by Sharon Jones
He handed her the pack of cards. ‘Shuffle them well and try not to think too many negative thoughts, Sceptic.’
‘My name’s Poppy,’ she said, shuffling the cards. She was dying to ask him about Maya and Beth but, remembering Bob’s warning, she kept her mouth shut. She would play along with this charade. For a while.
‘OK, that’ll do. Now spread them face down over the cloth and pick six cards.’
She did as she was directed. Kane gathered the rest of the cards and put them to the side. He took the six cards from Poppy and laid them face down in a row.
‘Pick a card,’ he said.
Poppy looked at the row of cards, grabbed the one second from the right and handed it to Kane.
He looked at it and hesitated. He ran a hand over his mouth and blinked hard.
‘What? What is it?’ she asked, before she could stop herself. She didn’t believe in this crap, but the way he looked at the card unnerved her.
Kane swallowed. ‘This is you.’
He placed the card in the centre of the green silk. The picture showed a young woman bound and blindfolded within a cage of swords.
‘Oh, great,’ she murmured. ‘That looks a bundle of laughs. What does it mean?’
‘A number of things. I’d say that you feel isolated, but that isolation is of your own making or the result of a crisis in your life. It also means that you are the subject of much jealousy, or that you are struggling with jealousy yourself.’ His eyes focused on her, as if he was waiting for her to confirm his totally groundless assessment of her character.
‘What else?’
‘That’s not enough? Hand me the next card.’ He took it from her and laid it next to the first. ‘This is the problem.’
The card showed a black-haired woman, also blindfolded, kneeling and holding two swords crossed at her neck as if about to do away with herself. Behind her, a lake stretched out into the distance, flat and calm like Scariswater.
It’s Beth. God, it’s Beth!
‘The Two of Swords. This card tells of violence, of trickery and deceit. Just what are you involved in, Sceptic?’ Kane asked.
‘I thought you weren’t meant to ask questions,’ she replied, not looking at him. ‘Thought that would compromise the reading?’
He said nothing, so she handed him the next card.
‘These are the options that face you.’ He placed the card under the other two and held his hand out for the next. ‘We’re always facing forks in the road – this is the one ahead of you. Interesting.’
‘Hmm?’
One card portrayed a knight on a galloping chestnut horse, holding aloft what looked like a club. The other was a king sat on a throne, holding a staff that was sprouting fresh green leaves, like a tree in spring.
‘What’s interesting?’
‘The first two cards were swords – two women, yet it seems your choice is between two wands – two men.’
‘And what is that supposed to mean?’
‘A dark-haired woman has brought you into conflict with two men? Does that ring any bells?’
‘No,’ Poppy said, quickly. Too quickly.
Kane’s cheek twitched as if he was trying to stop himself from smiling. ‘One of them is impetuous, the other thoughtful. One is ambitious and the other has a tendency to get lost. One represents all that is noble and honest, the other is more about immediacy and excitement.’
He was talking about Michael and Tariq. Shit. This was getting freaky. Or maybe not. Maybe it was some kind of quantum thing – he was just picking up on the stuff that was going through her head. Or maybe the stuff he was saying was so general that anyone would think that he was talking about a situation in their life.
‘Next card, Sceptic.’
Poppy handed him another.
‘This is what you need to make the right decision.’ He turned the card over and for once it was one that she recognised, one of the major arcana.
‘The Moon. Isn’t that about imagination?’ she asked.
He smiled, but his gaze was intense and searching – like it was him who was trying to get information out of her rather than the other way around. ‘When did you lose your faith, Sceptic?’
‘I never – I don’t know what you mean.’
‘The Moon is about more than imagination. You know what it’s about.’ He held her gaze and it felt like he could see through skin and bones – to what? Her soul?
‘Intuition,’ she conceded.
‘That’s right. The Moon governs not just the tides in oceans and lakes, but also the tides within us. The Moon reminds you that the only way that you will make the right decision is to trust in your intuition. Not to trust in your intuition could lead to…’ His lip curled at the corner. ‘…lunacy. This card is urging you to trust in that which you don’t believe, Sceptic.’
Her right leg had gone to sleep and something icy was slithering up her spine. She shifted and tugged her knees up to her chest, resisting the urge to shiver. ‘What did you do before you started playing with cards?’
‘I hated,’ Kane replied, softly, as if he was telling her he’d worked in a pre-school. ‘What happened to you to make you so angry, Sceptic?’
‘What do you mean, you hated?’
‘I was a Nazi. I used to beat up black people for fun. How did it happen, Poppy?’
‘I have no idea how you became a Nazi. Maybe you had a troubled childhood?’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
She’d had enough of this charade. Time to get what she came for. ‘Where’s Maya?’
Kane’s gaze dropped to the cards. He picked up the Eight of Swords, the one that he said represented her, and stared at it – his green eyes suddenly sad. ‘So that’s what this is about. What did she do to you, Poppy?’
‘Nothing. Beth, I met Beth.’
