Chapter Sixteen

 

Bertie lingered by the tent, studying his body with pride as he waited for the fortune teller to finish with her last caller and it seemed an age as he fidgeted from foot to foot until at last a thin old man came out and raised his hat to the lady.

“Thank you Ma’am. . I feel a lot better now,” the thin man said and the fat lady smiled at him as he left.

“Are you next Sir?” she enquired, looking from left to right outside the tent and Bertie grinned as he did a little dance just as Joe appeared from behind the Big Wheel.

“Yes . . yes, me next please,” he said and disappeared into the tent before Joe could stop him.

 

***

 

Bertie sat down opposite the lady and she dusted her nose with some talcum powder before she started to speak and some of the powder went up Bertie’s nose and made him sneeze.

“Manners,” she said, without looking up and Bertie smiled and said “Manners” after her. “Now then Sir . . Is there anything in particular you would like to ask me?” The fortune teller enquired as she nestled her double chin in the palm of her plump hands, with her elbows resting on the table, where she kept her crystal ball under a chamois leather cover. “I can only tell you about your future, but I cannot help you with your past, I’m afraid.”

“The past . . the past,” said Bertie, “Oh! No . . I don’t need to know about that. I know enough already thank you . . Madam,” he said quickly and pulled out his scarlet coloured handkerchief from his pocket to mop his brow

“Well now . . May I just ask you a few simple questions. First of all, what is your star sign?”

Bertie stared at the tent wall and wondered how to answer that question as he had never been asked anything like that before and he wasn’t really sure what to say, but as he looked about him, he saw some signs on the wall and picked one that he thought looked the nicest.

“The same as that,” he said and pointed to the sign of the scorpion, to which the fat lady fortune teller raised her eyes and assured him that there was wealth and health in abundance ahead for him in the sign of the scorpion, with a sure . . very definite indication of impending romance to which Bertie grinned his appreciation. . . and wished Joe had been with him to have heard that . . .

The lady then looked up and touched the side of Bertie’s face, tenderly with her fingers as she looked into his eyes. . . and although he thought it was very kind of her to do that, he would have preferred if she had done it when his face wasn’t there . . .

“What is your lucky colour, Sir? she asked and Bertie was again lost for an answer and wished that Joe had come in with him when he had first thought of this fortune telling business. It was harder work than he had anticipated and he didn’t expect to be asked all these funny questions as the lady continued to study his features He thought carefully for a moment, hoping that perhaps Joe might read his mind from where he was waiting outside the tent and advise him what colour to choose, but his mind remained blank, even after he had waited for a few moments with his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Blue,” he answered, glancing down at his socks for help, but one was pink and the other green, however the fortune teller nodded again as if that was just what she had expected him to say as she returned her gaze to her finger nails.

“That is a good colour, Sir. It shows a warmth of character . . perhaps a little extravagant, but then that also shows a free spirit and a generous heart. May I ask your age?” she asked and it was at this point that Bertie was lost for words. How could he tell her how old he was . . but then what was the use of telling her a lie if she was to tell his fortune truly. He swallowed hard and blushed as he whispered, “Twenty-nine” very quickly and the fat lady scowled, sniffed and twisted her nostrils as she pulled the cover swiftly from her crystal ball.

“Are you sure of that, Sir?” she asked as she sucked her lips and raised her head to have another look at her client. Assuredly, the tent was dark and the shadows seemed to lend character to the atmosphere, but even in the dark, the lady fortune teller was obviously confused. “I seem to see . . an older man in my crystal, Sir . .Perhaps someone in their early fifties . . Yes?”

Bertie coughed and looked towards the tent entrance. Maybe Joe was standing somewhere nearby, but he couldn’t call out to him and he simply nodded and swallowed again.

“Fifty something or other. Yes, that’s it . . You’ve made a good guess Madame. . You’re right . . fifty something,” he stammered and at that point Joe called out to him from where he was standing outside.

“Bertie . . Bertie . . Are you in there Bertie?” he shouted and the fortune teller nodded again, tightening her lips and narrowing her eyes.

“I can hear someone calling a name . . It could be yours, Sir . . Is your name,” She tightened her eyes as she went into a swoon of some kind. “Is your name Bertie?”

But before he could answer her, Bertie could hear Joe calling out again.

“Tell her the truth, Bertie . . Only the truth dear boy . . You’re seven hundred and forty three . . .”

Bertie stared at the fortune teller and she stared back at him as he wished with all his heart that he had never come to see her, but it was too late now. He thought she looked as though she was about to faint, but she already had information about him and was on the verge of telling his fortune when he suddenly thought of what he should do and in a second, the lady was sitting on her own . . . on the tent floor, with her legs outstretched in front of her and her Crystal ball lying on her chest . .Her client had disappeared from sight.

“Is that you Joe?” Bertie called out as he staggered from the tent and Joe recognised the Voice. . . but the body had gone. . . and after a few moments the fat lady fortune teller appeared at the tent door rubbing her eyes with the back of her chubby hands.

“Hi . . You there,” she called out as she staggered and dug her fingers into Joe’s side. “Have you seen an old chap around here? A funny old geezer, with long white hair, who wanted his fortune told but he hasn’t left me any money?”

Joe looked down at himself casually and realized that he wasn’t invisible but he couldn’t see Bertie anywhere.

“No . . I haven’t seen anybody of that description,” he said softly, but he could feel Bertie breathing on his neck as he spoke and an invisible hand gripped his arm.

“Well I’ll know him again if I see him . . Rotten old twister. Must think I’m an idiot, he must,” she snapped and pulled the tent flap aside to go in, shouting about another idiot who didn’t even know his own age . .

“Yes . . I’m sure you’re right, Madam,” answered Joe . . .He thinks most everyone is an idiot . . he said and he and Bertie went back to the pub laughing.