Sex, Spooks and Sauvignon (Adventures of an Accidental Medium Book 1)

by Tracy Whitwell

  Neil asked if I wanted to go for a drink. I said I’d think about it when I was feeling better. Me and a copper? How the hell would that work?

  I saw Milo back on to the train this morning. He’s been my total rock since the ‘happening’, but he doesn’t like being out of his routine and my bathroom will never be clean enough for him. It made him very twitchy. So I thanked him profusely, told him I needed my space and made him go home. As he boarded, I handed him a giant-size bag of retro sweeties and I swear I saw tears in his eyes. I also hugged him for ages, which he took quite gamely, then waved him off as he tried his best to hide the relief on his face. Milo is not a natural traveller, he likes to be at home, which just makes it even more spectacular that he jumped on the train to London in the first place.

  I take a deep breath before I walk into the shop. Maggie has kept my position open on the till. She didn’t really have a choice as no one else seems to want the job. No one that she likes the look of, anyway. I’m not supposed to be here today so she’s a little confused when I enter.

  ‘Hello, stranger.’

  ‘Hiya, Maggie.’

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  This is a rhetorical question; she doesn’t have a lot of truck with human feelings and she thinks I should be fine by now, I can tell.

  ‘A bit better, actually. Can I have a word, please?’

  ‘Ohh. Sounds ominous. What is it?’

  ‘Martin.’

  She turns her nose up.

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘He didn’t do it. He didn’t tell that lady that she was married to a gay man. Her husband is nuts. She is actually very fond of Martin. As I’m sure quite a few of your less conventional clients are.’

  ‘Well, that’s as may be, but he doesn’t do enough readings and he doesn’t come to work on time.’

  ‘What if he bucked his ideas up?’

  ‘I’ve sacked him now. And I’m not apologising.’

  ‘No, but he might apologise to you, if you give him a second chance.’

  ‘Hmmm. What about you?’

  ‘What if I get another acting job? You can cover the till, but you can’t cover the readings. You need someone more reliable than me… Anyway, I’m not doing it. You can’t make me and I won’t.’

  Maggie takes honesty better than I’d expected. ‘I’m not calling him, Tanz. If you’re ducking out of your post, you can sort it out.’

  ‘Ducking out of my post? I could have been killed the other day.’

  ‘Well you weren’t, and neither was Sheila and she’s in that room right now earning her bread and butter with a serial monogamist from Peckham.’

  There’s a sense of humour buried beneath that Maggie Thatcher exterior, I know it. Sometimes it clambers close to the surface then it sinks again, into the murky depths. I smile at her – just a little one.

  The whole St Albans debacle has threatened to properly mess me up, it has to be said. I’m still very tearful and shaky and I’m going to miss Milo’s presence at night more than I would ever let on. The only way to get through it is to climb back on the horse of life. Or in this case, the Northern Line towards Morden.

  The walk from the Tube station is a venture into alien territory. Grey buildings, no greenery, lots of cars – depression on a stick. I doubt blue skies ever reach here; it was invented for steely grey vistas. When I reach Martin’s flat it’s three floors up and has a balcony that smacks of Mike Leigh films and drug-estate dramas. I have no idea if he’ll be in, but I have to try because I’m not doing this over the phone. The front door is black and the windows are small. There’s no door knocker so I ring the bell, then rap with my knuckles. I wait a good couple of minutes before the door opens.

  There stands a tiny, frail woman in a frilly, pink blouse and brown trousers. Her slippers are pink and beige tartan and her hair is like candy floss spiders’ webs. She’s one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen. When she sees me she grins and holds out her hand.

  ‘Come in. I’m building my nest! OO-oo, OO-oo…’

  I have little choice other than to follow this tiny, cooing woman into her humble home. Everything in the living room is in a state of disrepair. The television is so big and square it looks like cavemen made it out of stones and chewed bark. The walls have pretty, peeling wallpaper and the carpet has black age-marks on it. It doesn’t smell nasty in here; it just smells unkempt. And it’s too warm.

  ‘Helloooo! Helllooo!’

