Killian scrambled down, a faint covering of sweat across his skin. He had a line of dirt across his face and his hair was sweaty. Since qualifying as a lawyer, I’d dated suits. Always businessmen, or business owners or other lawyers; men who paid someone else to get their hands dirty. Marie had suggested to me at one point that I go out with someone who was a bit more physical, who’s muscles came from something other than a personal trainer and the free weights in the gym, but I’d avoided them like the plague. I wondered if the reason why was currently lifting a metal table like it weighed as much as cotton wool.
“I’ll come by before we go and jet wash your patio,” Killian said, the table now in a different position. “Leave that for me to do: I don’t want you slipping on something and ending up with a broken femur or something.”
Edward shook his head. “I can manage to jet wash my own patio. Now scoot, the pair of you. You’ve better things to be doing that fussing after an old man.”
Killian shot him a grin. “Damn right. I’m taking Claire to Boscastle. Too nice to not be next to the sea.”
There was a brief nod, followed by a whack to the head from Edward’s rolled up newspaper. Killian barely flinched, just blinked his eyes at the old man and nodded. “I’ll get out of your way then.” He headed over to me and wrapped an arm around my waist, paying no heed to the fact that he was both sweaty and dirty. “Need anything from Boscastle?”
Edward shook his head. “I have everything here. Now sod off and let me get some peace and quiet.”
Boscastle was filled with holiday makers enjoying the best of British summer weather. The skies weren’t quite as brilliant blue as the day before and there was more of a breeze, but it was still warm and pleasant. I’d worn another pair of shorts and vest with tiny straps, hoping to get some more colour to my skin so I didn’t look as pasty pale. We strode around the streets and into shops, more mythical based ones to follow the witchery shops there had been in Tintagel and gift stores.
A woman around the same age as Ava, my youngest sister, stood near the counter of a shop that sold everything from stuffed teddy bears to tarot cards. She wore jeans and an off-the-shoulder t-shirt, exposing an intricate pattern of flowers and butterflies tattooed on her skin. “You’re here to have your cards read?”
I stared at her wide eyed. I hadn’t even thought about someone reading my tarot cards and I wasn’t sure about someone predicting my future, or if I really believed they could.
She laughed and tossed her blonde hair back, again, so much like Ava. “It’s nothing to be scared of. They’re meant to give you advice and highlight the possible paths you can take rather than telling you what will happen in your future. Only you get to decide that.”
“How much?” I asked, aware of scams and con-merchants.
She laughed again. “Let me ready your cards and you can decide what it’s worth. It’s not my job and any donations go to the lifeboat fund.”
I glanced behind me at Killian who was stood watching me in amusement. I sent him a quizzical look, trying to ask what he thought, but he only shrugged and then nodded.
“If I’m not here when you’re done I’ll be at the coffee shop we passed before,” he said.
“You’re not having yours read?”
“I don’t need them read, Claire.”
I shook my head at him, trying to disguise the nerves I suddenly felt at his refusal to join in the fun. He laughed at my obvious discomfort.
“See you in an hour or so,” he said and headed out of the shop, leaving me with the blonde tarot reader who also looked way too amused.
She led me into the back of the shop and to a small room that was more like a masseur’s than how I imagined a fortune teller’s place to look like. Everything was white, with just a few prints hung on the walls and a dreamcatcher at the window. A pile of cards was on the white desk, wrapped in what looked like a silk scarf.
“Don’t be so nervous,” she said. “Consider it a bit of fun that you might form a different opinion from. Or some light might be shed.” She handed me the cards. “Give them as good a shuffle as you can.”
I started to, slowly. They were bigger than the playing cards my brothers used for poker. “How did you start reading these?”
She shrugged. “My gran taught me. I work for an estate agent during the week and help out in the shop on my days off. Apparently, I have ‘the gift’.” She rolled her eyes. “But I don’t make a living through it. There are plenty of people around here that do though.”
I offered her the cards back but she shook her head. “Spread them out face down in front of you and chose me twenty-one. When you’re picking the first seven, think about your past; the second seven your present and the last seven your future. It’s an unconventional spread but I like it.”
I started to choose, passing them to her as I picked each one. It was a harder task than I anticipated, even though I was selecting from cards that all looked the same from the back.
“That’s it. You’ve chosen them all,” she said, starting to arrange them. “I’m sorry,” she said when they were all face up, the intricate pictures like mini works of art. “You lost someone you loved when you were very young.” She mused through the pictures, her hands clenching and unclenching. “But you’ve been happy. You’ve chosen a lot of face cards, kings and queens, so you’ve had guidance.”
She carried on, mentioning education and brothers and sisters, referring to the cards with their names: the Sun and the Hermit. It was with the Hermit she stopped and looked at me, suddenly seeming a lot older.
“You stopped. I want to use the word retreated and I think it was because of this.”
She pointed to a card where a woman stood, her back to the viewer but clearly blindfolded. There were two paths, heading in two different directions through the forest in front. Clearly, she had a decision to make, but the blindfold made it different to see which was the right way.
“A choice. You had a difficult choice.”
“I did,” I said, giving nothing else away.
