Never Close Your Eyes (5 page)

There were full-length, cream silk curtains across the bay window with a motif of trellis and classical vases overflowing with flowers. She'd taken ages choosing that curtain fabric. It had cost a fortune but it was just right – cool and elegant without being boring. And she'd gone for lots of silk scatter cushions in different greys, browns and creams.

The rest of the ramshackle house made Evie's head ache, but her bedroom felt peaceful and soothing. The only problem was that Neil was no longer there to share it with her.

She slipped off her clothes, dropped them on the dumpy little armchair in the corner and pulled on her white cotton nightie. Then she climbed into bed and grabbed the phone beside her. She knew the number off by heart.

A deep, throaty voice answered immediately: ‘Zelda speakin'.' She didn't sound surprised even though it was midnight.

‘Hi Zelda, it's Evie, Evie Freestone.'

There was a pause.

‘I hope it's not too late?'

Evie heard the sound of a match being lit. Another pause. She knew Zelda smoked. She waited.

‘Of course not, darlin',' the voice came back at last. Zelda had a distinct cockney twang. Evie could almost smell the tobacco smoke wafting through the handset. ‘What can I do for you?'

Evie badly wanted to pour her heart out but she didn't know where to begin. ‘I've just come home from an evening out with friends,' she started. ‘We went to a meeting then for a drink . . .'

Tears started to well in her eyes again and trickle down the back of her throat, making her splutter. She couldn't finish. She hadn't expected this; she hadn't realised quite how upset she felt.

Zelda made a cooing noise. ‘There, there,' she said huskily. ‘You had a nice evenin' out and now you've got back to an empty house?'

‘Yes,' Evie whispered. ‘Well, the children are asleep. I feel so lonely. I miss Neil so much. I don't know what to do.' The last words came out as a sort of wail. She reached for a tissue and blew her nose. There was a box to hand at the side of the bed.

‘Come now,' Zelda said softly. ‘No need to cry. Would you like me to do a readin'?'

Evie felt her spirits lift. ‘Yes please. I could do with some good news.'

‘Shall I put it on yer usual card?'

Evie didn't like to think what this would cost. At £1.50 a minute it wasn't cheap. She'd already spent a fortune on Zelda but she was worth every penny.

‘Now close yer eyes,' Zelda went on, ‘and concentrate very carefully while I make a connection.'

Evie sank back on the pillows and did as she was told. It was such a relief to put herself in someone else's hands, not to have to think for herself.

‘Ah yes,' Zelda said at last, ‘I can see why you're upset. Someone wasn't very kind to you today?'

Evie gulped. ‘No.' She waited, ears pricked, for more.

‘A woman?' Zelda asked.

‘Yes.'

‘An older woman – with glasses? I think I can see glasses.'

‘Yes,' Evie repeated. ‘Pamela, that's her name. She was horrible to me at my writing group. Picked my work apart.'

Zelda tutted. ‘Stay away from her, sweet'art,' she warned, ‘she's a negative influence. She has a bad aura. You must surround yourself only with positive people who'll make you feel better, who'll help you heal.'

Evie breathed in deeply and clasped the phone tighter to her ear. Zelda was so perceptive. She was always right. Pamela was no good for her. She took a deep breath. ‘What about the future?' she whispered. ‘Can you see . . . will Neil ever come back?'

She had butterflies in her stomach. Was she making a mistake – pushing Zelda too far?

Zelda was silent for a few moments. It felt like an eternity. ‘No, darlin',' she said finally. ‘I've told you before.'

Evie's brain started to swim. That sounded so definite. Surely there was some hope?

‘But you will meet someone else,' Zelda went on. ‘Someone who'll be better for you, a healin' influence.'

Evie was surprised. ‘Are you sure?'

‘Quite sure. I can see him now. He's travelled a lot, some sort of explorer perhaps.'

Evie was intrigued. ‘What does he look like?'

Zelda paused. ‘I can see quite a lot of hair, broad shoulders. He's tall, yes, and good-lookin'.'

‘When will I meet him?'

‘Quite soon. In the next twelve months or so.'

Twelve months? That seemed a long time to wait. ‘Does he have children?' It was unlikely that she'd meet someone without children at her age. Whoever it was would be bound to have a past.

Zelda made a sucking-in sound. She was having another drag. Evie was sitting straight up in bed now, all agog.

‘I can't be certain, darlin',' Zelda continued. ‘But I think, yes, I think he has. I'm seein' one or two children.'

Evie sighed. That would be complicated. But anything was possible. Blended families were so common these days.

‘What's his name?'

Zelda coughed. ‘It begins with a T – or a P. Or is it a W? One of those.' She paused. ‘The picture's fadin',' she said suddenly. She sounded anxious. ‘I can see somethin' else . . . oh!'

Evie was startled. ‘What is it?'

Zelda started to speak again slowly. Her voice sounded different, low and strange. ‘I can see blackness,' she said. ‘Badness.'

Evie shuddered. ‘What sort of badness?'

‘Somethin' terrible,' Zelda went on, ‘hate, somethin' wicked . . .'

She shrieked. Evie jumped and dropped the phone on the bed. Her heart was hammering. She wanted to stop listening but couldn't. She picked the phone up again warily.

‘You must be careful,' Zelda hissed. ‘Very, very careful.'

Evie waited, frightened. She knew not to disturb Zelda when she was in the middle of a trance. At last, however, she could stand it no longer: ‘What is it?' she begged. ‘Who do I need to be careful of?'

‘I'm sorry, love,' Zelda whispered. She sounded weary. ‘The connection's gone. I can't see no more. I shouldn't have told you. Don't worry about it; it's not important. Just think about nice things, happy things now.'

