Prologue
Tea leaves meant something, right? The remnants in the bottom of the teacup and littered around the edge could tell your fortune, speak your future, guide your way. What about the leafy remnants in the bottom of a sink after a busy Saturday shift in a Brighton café? A cold day when every single person in the North Laines wanted a hot drink to perk them up. I had piles of the stuff. I could quite easily fill a Terrarium and grow myself some nice succulents after a day at Turnip the Beet, the café I’d owned for the past two years and had just put up for sale. I still wasn’t sure I believed it. Rash, hasty decisions were a thing of the past for me. Living on the edge no longer on the agenda and it wasn’t tea leaves that told me I needed a new start; it was the old, fusty fortune teller on Brighton Pier.
The weekend my best friend Stacey moved in, we did the touristy thing despite Stacey loving Brighton and visiting numerous times before. We went to the Royal Pavilion in the morning to feel cultured and inspired followed by afternoon tea at Choccywoccydoodah to feel chocolatey and indulgent. After, we did the wobbly walk across the pebbled beach – never easy to do in heels – even if mine were Dr. Martens. In the evening we ate candy floss while riding the carousel near the pier and won a stuffed llama on the grabber machines. Seeing the flaky paint and lopsided Open sign of the fortune teller led to a mutual side glance and knowing smile. Stace went first. She’ll meet a handsome stranger, yada, yada, OK. My reading was slightly more inspired. The elderly woman wearing purple eyeshadow that sat deep in her wrinkles put her hand to her mouth and gasped. “Oh, young lady,” she said. “You are stifled.” She made a gasping sound. Stacey snorted and I wondered if the fortune teller could see me in front of the café coffee machine lost in a billowy cloud of smoke. “You need an escape, my dear. A new venture.”
She produced a crystal ball from under her kaftan. I tried not to wonder where she’d retrieved it from and smiled behind my hand as she proceeded to spit on the crystal ball before rubbing it with her sleeve. “Wheels,” she said. “Oooh crikey! It’s shiny and big!” Stace nudged me and said that’s what they all say. The fortune teller started to rock, and I swear my sceptic thoughts dropped out through my nostril, bypassing the nose ring and scattering across the floor. Something shifted, possibly my liver after too many glasses of Prosecco, but no, suddenly the laughter disappeared, and I was desperate to know what this woman had to say. I opened my eyes widely and took Stacey’s hand in mine whispering, “Whatever she says next, I’m going to do.” Stacey raised an eyebrow and mouthed, Let’s get out of here before she channels the ghosts of Brighton’s past, and shrieked when the woman started humming loudly.
“I mean it,’ I said. “This is the push I’ve been looking for.”
“Push?” Stacey whisper-shouted. “No disrespect but the woman is barking. You don’t need this push. You need a guided hand from someone completely sane.”
“I see dogs,” the fortune teller said between barks.
“A dog,” I replied. “Yes. Reggie, Stacey’s Bulldog. Is that what you see?”
“Dogssss,” she repeated, her voice booming as she empathised the plural. Stacey grimaced and started muttering about having a lovely time, but needing to go. She got up and the woman held up her hand before pointing back to her seat. Stace cleared her throat and sat down slowly. “I see dogs. I see many, many dogs.” We watched as she started to make a motion with her hand. “Clipping, shaving…” She stood up and clapped into the air. “Grooming!”
“Grooming?” Stacey repeated, her face twisted in confusion.
“Dog grooming,” I said, mouth open in a pure eureka moment. “That’s it! I could be a dog groomer!”
“Is that what she means?” Stacey said, before turning to the fortune teller. “Is that what you’re seeing in her future?”
The woman took a long, deep dramatic breath before releasing it and circling her hands. “I cannot confirm or deny anything,” she replied, the coins on her headscarf tinkling.
“Hold on, lady,” I said. “I need more deets. Confirmation. Is dog grooming my…destiny?” Stacey snorted as she made for the beaded curtains.
“My readings are simply a guide,” she said, removing her headscarf and switching off the indoor water feature at the side of her chair. “Do with the information what you will. I don’t clarify details or…offer refunds.”
“Funny that,” Stacey muttered under her breath.
“Oh, and, Cloud.”
“It’s Skye,” I replied.
“Take care of yourself,” the lady said. “I see…hurt.”
“Oh,” I muttered as Stace offered me a small smile.
“You’re too hard on yourself and there’s really no need.”
“OK, thanks for that,” I replied, leaving before we got deep. Too deep for me to handle.
“Aside from the barking,” Stace said, “she nailed it.”
I smiled at the memory, scooping up the tea leaves from the sink and dropping them into the bin. The ones that remained dotted around the steel made a pattern, kind of like the map of Africa. Did it mean something? I swiped my hands, clad in bright pink rubber gloves, across them, swirling my finger, hoping for a sign. Should I be travelling the world rather than travelling Brighton in a bright pink and gold van? I liked to pretend I was an optimist. Always seeing the glass half full, taking a gulp and asking for more. Going to see the fortune teller would work out well for me. There was no other option. Failure wasn’t in my vocab. Despite Stacey and our other friend, Will, telling me to be cautious, or in his words Don’t listen to the bat-shit crazy, I was now the proud owner of a mobile dog grooming business.
When I was younger, I’d never been afraid of taking risks. That had changed somewhat when my life took a detour. I’d made a series of bad decisions in my teens that I chose to acknowledge and do nothing but grow from. Life was too short to have regrets. I lived for the moment and wouldn’t give a second thought to packing some clothes in a bag and spending the weekend alone camping in the New Forest. I pierced my nose when I was twelve. My ear was stretched by the time I reached my twenties and I dyed my hair orange, green and purple before finally settling on my trademark pink. I shaved one side of my head when I decided I quite liked looking lopsided. I mean, I could never be described as fitting into the norm. I liked it that way, but lately I couldn’t help feeling like something was…missing. And that…wasn’t the norm.
“Take that, tea leaves,” I said as I sprayed bleach into the sink. Pulling my rubber gloves off with a pop I draped them over the tap and switched off the kitchen light.
I loved this time of the day. The final customers had left, I’d sent the staff home and the café was serene and still. It was a great time to think – gave a perfect opportunity to concentrate. I was easily distracted, but pulling a chair up and settling down for a night of studying was a great way for me to focus. Stacey was staying in Liverpool for the weekend with her mum. She’d taken Reggie with her, so although the flat would be empty, there was something comforting about the café. I couldn’t deny that the moment I put the café up for sale it caused more than a stomach flip. But technically…I didn’t do regrets and I didn’t want to look back once I’d started moving forward. I set out several books I’d ordered about business intelligence and effectiveness and women in power plus my leopard print pencil case and a bright pink notebook. I put back the pen topped with a sloth (it didn’t give the message I wanted to portray) and chose a highly sophisticated glitter gel pen before writing I can do this on my notepad.