Suddenly Psychic

by Melanie Baxter

  "Hey you. Watch it or I'll put a curse on you."

  Harvey made the sign of a cross before unhooking Pudding's claws and rubbing him under the chin until he was dribbling between purrs. Pudding's eyes closed and I started to wriggle a little closer to Harvey.

  "Well, thanks for the reading.” He gave Pudding one last tickle with his index finger before struggling to his feet. I looked at my watch and couldn't believe it was nearly twelve. The empty ache of a missed opportunity cramped my stomach. “I'd better get going. Need to be fresh to face the team tomorrow—working on the ‘nimble thimble’ lie detector for suspicious housewives. Goes red when it detects sweat and increased pulse."

  "If people will pay for that, there's hope for me yet. Oh, a few of us are meeting in the Pig ‘n Whistle at the end of the month. Fancy catching up then?” I hoped I didn't sound desperate.

  "Sounds good. I'll give you call.” He grinned as I handed him his coat. “And listen you,” he gave me a hug, “don't go dabbling with too much of this black magic. S'not good for you."

  "And I suppose you know what is good for me?"

  "Hmm.” The dimple appeared again. “We'll discuss that next time. See you later, gorgeous, I really enjoyed tonight and thanks for the chat. I needed it."

  Then he was gone, leaving the flat somehow larger and emptier as his footsteps receded down the stairs. I let the door swing closed, wondering if I could find an excuse to see him before the end of the month. Pudding started weaving in and out of my legs as I rattled out some more biscuits into his bowl and I reminded myself to shave under my arms before bed. I was just clearing the glasses and allowing my thoughts to linger on Harvey's square practical hands as he'd shuffled the cards when I noticed something odd. All the tarot cards were stacked on the side table except for one that had somehow landed face up in the middle of my sheepskin rug.

  "How did you get there?” I asked the little, dark haired maiden skipping along a precipice on the card. I picked it up and on impulse looked up the meaning of The Fool in my little booklet. Heedless, adventurous, careless, spontaneous, the fool represents creativity and high hopes. “You betcha.” I murmured. However lack of caution may blind the fool to perils along the chosen path, leaving her open to manipulation by others.

  I yawned and slipped the card back in the pack. The only chance of me being manipulated was if I booked a massage. “Mind you, I wouldn't mind being manipulated by Harvey. He's got lovely hands, hasn't he, Pudding?"

  Pudding was too busy crunching biscuits to reply so I went to bed to dream about what could have been.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Four

  The Rowan Tree

  Thanks to Harvey's know how, setting up a phone line was much easier than I thought. It took a few weeks for me to sort it all out though, which gave me the time I needed to scour the library and study the art of being a medium. I needed the quiet time, and luckily had enough money to last about a month from Blobby's. Tanya was ‘Titus obsessed’ at the moment and couldn't talk of anything else. It seemed their tonsil hockey had progressed to a full on game and I was amazed to hear he'd been trailing down from Chester to see her twice a week.

  Tanya couldn't quite believe I was going through with the dare. Her cynicism just spurred me on more. I kept Harvey up to date with my psychic plotting—it was a great excuse to phone him or meet him for lunch and ask business advice. Although he made it clear he didn't approve of what I was doing, he was always happy to meet up and give guidance. He was a genius where entrepreneurial ventures were concerned.

  By the beginning of February, my phone line account was all in place. It was easy. You place your advert in the local rag, pay a monthly fee for the phone line and then the phone company charges the punters three pounds a minute for calls to the psychic line. This pays for the phone line and the ad. Once you get a certain amount of phone calls, the rest is pure profit. No need to take credit cards or anything, the phone company just takes off its share and pays you the profit. Trick is to keep callers talking as long as possible. I confirmed my details with the phone agency and gave the newspaper my five line tra-la and it was sorted. I was quite chuffed with my advert; I thought it had a nice ring to it.

  Call today—triumph tomorrow

  Sick of vague promises? Want facts and truth?

  Is your partner cheating or should you fix that bad tooth?

  I'll spark up your soul and take your future out of freefall.

  Gifted Amber awaits! So grab the chance today and make your call!

  Now all I needed to do was to wait for the clients to come rolling in. First though, I thought it might be as well to pay a visit to The Rowan Tree again, buy a couple more props, and complete my research. Rent was due at the end of the week and my bonus money from Blobby's was trickling through my fingers. Still, I always worked well under pressure despite what Tanya said.

  "Oh my, Gawd!” she yelled down the phone the night before. “I can't believe you ain't been working for the last three weeks, girl! How's ya gonna pay for our big night out on Saturday?"

  "Come on, Tan. This was your brilliant idea in the first place. You know I'll make it work. Are we starting at the Pig ‘n Whistle? Harvey's coming too."

  "Ooooooo, bringing the buns ‘n brain along are you? Have you bedded ‘im yet?"

  "Still working on it. And hands off, you."

  "What d'you mean, hands off? I've only got eyes for Titus, girl. God, last night was so amazing. He's phoned twenty times since this morning and he's been sending me dead horny emails at work. He's a keeper this one."

  I groaned. It looked like Tanya was about to get serious with someone again. I'd had far too many of her exes sobbing on my shoulder when boredom made her flick them off and hunt for a new fella.

  By the time I got to The Rowan Tree, it was nearly lunch time. The mystic shop was a pretty amazing place actually, rather like an Aladdin's cave of the alternative. Set on three floors, the old building was crammed with a rainbow of gems and crystals along with occult cards, angel healing kits, and astrological charts. There was hardly a space on the ceiling between the various dream catchers and wind chimes, and I was quite mesmerized by the misty fountain in the window. On the ground floor there were hundreds of books on every paranormal subject you could think of, plus a soft leather chair with a shiatsu massager by the counter that you could try. I was always surprised at the people who drifted around the place, not just your rainbow-clad hippies and Goths, but well groomed, middle-aged women with Pilate six-packs, even the odd shrewd-looking old lady too. Quite a mix, which meant a wider target audience for me, of course.

  "Hello again, dearie. I've been wondering how you were getting on,” said Trish, the freckled shop assistant, when the angel chime doorbell announced my entrance.

  I smiled back at her through the haze of incense, blinking back tears as the serene sandalwood smarted my eyes. I wasn't surprised she remembered me. Last time I made sure I left an impression by chatting to her about my gift. I was planning to advertise my services there further down the track, and had thought it would be helpful to get friendly.

  "Hi, Trish, how are you? What unusual music,” I said as the haunting whale sounds reached a crescendo, sounding like a flock of ghosts. “I prefer dolphin music to whales though, somehow the clicks give it more rhythm."

  "I agree, dolphins are much more musical. I'm surprised they haven't recorded sharks yet though, I'm sure the snapping of those fierce teeth would make a good beat.” Trish's eyes glimmered as she spoke and her plump face, framed by a ginger bob, made her look like a naughty school girl despite the fact that she had to be in her late forties. I couldn't help warming to Trish; she was surprisingly grounded for a paranormal shop assistant. I wondered if, secretly, she was as skeptical as I was.

  She picked up a triangle and chime bar. “Have you been enjoying your Tarot cards?"

  "Oh yes, I've had amazing results. My gift is really developing so fast, it's scary."


  "Hold on a minute, I just have to cleanse the atmosphere.” Trish tapped the triangle with the chime bar and a clear ‘ping’ resonated around the room. “Have to chime every three hours in different parts of the shop—new rules from...” she rolled her eyes skywards, “above.” She was, of course, referring to Irene and Rupert, the couple who ran the shop. “By the way, don't suppose you're interested in Tantric sex are you?"

  "It rather depends who with.” I tried to sound casual despite my surprise. Was Trish trying to chat me up?

  "With Irene and Rupert.” She handed me a yellow leaflet with a picture of the bald and bearded Rupert and his overweight wife sporting cheek-hugging smiles and green tracksuits. “A Taste of the Tantric” read the leaflet and I tried not to pale.

  "Go on,” Trish pleaded. “They're running a free morning lecture for beginners on Saturday, and Irene's asked me to drum up business for it. I've only managed to sign up one couple so far. We desperately need more."

