laptop and a portable color printer, an ensemble that must have cost the thick end of three grand. Instead of a bloody awful tape of rainforest noises backed by Pan pipes and whales singing, the background music sounded like one of those “not available in the shops” collections of Romantic Classics. The only concession to the mystic world of the zodiac was the dining table, surrounded on three sides by a bench seat. It was covered in a dark-blue chenille cloth and on it sat a massive crystal ball. If it had had a set of finger holes, we could have gone ten-pin bowling.
“Nice to see you all, ladies,” Dorothea Dawson said as we piled through the door. She was smaller than I expected from TV. But then, they all were. Her hair was pure silver, cut in a chin-length bob that hid the fact that her jaw was too heavy for her small features. Her skin was criss-crossed with the fine wrinkles of an apple that’s been left lying around too long. Either she was older than she sounded or she’d loved the sun too much when she was younger. “And you must be Kate Brannigan,” she said, acknowledging me with a nod, assessing me with eyes like amethyst chips.
“Saw me in your crystal ball, did you?” I asked more pleasantly than I wanted to. I’ve never liked charlatans.
“No, I saw you in the
Manchester Evening Chronicle
,” she said with wry amusement. I found myself liking her in spite of all my prejudices against people who prey on the gullible. “You want to talk to me about my last session with Gloria?”
“Good guess,” I said.
“And I want you to cast her horoscope,” Gloria butted in, as usual incapable of holding her tongue.
Dorothea cocked her head, a knowing smile on her lips. “Virgo, with … an air sign rising, at a guess. Probably Gemini, with such a smart mouth.”
I tried not to look as surprised as I felt. A one-in-twelve chance of getting my sun sign right multiplied up to a one-in-a-gross chance of hitting the sun sign and the ascendant. Not that I believed any of that rubbish; I only knew my rising sign because I’d spent half an hour the night before on the computer with some astrological chart-casting shareware I’d pulled down from the Internet. But however she’d reached her conclusion, Dorothea was right. “I couldn’t say,” I lied, determined to show her my skepticism. “Gloria can give you my details.”
“I have a very full diary today,” Dorothea said, sounding far more like a businesswoman than she had any right to. She looked businesslike too, in a high-necked Edwardian-style white blouse under a soft black wool crepe jacket. A silver and amethyst brooch the size of a credit card was pinned to the jacket, like an abstract representation of her hair and eyes. She flicked open a desk diary on the seat beside her while Gloria produced a piece of paper with a flourish. “That’s Kate’s time, date and place of birth.”
Dorothea put it on the seat beside her without a glance. “I couldn’t possibly take you through your chart and answer your questions, Kate.”
“It’s the answers to my questions I’m interested in.”
Dorothea raised one eyebrow. I used to do that, but I grew out of it. “Pity. You should always seize opportunity when it presents itself. Who knows when you’ll get a second chance to find out what really makes you tick?” She sounded amused.
“I’ll manage somehow,” I said.
“I’m sure you will, and that’s without reading your chart. Gloria, you’re my final appointment today. How would it be if I saw Kate then? Or are you in a hurry to get home?”
“That’s fine, Dor,” Gloria said. “We’ll get out your road now and let Rita get her money’s worth. See you at half past five.”
She shooed me out ahead of her into the car park. “We’d better get a move on,” she said. “I’m due in make-up and I’m not frocked up yet.”
“Gloria, is Dorothea normally fully booked?” I asked, trailing in her wake.
“Oh aye. If
“Nice to see you all, ladies,” Dorothea Dawson said as we piled through the door. She was smaller than I expected from TV. But then, they all were. Her hair was pure silver, cut in a chin-length bob that hid the fact that her jaw was too heavy for her small features. Her skin was criss-crossed with the fine wrinkles of an apple that’s been left lying around too long. Either she was older than she sounded or she’d loved the sun too much when she was younger. “And you must be Kate Brannigan,” she said, acknowledging me with a nod, assessing me with eyes like amethyst chips.
“Saw me in your crystal ball, did you?” I asked more pleasantly than I wanted to. I’ve never liked charlatans.
“No, I saw you in the
Manchester Evening Chronicle
,” she said with wry amusement. I found myself liking her in spite of all my prejudices against people who prey on the gullible. “You want to talk to me about my last session with Gloria?”
“Good guess,” I said.
“And I want you to cast her horoscope,” Gloria butted in, as usual incapable of holding her tongue.
Dorothea cocked her head, a knowing smile on her lips. “Virgo, with … an air sign rising, at a guess. Probably Gemini, with such a smart mouth.”
I tried not to look as surprised as I felt. A one-in-twelve chance of getting my sun sign right multiplied up to a one-in-a-gross chance of hitting the sun sign and the ascendant. Not that I believed any of that rubbish; I only knew my rising sign because I’d spent half an hour the night before on the computer with some astrological chart-casting shareware I’d pulled down from the Internet. But however she’d reached her conclusion, Dorothea was right. “I couldn’t say,” I lied, determined to show her my skepticism. “Gloria can give you my details.”
“I have a very full diary today,” Dorothea said, sounding far more like a businesswoman than she had any right to. She looked businesslike too, in a high-necked Edwardian-style white blouse under a soft black wool crepe jacket. A silver and amethyst brooch the size of a credit card was pinned to the jacket, like an abstract representation of her hair and eyes. She flicked open a desk diary on the seat beside her while Gloria produced a piece of paper with a flourish. “That’s Kate’s time, date and place of birth.”
Dorothea put it on the seat beside her without a glance. “I couldn’t possibly take you through your chart and answer your questions, Kate.”
“It’s the answers to my questions I’m interested in.”
Dorothea raised one eyebrow. I used to do that, but I grew out of it. “Pity. You should always seize opportunity when it presents itself. Who knows when you’ll get a second chance to find out what really makes you tick?” She sounded amused.
“I’ll manage somehow,” I said.
“I’m sure you will, and that’s without reading your chart. Gloria, you’re my final appointment today. How would it be if I saw Kate then? Or are you in a hurry to get home?”
“That’s fine, Dor,” Gloria said. “We’ll get out your road now and let Rita get her money’s worth. See you at half past five.”
She shooed me out ahead of her into the car park. “We’d better get a move on,” she said. “I’m due in make-up and I’m not frocked up yet.”
“Gloria, is Dorothea normally fully booked?” I asked, trailing in her wake.
“Oh aye. If
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