softly, ‘You really like this guy, huh?’
‘Yeah,’ I reply quietly. ‘I really like this guy.’
Satisfied, she gives a little nod of her head. ‘Let me get a pen.’
I spend the rest of the day in a pent-up state of nervous anticipation about what Wakanda is going to tell me. Normally I’d need an appointment, but apparently in emergencies she’ll squeeze people in, so the plan is to go there after work and beg her to give me an audience, or whatever it is psychics do. Robyn doesn’t have her phone number, just her address, which she gives me, along with a lecture about how I have to keep my mind open and not be alarmed when she starts channelling and speaking in ‘voices’.
‘Voices?’ I’d asked curiously. ‘What kind of voices?’
‘Just voices,’ Robyn had replied casually. ‘You know, different spirit guides.’
Actually, no, I don’t know, but I’m prepared to leave my disbelief and cynicism at the door and find out. At this point I’ll try anything, and if it means crossing some woman’s palm with silver, then sod it, I’ll do it.
‘So which way is it?’
Having left the subway, I’m lm wsubay is Km lstanding on the street corner. Despite detailed directions, including a printout from MapQuest, I’m utterly lost and on the phone to Robyn.
‘Just walk east,’ she’s trying to explain.
‘East? Which way’s east?’ I say in frustration. ‘And don’t say opposite to west.’
I twiddle my pop-up map around, and around again, then give up and start walking, my phone still wedged in the crook of my neck.
‘Did you figure it out?’ she asks after a moment.
‘Sort of,’ I fib, crossing my fingers and hoping for the best.
‘There’s a Laundromat at the end of the street, and then next door is this shoe shop with a funny sort of purple awning.’
‘Oh, I see it!’ Spotting the purple awning, I speed up.
‘Number forty-three,’ Robyn is saying in the background. ‘It’s got a silver sign.’
‘Yes, nearly there.’ Anticipation is buzzing. If you’d have told me a few months ago that I’d be going to see a psychic, I would never have believed it. But then there are a lot of things I would never have believed a few months ago, I tell myself, ignoring my ankle, which is still dodgy from my accident at the gym and is twinging in protest.
Slightly breathless from rushing, I finally reach a small shop with a glass window, across which are painted lots of stars and a sign: ‘Psychic Readings.’
I feel a beat of triumph. ‘Yup, found it!’ I’m actually quite excited.
‘Great!’ she enthuses.
‘Only it doesn’t look open,’ I say, trying the door and, finding it’s locked, feel a wave of disappointment.
‘Wakanda’s probably just giving a reading,’ she quickly reassures. ‘Ring the buzzer.’
‘OK.’ I go to ring the buzzer, then pause as I notice a piece of paper pinned in the window. ‘Wait a minute, there’s a sign.’
‘A sign?’ Robyn sounds surprised. ‘What does it say?’
I peer closer.
‘Well?’ persists Robyn.
‘“Closed due to unforeseen circumstances.”’
“Plantin Light”>There’s silence at the other end of the line.
‘Well, some bloody psychic she was!’ I tut loudly.
‘Are you sure you’re at the right place?’ Robyn sounds bewildered.
‘Positive. Number forty-three. Next to the shoe shop with the purple awning,’ I repeat her directions back to her.
‘I just can’t understand it,’ Robyn is murmuring to herself. ‘There must be some mistake.’
‘The only mistake is me coming here,’ I reply, feeling suddenly foolish. Turning on my heel, I start heading back down the street towards the subway. ‘You were right – it was a bad idea. I don’t know what I was thinking.’
‘You were thinking about Adam,’ replies Robyn helpfully.
At the mention of his name I feel a tug inside. ‘Well, I should probably give up thinking about him,’ I say resignedly. ‘He probably hates me anyway.’
‘Bullshit!’ protests Robyn.
I hold my phone away from my ear and look at it in astonishment. ‘Did you just say “bullshit”?’ I ask, putting it back to my ear. In this whole time I’ve never known Robyn to swear.
‘Well, yes, I did,’ she says, sounding embarrassed. ‘And it is. Because he doesn’t. And you mustn’t give up.’
I smile gratefully. ‘Thanks. I know you’re trying to be sweet and everything, but I think I’ve lost him,’ I say sadly.
‘OK, well, in that case what would you do if you lost something else?’ she replies, refusing to let my negativity dampen her unwavering positivity. ‘Say your keys, like I did the other day.’
‘Um . . .’ Thrown off on this tangent,