coloured people’s decision making; you’re told pink is your lucky colour so instead of the slinky wine red dress that flattered your figure you end up looking ridiculous in a frothy pink outfit just because someone you’d never met said it was your destiny. Now that was scary.
Beth wouldn’t even read her star sign for an indication of how her week was going to pan out, so why on earth was she even considering phoning the woman up? Was she really so pathetic that she’d take the word of a total stranger to tell her what her future held?
Pointless, because she already knew; more of the same. Get up, go to work, come home, feed Jason, maybe go shopping or embroider her cushion cover. That would see the afternoon out, then for the evening, watch television, read a book for a couple of hours and go to bed. Repeat process tomorrow. It sounded hollow and boring when she thought of it like that. But that was her life, hollow and boring and the truth was she liked it that way. No hidden debts, no secret drinking and gambling and definitely no messy complicated love affairs.
She’d considered joining an internet dating site but just the thought of it made her cringe with exhaustion. All those images of men in various poses of dress and undress depending whether they’d got muscles they wanted to show off, or flab they wanted to hide.
Some were bald with weak chins, some hairy with enormous beards. Tall, small, thin, fat, it didn’t matter, all of them were smiling as if their life depended on it.
Years ago she remembered her grandfather had collected thousands of cigarette cards of footballers, mountains, boats, planes, just about everything, and he’d set them all in a massive album to peruse at his leisure. He’d sat pointing and drooling over them for hours.
Maybe she should do the same. Have the images of the men on the dating sites turned into cigarette cards and stick them in a big old book. It would give her something to browse through and drool over when she was bored.
Not that she was much of a catch if she was honest. A single mum, forever counting her change to make ends meet; it wasn’t a description likely to set some man’s heart fluttering, even if he was desperate. Okay, she had a decent figure; she was slim, bumps
in the right places but it wouldn’t be long now before the dreaded lines started to creep around her eyes and put in an appearance at the corners of her mouth.
Beth sighed. Maybe she was depressed. The thought brightened her mood a little. She could take a few weeks off work, everyone else did. You couldn’t just be down in the dumps, have a bad day anymore, no, you had to be depressed, in need of counselling to sort out your life. Unfortunately the thought of telling her co-workers she was suffering from depression depressed her even more. Surely a less stressful option would be to phone Shandra and see what advice she had to offer. Maybe the woman would encourage her to take a week’s holiday, Blackpool or Skegness would do it. Beth sighed. Nice idea but she couldn’t get the time off work or afford it. Still, it might be fun to get someone else’s take on her future and what had she got to lose, the cost of a phone call?
All this dithering and she’d lose her chance to be the first caller and get a free reading.
Her son was stretched out on the couch, his long legs folded over the end, one hand trailing on the carpet. He yawned.
“Maybe you didn’t get enough sleep, you need another few hours,” Beth said sarcastically. The middle cushion of the settee sagged with age and Beth wished she could afford a new couch.
Feebly he waved his hand at her. “I’m going out with Liam,” he told her. “The new computer shop in the precinct is having an opening up sale; I’ve got some birthday money left.”
An opening up sale? That was new; usually it was a closing down sale leaving another empty commercial property to rot in the town. Still, if it got her lazy son off his backside then it was worth a few words of encouragement.
“Good plan,” She said briskly.
“Not really.” Jason replied in a voice that would not be swayed by any argument on her part. “My laptop’s too far gone to be repaired. I need a new one.” He looked at her hopefully as if she could magic the money he needed out of thin air. Beth was about to remind him the electricity bill had just come in when she swallowed it back. He was fifteen years old, he wasn’t going to sympathise with her, not when his need was greater.
“What about lunch?” Beth asked, her maternal instinct kicking in. He really was too thin, not surprising really, it was only yesterday he was four feet seven and whining for a packet of jelly babies. He must be growing at the rate of an inch a day, Beth thought amazed as he unwound himself from the settee and stood up.
“Liam’s mum is putting some chicken wings and fries out for us.” Jason muttered heading for the door, “See you later.”
Good for Liam, Beth thought. Having a mum who cooked chicken wings and fries for him, what else did she do, polish his shoes, do his homework? And he had three brothers and a sister. What sort of woman was his mum, a saint? Apparently, not content with being the perfect wife and mother, the woman worked full time as a carer in a nursing home. Beth had never met her but already she disliked her. How was she able to do all this and cook chicken wings and fries as well? It beggared belief. It was true that only Liam lived at home now, the other siblings having flown the nest but the woman was still a wonder to Beth.
The leaflet fluttered to the floor. Beth bent down, picked it up and screwed it into a ball and then immediately opened it out again, smoothing it with her hand. She couldn’t ignore it. It was one phone call for a free reading and she’d already wasted fifteen minutes considering her options which were so few they were almost nonexistent. It was time to stop procrastinating.
It wasn’t a mobile number so Beth used her home phone. She sat in her armchair wishing she’d got a mug of coffee beside her and listened to it ringing out, expecting it to spew out a message to tell her to leave her name and number. It took her by surprise when a breathless woman’s voice answered her call.
“Hello? Sorry, I was in the garden, who is this?” The words crackled and Beth wondered if the phone line was bad.
“My name is Beth and I’m phoning in answer to your leaflet.”
“My leaflet?”
“It came through my door not long ago.”
