Eight months later
‘So, who’s going to be brave and go first?’ Bo said as she queued with Angel and Ran outside the faded tent tucked away in a corner of Falford showground on a sweltering August Bank Holiday.
The tent must have been brightly striped once, but it was long past its heyday, with tattered pennants fluttering in the breeze blowing off the water. The Falford Festival was being held on the waterside recreation field outside the village. The sea shimmered in the afternoon heat as scores of boats ploughed up and down the estuary. Bo loved the sunshine and heat. It was such a shame that summer was coming to an end.
This year, she wasn’t in any hurry for autumn – and especially Christmas – to come round again. In fact, after the last one, she’d be happy if the festive season was cancelled for the foreseeable.
‘Brave?’ Angel’s brow furrowed. ‘I don’t think there’s any reason to be brave. I’m quite excited! I’ve always wanted to have my fortune told.’
‘I haven’t,’ Ran said with shake of his head. ‘I can’t understand all this eagerness to part with your hard-earned cash on a load of hokum. If I got a crystal ball and a tatty tent, I could do the job myself – and cheaper than Madame Odette too. Ten pounds to have someone tell you you’re doomed? No thanks.’ Despite his stern expression, there was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, a hint that he was joking. Or not, Bo thought. You could never tell with Ran. Although she saw him every week at Flingers, he was still a closed book in many ways.
‘Madame Odette would never tell anyone they were “doomed”.’ Angel sounded horrified. ‘Real fortune tellers don’t give people horrible news like that these days.’
‘I’m sure Angel’s right,’ Bo soothed, sensing an air of tension brewing. ‘Madame Odette’s not going to say anything awful and, after all, we’re only here for a bit of fun. Besides,’ she slid a glance at Ran, ‘you won’t have to find out because you’re not going to have your fortune read, are you?’
His eyes met hers, inscrutable as ever. ‘No, I’m not.’
‘I wish you’d change your mind,’ Angel said eagerly to him. ‘You might be surprised what you learn. The fete organiser says Madame Odette is very good and she really does have “the gift”.’
‘Thank you, Angel,’ Ran said, ‘I respect the fact you think there’s something in all of this psychic stuff, but I’m afraid I think it’s a bit of a scam.’
‘They can be scarily accurate, though,’ Angel said. ‘I remember when I saw one a few days before I found out I was pregnant with Adam … I’d no idea. Me and Tommy weren’t even trying but she told me I was expecting “a little surprise”. The next morning, I threw up over Tommy’s fried breakfast, did a test and, lo and behold, it was positive.’
‘But a “little surprise” could have meant all kinds of things,’ Bo said, not wanting to say outright that she thought it was a complete coincidence. ‘Were you and Tommy trying for a baby?’
‘Not really … but I suppose we weren’t trying very hard not to have one.’ Angel giggled and Bo laughed out loud.
‘Maybe there is something in it …’ Bo said, not wanting to burst her friend’s bubble. Angel had talked of little else when they’d last met for a dance session in the Falford village hall. Ran stayed silent, perhaps not wanting to upset Angel, Bo thought.
Angel was rocking a pair of pink capri pants teamed with a fitted white blouse knotted at the waist. She fanned herself with a programme and Bo was also feeling the heat despite her light cotton tea dress. She’d always thought a dress was much cooler than shorts – though Ran’s toned calves certainly looked good in his.
They all stopped to watch a red-faced man emerge from the tent, mopping his brow.
‘Wow. He looks shellshocked,’ Bo said.
‘No wonder. It’s probably forty degrees inside that tent,’ Ran replied. ‘And I saw that guy earlier at the bar.’
‘Actually, I know him,’ Angel murmured as the man weaved his way through the crowd towards the beer marquee. ‘He’s one of our customers at work. He’s a pig farmer … I never thought he’d be the type to visit a fortune teller.’
‘Maybe it was a dare?’ Bo remarked as a group of men with pints slapped their friend on the back.
‘Nextttt!’
