Crystal Balls by Amanda Brobyn Read Free Book Online Page B

shouts as she
pulls away, “And don’t forget to tell your Sam I said congratulations!” She waves madly until out of sight.
    I make a mental note to stop off at my office on the way to Mum’s. I have a few bottles of chilled champagne I keep for special occasions and this is definitely one of those. Plus I need a
drink! Visions of Sam gliding up the aisle flood my imagination. A picture of elegance and serenity. I can’t wait to see her although I feel like I might cry and I don’t want to. Not
for all the wrong reasons.
    The diesel engine rattles with uncertainty and I wait for it to settle down. I’ve been thinking about replacing it for ages but any liquid cash, for now, has to be pumped back into the
business. At least until it starts to show consistent signs of making profit. My brain ticks over in sync with the noise. A chug here and a groan there. Why are there no guys for me? A
good-looking, financially secure professional is not too much to ask for? Surely? You walk past those types every day. I’m not a bad person. I give monthly payments to charities and rarely
pass a collection box without digging deep. I buy The Big Issue without actually taking it so they can sell it on to somebody else. I know just how they feel and curse those mercenary types
who stroll past them with rich arrogance. I even smile at people I’ve never seen before just to brighten up their day. When will it be my turn? When? When?
    Switching off the engine, I practically fall out of the car, slam the door shut and sprint up the marble steps of the hotel. My legs run instinctively towards the Great Hall. Don’t do
it, Tina, don’t do it! But my feet seemingly run of their own accord. The physical battling the mental and winning fiercely. And why do I keep attracting the wrong person? Surely I
have a soul mate out there? Doesn’t everyone?
    I halt abruptly, breathless and panting, staring deep into the Great Hall, willing myself to have the strength to turn and go. Just walk away.
    I am my destiny. I hold it. I control it. The words drill into my brain. Repeat after repeat after repeat. I watch Holler Man still singing the same dreary song and using the same pitch.
This is clearly a déjà vu.
    I gaze at the stained-glass window showering flecks of brilliant light across the room and decorating the walls and floor with a million tiny rainbows. An abundance of colour dances prettily,
costumed out and performing to an unappreciative audience, bar one. I feel the tingle of angel dust as it travels through the atmosphere and I inhale its medicinal remedy until dizziness results.
It tickles my senses and penetrates my soul and then, with an invisible click, the spell has been lifted and once more I am of this world.
    Phew! That was close, Tina, you bloody idiot! What the hell were you thinking?

 
5
    “Place your hands on the crystal ball, my dear, and try to free your mind of any thought,” says Gypsy Florence.
    Free my mind? How long have you got? It’s suffering from a humongous thrashing. Beaten by a pair of legs. I guess it was a case of who got there first, and it well and truly lost. Mind
over matter? I don’t think so.
    I don’t expect this to take long. Having said that, I didn’t expect to be here to start with. In fact, it’s one of those surreal experiences where you keep asking yourself
‘ Am I really here? ’ But here I definitely am. I attempt to eradicate any level of contemplation by exhaling it noisily from my body. In through the nose, out through the
mouth.
    “Tina,” her forehead creases, “can you fix your eyes directly on the crystal ball? Try to erase all thoughts.” She frowns once more.
    The cubicle is dimly lit and my eyes adjust slowly. The atmosphere is mellow and relaxed and suddenly focusing is easier. But I am feeling a little tired now. The crystal ball is sitting in the
centre of a small round table covered with a black velvet cloth trailing to the floor. A foldaway chair