Page 51 of The Promise of Tomorrow
‘She must have been fuming,’ said Rory.
Jimmy beamed. ‘Not at all. She had reluctantly booked a B&B ahead that time, due to the wet conditions. It didn’t cross her mind I would actually cancel, having never done so before the times she’d taken part. She mentioned the place to her neighbour and I found the B&B’s number in the phone book. I saw her in Liverpool the following week. Her motto for life was very much that everything happened for a reason. Morag always struck me as a very content person. She’d stayed in Sheffield for the week as the owner wanted her to read her cards for guests. He’d booked evening entertainment for the whole of December, as part of a special bookings deal, but the magician had fallen ill.’ He gave Elena a curious look. ‘You must have been a child when you knew her?’
‘That’s why I want to see her again, to… clarify a… a prediction she made. Kind of.’ Elena blushed. ‘Now that I’m an adult.’
He patted Elena’s arm. ‘Her card reading was always on the mark.’
Jimmy probably thought he was being reassuring.
‘Did she have a crystal ball?’ asked Rory.
‘No. As I said, Morag was a common-sense person and Ialways assumed there had to be a kind of logic to reading playing cards, whereas a crystal ball? That’s a bit airy fairy if you ask me.’
‘Did she strike you as a cold-hearted type, out to fleece customers, not really caring about the outcome of her readings?’ Rory continued.
‘No, lad! Why would you ask that?’
Rory pursed his lips.
‘Morag was a lovely lady. Caring in her own way. One of the younger stallholders got blind drunk one night, caused a scene in the pub he was staying in, near where her tent was pitched. He got thrown out for being rude towards the landlord. Morag had a word and got him his room back. Then she sat up with him all night, worried he’d choke in his sleep, he’d drunk that much thanks to some idiot lacing his drinks.’ He limped to the back door and opened it. ‘In fact, she told me, the last time she worked for my fair, that I should retire before my arthritis really started complaining about winter bookings. I never thought it would get this bad. Morag had a real kind of sixth sense about her. Anyway, that’s enough of me rambling on. Val put the heater on in the outhouse, to take the pinch off. You’ll still need your coats. Good luck.’
Elena poured Jimmy a mug of tea out of the flask first and carried it, with a mince pie, into the lounge for him.
Shyly, she reached into a bag she was carrying and brought out a box of chocolates. ‘A small thank you.’
‘But you haven’t found anything yet,’ he said, nevertheless keenly reaching for the box as his face lit up.
They smiled at each other and Elena and Rory made their way outside. She shivered as she headed along the narrow path, across the back lawn to the outhouse. The grass looked white due to its gossamer carpet of snowflakes. She opened theouthouse’s door and ran her hand along the wall, for the light. It wasn’t so tidy as the garden and house, with boxes stacked in a higgledy-piggledy fashion. The air smelt musty and the room was chilly, despite the plug-in electric radiator ahead.
Elena bit her lip and caught Rory’s eye. ‘She did have a crystal ball – whatever Gayle and Jimmy say.Theyweren’t there that night. Iwasand didn’t make it up.’
Rory put his hands on her shoulders. ‘There will be a rational explanation for any discrepancies. Come on, let’s get looking. An Indian takeaway, my shout, is calling. Nice and warming when we get back.’
Elena put down her bag. They pulled down the top cardboard boxes. There were four to look through, all in all. Other boxes filled with random objects, no doubt cast-offs from stalls over the years, made perfect seats. Almost an hour later they’d each gone through one box of paperwork, with no luck. They’d sifted through invoices and receipts for owners of craft ale stalls, ones selling Christmas baubles, homemade water bottle covers, chocolate tea cakes and organic toiletries, but didn’t find a single one for Morag. Other paperwork too, from local councils, granting permission for Fletcher’s Fair to take place at the various sites. Bills, too, for repairs to the carousel. The cold had almost numbed Elena’s feet. Yet, despite the circumstances, this was… nice, the two of them quietly getting on, comfortable with the silence, exchanging smiles now and again. Even though she’d rather have pulled him to his feet, torn off his clothes and created their own heat. God he was handsome. They drank the tea and ate the mince pies, then each moved on to their second box. She picked up a bundle of invoices. One fell onto the floor and Rory picked it up. She flicked through the sheaf in her hand but stopped when Rory punched the air.
‘Here we go. Morag Macbay. An address, email details and landline number.’
Elena’s eyes widened and she took the piece of paper whilst Rory tapped into his phone.
‘She lives in a place called Leith which is a northern district of Edinburgh,’ he said. ‘Are you going to email her?’
Elena stared at the sheet. ‘No. I’ve not got much time. I need to see her face to face. I’ll ring.’
‘No time like the present. Go for it.’
The prospect of speaking to Morag, after twenty years of worry, took her breath away. Feeling like a little girl again, unsure and scared, yet determined too, she took out her phone, punched in the number and pressed dial. It rang. And rang. No one picked up. No problem. She’d email instead.
Elena typed as Rory tidied up. It was difficult to know what to say, so she kept it to a minimum. This message would be going to the inbox of a neighbour of hers, after all, according to Jimmy. After fifteen minutes, the room was tidy again – or as tidy as it had been, when they walked in – and the two of them were headed to the door when her phone beeped, but a jubilant grin soon slipped from her face. The email had bounced back. It said ‘non-existent email address’. Oh no. Morag’s neighbour must have changed email provider. There was only one solution left, then. Elena slipped her phone back into her bag.
‘I’ll ring again,’ she said, ‘but either way this weekend would be my only opportunity to see her. I’ll take my chances as to whether she is there. Fancy a road trip to Scotland the day after tomorrow?’
33
RORY
Friday 13th December
Oh boy. Not a good day. I’m glad to get into bed. As her birthday nears, Elena’s becoming more careful again. It seemed as if she’d found a balance, but what with bolting the door and checking the hob again now, and regimentally checking the windows… She jumped up quicker than a frog on speed to clear up a coffee spillage in work this morning. Someone jokingly mentioned today’s jinxed date and she turned whiter than the snow we saw in Scotland. What’s more, it turned out, what with everything going on, she still hadn’t organised the staff’s Christmas activity night out. She disappeared to the toilets for a while when she realised and came back with red eyes.
