A cat, that’s who.
Biting wind hit us as soon as we stepped outside. Heathcliff held me under the protective warmth of his arm as we rushed to the end of the street, where Jo was waiting. She flung the passenger door open and I slid in beside her. The boys piled in back – Quoth in the middle, hunched over as he was hemmed in by broad shoulders on both sides.
“Thanks so much for inviting me out,” she grinned, blasting the heater as she pulled away from the curb. “I wasn’t sure you still liked me after the kitchen incident.”
I shuddered at the memory of it. “I don’t think I can ever use the coffee machine again.”
“Neither.” Jo laughed. “I bought a replacement one. And I promise, no more grinding up body parts. And no more bugs.”
“Can I get that in writing?” What is the world coming to, when I need that particular promise from my flatmate?
A few minutes later, we pulled up at the Argleton community hall. Sure enough, a pristine silver Mercedes was parked across three spaces at the hall entrance. No less than ten Flourish stickers were visible on its surface. My stomach churned at the sight of it.Please, don’t let Mum be in trouble. But I knew my mother too well to have any hope.
I can’t believe the same woman who inspired Helen of Troy could fall for such a ridiculous scam.
Clearly, Mum had converted some people to the wonders of transdermal technology. A small crowd milled around the entrance, many of them wearing silver patches on their arms. I walked inside to a soundtrack of pumping bass. An enormous disco ball in the middle of the room splashed colored light on all the walls, and strobes made my eyes strain and blink. In the center of the room, a life-sized silver statue stood on a dais, holding a giant replica of the patch. I guessed it was supposed to be aspirational and inspire us to hit our health and fitness goals, but the sculptor clearly wasn’t very skilled because it just looked like a mildly frumpy older woman with knobby knees.
We walked over to a table in the corner that was piled high with platters. On closer inspection, there didn’t appear to be any food apart from a box of ninety-nine pence crackers and some processed cheese slices. Instead, the entire table was given over to a range of smoothies and ‘nutrient shots’ artfully arranged in tiny shot glasses on a tiered stand. We each took one. I sniffed mine.
“A unique bouquet of citrus top notes with a robust body of Worcestershire sauce,” I announced, mocking Morrie’s wine tastings. No way in hell was I actually putting this thing in my mouth.
“Guacamole and dandelions over here.” Morrie tossed his glass straight into the bin.
“I’ve got peach and… maybe boot polish?” Quoth took a sip, his face wrinkling. “Yup, definitely boot polish.”
“You’re all a bunch of Nanas. They taste fine to me.” Heathcliff snatched Quoth’s shot from his hand and tipped it down his throat.
“That’s because we haven’t destroyed our tastebuds with five-quid-a-bottle whisky,” Morrie shot back. “You realize they’re not alcoholic?”
Heathcliff immediately set his glass down and reached into his coat for his flask. “Then what’s the point?”
As the boys bickered about the merits of various bottom shelf liquors, I glanced around the room, taking in everything I could see. All this must have cost a fortune … the DJ, the lights, the statue, the ten bottles of mid-range Champagne sitting on the table over there, not to mention that bloody car outside.How is Mum paying for all this? Surely it’s not from selling a couple dozen Flourish patches…
Where is Mum?I glanced around again, expecting to see her talking and laughing with her guests. When she put her mind to it, she really was quite charming and personable. That was why she made such a good tarot reader – she could sense what a person needed to hear at that exact moment and made sure the cards reflected it. If only she’d give up on these get-rich-quick schemes and actually get a real job, saved some money…
The statue in the center of the room wobbled.
Did I imagine that?
Of course I did. It’s the strobe lights playing tricks on my eyes…
No, there it is again. The statue definitely wobbled. And I’m sure it didn’t look like it was scratching its nose before…
Oh no.
Please NO.
That’s not a statue at all.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The statue listed heavily to the left. I rushed over and grabbed an arm, steadying it. Warm skin yielded beneath my fingers. Silver paint flaked on the ground and all down the front of my dress as Mum sagged against me.
“Hello, Mina,” she slurred. “I’m so glad you could make it. Did you bring your handsome boyfriend?”
“Morrie’s around here somewhere. Mum, what’s going on? Why are you covered in silver paint? And why do you sound drunk?”
“I’m not drunk! I only drink Flourish smoothies now… oh, except for my celebratory Champagne…” Mum gestured to the table in the corner, but her whole body lurched forward. She slithered to the ground, clutching my legs as if they were the only thing holding her upright. “I was trying to be innovative. Sandy, my mentor, says that you have to stand out from the crowd. She said you have to embody the Flourish brand. So I came up with this idea all on my own. Isn’t it genius?”