  "Um, I haven't got a partner at the moment, and besides, I do volunteer work on Saturdays.” I lied smoothly and handed back the leaflet.

  Trish sighed. “You don't really need a partner, it's more mental than physical, you know, but if you're busy don't worry—at least I've asked. Let me know if you change your mind. Anyway, can I help you with anything else?"

  "Actually I was looking for something astrological. I'd like to combine it with my readings to get more ... depth, if you know what I mean. Shed some starlight on my visions for more accurate interpretations."

  "Oh that's interesting. Norman was the same."

  "Norman?"

  "Yes, he's the psychic we used to have here. Absolutely fantastic at what he did and, like you, he blended tarot with astrology along with crystal gazing to get great results."

  "Perhaps I should talk to him to get some advice.” It would be useful for me to see how he worked and compare it to Madame Pungenti's technique.

  "I don't think that would be wise, dearie. It didn't work out with Norman here. In fact, he did some dreadful things."

  "Psychic things?” Now I was really intrigued.

  "Sort of. It started when he began scaring one of the girls that worked here on the second floor. Pretty young thing she was. He told her he could astral travel in the night and watch her undress. Then he got into Feng-Shui in a big way and persuaded Irene and Rupert to move the products and the tills to redistribute the energy and wealth creation flow. Turned out all he wanted was an easier getaway when he ran off with all our takings one weekend. He fixed it so the tills weren't under surveillance cameras any more."

  "How dreadful."

  "Yes, who could have predicted it?” Trish shrugged.

  "Maybe Norman.” I smiled, thinking of the business door Norman had opened for me. Perhaps I could be their next in-house psychic, but first I would need to be accepted by Rupert and Irene. I had an idea.

  "You know, perhaps I will do the Tantric sex course after all. I'm sure the police won't mind me missing one Saturday's volunteer work."

  "The police?” Trish's eyebrows shot up. “What do you do for them?"

  "I've just started giving them a few leads, using my gift, you know. It's all very unofficial and hush-hush. I'm not meant to talk about it really."

  "Gosh. You must be really good.” Trish's pudgy fingers tapped her lip for a moment as she contemplated me. “I must mention you to Irene and Rupert, they'll be very interested to meet you on Saturday. Here.” She handed back the leaflet.

  "Now let me show you what we've got in the way of astro-tools,” she said brightly and led me to the back of the ground floor where there was a section of complex looking charts, thick mathematical books and various telescopes. It all looked very complicated and, as I thumbed through a manual full of sums and equations, I realized I would never have the patience for all this.

  "Have you anything lighter, more of a quick overview?"

  Trish beamed. “Just the thing."

  She handed me a colourful ‘do it yourself’ Russell Grant birth chart kit with a handbook. I scanned the back. It had the lowdown on all the star signs and how to calculate ascending signs too.

  "Yes, this is perfect. You're wonderful, Trish.” I paid for the kit and let Trish attend to an elderly lady who was buying a lavender eye pillow.

  "See you on Saturday, dearie,” she called. “Now, Mrs. Appleton, would you be interested in some Tantric Sex this weekend? It would be marvellous for your arthritis..."

  The chimes of the door closing behind me cut off the rest of her sales patter. What had I let myself in for? Tantric sex with Rupert and Irene? I suppressed a shiver. Still, with a little planning, I could spice things up a bit and perhaps turn the situation to my advantage. It would be worth it in the end. I hurried home with my astro-kit to begin my final preparations.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Five

  The First Phone Call

  At first I wondered what the hell the noise was when the peal of phonic church bells jarred me awake. I opened my bleary eyes and rubbed them, squinted at the glowing red digits on my clock radio and groaned when I saw 11:56pm. I fumbled with the bedside lamp and groped for my mobile phone, cringing at the abandoned pizza box and empty bottle of wine on the floor. Why did every catch-up with Tanya end up with my flat looking like the local junk yard?

  The peal of church bells sounded again, dragging my groggy thoughts to the present with a stark realization. My first client. The splitting headache and dry mouth were forgotten as excitement gripped my stomach and I realized this was it: the first test. I propped the pillow up behind me, grabbed the mobile, and jabbed the call answer button.

