‘Thanks, Ma.’
The text comes through and I call Queenie and make an appointment to see her in an hour and a half. Then I send BJ a text message.
Got 2 run an errand.
Will go directly 2 Silver
Lee after that. Call u
when I get there. xx
I switch off my mobile, input Queenie’s address into my GPS, and drive my car to her trailer park. I’m there in less than an hour. I get out of the car and begin to walk.
The body remembers what the mind will not. My legs move confidently forward. My muscles and sinew know exactly where she lives. They always knew that one day I would be returning again to see the woman who could look into the future. She opens the door in her flowery housecoat. She is so small and shrunken. She is nothing like I remember.
‘Poor child. So soon you have been asked for your sacrifice,’ she says sadly.
My chin begins to tremble.
She steps aside and I enter her trailer. She bids me to sit.
‘What do you want of me?’ she asks.
‘Read my cards.’
THIRTY-THREE
Layla
Frogs in my belly devour what is bad.
Frogs in my belly show the evil the way out!
- Old gypsy witches’ chant
By the time I arrive at Silver Lee, BJ’s car is already parked in the forecourt. He comes tearing out to meet me, his hair tousled as if he has been running his hands through it and his eyes stormy with worry.
‘Where have you been?’ he demands.
I should feel guilty but I don’t. The cold, hard part of me is still in charge. ‘I went to see a friend of my mother.’
He stares at me in disbelief. ‘What the fuck, Layla? I’ve been so worried. You switched off your phone. I didn’t know how to reach you.’
‘I’m sorry. I just needed a bit of time to think.’
‘We need to talk.’
I put my hand out, the palm facing him. ‘Not today.’
He opens his mouth to object and I say, ‘Please, BJ. Tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow.’
He looks at me warily. ‘We have to talk. It’s not going to go away, Layla.’
‘One more day is not going to a make a difference,’ I cry.
‘All right. All right. Tomorrow. But it cannot be any later than tomorrow.’
‘Thank you, BJ.’ I look down at myself. ‘I feel a bit grubby. I think I’ll just have a shower first.’
He looks at me intently, but I ignore the look, I walk up to him and standing on tip-toes kiss him gently on the mouth before I go into the house. He stands where I have left him, staring after me with confusion.
‘Hello, Layla,’ Marcel calls cheerfully from the kitchen.
‘Hey, Marcel,’ I greet and go up the stairs.
I shower quickly, dress, and go downstairs. BJ is standing with his back to me looking out of the open windows. In one hand he is holding a glass of something amber, in the other a cigarette. An open bottle of Scotch is standing on the table. Its top is carelessly tossed on the table. I am wearing flat, soft-soled slippers and he has not heard me come down. For a moment I watch him. He’s totally lost in thought, his powerful shoulders hunched forward and tense.
‘I’ve never seen you drink Scotch before.’
He whirls around, his eyes narrowed, and running over me like water. ‘Yeah, I needed something for my nerves.’ He takes a long drag of his cigarette and kills it in the ashtray sitting on the window ledge. He straightens and looks at me. ‘Do you want a glass of something?’ he asks slowly.
I blink. There is a sharp pain in my heart. I haven’t even had a sip of anything alcoholic since I found out I was pregnant and he has never offered before today.
We stare at each other.
‘I’ll have a glass of white wine,’ I say softly.
He goes to the bar, selects a bottle from the fridge and pours me a glass.
I take it. Our hands touch, a spark runs through me.
Watching him over the rim of the wineglass, I take a sip. It feels cold on my tongue, but it doesn’t taste too good. Perhaps I am not in the mood for it.
He picks up his own glass, taking a swallow, and looks at me with deliberately blank eyes. ‘Want to tell me what you did this afternoon?’
I sit down on the sofa behind me. ‘I went to see my mother’s tarot reader.’
‘Right,’ he says carefully. ‘What did she tell you?’
‘Not much. Nothing that would help, anyway.’ I stare down at the floor.
‘We’ll have other children, Layla. I promise.’
My head shoots up and my eyes are stern. ‘I don’t want to discuss it today. Please, BJ.’
‘Fine.’ There is a note of frustration in his voice.
I put my glass of wine down on the coffee table and clasp my hands.
‘Shall we go for a walk?’ BJ asks.