‘Who?’
‘Maya’s best friend? Beth? Her body was recently pulled out of the lake by me, actually.’
Kane’s gaze flicked back to Poppy. ‘Beth was the girl in the lake?’
‘Don’t tell me you hadn’t heard.’
‘I hadn’t.’
‘You can’t tell me that she didn’t come to see you. She was looking for Maya. She knew she was most likely with you.’
‘I never met Beth. I wouldn’t know her if I fell over her.’
‘But she was Maya’s best friend!’ The volume of her voice had risen to yelling. She swallowed and tried to rein in the frustration that was thrashing about in her chest.
Kane’s eyes hardened. ‘I never met the girl. Maya liked to keep us separate. Just one of the ways she manipulated everyone around her.’ He gathered up the cards, wrapped them in the green silk and got to his feet.
‘Hold on, where are you going?’
‘Reading’s over.’
Poppy pushed herself to her feet. ‘You didn’t finish.’
He walked in the direction of the canvas village. ‘I don’t need to see the rest of the cards.’
‘Maybe I do! Kane, wait!’
He stopped but didn’t turn around. Poppy ran in front of him and held out her hands to prevent him from leaving. He stared over her head, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her.
‘Is she here?’
His gaze stilled on the sky like he was reading the clouds, and spoke in a voice so far away it was almost as if he’d forgotten she was there. ‘She disappeared, Poppy.’
‘What do you mean? What happened?’
‘We had an argument at last year’s festival. She stormed off. I haven’t seen her since.’
He was lying. ‘But people have seen her.’
His gaze snapped down to her. ‘Here?’
‘Yes, here. So where is she?’
‘Pop
py, listen to me. Maya has a gift. Some people would call it charisma, but it’s more than that. It’s something darker and more powerful. She has you wrapped up in her web before you know what’s happening and then it’s hard to get away. Be careful, she’ll have you dancing like a marionette.’
‘I’ve never met her.’
Kane snorted. ‘She doesn’t need to be anywhere near you to work you. She doesn’t need to be on the same plane to work you.’
‘She’s not working me. I just want to find out what happened to Beth.’
‘I can tell you what happened to Beth – she got involved with Maya.’
Poppy’s brow tightened. ‘Are you saying Maya killed Beth?’
‘She’d never do it herself. Never get her hands dirty – that’s not how she works. It’s just what happens to people who get involved with Maya.’
‘But Beth was in love with her.’
‘We all are. That’s why she can do what she does. Leave it alone, Sceptic. Go back to your Richard Dawkins books and tell yourself that you could understand the world if only you could fit it in your test tube.’
How did he know about that? No, he was sidetracking her; trying to throw her off the scent by screwing with her head.
‘What happened? What did you argue about?’
‘Forget you met Beth. Forget it all and walk away while you still can. Don’t mess with things you don’t believe in; otherwise you really could wind up dead in the lake.’
Her mouth dropped open and for a long moment no oxygen entered her lungs. How did he know about that? Had Jonathan told him? Why would he do that?
Kane barged past her and marched away.
‘Kane, wait!’
‘No.’
‘But you never finished my reading!’ Poppy shouted after him.
‘Death, Poppy. Your last card was Death.’
CHAPTER TEN
Agitated by the wind, Lake Windermere washed up against the sides of the yachts. Tackle clinked together like ghostly bells. On the far shore, wisps of grey cloud were rising up against the evening sky to join the heavy clouds that had collected over the hilltops.
The sky was working its way up to a storm, but Michael couldn’t be bothered to move. He grabbed the bottle from his side and slugged back another gulp. The vodka burnt his throat but it didn’t match the heat of the anger that burned in his stomach. He screwed the lid back onto the bottle and threw it onto the grass between him and the poodle.
He could just about pick out his yacht among the others that floated out on the lake, like a flock of seagulls taking refuge from the weather. He’d barely been out on it since the accident. If he were honest, he hadn’t been able to stomach it now he knew how quickly things could go wrong. Poppy kept asking to go out, but there was no way she was ever going back out on that lake – not if he could help it.
That day, he and Poppy had gone out to Belle Island – something they’d done loads of times before. The lake was choppy, but not bad enough to keep them away. They mucked about on the island for a bit and then the rain started and they’d headed back to shore.
They’d rushed to get the sail up and neither one of them had put on their lifejackets. Stupid thing to forget.
They pushed off and everything was fine. They were almost back to the landing dock when some idiot in a speedboat got too close, sending a swell across already choppy waters. He heard a clunk and looked up in time to see Poppy slipping overboard.
He’d almost laughed. He wasn’t worried. Poppy could swim like a fish – she was never out of the lake. He’d leaned over the side expecting to see her scowling back at him, annoyed, wet and cold – not injured. But when he looked overboard, all he saw was the constantly moving water.
‘Poppy!’ he’d called. No one had answered. He crossed to the other side of the hull – it would be just like her to swim to the other side to freak him out. Nothing.
