‘I think that’ll be up to you. I think this person is a chance to make things better. But it’s also someone who is ruled by their heart rather than their head. And that’s something to be mindful of.’
Definitely Ash, she thinks.
‘Is that another warning?’ she asks.
Saskia smiles. ‘Advice, Lissa, not warnings.’ She looks down at the card again. ‘I think, with the Knight of Cups, there will be an invitation of some sort – not necessarily literal – but remember that it is always up to you whether to accept. Either way, this person has the capacity to change your life in one way or another.’
Nerves flutter again at that. So is it already too late? Is it pointless to try to stay away from him because she doesn’t feel ready? Because she’s trying to protect him from her baggage? Or is this encouragement – that it’s okay to go for it? That it’s okay to want the kind of love she thinks she had in each of her past lives.
‘The Star,’ Saskia points to a naked women pouring water into a pond, with a big star shining over her, ‘is a reminder to hold onto hope.’ She offers Lissa one of her kind smiles. ‘Your experiences have made you who you are, but I think you need to try to accept that you can’t change what’s happened. Take the time to heal, if you need it. But don’t be afraid to take a leap of faith when the time comes.’
A leap of faith – with Ash?
‘The final card …’ She points to the Fool. Lissa grimaces and Saskia laughs lightly. ‘It’s not an indication thatyouare a fool. This card – another of the Major Arcana – indicates new beginnings. It can often be a new job, or a new partner. But for you, I think it is even bigger. I’m getting the sense that it will all come together to offer you a chance to leave the past behind and embark on a new journey, one where you are free of the cycle you’re currently trapped in.’
It feels out of reach, the idea that she could leave the past behind, even figuratively. How can she do that with her mum constantly around to remind her? But maybe this is about the past lives. Maybe it’s about leavingthosebehind. Which is what she wants, isn’t it?
Saskia clasps her hands together in her lap and leans towards her. ‘I think this all means there are some big choices coming up, Lissa. The cards are here for guidance only, but if it feels right to you, if you identify with this cycle you’re stuck in, then I would say think about the choices you make. Because maybe it’s only by making a different choice to the one you’ve made in the past that you can get to where you need to be for your future.’
And that’s all very well, Lissa thinks, but how is she supposed to know what the right choice is if she doesn’t understand the wrong one?
Chapter Twenty
Lissa parks the car as close as she can to the address Ash gave her. It’s a house right at the southern edges of Bath, trees leafier and greener than they must have been just weeks ago lining each side of the street. She checks the address again on her phone. It’s near to where she dropped him after his car broke down.
She glances up and down the street and sees him leaning against a small stone wall, eyes on his phone screen. He’s wearing a black jacket, jeans. His dark hair is messed up in that way teenage boys in her secondary school used to try to emulate. And just seeing him, for the first time in weeks, causes an inadvisable prickle of anticipation across her forearms, down the back of her neck. So no. Maybe it wasn’t only the alcohol making her want him.
She gets out of the car. She has no idea what she’s doing here – he insisted on being cryptic throughout the message exchange, enough that it made her agree just to see what he was planning. That and the tarot reading. The Knight of Cups and a leap of faith. Does it matter, really, if tarot is ‘real’? If she identified with what was being said, then maybe it’s just a different kind of therapy.
She walks along the street to the cottage – grey stone like the wall, with a front garden that looks a little overgrown but still loved, daffodils coming to the end of their lives in one corner. Ash notices her before she reaches him, lifting his head like he can hear her footsteps. She worries for a moment that it will be awkward, given the last time they saw each other, and given the fact that she’s so clearly pulled back from him afterwards.
But his crooked mouth softens into a smile when he sees her. ‘Hey. Glad you came.’
She smiles back, because it’s impossible not to. ‘I said I would.’
Ash jerks his head towards the front door, bright red against the green of the garden. She frowns as she follows him. She’s gone through various theories in her mind – none of them involved a small cottage in a pretty suburban area. Her frown deepens when he fishes a key out of his jeans pocket, lets himself right on in. Does helivehere? Somehow she can’t imagine him somewhere like this. And if it really is his house, then why meet her outside?
‘Ash, what are we—’
He holds up a hand to silence her as he shuts the door behind them. ‘Dad?’ he calls, and Lissa’s stomach does an uncomfortable backflip. He brought her to meet hisfather? Without telling her? ‘We’re here!’
‘Ash.’ She hisses it this time, her voice full of warning. He only glances at her, the picture of innocence.
And she can’t say anything more, because there is a man now limping into view from the room on the right. He is older than she would have imagined Ash’s father to be, what little hair there is left turned stone grey on his head. He walks with a stick, his left leg seeming to drag behind him, and his skin is tinged with yellow. His eyes, though – she can see Ash in his eyes. A paler blue, but the same shape, somehow the same texture. And his smile, she thinks, as his eyes crease. He has that same easy smile.
Ash walks towards his dad, clapping him lightly – carefully, Lissa thinks – on the back. His dad is wearing slippers, and a checked shirt over fraying jeans. He is cleanshaven, though Lissa can see several nicks there. Despite the stick, he stands very straight.
‘Dad, this is Lissa,’ Ash says. ‘A friend of mine.’ He gestures to where she is standing in the doorway, unsure what to do with herself. ‘Lissa, this is Jack.’
‘Hi, Jack.’ Her voice comes out embarrassingly squeaky. But parents are not her thing. She can’t even manage a successful relationship with her own, let alone someone else’s. Should she shake his hand? Hug him? She settles for an incredibly awkward wave. And sees the way Ash’s lips twitch, finding heramusingof all things.
‘Well come in, come in,’ Jack says, his voice a pleasant rumble. ‘Can’t stay loitering around in the hallway, not with this bloody leg.’
They follow him into the living room, because obviously Lissa has no choice but to go along with it now that she’s here. It’s clean and tidy, with a neat stack of books on the coffee table – a combination of crime novels and non-fiction from what she can tell. There is a faintly musty smell, though, like a window hasn’t been opened in too long. Lissa takes a seat on a blue armchair, while Jack sits on the sofa, where the cushion is indented, like he always sits in the same spot. Over on the mantel above the fireplace, framed photographs smile out at them.
‘So, Dad,’ Ash says, perching on the arm of the sofa. ‘Did you go to the doctor’s today as planned?’
‘Can you believe this one?’ Jack asks Lissa, jerking his head in his son’s direction. ‘Always checking up on me.’
