I ignore his compliment. ‘How are you?’
He raises his hand. ‘Married. She didn’t want a big fancy wedding, so we booked a registry office and became Mr and Mrs Clark. We’ve just returned from our honeymoon.’
My stomach plummets towards the floor. He married his ex-girlfriend. I force out a fake smile. ‘Well, congrats.’
‘You know I still feel guilty about how we ended.’
I can’t listen to this. ‘Let me know if you need any help, Sam,’ I say frostily. ‘The romance section is over there.’ I fake a quick check under the counter, so he won’t see my watery eyes.
Marcus’s girlfriend’s comment from earlier today echoes in my mind as I wipe a tear from my cheek. I know more about curses than she and Marcus will ever know.
In my pocket, my phone buzzes. I have an appointment with Psychic Medium Cynthia tomorrow.
3
‘Can you help me contact my late parents, as I want to ask them what they know about my curse,’ I say, and instantly regret it.
I’m sure Psychic Medium Cynthia was not expecting to hear that today. She’s been staring at me for a while; I can’t recall the last time she blinked. My question is unusual and must represent a dramatic shift from her usual requests, such as finding out how loved ones in the afterlife are doing or when that life-changing lottery win will happen.
She even looks the part with her silk headscarf, constellations of tiny silver stars on each cheek, large gold hoop earrings, and long silver nails. Her garage has been transformed into a magical gateway to the other side, with candles, crystals, posters of enchanted forests, sticks of burning incense, and a round table creaking with tarot cards and glittery clutter.
A trickle of saliva runs down the side of her mouth. I don’t know whether to worry or offer her a tissue.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask, waving my hand in front of her eyes.
Her face flickers back to life. She smiles and dabs at her mouth with a tissue. ‘Can you repeat your question?’
‘I need you to get in contact with my mum and dad. They died when I was nine years old. I am cursed, and I want to ask them some questions.’ With a trembling hand, I take out a little notebook, flick to the first page and start to read. ‘Question One. Did they know I was cursed? Question Two. Do they know of any family relation who?—’
She waves her hand, and I stop. Her beady dark eyes are narrowing. ‘A curse? Can you give me more details?’
‘It’s romantic and tragic…’ Words hover on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t quite release them. She leans in closer, and I wonder why I’m sitting in a stranger’s garage, filled with cheap stars and overpowering incense, about to reveal my deepest secret.
‘This sounds interesting. Tell me about this romantic curse.’ She reaches for a glittery lip balm beside her and smears it onto her plump lips.
Last night, I lay awake for hours in bed, imagining how Cynthia would react when I told her about my curse. My brain always starts with the worst-case scenario, so I visualised her giving me a terrified look while I talked about it. This would undoubtedly be followed by her calling the police, and me spending the rest of my life imprisoned in a science lab with wires connected to my head and being studied by scientists. Once my heart had stopped trying to burst out of my chest and I had calmed my breathing, I thought about a different scenario in which Cynthia helped me by casting an ancient spell. The lights overhead would flicker, and we would hear a thunderclap in the sky. The spell would succeed and free me from my suffering. I fell asleep imagining my new life.
I take a deep breath before crossing my fingers in my lap. ‘When I touch people, I see a vision inside my head.’
Cynthia frowns. ‘A vision?’
I nod. ‘It shows how their love story will end.’
‘What do you mean? Can you see if they are going to get dumped?’
‘Yes,’ I sigh. ‘I see the ghosting, the awkward let-downs in coffee shops and the accidents – which always happen to the nice ones on their way to work.’
She fiddles with one of her hoop earrings. ‘Do they come true? Your visions?’
‘Always for the things I see about others. However, with my own life, I have the option to change my fate. If I decide not to pursue love with a person who, in the future, will hurt me, the vision doesn’t come true.’
‘But if you choose to ignore what your curse is showing you?—’
Raising my hand, I interrupt her. ‘It comes true.’
‘What about if the person isn’t in love with anyone?’ Cynthia is stroking her chin. I can see she’s giving my curse some serious thought.
‘I see how they spend their time alone.’ I think about the older man in the football shirt, who had sat next to me on the bus. He’d been wearing shorts, and his bare knee had touched my hand when the bus came to a juddering halt. His vision showed him sitting alone in a tiny studio flat, watching the world go by outside his window. His face was etched with sadness as he watched the loved-up couples walk hand in hand past his house. On his lap was a framed football-themed wedding photo, and on the coffee table in front of him was a book titledHow to Mend a Broken Heart Post Divorce.