The woman sounded flummoxed and then she laughed. “Oh, my, I’d forgotten about the leaflets, what must you think of me? How lovely, thank you for calling me, my dear, do you know you’re the first?” She paused. “At least I think you are. I wouldn’t know though would I? I’ve been in the garden. But I’m prepared to take your word for it.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Beth couldn’t remember saying anything about being the first to phone but she was getting the impression that the woman was either elderly or a bit tipsy. She relaxed back in the chair and smiled. There was something of the feel good factor coming through and Beth could feel her mood lightening. This was just a bit of fun and it wasn’t costing her anything. She said, “I’m looking forward to having my fortune told.”
“Are you? I hope you won’t be disappointed.”
“I’m sure I won’t.” Beth was really beginning to enjoy herself. She added, “As long as you only tell me something nice.”
“Oh, my dear, it doesn’t work like that. You’ve already begun to use up your quota of good luck by being the first to phone me and get a free reading. You know, it’s like building a tower of matchsticks. You accidently knock the top one and the rest fall down.” She paused and Beth could hear her heavy breathing. “Good luck is elusive, my dear, you can chase it for years with no success and then something happens that changes everything.”
“You mean like your leaflet dropping through my door?” Beth was beginning to feel lightheaded. I need toast and coffee, she thought. I should be in the kitchen making scrambled eggs for my son’s breakfast not sitting in my living room hanging onto the words of a stranger.
She thought about putting the phone down, it was all beginning to feel like nonsense, a waste of her time. The woman’s creaky voice was beginning to jar on her nerves.
“It’s just a bit of fun, isn’t it?” Shandra was saying. “None of us really know what life has in store for us, do we, and would we really want to know if it was bad? I’ve been blessed with the gift of insight; I try to use it wisely though sometimes the future looks so bleak I find myself shuddering in despair.”
“Right,” Beth grinned then. Poor old thing was doing her best. She was obviously trying to create a sense of foreboding, impending doom, playing the physic card for all it was worth.
“Now, where did I put my glasses? Oh, here they are right by my hand. Let’s see now, I have a few questions if that’s all right?”
“Of course.” Beth decided the woman was definitely old. Every now and then her voice crackled. I bet she reads the tea leaves and Tarot cards to supplement her pathetic pension, I should offer to pay, she thought. “How many leaflets did you send out?” she asked curiously.
“Oh,” the woman sounded vague, “Not many. You’re one of the lucky ones. Most people throw my leaflets in the bin.”
“I have to admit, I almost did,” Beth confided, smiling.
“Well, that’s not good, is it, my dear? So what changed your mind, apart from getting something for nothing?”
Beth frowned slightly. Something in the old woman’s voice had altered; she didn’t seem quite so warm and friendly any more, in fact, she sounded downright annoyed. Beth supposed she shouldn’t have made the remark about throwing her leaflet in the bin. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Are you ready? Your full name please.”
“Bethany Jane Adams.”
“Adams, Is that your married name? I’m only interested in the name you were born with, dear.”
Beth hesitated, somehow it felt intrusive and then she shrugged, it really wasn’t a secret, “Simpson,” she said.
“Your date of birth?”
“October 6th 1982”
“So you’re thirty five, that’s a lovely age to be; too young to be wise and too old to be foolish. Except that you are foolish sometimes, aren’t you?”
Beth blinked in surprise. This wasn’t what she was expecting
. “I don’t think I am.”
“Spending all your bill money on Christmas presents for your son, you don’t call that foolish?”
Beth drew her breath in sharply. How did Shandra know she had a son? She’d never mentioned Jason. For some reason she found herself looking out of the window almost as if she expected to see a little old lady peering through the glass pane, taking notes. And it was true; she had overspent, using the bill money last Christmas. But who didn’t? The old woman made it sound like a crime. She was guessing and hitting the mark, that’s all it was. She was clever though, Beth had to admit, but then she was old enough to have been in the game a long time.
Shandra’s creaky voice broke into her thoughts. “Did you hear what I said, my dear?”
“It’s really none of your business,” Beth tried to sound firm but her voice wobbled.
“Of course it is if I’m going to help you. It’s also my business that you’re trolling the internet to find a man. Well, I can tell you my dear, you’re wasting your time; you won’t find the man of your dreams on a computer screen, he doesn’t exist, you expect too much. Nobody’s perfect, not even you.”
Trolling the internet looking for a man? Was that what she was doing when she clicked onto a dating site? God, Shandra made her sound like a desperate tramp. She couldn’t deny it though. She did enjoy a bit of casual browsing to see what was on offer but then so did millions of other women. Maybe the old girl was taking her own frustrations out on her unsuspecting customers, or more likely it was simply another lucky guess. And what was wrong with having high expectations? Beth decided to say nothing.
After a few moments of silence Shandra said, “Now, the most important question; what is your dearest wish?”
Beth hesitated. Bit tacky, she thought, still, what had she got to lose? She said the first thing that came into her mind. “I’d like five hundred pounds for a new settee.”
“Are you sure five hundred pounds is your dearest wish? You only have one chance to get it right.” The old woman sounded doubtful, insulted almost and Beth couldn’t help smiling. The whole conversation was surreal. Maybe she should ask for more, she didn’t want to upset the woman. “Okay, I’ll amend that, make it five thousand.”
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