  She seems delighted to have a guest. I’m pretty convinced I’m at the wrong house, but she is so adorable, I sit on her rickety sofa and pat the space beside me. She ‘flies’ over, flapping her arms, and sits by me. Roosting, so to speak.

  ‘What’s your name, sweetheart?’ She stares at me, friendly but confused.

  I take her hand. ‘I’m Tanz.’

  ‘Hello, Tams. I’m DeeDee. OO-oo, OO-oo.’

  ‘Are you a bird, DeeDee?’

  She is inordinately pleased at the question and giggles. ‘Oh, yes. That’s me. I’m a birdie. My son won’t let me open the windows because he thinks I’ll fly away! He’s probably right. I want to escape and not be trapped here in these ruins.’

  Her eyes well up. Joyful to tearful in five seconds! She just beat my personal best.

  I’m guessing Alzheimer’s. It’s not a particularly intelligent guess. I take her tiny bird-frame into my arms and hug her close. She begins to coo contentedly, her tears melting away. She smells of oldness and sweet, papery skin. She starts to hum a song in a tremulous alto. Just then I hear a key in the lock and Martin enters, with bags like rubbish sacks under his eyes, wearing a more moth-eaten cardigan than usual and carrying a two-litre carton of milk. He stops dead, confronted by the sight of his arch nemesis cradling what I can only assume is his mother.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I just met DeeDee. She’s beautiful…’

  She looks up at him and waves. ‘Look, Martin, I found a mermaid!’

  ‘I’m sorry to bother you, Martin, but I really need a word.’

  ‘Have you come to evict me from my flat as well as my job?’

  DeeDee senses discord immediately and whimpers. I stroke her spider’s web hair and attempt the tune she was just humming. She joins in. I place her carefully on the sofa, much as I do with Inka, and squeeze her bony hand gently. She continues to croon to herself. I follow Martin to his kitchen. There’s a Formica table for two with foldaway chairs in there, green checked lino and the cupboards my mam and dad had twenty years ago. It’s so old-fashioned it’s almost cutting edge. I sit down without being invited.

  ‘I got in a bit of bother last week.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve been off work. It doesn’t matter why, but it means I’m doing this now when I should have done it already.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Tanz?’

  ‘I had a coffee with a client of yours. Nada. A couple of days after Maggie let you go.’

  His eyes moisten and the corners of his mouth begin to drag down. It occurs to me that he has been devastated by this job loss. I doubt he had much confidence to start with.

  ‘She said that you are a wonderful reader.’

  He wasn’t expecting this. ‘Did she?’

  ‘She said her husband lied to get you sacked. He was jealous.’

  ‘He’s such a controlling idiot. I don’t know how many times I’ve told her.’

  ‘Well, everything you told her this time was right. She came into some money. She rang from a call box early this morning sounding very pleased with herself. She poured bleach on every item of his clothing yesterday after he left for work, then climbed out of the kitchen window with her suitcase. She then jumped on a coach with her mum and has moved into a flat next to her cousins in Hove. She says if her husband comes looking for her, they will throw him in the sea.’

  Martin can’t help a chortle as he switches on the kettle.

  ‘You did that, Martin. She’s desperate to thank you. She
wondered if she could have your number?’

  He looks a tad disappointed. ‘So that’s why you came?’

  ‘No. That’s only part of it. You need to come back to the shop.’

  He takes mugs out of the cupboard. They look like heirlooms from the seventies. ‘I got sacked, remember? Maggie wouldn’t listen.’

  The petulant look is back on his face.

  ‘I know you did. But that wasn’t just because of a mad husband complaining, Martin. You must realise that?’

  ‘No, it’s because you came and stole my place.’

  This gets my back up. ‘That is bullshit. I don’t want to be a tarot reader in that shop. I got the job to earn a few quid sitting behind the till. That’s all.’

  ‘You could have fooled me. Sitting there like Gypsy Rose Lee, getting bunches of flowers and making people weep!’

  ‘I didn’t say I couldn’t do it. I said I don’t want to do it for money. I happen to be extremely talented!’

