Page 55 of The Promise of Tomorrow
Elena stiffened. A dealhadbeen struck. Her biggest fear would come true. She would die in five days. She looked at Rory, sitting there, knuckles white as his fists lay on top of the table.
‘You said you’d do anything to save your mum’s life – suggested you swap yours for hers. Oh my days, what a selfless heart you had. I’m so glad it all worked out and she survived.’
‘Worked out?’ spluttered Rory. ‘Maybe for her mum! But that promise has stained Elena’s life, as year in, year out, she’s counted down to her thirtieth birthday.’
‘Rory,’ said Elena, and she glared.
‘Wait a minute… You believe that deal was actually made? Are you serious?’ said Morag, and her eyes widened. ‘Not that I read your cards that night, but even if I had, my card reading is more about reflecting on your life, making sense of it, and less about predicting the future. As for making some pact, that’s not anything I would ever agree to.’
‘But you said, “A life for a life, it is.” You picked up your crystal ball and ran your hand over it. Then everything went blurry and before I knew it, I was home.’ Elena could hardly breathe. ‘You warned me about “dark forces”too, but still agreed to the deal.’
Morag frowned. ‘I rememberyousaying, “A life for a life,” but I ignored you, Elena. And I had no crystal ball. Cartomancy is my thing. Always has been. You did have a temperature that night, so perhaps…’
‘Just a twenty-four-hour bug. This wasn’t some hallucination,’she said in a clipped voice. ‘Nothing else explained Mum’s recovery that happened as the clock struck midnight. Even the doctors were baffled. Everyone called it a miracle. There was other stuff too. When you took me home, you told my babysitter to go to the dentist. Turned out she had the very early stages of oral cancer.’
Morag thought for a moment. ‘Yes, I spotted a white patch on her lip when she was talking. My brother-in-law had the same a couple of years earlier, and ended up having chemotherapy. My warning to her was nothing to do with fortune-telling. I hope she got through it.’
‘But… but my friend Lucy… You told her gran you could see money. A few days later, she won big on the lottery.’
‘Sometimes I get… a sixth sense about things. Images come into my head. But I would never, ever predict something tragic, or make a deal that would hurt someone, even if it was to help another person. If I saw or sensed anything negative, I would never share it. As for agreeing to some pact, a scary one at that, with a little girl? What sort of monster do you take me for?’
The tips of Rory’s ears turned red.
Morag got up and paced the room… ‘But your words… “A life for a life… As the clock struck midnight”… I didn’t think of it at the time, but now…’
‘Those phrases have always stuck in my head.’ Elena looked at Rory. ‘I’m so confused.’
‘What was I wearing that night?’ asked Morag.
Elena shrugged. ‘A purple shawl. It was really fancy. But that didn’t stop you picking up muddy Bumper, to give him a hug.’
‘The black cat?’
‘Yes. Why?’
Morag went over to Elena and pulled her to her feet. Put herhands on Elena’s elbows. ‘I don’t deal in gobbledy-gook, whatever people might think about card readers. The insights I give people make sense to me – and most of the time to the customer too. I give them the cards’ perception of their life. It often provides a way for them to look at their problems or ambitions in a different way.’ She brushed a strand of hair out of Elena’s face. ‘It’s obvious you’ve had such a hard time with this, lass. But almost everything in life has a reason, has an explanation. It’s simply a matter of looking at this differently. As is the case, I believe, for this episode from your past.’ Morag went to the bookcase at the end of the room. Grunting, she crouched down and ran a finger over the books. Eventually, she stopped at one. She tugged the children’s book out and held it up to Elena and Rory.
‘A favourite classic. My nephews love it.’
Elena’s mouth fell open. Memories came back of her reading that book, cover to cover, night after night. ‘That used to be a favourite of mine too,’ she stuttered. ‘It must have been one of the tatty books that Mum threw out when I was twelve – she’d had a clear-out, thinking I’d be happy for the new shelf space. I’d completely forgotten about it.’ Elena reached out a hand. Morag passed her the book and sat down again. Elena stared at the cover – a fortune teller, in a purple shawl, holding a black cat, a crystal ball at her feet.
‘The book’s calledAs the Clock Struck Midnight,’ said Rory, in a hushed tone.
‘I remember the story now,’ said Elena, in a choked-up voice. ‘The fortune teller had the power to let people swap lives for a day, from midnight. “A life for a life” was her catchphrase. People would choose someone who, in their opinion, led a fantastic life, full of riches or travel. But the exchange always made them realise that, actually, their own life wasn’t so bad. But…’ She looked up at Morag. ‘My memory of us making that deal… it’s so very real.’
‘You had a fever. You were traumatised about your mum, lassie. Then there was a black cat there and I was wearing a purple shawl. It does add up, Elena. I can see why you, a young child at the time, might have woken up the next day, confused – especially with the coincidence of your mum recovering at midnight. If you flick through the pages, you’ll see the fortune teller gets paid by potential life-swappers with a bar of her favourite dark chocolate. She makes a joke about dark forces that runs throughout the story.’
Elena’s brain froze. It was too much to take in. Was this some joke? Was Morag protecting herself or getting confused?
‘When I once had flu, I woke up convinced that, during the night, I’d been flying on a broomstick,’ mumbled Rory.
‘But this can’t be true,’ Elena said. Tears ran down her face. ‘All these years I’ve worried about it. That so-called promise has stopped me doing so many things. It cast a shadow over my life for months at school, until I learned to box it up in my mind, the lid only popping open now and again. I’m so fucking stupid.’
‘Don’t,’ said Rory sternly. ‘You were ten, for goodness’ sake. Children believe all sorts – that Father Christmas is real, that fairies collect teeth.’
But Elena had grown out of believing those two particular myths.
As if reading her mind, Morag asked, ‘Any clue as to why you haven’t shaken off this belief as an adult, lass, as you matured and would have realised, through logic, that it was ridiculous? You strike me as an otherwise sensible young woman, which is probably why this has been so distressing for you.’
