by Maggie Mundy
Cara wiped her lips. “I had strict instructions from Aunty Eileen. She never drank it watered down.”
Daniel poured himself a large drink. “Here’s to Aunty Eileen and let’s hope her hangover remedy works. More importantly, why wasn’t I ever introduced to her?” Daniel gulped back and then started to cough. “Oh my God, my throat’s on fire. Now I know why I stick to a nice glass of red.”
“I’ve never known you stick to a glass of red. A bottle maybe,” Jeff laughed. “I think I’ll start with a Guinness. Someone’s going to have to stay a little sober around here.”
Cara dabbed the soggy tissue to her eyes again. Her tummy hurt from laughing. Her eyes were red from crying and the room spun from too much booze. Jeff kept coming over with intermittent glasses of water and coffee. He was her savior. They had eaten and sat down again. It wouldn’t be long before they tried to squeeze things out of her.
“Okay, what happened in Ireland?” Shona leant forward and picked up the whiskey bottle and poured what was left into their cups of coffee.
Cara remembered drunken nights trying to drown the sorrows of losing a baby, and Tony leaving her. She wouldn’t have made it through without Shona. Cara wished she had the same devil-may-care attitude as her cousin. The eclectic mix of jewelry and clothes Shona wore made her look like a gypsy. She lived life to the full. She always had lots of men around, saying she was having too much fun playing the field because she wasn’t ready to settle down with just one guy.
“I’ll just get some cream.” Daniel stood up, swayed and sat down again.
“I’ll get the cream, and you can stick to my straight black.” Jeff took Daniel’s coffee away and replaced it with his own.
“Have I ever done anything else? I love it when he’s bossy,” Daniel giggled.
“I heard that,” Jeff called from the kitchen.
“You were meant to,” Daniel countered.
Jeff sat back down. Silence. They were waiting for her to talk but what would she say. Cara’s stomach turned and it wasn’t the whiskey.
“I don’t know what happened, really. I mean, I know what happened. I just don’t understand it.” She knew she was waffling. Her mouth was dry despite the alcohol and coffee.
“So tell us, and we’ll try to unravel the mystery.” Shona pulled her legs up on the couch and spread out her tiered skirt.
“It wasn’t a mystery. It’s just a bit strange that’s all.” Cara bit on her lower lip.
Daniel shook his head. “A bit weird. The woman forecast her own death and said your Nanna stopped her own heart. Then there’s the whole murder thing and immortals.” Daniel did a fake shiver as he sipped his coffee.
“Nanna had a heart attack. It was just coincidence they had a crash. Trust me, Tim was a crazy driver.” Cara could sense the blood drain from her face and didn’t need to close her eyes to relive the dream of their death again.
“But you said your Nanna Kathleen’s recipe book arrived the day after her death and it had a note inside.” Daniel reminded Cara.
“Yes it did. The note said. ‘Dear Cara, Use my recipes wisely.’ It’s just coincidence. That kind of stuff isn’t real. It’s only in books and on TV.” Cara couldn’t look at any of them for fear they could see the doubt in her eyes. Shona wasn’t convinced. Cara knew it from the way her cousin peered at her.
Shona took her hand and squeezed. “Tell us what happened. We’ll work it out with our alcohol-befuddled brains.”
It all spilled out and no one interrupted. Cara described the dream and how she saw their deaths before it happened. They probably thought this was just like an episode of Supernatural and all very interesting. She didn’t mention the picture of the dead woman at The Evening Post and the other dreams, horrific or erotic. Or the fact she had started to try and perform some spells. She did mention the necklaces though.
“Have you had any more dreams?” Shona asked.
“No,” Cara said.
Shona raised an eyebrow as she glanced over. “Really?”
“It’s a pity, because if you really were starting to foretell the future, I’d get you to find out what the Lotto numbers were for this weekend,” Daniel piped in. “The businesses could do with some topping up.”
“I keep telling you to let me invest,” Jeff said.
“And I keep telling you I don’t like to mix business with pleasure,” Daniel replied, elbowing Jeff in the ribs.
“That wasn’t pleasurable.” Jeff winced.
Shona interrupted. “So where are these necklaces?”
Cara went to her bedroom and grabbed the necklaces off her bedside table. For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to wear hers in the last week since Aunty Eileen had died.
She sat back down on the couch as Shona held up the shamrock. “That’s not unusual. It’s to do with St. Patrick teaching about the Holy Trinity. My good Catholic mother would be so proud of me, even if she isn’t so proud of the fact I haven’t been to church for six years. It also symbolizes the three females of Wicca, the maid, the mother and the crone.” Shona shrugged and handed it over to Daniel.
“The whole witch thing is a bit too close for comfort for me to discuss right now.” Cara said.
“Your Nanna believed that stuff though, even if you didn’t.” Shona said. “Pity my side of the family is so boring.”
“So what does this one mean then?” Daniel picked up the stag necklace.
Cara smiled, as she looked at it. “Nanna said I must find the one to wear it. He will protect me till I become stronger as a witch. How melodramatic is that? My life so far has taught me there are no white knights on chargers coming to protect me.”