Evie knew she wouldn't be able to sleep after that. She closed her eyes but kept the light on and the radio playing. What did Zelda mean about something terrible? What if it were true? She wished that Neil were here beside her to comfort her. He'd tell her it was all a load of nonsense, there was nothing in it.

She tried to think positive thoughts about this strange but interesting other man that Zelda had mentioned. She painted a mental picture of his smile, his eyes, his hands. Their lips met, but it was Neil's face she saw looking into hers, Neil's hair that she felt beneath her fingers.

She pulled the pillow over her head and squeezed her eyes tight shut to blot out the image. The pieces of his face scattered, like a broken jigsaw. But as soon as she stopped squeezing, they started to re-form piece by piece. Soon her husband was right there in front of her again, laughing at her.

‘Just go away,' she whispered. ‘Please leave me alone.'

But he wouldn't.

Chapter Five

‘Don't touch that, Alice. Omigod, look what you've done now!'

Becca stared at the thick splodge of creamy-brown foundation on the bedroom carpet. It was the expensive Clarins foundation that gave her pale skin a lovely warm glow. But more importantly, how the hell was she going to get it out?

She grabbed a piece of cotton wool from her dressing table and rubbed it into the once greenish patch of carpet. Bits of white fluff now stuck to the gloop creating an almost artistic effect. What did it remind her of? Ah yes, that was it, a sheep. An impressionistic sheep in a grassy field. If it were Easter time, one of the children could cut the sheep out, stick on two black eyes and some legs and give it to somebody as a nice card.

But what the hell was she doing thinking about Easter? The fact was that she'd made the stain much worse and now she was definitely going to be late.

‘You naughty girl,' Becca said, snatching the pot of foundation from her daughter's hand. ‘I've told you not to play with Mummy's make-up, and what have you got on your face? Oh, Christ. You've been at my blusher too, haven't you?'

Becca tried to scrub the red powder off her daughter's cheek with another piece of cotton wool, only it didn't work.

She scurried to the bedroom door. ‘Tom? TO-OM, where the hell are you?'

‘He can't hear you, Mummy, he's downstairs on the loo,' Alice said gravely.

Becca swung round. Alice's eyes were very wide.

‘He's been there ages,' the little girl went on. ‘I think he's reading the paper.'

‘I'll bet he's reading the paper,' Becca spat. ‘He's always on the bloody loo when I need him. I asked him to give you breakfast. Don't tell me you haven't had breakfast?'

Alice looked guilty.

Becca checked herself in the mirror and ran a brush through her thick, shoulder-length, almost black hair one last time. She'd only recently had her eyebrows and eyelashes retinted, which meant that she didn't need black mascara. One less job. She grabbed Alice by the arm.

‘Come on, young lady,' she said, steering the little girl towards the stairs. ‘I'm going to flush out that no good sonofabitch dad of yours if it's the last thing I do.'

Tom was sauntering into the kitchen, a newspaper under one arm, when Becca caught up with him. He scratched his head and gave her a wide, relaxed smile, flashing two dimples in his plump cheeks.

‘Hi, Becks, I thought you'd left,' he said casually. He was still in his dressing gown – the silk purple and gold kimono that she'd bought on one of her business trips to Japan. On his feet were the soft beige leather slippers she'd found in Morocco. Small, round and ruddy-faced, with a mass of once black, now rapidly greying curls, he looked quite the relaxed, trouble-free gentleman of leisure. It annoyed her immensely.

Becca looked daggers at him. ‘I haven't left because Alice has just tipped foundation all over the bedroom carpet,' she snarled. ‘And she says she hasn't had breakfast either.'

Tom looked surprised. ‘I thought I asked you to get some cereal?' He looked at his daughter affectionately.

Becca jumped in before Alice had time to answer. ‘She can't get her own cereal,' she spat, ‘because she can't reach. In case you haven't noticed, she's only six.'

Tom ruffled Alice's mop of curly fair hair. She looked like a little angel with her big blue eyes; everyone said so. ‘You can reach the cereal if you get a stool, can't you, Ally-Pally?'

Alice looked from Mum to Dad, uncertain of what she was supposed to say.

‘No she can't,' Becca snapped. ‘And don't call her Ally-Pally, you know I hate it.'

James came into the hall now brandishing an exercise book. He had straight hair, like his mother, but it was the same colour as his sister's – pale yellow – and cut very short above the ears. Becca noticed that he was still in his blue and white checked pyjamas. Had the au pair forgotten to iron his school shirts? Bloody Monica. She was hopeless. Becca would have to have another word with her.

‘Can you sign this for me?' James said, shoving the exercise book under her nose. ‘I'm going to finish my review in a minute.'

Becca wished that she was three and could fling herself down and throw a temper tantrum. ‘No, I can't sign it,' she screeched. ‘I'm going to miss my plane and why haven't you finished your review and why can't you ask your dad for once who's been sitting on the toilet for the last half-hour having a nice read?'

Tom cleared his throat. ‘Ahem, loo or lavatory, my darling, not toilet.' He grinned.

Becca took a deep breath and counted silently to herself. It usually worked. James's mouth had started to quiver at the corner. He was nine and tall and grown-up-looking for his age, but he still cried very easily. And he hated it when his parents argued – which was rather a lot.

Tom, registering, took the book from his son. ‘Don't take any notice of her,' he said, turning the pages until he found the right place. ‘She was out last night with the girls and she's in a foul mood. Here, give me a pen. Where shall I sign it?'

Becca was almost in tears as she jumped in the taxi and headed for the airport. She loathed leaving the children in a panic like that and she hadn't even kissed them goodbye. Why couldn't Tom be more supportive? He knew that she had an early start and now the kids would be thinking that she was the bad fairy as usual while he was the nice, cuddly one. And she wouldn't see them for four days.