Everyone jumped and turned to see the flap of the tent lifted. They could see nothing but a hand, beckoning them inside, and a voice intoned from its depths, ‘Madame Odette will see you now.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Ran muttered.
Angel let out a squeak. ‘Eek!’
‘It’s your turn,’ Bo said, trying not to giggle. ‘Go on!’
Angel hesitated. ‘I’m not so sure now …’
‘You’ll be fine,’ Ran said. ‘Ask Madame Odette if she bought her crystal ball from eBay or Argos. That’ll break the ice.’
‘You’re very wicked, Ran,’ Angel shot back, laughing. ‘OK. I’m going in. Wish me luck!’
A few seconds later, she’d vanished inside.
‘I hope she’ll be OK,’ Ran said. ‘She seems to have high expectations.’
‘I’m sure she will, it’s only a bit of fun, but she’s right, you are very wicked, Ran. You may think it’s all a load of rubbish but Angel loves horoscopes and all that tarot stuff.’
‘I don’t mean to be wicked; I’d prefer to call it healthy scepticism.’ He turned his gaze on Bo and, not for the first time, she had cause to marvel at the deep cornflower blue of his eyes. ‘Come on, you can’t possibly believe in all that stuff?’ he said.
‘Like you, I’m a sceptic and, personally, I think these fortune tellers are simply good readers of people. They tell someone what they want to hear or are so vague that you can make almost anything that happens in life fit their predictions.’
‘True.’
‘I’ve heard friends talk about visiting them and it’s obvious to me that what they’ve been told has been a catalyst for them. It’s nudged them into doing what they’d considered doing anyway. Then again, I have a friend – who I trust – who claims she’s received some uncannily accurate and very specific predictions. So …’ Bo shrugged. ‘I’ll keep an open mind.’
‘I wish I had your tolerance but I think they can be dangerous. At worst, they can frighten gullible people and, at best, they’re taking money for basically making stuff up and offering advice that has no basis in fact or evidence.’ He smiled. ‘Or maybe that’s the analyst in me talking.’ His phone buzzed. ‘Excuse me.’
Stepping a few yards away, he took a call on his mobile while Bo watched the comings and goings of people around her. Even so, her thoughts wandered back to Ran. It was one of the rare times she’d heard him refer to his life before he came to Falford, and possibly the only time he’d ever been specific about his job.
Although he’d become more relaxed over the past few months, he still revealed very little about his past. Rumour had it he’d worked ‘in the City’ but all attempts to find out the details had been deflected. Bo had never pressed him. Many people came to Cornwall to get away from the ‘rat race’ of expectations and the daily grind … or to escape.
Hamish sprung to her mind then, once again intruding into her thoughts, reminding her of the disappointment and misery of the previous Christmas. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since he’d walked out of the cottage, although she knew he’d resigned from the veterinary practice and had his stuff sent back to Scotland by a removal company. Angel had found that out from one of the vet nurses when they came into the Country Stores to order some supplies for the practice. He was probably married to the mysterious Leonie, having wed at some castle with everyone in kilts and sporrans while a piper skirled.
She’d tried to deny how much it had hurt at first. Happy-go-lucky, sensible Bo – the cheerful face of the Boatyard Café – could not afford to get down and give in to her unhappiness. She literally couldn’t afford to let it show. Café customers came to her business not only for the fresh, delicious food and great coffee, but she knew they used it as a sanctuary, too.
For her customers, Bo’s Boatyard Café was the place to go to sit in the sunshine, even when it was raining. To warm up when the coldest wind was blowing off the sea. To be cheered up when the darkest storm had descended on your life. With a cuppa, a friendly smile and a kind word, Bo had the ability to bring a tiny shaft of light into your day or make the dazzling scene in front of you shine even brighter.
That was the theory anyway. The reality was, of course, that Bo had her own storms, moments when she longed to have someone to turn to cheer her up, to comfort her … She’d simply become good at hiding her feelings over the years of presenting a professional face to the public. Perhaps too good at it.
