Page 56 of The Promise of Tomorrow
Elena studied the book’s cover. ‘Because of a voice in my head… Whenever I dared question that night, it piped up: “Yes, but what if it’s true?” That doubt held so much power, driven by the evidence of Mum’s recovery, Gayle’s dental appointment and Lucy’s gran’s lottery win.’ The doubt that plagued her even now. So, Morag hadn’t made the promise with her. What if the universe had? No one could deny that her mum should have died twenty years ago. Had the fortune teller been a red herring? There were no leads left to explore. Now all Elena could do was wait until the twenty-first. She lifted her head and caught Rory giving her a curious look. Fighting off more tears, she stared without blinking for a few seconds. ‘One more thing, Morag. You gave me a playing card. The king of hearts. Why?’
‘It represents someone who’d be important to you one day. That night, my cards were underneath my shawl, in a trouser pocket, and they fell out when I put the cat down. That card was the only one that lay face up, on the damp grass. I just got a strong feeling.’
Morag made them another cup of tea and insisted they each have a bowl of the stew. Elena’s pulse slowed as she digested Morag’s words, along with the food.
‘What about the three near misses I’ve had in recent weeks?’ she said, the stew restoring her logic. Elena told Morag about the firework, the swimming pool and coffee spill.
‘Mere coincidences,’ said Morag.
Really? All three? Mum getting better bang on midnight – was that really nothing but a coincidence as well?
Nah.
If anything was a coincidence, it was that book cover.
Since that night in the woods, Elena had held the fortune teller up as some powerful oracle. This meeting proved she was just flesh and blood, like everyone else. A lovely woman, by all appearances, a fellow booklover too. But it was clear confused Morag knew no more than Elena. The internet was loaded withquotes about there being no such thing as coincidence. Any detective knew that.
‘Sorry for being a bit… offhand earlier,’ said Rory to Morag as they stood in the hallway to go, a sheepish look on his face.
‘Don’t apologise, lad. I can tell, you’re a good friend. You were looking out for Elena.’ She opened the door. ‘Rory Bunker. An unusual surname. Do you know the origin of it?’
‘No. Should look into it, really. I used to get called Golfie at school.’ He went outside, into the slushy night.
Morag put her hand on Elena’s arm as she went to follow. ‘I’m always here, if you want a chat. My landline’s been playing up lately.’ She sighed. ‘My nephews have convinced me it’s time to finally get a mobile phone. If you give me your number, I’ll message you mine, if you want.’ Morag gave a wry smile. ‘I fear they’ve got me a smart phone for Christmas. Silly name, isn’t it? As if anyone would make a phone that was stupid.’ She disappeared and came back shortly with a notepad and pen. Indifferently, Elena scribbled down her number.
Yet Elena was grateful for the woman’s time. ‘Thanks, Morag. Sorry for just calling by unannounced.’
‘Your mum is very lucky to have a daughter like you.’ Morag gave her a hug. Half-heartedly, Elena patted the fortune teller’s back and Morag’s perfume jogged her memory, a soothing smell of heather and pine. ‘I’m sorry, lass. I imagine this visit has given you a lot to take in?’
Ya think? Where to start? Morag believed that twenty years of torture simply came from a muddle over a book? No. It didn’t make sense. As Gayle, as her parents, as school teachers always said, order and rationale had ruled that little girl’s life. She’d never hallucinated with any other childhood bug and didn’t believe that adult Elena would have continued to believe the promise, unless there was some significant reason to support it.
‘That comment you remembered, about making a deal that meant you would “pass on to the next stage of our world”…’ said Morag, and she nodded encouragingly. ‘That’s not from the book, but wherever it came from, perhaps it’s food for thought. Maybe a new stage of your life is waiting for you, around the corner, and all you need is a nudge in order to move forwards to it.’
Elena stepped outside. The only direction she needed to move in was away from the bungalow and this woman who, getting on in years, quite possibly had a dodgy memory and couldn’t recall exactly everything she’d said to young Elena all those years ago.
‘Thanks again for seeing me.’ Elena was thankful. Truly. Yet so disappointed. The explanation Morag had given didn’t feel like the whole story. It was as if the last chapter was missing and wasn’t to be found in Scotland. Oh, Morag had provided a denouement, explaining about the crystal ball, about the importance of the clock and midnight, the dark chocolate. However, Elena knew, in her heart, that this wasn’t The End; that the story of that frightening night, still with loose ends, had a final plot twist waiting in the wings.
‘One last thing. That card was important,’ called Morag from her doorway. ‘Don’t forget that, Elena.’
Really? InAlice in Wonderland, the King of Hearts was weak and indecisive. As an avid reader of books, Morag should have known that.
36
RORY
Sunday 14th December
What a tedious journey back from Scotland, with a diversion and then a broken-down lorry causing tailbacks. Elena had gone straight up to bed after we visited Morag yesterday, having hardly spoken to me. She couldn’t face a drink in the B&B’s bar. She was still deep in thought this morning, over bacon and eggs that remained untouched on her plate. At her request, we skipped the planned trip around Leith. I mentioned her imminent birthday party, but she wasn’t enthusiastic. Whatever Morag had said, Elena was still being nervous about next weekend and didn’t want to talk about the children’s book we’d been shown. We didn’t even stop at the services, despite the terrible traffic. No sooner had we got back than the shower was running in her bathroom. I made cheese toasties and took hers up, but she had disappeared, possibly for the whole afternoon.
I wouldn’t know though, as I rang up Julian and asked if I could go over. He’s a good mate and he cancelled plans with his new girlfriend – a customer at the veterinary surgery whois also a primary school teacher. She’d seen a social media post about the stick insects needing new homes and wanted some for her classroom. One bramble twig led to another and they’d been out on three dates since. I felt like dating Julian myself when I arrived at his. He’d ordered Indian takeout and made one of his fruit crumbles for afterwards. He’d often left a portion of those outside my door in the past, when he couldn’t polish it all off himself.
We talked about Chelsea, the teacher, and Brandy and Snap’s big new tank. Julian spilled the tea about the builders working on my apartment, who sing louder than they drill and are full of banter at 7.30a.m., when any normal person is still waking up. After 1 chicken balti, 1 pilau rice, 2 naan breads, a scoop of Saag Aloo and 1 onion bhaji, I finally got around to asking Julian about his illness and the stress that had made parts of his life a misery.
I felt disloyal for sharing Elena’s childhood secret, but it was for the best, because I think I have an explanation for her promise that runs deeper than her memory simply being messed up by a children’s book. Julian shared his experiences and concluded, like me, that there were things about that night, in the woods, about that death deal, that weren’t explained by everything Morag had said.
I need Elena to open up more, except she’s avoiding me. I understand why. Her whole persona and reputation is based upon sound judgement, on level-headedness. Those are the things that have got her to the top of her profession. She’s embarrassed.
Perhaps it will do her good, having the house to herself tomorrow, as I’ll be over at Tahoor’s watching the footie. Dad is coming over too! When we got back from Scotland and Elena shot inside, I went over to Tahoor, who was dead-heading a plant in his front garden. I mentioned that Dad hadn’t been able to get tickets for tomorrow night, so Tahoor suggested we make a lads’ night of it. He looked… happier. His manner has a purpose to it now, and he’s arranged to go bowling with friends after Christmas. We batted a few football facts at each other before I left to unpack:
