Suddenly Psychic

by Melanie Baxter

  But Monique flapped my concerns away and walked to the large picture window that overlooked the sprawling metropolis. “This flat must be worth a bomb, sweetie, you want to hang on to this. The rent for a two bed in Richmond is absolutely diabolical, you know."

  "Hey, I'm not stupid, you know.” I smiled inwardly at Monique's indomitable materialistic spirit.

  "Yeah, you lucky bugger. You're living a charmed life now, girl. Got it cushy, eh? Hope you won't mind me and the twins coming over for lots of visits though—you need to make it up to me for missing my wedding."

  "I was with you in spirit, you looked stunning as ever.” I looked at a photo of the three of them at the rose covered pergola. “Tell me though,” I tapped the figure of Titus and his long socks and Bermuda shorts, “what on earth was your Greek god wearing? You've got to get some fashion sense into that boy."

  "Yer what, girl?” Tanya squawked and snatched the photo back, but then she smiled. “Don't let him hear you say he's not trendy. He'll have your guts for garters—he could do with some new ones anyways."

  When they finally left, I finished the rest of the grapes and slept for two hours straight.

  By the second week in Harvey's plush apartment, I was much more active. Whilst Harvey was at work, I took long walks. Often around Richmond's Deer Park. Was it love or just the contrast to the sterile hospital environment that made me see beauty in everything? I found myself watching the clouds scudding across the blue sky with wonder. I was startled by the bright blue forget-me-nots sprouting in the lush green verges. Yesterday, I had crouched to pick a daisy and I looked up to see a shimmering cobweb, gracing a hollow in a gnarled oak tree. The sunlight sparkled off the dewdrops hanging from the silver strands. It triggered a memory of the shining light at the end of the tunnel. I breathed in the warm earthy air. I felt honored to be alive. More alive than I had ever been. Today I had taken a different walk. A walk to The Rowan Tree.

  Pudding's elongated ‘meeeeoow’ distracted me from my thoughts of the visit. I opened the fridge and carefully lifted out the marinated chicken. I was cooking a special meal for Harvey tonight, hoping it would soften him up for what I had to tell him. As I arranged the lemon slices and put the chicken in the oven, I thought about how strange it had been at The Rowan Tree.

  I had gone to see Trish that morning. After all, it was her that got me to hospital and I'd only spoken briefly on the phone to her since. Much as I'd enjoyed being pampered and feeling secure in Harvey's apartment, relying on his income just wasn't my style. I wanted to know if there was still a place for me at The Rowan Tree doing something.

  Poor Trish. According to one of my nurses, she'd been terrified when I'd collapsed and even her ‘rescue remedy’ and lavender compress had failed to bring me round. The ambulance staff had given her quite a ticking off when they found me doused in tea tree oil and with a candle sticking out of my ear.

  I bent down to scratch Pudding behind the head. “Thank God Harvey didn't see me in that state."

  The odd thing was, just when I thought my psychic adventure with Trish at The Rowan Tree had ended, my career had taken a new twist.

  I had swallowed back the bitter taste of disappointment as I read the message on the blackboard outside the shop, and steeled myself for the worst as I pulled open the door. I'd hardly had a chance to take in the new poster of a swirly-eyed Rupert and Irene advertising a hypnosis class when Trish squeezed herself out from the counter and dashed up to wrap her arms around me.

  "Goodness, dearie, how wonderful to see you on your feet again, and you look so much better."

  I hugged her back and tried to smile as I inclined my head to the blackboard outside that read ‘In-house Psychic Wanted, Apply Within'. “See you're advertising for a replacement for me already."

  Trish looked puzzled for a minute before flapping a hand at me. “Don't be silly, dear. No, that's for a temp whilst you were away. It's hopeless, though. Saw someone five minutes ago who I thought might have talent, but he turned the job down after I'd given him a tour. Anyway, now that you're back we can stop advertising.” Trish beamed at me and led me to the counter. “So when can you start again?"

  I bit my lip. I had to be honest with her. I opened my embroidered handbag, bringing out the small specimen jar and placing it next to the rearing unicorn on the counter.