She risked a glance at Ran, who was finishing his call, bidding a farewell to someone whose name Bo recognised from the dive school. He was good at hiding his real feelings too, although she suspected his were hidden under a veneer of cynicism – and yet, who knew for sure? Her judgement of people hadn’t been the greatest of late.
He greeted her with an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry. That was work. We have a party who want to go out to the Runnel Stone wreck the week after next and Luke wants to know if I can take them.’
Bo wrinkled her nose at the thought of plunging into the deep over the notorious reef. ‘Rather them than me.’
‘It’s a great dive spot. There’s so much sea life, anemones and wrasses before you even get down to the wreck itself. As long as you go at slack water with experienced divers and minimise the risks, it’s fine. Though you do have to watch for the currents …’
She put her hands over her ears. ‘Enough! I’m terrified even hearing about it.’
‘I can’t imagine you’d be scared of anything,’ Ran replied.
Bo was taken aback. ‘Oh, I can be scared. Sometimes. Not often, but jumping into the sea in one of the most dangerous coasts in Cornwall … That would do it,’ she said, then added, ‘I’m not scared of what a fortune teller might have to tell me, though.’
‘Touché. I suppose if you put it like that, I should have nothing to fear either. I can’t imagine she could possibly say anything that would surprise me.’
‘Why don’t you give Madame Odette a try then?’ she asked, enjoying teasing him. ‘If you’re so sure. Then you can tell us how unsurprised you were and how rubbish she was.’
‘Now that sounds like a challenge … or a dare?’
‘I suppose it is.’
‘Hmm.’ He eyed her carefully. ‘It looks like I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t. Either I’m a wuss, or I’ve fallen into your trap and been goaded into seeing her.’
‘It wasn’t meant as a trap,’ she replied hastily.
‘I know.’ He smiled. ‘And don’t worry – I’d never do anything I really didn’t want to. In that case, I will visit the Amazing Madame Odette. If only to satisfy myself of what a load of rubbish it all is and,’ he softened, ‘because it’s for a good cause.’
‘And do you promise to tell me what she said?’
‘Yeah …’ He held Bo’s gaze. ‘If you promise to do the same.’
‘I won’t back down from a challenge like that,’ she said, thinking – not for the first time since she’d known him – how attractive he was. It would have been so easy to let herself fancy him quite a lot actually, if she hadn’t been off men and he hadn’t been exactly the sort of man she wanted to steer well clear of: closed-off and quite probably laden with emotional baggage.
‘Do we have a deal?’ he said.
‘We do.’
They chatted about the Falford Flingers for a while, and the upcoming autumn schedule that Angel, as club secretary, had helped to draw up. In addition to their weekly meeting, they had some public demonstration events planned and a surprise organised for a member’s birthday party at the Yacht Club. There was a Hallowe’en social, a Bonfire party with a dance afterwards, and then of course Christmas.
The Flingers were already booked in for two main festive performances. The two main events were a display at Trewhella House, and the Vintage Christmas Spectacular in Falford village hall in December.
Trewhella was a stately home with grounds nestled in a sheltered offshoot of the estuary which would be illuminated for Christmas. Bo had been before and been entranced by the experience. It was magical to wander around with individual trees, statues and arbours lit by coloured lighting. The Flingers would be dancing in the ballroom of Trewhella House which was going to be set up for a Christmas as it would have been in the late fifties.
Normally she couldn’t wait for the festive events, but her memories of the previous year were tainting all that was to come this Christmas. After Hamish had left, she’d spent a long and lonely night on her own before dragging herself to her parents’ and having to explain to the family why she was alone.
However much she’d tried to put on a brave face, the rest of the holidays had been pretty miserable. One thing she had resolved was that love – and romance of any kind – would be off the agenda for the foreseeable future.
