Youll find your fate. No need to hurry. All in good time.
There was a curious tradition I once kept, back in the days when life moved slower and the promise of the new year sparkled with hope. Each December, just before the year turned, I would pay a visit to a fortune teller. In London, where I lived, finding a new one wasnt much troubleit seemed the city had an abundance of mysterious women reading tea leaves behind velvet curtains.
The truth was, I felt rather alone. I tried, honestly I did, to meet a decent young man, but every effort ended with disappointment. It seemed all the good men had been spoken for long before I came looking.
This year, you shall meet your destiny! proclaimed the fortune teller, her black eyes fixed on a shimmering crystal orb.
But where? Where will I meet him? I pressed her. They promise me the same every December, yet years pass with nothing but empty hopes.
I was told youre the finest fortune teller in London, but I demand specifics! If you dont tell me exactly where, Ill see to it that nobody visits your parlour again, I threatened, perhaps too loudly.
She rolled her eyes heavenward, clearly finding me difficult, but sensing that if she didnt furnish an answer, I would linger on her doorstep all night, blocking her other clients.
On a train! she declared at last, eyes closed tight. I see a tall, fair-haired gentleman, striking as a prince from an old tale
Wonderful! I beamed. Which train, and when exactly?
Before New Years Eve! she replied, now grinning herself. Go to the station. Let your heart guide you; buy a ticket to wherever it pulls you
Thank you! I left her shop, heart racing, and flagged down a cab to Paddington. But as I stood at the ticket window, my enthusiasm waned. The destination board loomed large, yet I hadnt the faintest idea where I should go.
Well? barked the ticket clerk, nudging me from my daze.
Oxford On the thirtieth of December. A compartment seat, please, I stammered.
Already I dreamed of sharing tea in a cosy compartment, door opening suddenly to reveal my destined companion.
Returning home, I packed in a rush for the evening train, not sparing much thought for the consequenceswhat Id do alone in a strange city on New Years Eve. All I wanted was to give the fortune tellers prophecy its chance to take root.
It was rather miserable, feeling so overlooked, especially during the season when families shopped together for festive fare and exchanged gifts. Everyone, it seemed, belonged somewhereeveryone but me.
Soon, I was seated in my compartment, just as Id imagined, tea steaming in my glass. Only the prince was missing.
Good evening! chirped a white-haired lady, heaving her enormous suitcase onto the opposite seat. Is this my spot?
Eryes, I think so, I replied, blinking in confusion. Youre sure youve got the right carriage?
Oh, Im sure, dear, she smiled, settling herself comfortably.
Excuse me, let me pass, I quavered, realising how nonsensical this journey was becoming. Ive changed my mind! I want to leave!
One moment, while I stow my bag, she said, perplexed by my panic.
There nowthe trains moving, I sighed deeply. What happens now?
Whats made you want to get off in such a hurry? Forget something? she asked kindly.
I ignored her, turning to the frosty landscape flashing past my window, knowing it was my own foolishness that had landed me in this predicament.
In time, Mrs. Dorothy Brown produced from her bag a still-warm batch of homemade pastries, offering me one.
Ive been visiting my daughter, she explained. Now Im rushing home before my son and his fiancée arrive for the New Year.
How lucky you are I laughed ruefully. Ill likely spend New Year at some train station.
Gradually, word by word, I confided in Mrs. Brown about my foolish adventure and the fortune-tellers prediction.
You silly thing! Leave those charlatans alone, she scolded fondly. Love finds you when you stop chasing it. Everything in good time…
Next day, the train came to a halt at the Oxford stationa place Id never seen before. I helped Mrs. Brown with her bag and stood beneath the old clock, uncertain what to do.
Thank you, love! And happy New Year! she said warmly.
And to you, I replied, forcing a smile.
She glanced at me, searching for words to cheer my sorry soul. The thought of spending New Years Eve at the railway station was not a cheerful beginning.
Lucy, come with me! she suddenly suggested. Well dress the tree and set a proper table for the holiday
OhId feel dreadful imposing, I faltered.
And how comfortable is a bench at the station? she grinned. Come now, its settled.
And so I accepted. Mrs. Brown was right. Outside, the snow whirled thick and fast; there was no logic in wandering the corridors of the train station alone.
Edward and Grace will have arrived by now, she beamed as the taxi pulled up.
Edward was already standing by the lift, waiting to collect his mothers suitcase.
Edward, sweetheartlook, Ive brought a guest. This is Lucy, daughter of my oldest friend, Mrs. Brown winked conspiratorially.
Splendid! Edward said. Please, come in, Lucy.
I glanced at the tall, handsome, fair-haired young man and blushed. It was as if the image from the traina prince conjured from my daydreamsstood before me. Fate, it seemed, was playing games again.
And wheres Grace? Mrs. Brown asked.
Mum, Grace is gone, and she wont be coming back. Please, Id rather not talk about it, Edward said quietly.
All right Mrs. Brown hesitated, sadness passing over her face.
That evening we shared supper, bidding farewell to the old year.
Lucy, will you be staying long? Edward asked, spooning salad onto my plate.
Oh, just until morning, I replied with unexpected sadness.
I did not want to leave. The Browns home was so welcoming; I felt as if Id known Mrs. Brown and Edward all my life.
Why rush away? Mrs. Brown protested. Lucy, stay a bit longer.
Do stay, Lucy, Edward agreed. Theres a marvellous ice rinktomorrow evening, lets go together. Dont hurry off.
All right, Im convinced, I smiled. Id be glad to stay.
The next New Years Eve we celebrated together once again: Mrs. Brown, Edward, myself, and little Charlie
And as I look back, I wonderdo you believe in Christmas miracles?