  Trish gasped as she propped her glasses up on her nose and leaned closer to inspect the contents. “Good heavens, is that what I think it is? They ... they cut out your third eye? Oh you poor dear."

  I nodded. “I don't think I'm going to be able to tell the future any more, Trish."

  I slipped the jar back in my handbag and sighed. Trish drummed her fingers on her lips and her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at me. A slow smile began to spread across her face.

  "I think I might just have an idea. I'll have to phone Rupert and Irene first, of course, but it would tie in with our new corporate direction, and it would certainly keep your clients happy. Amber, you've no idea how popular you've become."

  I blinked in astonishment. What did Trish have in mind?

  Ten minutes later, the deal was done. The new role would certainly be a challenge, but it was nothing psychic so Harvey couldn't complain too much. I was heading out of the shop beaming from ear to ear when I stumbled right into an old bloke who was trundling down the pavement. As I released my grip from his moth-eaten coat, it took a moment for me to recognize him. I think it was the fact that his greasy hair was combed in a side parting, but the bloodshot eyes, florid nose and crooked smile were unmistakable. It was the tramp I'd sat next to at the ‘Body Language’ lecture.

  "Fancy bumpin’ into you, Missy! You been applying for that psychic job too?” He waved his plastic bag in the direction of The Rowan Tree. “They'll take anyone these days, they will. Was offered the job meself earlier, but had to turn it down."

  I blinked in astonishment as I stepped back from his rancid breath. “They what? You applied?” My mouth went dry. “Trish actually offered you a job?"

  "Don't look so surprised miss, I've been to loads o’ free séances and did a course on spiritual stuff down at the community center last year.” He licked a forefinger and smoothed his unkempt eyebrow. “Still, when I saw the kitchen and those ‘orrible organic biscuits, I knew it were a no go.” He winked at me and rubbed his nose. “Well must be off, got a ‘Bridge for Beginners’ class in the town hall at 12. See you at the next library seminar, I guess."

  He hurried off and for a moment I just stood there, scratching my head and wondering what the world was coming to. Then I shrugged and smiled to myself. That would teach me to take myself too seriously.

  "Good luck!” I called to his back and he lifted a mottled hand without turning.

  The timer on the oven and another wail from Pudding jolted me out of my recollection of the day's events. I swung open the oven door to check the chicken. It was browning nicely and the lemon slices were fizzling away, filling the kitchen with a delicious aroma.

  "No, Pudding, not for you,” I murmured as he wove in between my legs. I put the oven gloves back on the oven rail and scooped him up, enjoying the feel of his soft fur as he purred and rubbed his face against my chin. Poor Pudding had been quite perturbed by recent events and was demonstrating it by demanding constant affection and being jealous of Harvey.

  "You're obsessed with food, you are.” His little pink tongue rasped against my cheek and I put him down gently. “Now, where are the potatoes? We've got to get those peeled before your master gets in."

  I'd just put the last of the potatoes on to roast when the lock clicked. I quickly smoothed my top down as the front door opened, wondering how Harvey would react to my news.

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  Chapter Thirty-Six

  A Psychic Twist

  "Good God, this can't be my flat! What is that divine smell and who, I ask who, is this ravishing wench in my kitchen?"

  Harvey dropped his brief case at the do
or and swung me off my feet. Soon he was pouring the wine and we were complaining about my lost psychic ability after finding out I hadn't won the Wednesday night lottery.

  "It doesn't look like I'll be able to make you rich, after all.” I said as Pudding wove along my legs again, beginning to be a nuisance. “But I don't think we can dismiss my powers totally, you know. Before I went to hospital, Trish did say that pituitary gland problems are related to the third eye which is pretty weird.” I forked out some tinned cat meat into a saucer for Pudding and laid it on the tiled floor. “But according to my aurograph, it was because people have been draining my chi."

  Harvey laughed and slipped his hands round my waist as I rinsed my hands, turning me round and brushing his lips over mine as he pinned me against the sink.

  "Honestly, you read far too much into all these things. Didn't I tell you that dabbling in this hocus-pocus would be bad for you? I think I'll have to be the psychic one in this partnership from now on."