  "Amber speaking, how may I help you, my love?” I crooned. My heart was pounding, but I had to sound soothing to whoever was on the other end.

  "Oh ... hello, it's Bridget here, I hope you can help me...” The voice was cracked and tearful, husky too. Definitely a smoker and someone highly stressed.

  "Wait a minute, Bridget. Please take a deep breath, dear, before you go any further. I sense you're very stressed and the emotion is clogging me up. Now breathe with me to a count of eight. One ... two ... three ... Yes, that's good. And hold it ... Now release and let go of that tension. Good. Now, tell me what you'd like to know."

  I stifled a yawn and wriggled further up in bed, Pudding's tail twitched once as my feet slid from under him. Poor woman, I thought. She was clearly unbalanced and needed a sounding board. I mean, no one in their right mind would be ringing a clairvoyant in the middle of the night would they?

  "Thank you, Amber. I really need your help. Can you really tell if your partner's cheating on you?"

  "I can tell a lot more than that my dear, a lot more,” I said soothingly. “Go on."

  "Well I'm having terrible problems with my husband and I just don't know what to do about it.” Bridget's voice began to quaver. “He's been so moody and staying out till all hours and ... well, there was lipstick on his boxer shorts last night.” She broke down into sobbing.

  You didn't need to be psychic to know what was going on there. Clearly this relationship was no good for her. I made her do the deep breathing again. It calmed her down and gave me time to think.

  "What's your star sign, Bridget, my love?"

  "Taurus, and my husband's Scorpio."

  "Ah. Hold on a moment, I just need to attune.” I took a couple of noisy, deep, humming breaths as I switched the phone to my other ear and made a one-handed grab for the Russell Grant book on the floor by my bed. In my rush, I almost knocked over the lamp but managed to open the star sign manual and thumb through the pages to find the characteristics of Taurus and Scorpio.

  "Yes, I'm getting something. Quite a lot, in fact.” I ran my finger under the definitions. According to Russ, Bridget was an earthy, dependable, loyal type while her hubby was an intense, passionate person.

  "Well, Bridget, I see your husband is not to be trusted. Not to be trusted at all."

  "I knew it!�
�� I yanked the mobile off my ear as she half cried, half spat out the words. “I knew he was seeing that little tart at the corner shop. What do I do now?"

  "Well, Bridget, you have an important decision to make. You are at a massive junction.'

  She gasped. “You even know where we live?"

  "I see all, Bridget. Now I see you will make the right decision and take the action required. You need to get rid of your husband. Get him out of your life once and for all. It will take all of your strength and it will be hard, but it will be the right decision."

  "Oh, my God, is that really what I've got to do?” She gulped.

  Bridget obviously needed extra convincing.

  "Hold on, let me see what the cards say.” I picked the top card off the tarot deck on my bedside table. It was an illustration of an old beaded man hunched over a staff outside a cave. The Hermit.

  "Ah,” I tried to sound knowing. “Once you've freed yourself from your relationship, you'll be entering a period of reflection and you will feel the need to be on your own for a while. It'll be a new phase that may last for some time.” She sighed. Not wanting to make it sound too lonely, I added, “but I also see you meeting lots of new people, mixing with a new circle. Some kind of course perhaps."

  "Do you really think I can do it?” Her voice was still shaky, but Bridget sounded less hysterical.

  "Absolutely,” I said firmly. I took a gamble. “The children will be pleased too—I can see them coming to visit you soon."

  From the sound of her voice, I guessed she was at an age to have grown up children, who, quite likely, would be avoiding her if things were bad between her and her husband.

  "Well it would be nice for them to visit me for a change, I always have to go there at the moment. Oh hell, he's back."

  I heard a door slam in the background and a drunken roar “Bridget? Where are you, bitch?"

  "Thanks, Amber, thanks for everything.” Bridget whispered and the phone line went dead.

  For a few seconds I felt twinges of guilt. I'd always been an opportunist, but was this taking things too far? I rubbed my head and wondered whether she'd really take my advice. I hoped she would. It was pretty sound. She'd definitely be better off without a man like that. No, I'd done her a favour. It'd be worth the money she spent on the phone call if she escaped from that relationship.