His first instinct had been to go in after her, but he’d grabbed the radio and sent out a mayday message. Then he’d ignored the instructions of the coastguard and dived in.
Thankfully they’d been close enough in to shore that the lake wasn’t more than ten feet deep. It was dark at the bottom, but through stinging eyes he’d spotted her. Her eyes were open, but she was making no attempt to swim. He’d grabbed her and swum to the surface. Then, at last, some of his training had kicked in, and he’d started rescue breaths. It made no difference. She was a dead weight in his arms.
Eventually, he and Poppy were dragged onto the coastguard’s boat and they started resuscitation. For what seemed like forever there was no response. They cracked a rib trying to get her to breathe, but they were getting nowhere.
Her forehead was red with blood, but the rest of her face was blue with drowning. He’d felt like a part of himself was dying in front of him. He couldn’t remember life before Poppy and he couldn’t imagine navigating the rest of his life without her. She was like a sister to him. An infuriating, ridiculously bossy little sister.
And so he’d shouted at her. He’d promised her anything if she would just wake up! He’d got so damned hysterical that one of the coastguards physically restrained him.
They returned to shore, to a waiting ambulance. And then, just like that, she was coughing up lake water. She wasn’t conscious, but she was trying to breathe again.
After a week in hospital, she was back to her old self. Except she wasn’t. Nearly dying had changed her, had changed both of them. She’d come back to life but she’d left a part of herself – or at least a part of their friendship – in the lake. He’d thought for a while that she blamed him, but she swore she didn’t.
And now this.
Another girl in another lake.
It was all too familiar.
His phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. Julia calling.
Bugger – he was supposed to have gone round there. Why hadn’t he?
He dropped the phone beside the bottle of vodka and squeezed his eyes shut against the pain that shot through his forehead.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Death. She was surrounded by it. No matter what she did or where she went – death was there, haunting her, pursuing her.
Death, Poppy. Your last card was Death.
She dumped the book she hadn’t been reading for the last hour and switched off the torch. A green glow shone through the nylon of the tent, marking the passage of the sinking sun.
Even if her last card had been Death, it didn’t mean actual death. Kane knew that. Everyone knew that. It meant change in circumstance. Death of an old way of life, beginning of a new. It didn’t mean actual physical death. Well, hardly ever. And even if it did mean death, it was all superstitious crap, right? But the way that he’d said it…
Poppy sat up, unzipped the tent flap and crawled out.
Jonathan was kneeling down, about to hit the peg holding the tipi’s guide rope with an enormous hammer. He looked up and smiled.
‘Hi Pops, how are you feeling?’
She’d always thought of Jonathan as harmless. Kind of like a hover fly – a bit annoying, but there was no sting in him. But the guy had clearly been talking about her to Kane, and she didn’t like the thought of that at all.
‘Where’s Mum?’
‘She’s gone to the organising committee meeting. They’re discussing whether in the circumstances the rest of the programme should go ahead.’ He looked at her strangely. ‘Are you sure you’re OK? Do you want to sit and talk?’
No, she didn’t want to sit and talk. He’d been doing quite enough talking about her to people who had no right to know the details of her life. On the other hand, there was stuff that she wanted to know.
Poppy folded her arms. ‘That guy, Kane – the guy that was here last night.’
‘What about him?’
‘How do you know him?’
‘Eventually you get to know everyone.’
She knew avoidance when she heard it. She was the mistress of avoidance. ‘I got the impression that he was seeing you professionally, as a patient.’
Jonathan frowned. He dropped the hammer to the ground and stood up. ‘Poppy, where is this coming from? Why do you want to know?’
‘So he’s a friend, then?’
‘And again, I ask: why do you want to know?’
‘I want to know why you would tell him stuff about me. I want to know if you’ve been gossiping about me and Mum to some mate over a beer, or if you’re using me as some kind of psychological case study with your clients.’
Jonathan’s brow tightened. ‘What?’
‘He knew stuff about me. It doesn’t take a genius to put it together!’
‘Poppy, why were you talking to Kane?’
If she told him why she’d been to see Kane, he’d tell Mum and then she would insist that they left. ‘It doesn’t matter. Just please don’t talk about me.’ Poppy turned to leave but in a second Jonathan was in front of her, blocking her path. She tried to step around him, but again he shifted to block her.
She looked up into his face and he stared steadily back.
‘Poppy, I haven’t told Kane anything about you. I wouldn’t do that. But I am concerned about why you were talking to him?’
‘He knew stuff. He must have got it from you.’
Jonathan shook his head, glanced away and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘What is it that you think I told him?’
‘You told him I was screwed up about what happened. And I’m not, OK? So will you stop telling people that?’
Jonathan swallowed and nodded, his eyes wide with understanding like she’d just revealed some big secret to him. ‘I didn’t tell him anything about you, Poppy.’
‘Then who did?’
‘Did you have your cards read? Is that what this is about? You know the cards most often reveal the things that are hidden in our own hearts. Maybe—’
‘Don’t!’