Signs

 “Anton, I don't believe in horoscopes.”
   “That's because you are a typical Capricorn, Simon."
   “Seven billion people on this planet. That means about 580 million
people are Capricorn. So this horoscope applies to all of them?”
   “What does it say?” he sighed.
   “One horoscope tells me to “Connect with people on a deep level, Capricorn. Much of your focus is on emotional security. Make sure your home is a sanctuary where you feel comfortable being exactly who you are. Demonstrate patience and understanding through your words and actions.'”
   “But another tells me 'You’re likely to be craving a fantastical adventure out into greener pastures today, Capricorn. You may find yourself searching for foreign rentals or dreaming up a new life altogether.' "
   “Do you really think over half a billion people are going to want to go abroad while making their home a sanctuary? The one in the paper is more precise. 'A new person is going to come into your life and change it forever.'
   “That's where you're wrong Simon. You look at three different horoscopes and that's bound to muddy the waters. Just focus on one.”
   “The one in the paper?”
   “That will do. But somebody new isn't going to come into your life here.”
   “Is this an excuse to go down to Wetherspoons?”
   “Yes.”
   Spoons was not too crowded on a school night. Looking round the bar I realised I knew everybody there.
   The evening was drawing to a close when a stranger walked into the bar.
   Her name was Morganna. She was a clairvoyant. I kept a straight face.
   "I'm usually quite cheerful so people hit me because they want to strike a happy medium. You can laugh now, I know you want to."
   We gave a polite laugh.
   "Are you connected with the letter 'S'?" she asked me.
   "Yes," I said looking around to see if I had my initials on anything.
   "You haven't," she said, "most people are connected with a letter
somehow, it's the oldest trick in the book."
   "What book is that?" asked Anton.
   "The Egyptian Book of the Dead," she said seriously.
   Anton said he had a cat to look after or it may have been a dog. Anyway he left us alone.
   There was just time for one more drink before closing time.
   That was that for the evening, but we swapped phone numbers.
   “We could go for a meal or a séance if you prefer,” I said.
   “Oh, a meal is cheaper and a séance is work for me,” she smiled.
   I thought about it for a day or so but I had promised Anton to follow this through wherever it led. I phoned the number.
   We dined at an unpretentious Asian Fusion restaurant. The food was excellent as I recalled.
   “Oh you've been here before?”
   “I, er, well my wife and I, my late wife and I, we used to come here quite a bit.”
   I could almost see her ears prick up at the sound of a bereavement. Her voice went down a semitone.
   “Do you want to talk about her?”
   Of course I did. I decided her name was Caroline and she had been fond of horses and gerbils. I knew all about her musical tastes and the books she liked. Conveniently they were all books I had read.
   Morganna was saddened by the story.
   “How did Caroline die?”
   “It was very sudden, a hit and run driver. She didn't stand a chance. You read about these things but never expect them to happen to you.”
   “It must have been terrible for you.”
   “Let's talk about other things,” I said.
   We did but the talk kept drifting back to Caroline.
   The next day I got a phone call.
   “This is Morganna, Simon. I think I've got a message for you from the other side. I know you are a bit of a skeptic, but could you come around tomorrow evening? It'll be a private séance and I'll cook spaghetti Bolognese. Please do come, Simon.”
   “You had me at spag bol. What time?”
   “About eight. I will look forward to it.”
   I arrived with a bottle of Co-op Cabernet Sauvignon. The cooking smells from the kitchen were enticing and I rather hoped we were eating pre-seance rather than post. We were.
   The room was surprisingly normal. I don't know what I was expecting: black cat, broomstick, cauldron, that kind of thing.
   We chatted generally but kept reverting to the subject of Caroline and the awful way she died. I hope I looked suitably upset.
   When it was time for the séance, Morganna turned the lights down and we held hands. I felt silly to be honest.
   Then suddenly Morganna went into a trance. There was a voice from the ether. It really was very well done.
   “Is that Simon?”
   “Yes.”
   “Do you remember that day trip we had to Paris? You were so taken with the place, you remember. There were no laws against dogs fouling up the streets and you trod in something a little Shih tzu had left on the pavement. Do you remember?”
   I was nodding like an idiot.
   “It is lovely here, Simon. The dogs are very well behaved. So are the owners. It's sunny and bright and full of flowers and trees and the only thing I miss is you. You must feel that.”
   Then the voice changed. It became menacing and harsh.
   “Simon Trent. My friend Google says you were never married. There never was a Caroline just a mean little trick.”
   Morganna opened her eyes. They were blazing with anger.
   “The door is over there,” she said.
   I took the hint. 

 

by Derek McMillan

First published in "Page and Spine".

https://pagespineficshowcase.com/derek-mcmillan.html