  I put my wet hands on his cheek and kissed him. He moved in closer, pressing his body into mine and whispering, “Now why don't you let me put the ‘ying’ back in your ‘yang’ before dinner?"

  "Harvey! No!” I pushed him away and grabbed the carrots out of the vegetable rack. “I've got a better idea."

  I put the carrots on the chopping board and checked my watch. I had ten minutes to relax before I had to turn down the heat on the chicken.

  I pulled him into the lounge behind me. “You still haven't told me about Jules yet? You promised tonight you would. I can't believe you've let me wait so long. Two weeks you've kept me guessing!"

  "And I don't think I could have stood your torture tactics much longer either. But now that it's finalized, I can reveal what his fate is.” Harvey sat down on the sofa and grinned. “Now ... where shall I start? Okay, okay!” He tried to dodge a swat on the leg and failed. “Well, on the day you ended up in hospital, I called Jules into the board room. He must have known he'd been caught with his pants down ‘cos the look on his face, oh, Amber, I wish you'd seen it. He was stuttering and simpering and trying to make excuses for the prank calls, but I just told him to shut up and listen."

  Pride welled up in my throat as Harvey took his glasses off and looked at me, his hand tapping the arm of the sofa as he recounted the story.

  "I told him he'd committed gross misconduct, with legal implications, and had left himself and the company open to being sued—not to mention the career suicide in market research he'd undertaken."

  I shivered in delight as Harvey's voice took on that deep, resonating authority. God, he was sexy when he was serious. I tried to focus on the story.

  "He was suitably bollocked then?"

  "Absolutely. He practically begged me to let him keep his job, so I told him there was only one way I'd allow him to continue without reporting him."

  "Which was?” I took another sip of my wine.

  "Volunteering to transfer to the novelty sex enhancers department."

  I almost choked. “Is that meant to be a punishment?” I spluttered. “I think he'd jump at the chance."

  "Of course he did. That's why I had to arrange a special contract for him—it took a while just to ensure there were no loopholes, no way he would get out of his responsibilities. It had to be worded carefully so he would sign."

  "What responsibility, what did he sign up for?"

  "He has to spearhead the promotion of a range of, shall we say ‘attachment devices’ for those who are not well endowed."

  "Go on.” I set my wine down on the table. Now I was intrigued.

  "Our friend Jules has to be the face of the advertising campaign ‘Mr. Dinky Dick'.” Harvey grinned broadly.

  "You mean he has to tell the world he's got a small one?"

  "Yep—big mouth, little dick sort of guy. His face will be superimposed on a cartoon body in posters all over the Tube stations—not to mention the outfit he has to dress up in to hand out leaflets.” Harvey's eyebrow quirked up and I doubled over with laughter.

  "I almost feel sorry for the guy. Almost,” I said and slid over until I sat on Harvey's knee.

  I was just leaning over to kiss him, the curtain of my hair falling over his face, when Pudding jumped up between us and his claws dug into Harvey's leg.

  "Ow, cat! Bugger off.” Harvey yelled and pushed Pudding off the couch.

  Pudding padded onto the Persian rug and sat down, his tail flicking as he regarded Harvey with green-eyed distain.

  "Now where were we?” Harvey tried to drag me back towards him, but I twisted away playfully and handed him his drink. It was now or never.

  "I was about to tell you about my visit to The Rowan Tree today."

  Harvey slumped back in the chair, his eyes rolling skywards.

  I punched him on the arm. “Don't be like that. I took my third eye in to show Trish. She was most impressed."

  "Christ, I wish you wouldn't keep carting that lump around with you. You're as bad as my Aunt Lucy, she used to have her galls stones on display on the mantelpiece."

  "Does it freak you out?” I grabbed the little jar from my hand bag by the side of the settee and waved it in front of his face. “The way it looks like a little eyeball?"

  Harvey made the sign of the cross and recoiled as I shook it. Then, without warning, he lunged forward and made a grab for my arm.

  As I struggled to hold the jar out of his reach he said, “Right, Miss Thomas. I'm going to do what I should have done two weeks ago. Let me have it. I'm going to put it away. I'll lock it up somewhere."

  Harvey's grip was strong and he was pulling me down. I squealed as he bought his other hand up to snatch it and desperately twisted away. As I twisted, my arm suddenly broke free of his grip with a jerk and the jar shot out of my hand. The glass flew as if in slow motion, our eyes followed its ascent through the air. It arched gracefully by the ceiling for a moment before it began to fall. Down it went, gathering speed as it plummeted and finally smashed to pieces on the kitchen tiles, the ball-shaped lump inside rolling rapidly across the floor like a misshapen marble. As we both rose to see where it had gone, Pudding, usually so lazy, took a flying leap across the floor. He skidded into the kitchen, biffed the rolling ball twice with his paw and gobbled it up in two swift gulps. There was a short silence.

  "Well that's that then,” Harvey said. “Your, erm, ‘familiar’ has put an end to it."

  "Perhaps Pudding will become psychic now.” I felt unsure whether to laugh or scream in disgust.

  "Hadn't you ever noticed that when he dribbles, it rains the next day?” Harvey looked at me sideways with that grin.

  As I cleared up the broken glass and tried to quell the queasy feeling each time I looked at Pudding licking his paws and washing his face, I told Harvey that Trish had offered me a new job.

  "Am I going to like this?” Harvey began to peel carrots on the chopping board.

  "I think so. It's all quite scientific really. They want me to be a life coach. Well, that will be my main role, anyway."

  "A life coach? But you don't look like the back end of a bus."

  "Ha, ha. No, seriously, Harvey, my clients want to keep seeing me, even though I'm not psychic. Trish thinks I'll be able to teach them all sorts of new techniques for dealing with stress. They're branching into all sorts of things at The Rowan Tree now, you know—really diversifying."

  "I bet,” said Harvey, not sounding too impressed.

  "I'm going to have to go on a few courses though. Irene and Rupert are running a hypnosis class next week, and then I've got to do Neuro-Linguistic Programming, you must have heard of that since you're a manager? And the money's good too. I'll be able to pay off my debts in no time. Well? You think I'm mad, don't you?"

  "Totally.” Harvey swept the carrots off the chopping board into a pan. He wiped his hands on the kitchen towel and took a step towards me. “Look, I can't say I approve...” I sidled up to him and slipped my arms around his waist. “And yes, I do think you're mad to go
back there."

  I stuck my bottom lip out and battered my lashes.

  "But hey.” He tapped my nose and his frown faded. “Luckily I'm completely loopy about you and will support you if that's what you choose. Can you promise me just one thing, though?"

  I leaned up and pouted my lips for a kiss. “Anything."

  "No more psychic stuff. I've had enough of third eyes to last me a lifetime, and before you say it, my next lifetime and my next and my next."

  I laughed and hugged him tight.

  "From now on, I'll keep it strictly logical. I promise.” I breathed. He couldn't see my fingers crossing behind his back.

  As Pudding wove along the back of my legs, and the timer on the oven beeped, I kissed him softly on the lips. An image from the tarot pack sprang unbidden to my mind. A dark haired maiden in a green dress, skipping on a precipice towards a rosy sunset. The Fool. Well, perhaps I was. Heedless, adventurous, careless, spontaneous. I tried the words on for size. I'd certainly excelled at all those traits since that fateful day on the end of Blackpool pier. But foolishness had also had its benefits. My foolishness and mistakes had allowed me to grow in so many ways. A myriad of possibilities lay before me, and I was living with Harvey wasn't I?

  It seemed the path to the alternative world was doing me good, so there was no point jumping off just yet. The Rowan Tree was offering me a career and I would be a fool not to take it. If there was ever a time to throw caution to the wind, it was now.

  Harvey would never understand my new calling, but it didn't really matter. We didn't have to see eye to eye on everything—a little friction in a relationship was healthy after all. I pressed my body closer to his and I felt him smile beneath my lips as I kissed him again. My new life had just begun.

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  AUTHOR INFORMATION

  MELANIE BAXTER

  Melanie has spent the last 15 years in the creative industry as a communication consultant and writer.

  Previously editor of a UK magazine prior to moving to Australia, Melanie has had many features and articles published and now works for global brand clients as well as avidly pursuing her own creative writing.