  My joke is rewarded with a stony glare.

  ‘Come on, Martin, the customers scare me. I don’t know how you and Sheila do it.’

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

  Oh God, if I turn him down he’ll be offended. ‘Just a little one please; I already had a coffee.’

  ‘OK. Has Maggie said she wants me back?’

  There’s such hope in that voice. He actually looks up to Maggie. Bless him.

  ‘Well, the thing is, she’s not averse to you coming back. But she feels you’ve been… well, taking the piss a bit. You know, with your erratic business hours.’

  ‘Taking the piss? You’ve met DeeDee. She’s a full-time job.’

  ‘She is so adorable.’

  ‘Not when she’s weeing in my yucca plant, she’s not.’

  This is not said without affection. On cue, in clacks the woman herself, resplendent in a kimono-style red dressing gown and silver high heels. She’s put a cupid’s bow of red on her lips and looks thoroughly proud of her ensemble. I start to laugh and give her a round of applause. She bows down low.

  ‘Mum! What are you wearing? Off out, are we?’

  ‘I decided to dress for tea!’

  She’s giddy from the attention. She bows again, then takes her tea and carefully carries it out of the room.

  ‘She watches Laurel and Hardy. I got her the boxset last Christmas. It cost an arm and a leg, but it keeps her happy for hours.’

  ‘Does she have a carer?’

  ‘Yes, me. Plus, she goes to a place down the road three days a week. It’s got all of these activities, dancing and whatnot for the elderly. She loves it. It starts at ten and finishes at five. The lady next door picks her up for me sometimes and gives her a sandwich. But it’s not easy juggling it all.’

  ‘It sounds like having a child.’

  ‘It is like having a child. But a child that used to be my mum.’

  He looks so wistful suddenly. It must be very hard. I doubt there’s much scope for romance in his life.

  ‘Why didn’t you say?’

  ‘It’s nobody’s business. I don’t want sympathy. She’s my mum.’

  I see him in a slightly different light now.

  ‘Martin. You are going to have to ring up Maggie and say sorry. Sorry that you show up at noon and leave at three.’

  ‘But what if I haven’t got a reading? Sometimes I want a minute to myself when DeeDee goes to her day centre.’

  ‘I understand. But come to work at ten, say hello, then have your “minute” in a caff by the shop. Just so you look willing. And stop being so bloody miserable with the customers.’

  ‘What? I’m not.’

  ‘Nada says she thinks you’re shy and that’s what people take as you being unfriendly.’

  ‘I’m not unfriendly.’

  ‘Martin, you look like you’re curling your lip all of the time. If you like doing the cards then at least be a bit more positive when you’re in the shop.’

  ‘You haven’t worked there five minutes, how would you know?’

  ‘You have hardly any bookings. The proof is in the pudding. I’ll bet you could double your clientele if you just smiled. You obviously know how to read. Or that’s what Nada says, anyway! Why waste it? Just call Maggie, make things right and try again.’

  He pouts. ‘Why are you doing this, Mrs Goody-Two-Shoes?’

  ‘Because life’s too short and I’m trying to be nice. But don’t push it.’

  Fuck It

  Pat is having food with his sister and her boyfriend at six o’clock. Tomorrow he leaves for Bangkok. I saw him in Minnie’s a couple of days ago when I delivered his phone, but haven’t had him at my flat overnight since the St Albans nightmare. Cait would have liked me to come round tonight, but I’m still not up to socialising, really, so I say I’ll meet Pat later for a bit.

  Then I call round Sheila’s. We’ve spoken on the phone, but I’ve not seen her since the happening. I should have waited for her to finish her reading at Mystery Pot today, but I just wanted to get back to my place and cuddle Inka. She’s already opened a bottle of wine and set it out on the table with the goblets and Doritos when I get there. She looks radiant in a long white skirt, shirt and suede waistcoat.

  ‘You all right, love?’

  I give her a hug and sit. She passes me my wine. My eyes spring with tears. Why am I always tearful these days? ‘Sort of. Still sorry, you know, about nearly getting you killed.’

