Wanting a fitting climax to this chapter, he felt he had little alternative but to revisit the place where the chapter itself began.
A year and a week after the first trip, it was back to the seaside town that they forgot to shut down, where every day is like sunday. Morecambe always held a special place in his heart, for no real reason other than nostalgia and his childhood – but since August 2009, it also meant this.
Twelve months on, predicitions recorded, similarities noted, and resonances documented, it was time to see what the next twelve months on had in store. It had, for him, been a year of change – much had happened, most of which had been predicted, but was this a self-fulfilling prophecy? Or, as several observers had suggested, just a coincidence? Or, most intriguingly, was this a case of another fortune cookie (opened last September) being proved right?
Whatever the reasoning behind it, in a way he wanted closure, and as before, wanted to anticipate future events. Sceptics or psychics can probably predict the outcome, but this is what happened next.
Morecambe, 1st August 2010, 3.30pm
On the way they saw this guy.
He had decided to get dressed up for the occasion. He didn’t want her to remember him, and this was a different project now. Someone once suggested going for a fortune telling in disguise – this was as good as, his ‘new eyes’ being hidden by glasses, once again he was taking on a different persona.
The waiting room was different. He noticed new pictures: perhaps they’d had a re-decoration. Certainly, he hadn’t seen the photo before, the one with about fifty members of a family on, presumably at some funeral, judging by the solemn faces and the bouquets of sad-looking flowers. He looked closer, and recognised at least three of the women. They had all read his palm last summer – he knew most of them were related, but always presumed the first reading had been unique.
Maybe that explained the initial links.
He also noticed a new sign above the exit – one that read
EUROPEAN LAW STATES THAT PALM READINGS MUST BE SEEN AS A FORM OF ENTERTAINMENT
The curtain opened and there she was, showing out a girl – Lisa – who had been having her tarots read. She explained the family photo to the girl, who reckoned they were related in some way, as her grandfather’s cousin shared a name with the dead mother-in-law being mourned.
In he went.
He made the wish on the crystal ball – last year’s had come true, after all – and then they got down to business.
“These are very creative hands, very creative. You must put them to good use, and take care of them.”
Oh no, he thought, she must have read Jonathan’s blog, followed the project. After all, she had confused things with Lisa’s reading too – this one was good!
Disappointingly, or interestingly, however, pretty much the same script followed.
“You’ve been pig-headed and stubborn, you’ve made mistakes, but you don’t need to worry so much over the next year. You’ve got a long life line, you won’t be a burden, you’ve got good health, the odd trip to the doctor’s for medicines but that’s all. And your love line’s strong – you’re surrounded by very caring people who think a lot of you.”
The next part unsettled him a little.
“You bear the marriage line, and the widow’s line – which means you’ll be on your own, might be for a day, a week, or longer. I see an even number of children, and I see feathering, were you ill early on in your life?” He had been as a youngster.
Then, back to normal. he went on to mention the bottle or glass again. He knew who she means. The two-faced person too, he can identify this individual too now, nothing to worry about she said, “just a nuisance, that’s all, won’t cause harm to you or your family”.
“I see sugar in your palm… a birth, death and a marriage over the next eighteen months, the death will be someone over 75, not a surprise, you’ll have a good time at the wedding (he already had done the day before) I see travel but happy travel, holidays and that. I see changes at work, things will be more settled this year, and at home, are you looking to move?”
Did he have any questions, she asked. He was too busy trying to weigh up the accuracy of these prophecies, asking himself if this was to be a new chapter after all, or just a reprint. History couldn’t be about to repeat itself, surely?
He bought three lucky charms. A boxing glove, a fish, and an elf. These were very lucky, she said, he must look after them.
She took the money and bade him farewell, asked him to return and said he “should have the cards next time.”
That should be the end of the story, but unbeknownst to him, whilst he was inside, his accomplice had had an interesting encounter of her own. Looking at the ephemera in the window she was approached by an old woman in the beer garden next door.
“Don’t waste your money!” she shouted. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I went to see her, she said I won’t be a burden.”
“Won’t be a burden, pah! I’ve got terminal cancer.”
Then, he got home, lucky charms still in his pocket, and his goldfish had died.
And so it begins again.