“I prefer black knights.” Daniel winked at Jeff who shook his head in dismay.
“Protect you from what? A bad menu plan or a mass murderer,” Shona asked.
“I don’t know, but I don’t like either of those scenarios,” Cara answered.
“I’d offer, Cara, but I have my hands full with lover boy here,” Jeff answered as he put his arm around Daniel who snuggled in and looked as if he was falling asleep.
Shona held up both necklaces studying them. She was slightly cross-eyed tonight. Whiskey did that to her every time.
Shona finished her coffee and said. “Listen Cara, I know its crap. People don’t talk to the dead and see their own deaths, but you might be psychic. These psychics in magazines make shit-loads of money. Most are just people on the dole doing it as a fill-in job. If you’re the real deal you’d do well.”
“I’m not psychic. I accept I may have some skills but without Nanna around, I’m not doing anything. I’m just emotional at the moment.” It was true and as good an excuse as any. The real truth was she was petrified.
“If you come to Bath, the bookshop, W.H. Smiths has a display in their window all about witches, immortality, death and things that go bump in the night. You could have a look.”
“Honestly, I’d rather let it all rest, Shona. Bad things happen in people’s lives. I have to accept it and move on.” The conversation turned to other things and Cara was glad. When they all left, she went to bed. She cried herself to sleep holding the necklaces in her hand.
Chapter 7
It was four days since Aunty Eileen’s wake. Cara’s tears had finally stopped, since there were no tears left. The air was fresh. The sun was out and she needed a break. A visit to Bath to see her Shakespeare play would be perfect. She just wished there weren’t quite so many tourists.
The first two acts of the play at the Theatre Royal were fantastic. She waited in the queue in the coffee shop in the interval and thought about the other reason she had come to Bath. She intended to visit the bookshop Shona had mentioned. It was silly but she couldn’t get it off of her mind.
Someone kept sighing behind her in
the queue. They were probably entitled to sigh, due to the fact the lady in front of her at the counter was going over every single item on the menu. Cara looked around and gasped.
“Matcher.” The name slipped out before she remembered they didn’t really know each other. He didn’t look away. In fact, he peered at her even more closely. “Sorry, you’re my follow-on appointment at the counselor’s. Look, ignore me. It’s okay, I didn’t mean to intrude.”
He stayed silent, staring. “I was rude that day, sorry.” Matcher mumbled.
It wasn’t the comment she had expected and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
“Thanks. So you like Shakespeare?”
“Still not sure I understand what the fuck he’s on about, but he’s deep. Says things in five words the rest of us can never say.”
Again a reply she didn’t expect.
“Can I help you?” The woman behind the counter interrupted with a fake smile. Cara managed to return an equally fake one. They didn’t get a chance to say much more as the bell rang to say the show would be starting again soon.
When the show was finished Cara waited outside the theatre for Matcher. There was something about him. Insanity most likely. It made them more compatible as friends. Her life was weird and she needed all the help she could get. Matcher fitted weird. He stopped in front of her, peering again. She needed to say something.
“I was going to a bookshop. Would you like to see what they have there? Then we could have something to eat.”
He shuffled from one foot to the other, before he glanced up and down the street. She wasn’t going to bite him. He could go if he wanted. Finally, he spoke. “Sure.”
Broomsticks hanging from the ceiling showed the area of the bookshop they should head toward. Matcher just kept browsing. The book she wanted was called Immortality and Witchcraft, Fact or Fiction. The website said it contained information on cults believing in immortality. It also mentioned a connection with witches, plus the modern medical views on living longer. Sounded like perfect bedtime reading for the lonely and depressed. That was her all right.
There was a bunch of schoolgirls giggling and flicking through the pages of a book, called Love Spells. Casting a spell and making sure your romance was going to work could save a lot of time and effort. Maybe she would be able to make her dream lover real. That might not be such a good idea. She would be tired all the time and never get any work done. She smiled. What a way to get exhausted.
Matcher dislodged one of the books on the table. He sent the pile spilling to the floor. The schoolgirls continued to giggle, as he scrambled around trying to pick the books up. The half of his face not covered with a long black fringe glowed red with embarrassment.
“Here let me help.” Cara offered.
“Thanks,” he answered, avoiding the stares of the schoolgirls. “I’m going to get this one. I’ll meet you outside.”
Cara kept searching but couldn’t find the book she wanted. The assistant at the empty counter smiled politely as she approached.
“I’m looking for a book called Immortality and Witchcraft, Fact or Fiction,” Cara said.
The woman typed the title into her computer. As Cara waited, someone walked up to the other counter beside her. She turned to look. Her world stopped as she met the slate gray gaze of the man staring straight at her. This wasn’t possible. He couldn’t exist. He was just a dream lover. Yet there he was, standing next to her as big as life.
She tried to smile, but it probably came out as more of a grin. He didn’t smile back. Her legs turned to jelly. If she didn’t breathe, she would pass out. She reached out and gripped the counter. One of them had to look away but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Someone was talking to her and the moment was broken.
“Excuse me.”
