I decide to carry on my evening as originally intended and start my preparations for dinner with Harry tomorrow night. First, though, I want to see if I can get hold of Isabelle. Her lack of communication is becoming more and more disconcerting. I hope she’s all right and I haven’t messed things up between her and Martin.
I retrieve my phone from my bag and call her number.
“I can’t talk,” she says, in a whisper.
“Is everything okay?”
“No,” she says. “I’ll call you later.” She disconnects. I stare at the phone. This is not good! I’m worried. She sounds really stressed.
I go to dial my mother, then recoil in horror.
It’s the first time I’ve done that in years. Four years on and it’s still possible to make that mistake. It shocks me. I realize I want to hear her voice even though part of me knows she wouldn’t necessarily say the words I needed to hear. I bury my head in my hands. I would really like today to go away.
I dial Anna Maria. I’ve behaved badly toward her, ignoring her calls since the reiki session, knowing she was looking for reassurance that Rita’s powers had helped. I can hardly criticize Isabelle for not calling me when I’ve left Anna Maria dangling. At least now I can tell her in all honesty I’m healed. She doesn’t need the precise details.
“How are you?” she says. “I’ve been so worried I haven’t heard back from you. You’re always so good at getting back.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “It’s been a difficult couple of weeks, but I have good news.”
“You do? Go on. Tell me. No wait!” she says. “I know what you’re going to say. I can feel it.” There’s a beat. I can almost hear the lightbulb flick on in her head. “You’re healed, aren’t you?”
Yes! Exactly to order. I’m thankful for her unerring confidence in the esoteric. “I am,” I say. “Rita must have worked her magic. She’s amazing.”
Anna Maria lets out a scream that pierces my eardrum. “DUDE!” she screams. “That Rita. She’s a master. I KNEW IT. I’m thrilled for you. I’m just so excited. You wait until I tell her. She’ll put you down as another of her success stories. You will write a testimonial for her, won’t you? Because, you know what?”
“What?”
“If you write your story, you will probably NEVER have to pay for another session again. Lifelong reiki. For free. Have you any idea how much that’s worth?”
“A lot of £40s,” I say.
“When can we get together?” she says. “We need to celebrate and see Rita. You should be the one to tell her the good news.”
“I’d rather just see you, if that’s okay. For now, anyway. I’m taking my recovery slowly.”
“And so you should. Holy moly!” she says. “Got to run. I’m late for my spiritual healing night. You should come sometime. They’d love you. Inshallah!”
“Physician, heal thyself,” I say.
“Oh, I do,” she says. “I’m working on myself all the time.”
I laugh as I disconnect. Anna Maria is so unremittingly upbeat I wonder whether there isn’t something to be said for what she does, a joy to be gained from an unerring faith in a belief system. She probably will live to be ninety-five.