‘That is a disgrace,’ Jonan said. He raised one eyebrow. ‘You’d have thought the local witch would be a bit more evil than that.’
‘Is that what she is then? A witch?’
‘No, but some people think she is. Doriel doesn’t do labels. She’s herself. That’s it.’
‘I like her more for that,’ Beth said, looking around the pub. ‘What’s the story with the resident ghost?’
‘There was a horrible incident here a long time ago. An imprint lingers, or so the story goes. What do you feel?’
‘Why are you asking me? I thought you were the expert.’
‘Nobody’s really an expert. We’re all learning.’
‘It just feels creepy to me. Sorry to disappoint.’
Jonan laughed. ‘Fair enough. What did Doriel tell you? Or is it top secret?’
‘She told me I needed to look at life differently, and that I was about to start making changes. Unfortunately, I have no idea what to change.’
‘Did she give you any indication?’
‘She said I sacrifice myself for the sake of others.’
‘And do you?’
‘Doesn’t everyone? I don’t see how that moves me forwards.’
Jonan smiled. ‘What were you thinking about when you shuffled the cards?’
‘Well…’ Beth paused. ‘Work, Laura, Amelia…’
‘Amelia?’ Jonan’s tone was sharp. He tilted his head, eyes narrowed. ‘What were you thinking about her?’
‘I don’t even know. I have no idea why I’ve let her get into my head, but she’s eating away at me. I know she’s just a silly celebrity trying to get attention with a ridiculous story, but I can’t shake the feeling that she’s somehow… dangerous? More than she seems at least.’
Jonan watched her as though he were trying to read something. She shifted in her seat, wondering what he saw. ‘Amelia is more than she seems,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t ever forget that, and don’t doubt your instincts.’
Beth frowned and leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table, chin on her hands. ‘Okay, spill. What do you know?’
Jonan folded his arms over his chest and grimaced. ‘I’ve known Amelia for a long time. She’s intense and charismatic, and she’s perfectly happy to manipulate if it works to her benefit. I’m not sure what she’s playing at, but we can bet it will be a lot bigger than she’s making out right now.’
‘But why did she pick me out of the crowd? And why can’t I get her out of my head?’
Jonan smiled and raised one eyebrow. ‘Do you have any ideas yourself?’
‘None. There was muttering all over the audience. Why would I be pinpointed? And why have you sought me out?’
‘Sought you out? You came for a reading at the shop, remember?’
Beth raised her eyebrows. ‘I saw you watching me in the studio, and then you turned up at my party and insisted I needed to see Doriel. Then there’s that tarot card that looks like you. And I’ve looked through the whole deck, you must have known I would. There’s a card called The Mother, which looks like Doriel. There’s one called Fear, which is the spitting image of Amelia. And, of course, there’s Leap of Faith, which has me looking up at the clouds from the edge of a cliff, a floppy-eared dog at my ankles. Do you still want to tell me there’s no connection?’
‘No, I don’t. I can tell you why Doriel, Amelia and I are in the deck. The illustrator is an old friend and she based some of the cards on us. My mother is in there too; she’s the High Priestess, if you want to look her up. It’s an unnerving likeness, if I’m honest, and she looks more like the card now than she did when that picture was drawn. The shocker is that you’re in there too. I stared at you in the TV studio because you were familiar from the Leap of Faith. It’s the first card in the whole deck. Did you know that? Anyway, hopefully you can understand now why I was staring, and why Amelia might have been interested in hearing what you had to say.’
‘She’s into Tarot too?’
Jonan nodded. ‘Not that she’d ever admit it now, not after what happened.’
‘It sounds like there’s a good story in there?’
Jonan downed the last of his pint and stood up. ‘Well there’s certainly a story, but I’m not sure I’d call it good. It’s all a bit close to the bone for me. I’ll tell you one day. Shall we go?’
Beth inched her way back out from behind the wooden pillar while Jonan pulled on his leather jacket. He walked over to the door, his movements impossibly fluid as though he were an ancient hunter let loose in this timeless pub. She watched him, fascinated. The drunk and undulating crowd parted before him, not intruding into his space at all.
Grabbing her bag, she followed. She was jostled, nudged and grabbed several times before she reached the exit. He held the door open for her as she stumbled out into the street.
The lights sent welcoming beams into the chilly air. The clock tower loomed over them as they cut up towards the main street.
‘You know, I’m fine to walk home from here,’ Beth said, looking up at Jonan.
His angular cheeks dimpled as he suppressed a smile. ‘Don’t you want me here?’
‘Of course I do… I mean, are you trying to catch me out?’
Jonan laughed, a deep belly laugh that lit his face. He stopped and turned, leaning against a low wall. His collar was turned up against the cold, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. ‘Maybe I just wanted an excuse to spend a bit more time with you?’ He tilted his head, watching her with violet-tinged eyes.
Beth’s breath caught. ‘Well then, I would love your company. As long as you don’t think I need looking after. I’ve managed perfectly well on my own for a long time.’
They continued walking past the white, looming bulk of the town hall. It cast a strange shadow over Jonan, highlighting the angular cut of his cheekbones and his slanted eyebrows. He looked weirdly other and, at the same time, disarmingly familiar. ‘Alone?’ he asked, his voice quiet. ‘Is there no family?’
‘Oh, yes. They live nearby and they love me in spite of who I am. I see them regularly. I know they’re there for me, but they’ve never seen the world the way I do. Nobody does.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ Jonan stopped and turned to face her. He stood squarely, legs apart, hands in the pockets of his dark blue jeans. The upturned collar of his black leather jacket only served to accentuate his long neck and narrow, sculpted face.
Beth blinked. For a moment, his ears had seemed pointed. Right now, there was only a pale pink curve. They were oddly refined, but indisputably normal.
He was still watching her. She knew he’d asked a question and was waiting for an answer, but she had no idea what he’d said. She felt like a sponge, absorbing the energy around her, as though it were life-sustaining. Something had clicked. At that moment, with this man, she felt real, normal. Her weirdness had somehow been neutralised. She knew in an indefinable way that he was just like her. That their meeting held no coincidence at all.
‘Are you sure nobody sees the world like you?’ He tilted his head.
‘No. I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘I only know I have spent a lifetime looking for someone who does.’