“Sorry,” Cara replied, as she forced herself to look at the salesperson. She was afraid if she glanced back, he would be gone. Her imagination must be playing tricks on her.
“It looks like we should have one copy left.” The woman said.
“I think I’m just about to sell it.” The other shop assistant said coming up to the register. “We could order it in for you. It might take a couple of weeks.”
“Please, take my copy.” The man at the other counter held out the book. His voice was deep, exactly as it was in her dreams. She was caught again in his gaze. The world disappeared and for a moment they were the only two people alive locked in the look they shared. Her hand went to her chest. She could feel her heart racing at the thought of him being near.
“Thank you, but no I couldn’t. You had the book first.”
“Please, take it. I have plenty of time to wait for another copy to come in.”
She found it hard to say no. Perhaps, it was the fact he was about six three and wore grey bike leathers. They added to the effect of making him look powerful. The shaved head and the stubble on his face gave a menacing look, but she wasn’t afraid of him. This wasn’t right. Her life was wild enough without dream lovers becoming real.
Plus, she wouldn’t want her other dreams to become real as well. She needed to say something, or he would think she was an idiot standing there with her mouth gaping. He held the book out to her. As she took it, her hand touched his. It was such a tiny touch and yet it meant he was real. She felt the heat rising up her neck as she blushed. She also sensed another heat inside her. It was the same way he had made her feel in her dreams.
“Thanks.” Cara paid for her book and listened as he confirmed his contact details. Seth Scanlon. She had a name. She wasn’t really stalking. Taking another book off a shelf, she flipped through the pages. He glanced her way before he left and caught her gaze once more.
She couldn’t fool herself. The look he gave her was so intense she felt he was seeing inside her soul. Her breath caught. She shivered although the shop was warm. For a split second, she considered following him and saying he must remember all the times they had made love.
She could just imagine the expression he would give her. He didn’t know her. She was a stranger. The shop became suffocating as she pulled at the collar of her jumper. She needed to be outside. There was no sign of him on the street. For a moment, she wanted to cry. At this rate, she would give the silly schoolgirls in the shop a run for their money.
“Take my word on it. He’s dark,” Matcher said, behind her.
“What?”
“Look, it’s nothing to me. I just wondered, that’s all.” Matcher shuffled from one foot to the other.
“Wondered what?”
“You need to ask. I don’t need to wonder.” He turned away.
This made no sense at all. “Do you still want that coffee?” She asked.
“If you’re paying, why not?”
They made their way down to Sally Lunn’s Coffee Shop, which as always was warm and full of noisy customers. The Sally Lunn buns in the cabinet looked tempting. Her newfound company could do with some fattening up. Their cups of coffee arrived.
“I thought Matcher was your surname. Jessica’s receptionist called you Mr. Matcher.”
“Matcher’s fine. I don’t like my first name.”
“What is it?” Silence, surprise, surprise. Cara watched as he took off his fingerless gloves and put three sugars in his coffee. He cradled the coffee cup in his pale hands.
“Do you mind if we don’t talk about the stuff with Jessica.”
That was fair enough. She didn’t want his past medical history anyway and was sure he wouldn’t want hers.
“Can I have a look at the book you’ve bought?”
He pushed the bag across the table. Cara offered her purchase for him to look at. His book was entitled, Near Death Experiences, When the Light Calls You. She wondered if there was a section on mutilated bodies. She doubted it. Matcher glanced th
rough her book. Cara had an irresistible urge to push his fringe back so she could see his eyes.
“You said the man in the bookshop was dark, the one who had bought this book. What did you mean?”
Matcher stiffened at her question. “He’s different, like you. I thought you could see it, but you can’t.” Matcher put his cup down and stared at her.
“In what way am I different?”
Matcher shrugged. “You’re open. People who see stuff would think you were the same.”
“You mean people who see ghosts and things would think I was their friend.”
“I see people differently. I don’t know, probably like those aura things. I see colors around bodies. I thought you saw his. It was grey like his bike leathers.” Matcher picked up his bun and started to pull it apart. He groaned in pleasure as the flavors hit his tongue.
“And what color’s mine?”
“I’m just starting to learn this stuff. You’re all the usual colors, except your higher plane is so bright a blue; it hurts to look at it. You’ve got a couple of dark spots on your physical plane. Your inner plane’s grey like his. Do you know him?” Matcher shoved a large piece of bun in his mouth and when he had finished it said. “Oh my god, this is so good. How did I not know this place existed?”
“Look, I’m going to get another coffee, you want one?”
“Yeh.”
Cara glanced over at Matcher as she stood at the counter. What would she tell him? It didn’t really matter in the long run. She was probably never going to see him again anyway. There was something slightly comforting that someone else had peculiar things happening to them. Sometimes, it was easier to talk to a stranger who had no preconceived ideas. Maybe she was reassured by the fact he could see auras like she could do magic. She should be scared but instead felt as if she had met a kindred spirit.
It didn’t seem quite so ridiculous repeating all the things that had happened. Matcher sat listening to every word as if he were soaking it up. She even found herself telling him about the photograph and some of the dreams and that she had seen Seth in them, but not what they had done. She kept the magic to herself though for now.