Hamish’s reaction to her declaration had hit her hard. It had shaken her confidence and made her dread another Christmas that would inevitably drag up unpleasant, hurtful memories. Even now she looked back she couldn’t wish the words ‘I love you’ unsaid because, sooner or later, she would have let her true feelings slip and he’d have revealed his. She only wished she hadn’t said them on Christmas Eve and soured her favourite time of year.
‘Christmas seems a very long way off …’ Ran said, as the sun beat down on them. ‘I must admit I can’t imagine bopping to festive tunes yet, even if we need to plan the music.’
‘I know exactly how you feel,’ said Bo, wishing she didn’t have to hear Elvis’s bloody ‘Blue Christmas’ ever again.
‘It’ll come round soon enough,’ Ran said. ‘Don’t forget we have our first planning meeting for the Christmas performances next Friday.’
As if to reinforce the fact autumn was on its way, a yellowed leaf floated past them and landed on the toes of Bo’s sneakers.
‘I can see that taking quite a while,’ she said, knowing it would be impossible to avoid the festive plans. She’d just have to try extra hard to pretend she was enthusiastic. Christmas music or not, she didn’t want her heartache to taint her love of music and dancing. It wasn’t Elvis’s fault that Hamish had turned out to be a total git.
‘Yes. I think there’ll be a lot of debate over which tunes to play and which dances to do.’ She turned. ‘Oh look! Angel’s on her way out.’
Angel emerged from the tent and joined them, though if Bo had been expecting any clues from her face, she was disappointed. Unusually for Angel, her expression gave nothing away.
Bo pounced immediately. ‘What did she say, then? We’re dying to know.’
‘Oh … a few things. I didn’t understand most of them.’
Was Bo imagining it, or did Angel sound slightly disappointed?
‘It was general stuff, a bit like a horoscope, telling me I have a hectic lifestyle and change is on its way that I might not appreciate at first but will benefit me in the long run. That always makes me worry, because I think something awful is about to happen first.’
‘That’s so vague, it could mean anything … and Angel, you don’t really think Madame Odette can see into the future, do you?’ Bo offered, trying to reassure her friend.
‘No. I suppose not.’ She glanced at Ran, who’d remained diplomatically silent.
‘None of us has ever heard of her, despite the fete organiser saying she’s gifted,’ Bo added.
‘She might just be a local amateur. Did you think you recognised her?’ Ran asked.
‘No. I really tried but she had a big scarf over her hair and these funny blue-tinted glasses. She had a weird voice too.’
‘Weird how?’ Ran asked.
‘Dramatic, deep. Not local, I don’t think … but I s’pose she could be disguising it of course.’
The tent flap opened and the voice beckoned them inside again. ‘Nextttt!’
Ran raised his eyebrows. ‘Uh-huh, looks like it’s my turn.’ His eyes widened in mock horror. ‘Woo! Spooky.’
Angel glared at him in amazement. ‘You said you weren’t going to do it!’
He grinned. ‘I changed my mind. I want to see what all the fuss is about, and now I’m intrigued to see if I can work out her identity.’
‘I doubt you will,’ Angel said firmly. ‘I’ve lived here all my life and I’m pretty certain she’s not from Falford.’
He nodded. ‘I’d still like to try, and it’ll be a laugh. Wish me luck.’ He held up crossed fingers. ‘If I don’t come out in half an hour, look after Thor for me, will you?’
Bo rolled her eyes and Angel giggled. Thor was well able to take care of himself, judging by the constant tally of wildlife Ran claimed he brought into the cottage.
‘Tommy’s allergic to cats,’ Angel said.
‘I’ll have him, then,’ Bo said. ‘But I don’t think I’ll need to.’
With a ‘brave’ smile, Ran ducked inside the tent.
‘This is going to be interesting,’ Bo said. ‘I’d love to be a fly on the wall in there.’
‘Me too. I wonder what she’ll tell him?’ Angel replied.
‘I’m more intrigued by what he’ll have to say to her.’
‘Oh yes …’ Angel glanced at the tent again nervously and lowered her voice. ‘Now Ran’s not here, I’ll tell you more about Madame Odette’s predictions.’