fifty. She exuded the scent of Magie Noire mingled with cigarettes.
‘Hi, Mags,’ said Val. ‘This is Hoebe,’ she added through gritted teeth as she bit the end of the cotton. ‘Phoebe’s just opened a vintage dress shop over in Blackheath – haven’t you, Phoebe. By the way,’ she added to me, ‘I hope you put salt on the doorstep like I told you to. It helps protect against misfortune.’
I’d had so much misfortune it would have made no difference, I reflected. ‘I can’t say I did do that, no.’
Val shrugged as she put a rubber thimble on her middle finger. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ She began to re-stitch the button. ‘So how’s it going then, Mags?’
Mags sank into a chair, evidently exhausted. ‘I’ve just had the most difficult client. For ages he refused to get started – he just wanted to talk; then he took forever about it, and afterwards he was tricky about payingbecause he wanted to pay by cheque and I said it’s cash or nothing, as I had made quite clear beforehand.’ She rearranged her breasts in an indignant manner. ‘When I said I’d call the Bill he produced the notes sharp enough. I couldn’t half do with a cup of something though, Val – I’m all in and it’s only half eleven.’
‘Put the kettle on then,’ said Val.
Mags disappeared into the kitchen, her nicotine rasp carrying down the passageway. ‘Then I had this other customer – he had this weird obsession with his mother – he’d even brought one of her dresses with him. Very demanding, he was. I did what I could for him, but he then had the cheek to say that he was “dissatisfied” with my “services”. Imagine!’
The probable nature of Maggie’s business was by now clear.
‘You poor sweetheart,’ said Val warmly as Mags reappeared with a packet of digestives. ‘Those punters of yours don’t half take it out of you.’
Mags gave a long-suffering sigh. ‘You can say that again.’ She took out a biscuit, and bit on it. ‘Then to cap it all, I had that woman at number 29 – Sheila Whatsit.’ My eyes started from my head. ‘She was a right nuisance. Wanted to get in touch with her ex-husband. He’d dropped dead on the golf course last month. She said she felt so bad about how she’d treated him when they were married that she couldn’t sleep. So I get through to him, right …’ Mags sank into the chair. ‘And I begin passing on his messages to her, but within two minutes she’s furious with him about something and starts screaming and shrieking at him like a bagful of cats –’
‘I think I heard her through the wall,’ Val said evenly as she pulled the thread taut. ‘Sounded like quite a carryon.’
‘You’re telling me,’ agreed Mags as she flicked crumbs off her lap. ‘So I said, “Look, sweetheart, you really shouldn’t talk to dead people like that. It’s dis respectful.”’
‘So … you’re a medium?’ I said shyly.
‘A medium?’ Maggie looked at me so seriously that I thought I’d offended her. ‘No – I’m not a medium,’ she said. ‘I’m a large! ’ At that she and Val hooted with laughter. ‘Sorry,’ Maggie snorted. ‘I can never resist that one.’ She wiped away a tear with a scarlet talon. ‘But to answer your question…’ She patted her banana yellow hair. ‘I am a medium – or clairvoyant – yes .’
My pulse was racing. ‘I’ve never met a medium before.’
‘Never?’
‘No. But…’
‘ There you are, Phoebe – all done!’ Val snipped the end of the thread, deftly wound it round the shank five or six times, and quickly folded the coat back into the bag. ‘So when do you want to bring the other things over?’
‘Well – probably a week today as I have help in the shop on Mondays and Tuesdays. Will you be here if I come at the same time?’
‘I’m always here,’ Val replied wearily. ‘No rest for the wicked.’
I looked at Maggie. ‘So … I’m … just wondering …’ I felt a sudden rush of
‘Hi, Mags,’ said Val. ‘This is Hoebe,’ she added through gritted teeth as she bit the end of the cotton. ‘Phoebe’s just opened a vintage dress shop over in Blackheath – haven’t you, Phoebe. By the way,’ she added to me, ‘I hope you put salt on the doorstep like I told you to. It helps protect against misfortune.’
I’d had so much misfortune it would have made no difference, I reflected. ‘I can’t say I did do that, no.’
Val shrugged as she put a rubber thimble on her middle finger. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ She began to re-stitch the button. ‘So how’s it going then, Mags?’
Mags sank into a chair, evidently exhausted. ‘I’ve just had the most difficult client. For ages he refused to get started – he just wanted to talk; then he took forever about it, and afterwards he was tricky about payingbecause he wanted to pay by cheque and I said it’s cash or nothing, as I had made quite clear beforehand.’ She rearranged her breasts in an indignant manner. ‘When I said I’d call the Bill he produced the notes sharp enough. I couldn’t half do with a cup of something though, Val – I’m all in and it’s only half eleven.’
‘Put the kettle on then,’ said Val.
Mags disappeared into the kitchen, her nicotine rasp carrying down the passageway. ‘Then I had this other customer – he had this weird obsession with his mother – he’d even brought one of her dresses with him. Very demanding, he was. I did what I could for him, but he then had the cheek to say that he was “dissatisfied” with my “services”. Imagine!’
The probable nature of Maggie’s business was by now clear.
‘You poor sweetheart,’ said Val warmly as Mags reappeared with a packet of digestives. ‘Those punters of yours don’t half take it out of you.’
Mags gave a long-suffering sigh. ‘You can say that again.’ She took out a biscuit, and bit on it. ‘Then to cap it all, I had that woman at number 29 – Sheila Whatsit.’ My eyes started from my head. ‘She was a right nuisance. Wanted to get in touch with her ex-husband. He’d dropped dead on the golf course last month. She said she felt so bad about how she’d treated him when they were married that she couldn’t sleep. So I get through to him, right …’ Mags sank into the chair. ‘And I begin passing on his messages to her, but within two minutes she’s furious with him about something and starts screaming and shrieking at him like a bagful of cats –’
‘I think I heard her through the wall,’ Val said evenly as she pulled the thread taut. ‘Sounded like quite a carryon.’
‘You’re telling me,’ agreed Mags as she flicked crumbs off her lap. ‘So I said, “Look, sweetheart, you really shouldn’t talk to dead people like that. It’s dis respectful.”’
‘So … you’re a medium?’ I said shyly.
‘A medium?’ Maggie looked at me so seriously that I thought I’d offended her. ‘No – I’m not a medium,’ she said. ‘I’m a large! ’ At that she and Val hooted with laughter. ‘Sorry,’ Maggie snorted. ‘I can never resist that one.’ She wiped away a tear with a scarlet talon. ‘But to answer your question…’ She patted her banana yellow hair. ‘I am a medium – or clairvoyant – yes .’
My pulse was racing. ‘I’ve never met a medium before.’
‘Never?’
‘No. But…’
‘ There you are, Phoebe – all done!’ Val snipped the end of the thread, deftly wound it round the shank five or six times, and quickly folded the coat back into the bag. ‘So when do you want to bring the other things over?’
‘Well – probably a week today as I have help in the shop on Mondays and Tuesdays. Will you be here if I come at the same time?’
‘I’m always here,’ Val replied wearily. ‘No rest for the wicked.’
I looked at Maggie. ‘So … I’m … just wondering …’ I felt a sudden rush of
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