  ‘Will you stop saying that? You’ve said it a hundred times and it’s just not true.’

  ‘We would not have been in St Albans in that bloody wood if it wasn’t for me. That’s what bothers me.’

  ‘No, we wouldn’t. And we wouldn’t have released Mona or solved a bloody awful double murder. We did well!’

  ‘I don’t know if it was worth the risk.’

  ‘Bollocks. There wasn’t a risk.’

  ‘Why do you keep saying that? Of course there was a risk.’

  ‘There wasn’t. Really. When I was in that cupboard, it all became clear. One of my angels came forward. He’s not one that speaks to me that often, but he’s a very high protector and he knew how scared I was that Dan Beck would hurt you. In the dark, when I tried to meditate to halt the fear, he spoke to me. He said that we were on a mission, you and me, and that it needed to be done. He said there was no need for fear because they would protect us and we wouldn’t be hurt. He said you were as powerfully protected as anyone could be and that you would say the right things. He said we were being guided every step of the way. He laid a hand on me. It was a wonderful moment.’

  ‘What, so while I was sitting in the TV room with a knife waving in front of my face, hoping I wouldn’t be raped to death, you were having wonderful moments with your angel mate in the cupboard?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  She starts to giggle. Then so do I and soon it becomes uncontrollable and the tears rolling down my face are real tears and I have a cry, and then drain my glass. She tops me up.

  ‘It was a big test for someone new to this, Tanz. I have never ever been in a situation like that, you do realise that, don’t you? All these years and it never got that dangerous. It doesn’t get any worse than what happened to us. It was an exception.’

  ‘Was it, or do I just attract the extremes? Because I don’t want that shit.’

  ‘Have you enjoyed our ghost-busts so far?’

  ‘You know I have.’

  ‘Have you enjoyed making people happy by giving them useful messages?’

  ‘You know I have.’

  ‘Right. So chalk up what just happened as a one-off. Protect yourself every morning, keep doing what you’ve been doing, and quit dwelling on it. That man wasn’t well. He would never have been happy after what happened, after what he did. He’s better off where he is than in prison. And we really did help Mona.’ She raises her glass and winks at me.

  She has no idea how scared I am at this moment of ever ‘dabbling’ again. I feel more upset about what h
appened every day, not less. ‘I’ll take your word for it, Sheils.’

  She comes over and gives me a smoky hug. We chat until the bottle is empty and I have to go to meet Pat. As I’m getting my bag and coat to leave, Sheila looks at her watch. Twice. What’s she up to?

  We hug on the doorstep and she closes the door after quickly glancing up and down the street. Just as I’m walking off my phone pings. I stop and read the text. It’s from mad Ruth wanting to take me for dinner next week. I take a deep breath and text back, Sounds good x

  As I do, a handsome, young black dude passes by me, carrying a couple of carrier bags. I recognise him, but can’t quite place him. Then he walks up Sheila’s path and knocks on the door, and suddenly it hits me like an Exocet missile. It’s that lad! The one she did the reading for in the shop, the one with the gangster cousin! What the hell is he doing here? I push myself into the hedge so Sheila won’t see me, and listen to the door opening.

  ‘Hello, sweetheart.’

  There’s the sound of a kiss – on the bloody cheek I hope – then the door closes. Oh my God! He looked so scared when she told him off in the shop. Maybe he begged for a private meeting, a more in-depth reading, the chance to talk to a real life witch… or maybe… just maybe… he had a Pat moment and fancied the woman who could tell him things about himself!

  Either she’s nicking the shop’s clients, which would drive Maggie insane, or she’s getting it on with a very handsome young man who can cook. Or both. As I walk away I can’t help chortling to myself. I won’t ask her about it, not for a while. Secrets are great, but speculation is almost more fun than finding out the truth.

  Pat the Cat

  I meet Pat at Purple Haze and I order my now habitual raspberry mint martini.

  ‘You look perkier tonight.’

  ‘Sheila put things into perspective for me.’