The fortunetellers stare cut through the dim cottage like a cold wind.
Do you have the courage to ask, dear? GranJen flicked a deck of cards across the oak table, her eyes as dark as a moonless night.
I clutched the back of my chair, my throat tight with fear, and dared a trembling glance at the old womans weathered face.
You remind me of old Noreen, the one who swore shed walk the heavens! she sighed, crossing herself. A faint, nostalgic smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Your grandmother was somethingtall, regal, her neck and shoulders as graceful as a swans. Sharp as a tack! A shame she left school after the fourth yearwar stole her future, otherwise shed have gone far, Im sure
GranJens voice softened, then she leaned forward, eyes flashing with a mischievous glint.
Your mother was fierce, never afraid to speak her mind. She’d worry over her faithful husband, but Noreenthough marriedcould shoot a mans heart out with a glance and then laugh in his face. Your grandfather, though, loved you as his own, loyal as a hound. As for the boys, she only toyed with them, shed say, with a chuckle.
My curiosity burst. GranJen, were you friends with my grandmother?
She winked, Oh love, we were as close as a thread to a needlealways together, causing mischief in our youth. Her eyes sparked like tiny lanterns. Do you know who taught me to read the cards? she asked, narrowing her gaze.
My eyebrows lifted. Would it be old Noreen?
Exactly that! GranJen affirmed with a solemn nod.
She swept her hand over the fan of cards. What do you see on these painted pieces at first glance?
Noreen could look at them and know everythingwhats past, whats to come. She could tell a souls story in an instant. GranJen declared, her voice rising with pride. I learned that art from her, bit by bit.
I laughed, the sound bubbling up at the sight of the grey strands poking out from beneath her kerchief.
Dont mock, child! the seer warned, her tone dropping to a low, hypnotic murmur, her eyes pinning me like a pin.
A shiver raced down my spine. GranJen, I was only kidding! I pleaded, eyes wide with feigned innocence.
She sighed, a softer sigh. Ah, Thomas the skeptic! she murmured, not as harsh as before. Fine, Ill forgive you. Remember this: you cannot outrun your destined husband, nor escape fates horse!
My my betrotheddo I have one? I asked, voice trembling.
GranJens smile widened. Ah, you want a glimpse ahead, dont you, dear? She chuckled, the wrinkles deepening. We old witches can see many things. She drew a fresh pack of cards, her hands steady. When youre older, perhaps youll remember me and stop making such foolish jokes.
She laid out a tableau of kings, queens, bearded gentlemen in berets, and flamboyant ladies.
Look here, Blythe, the road ahead looks rough and far, she whispered, pointing to a distant card. Will you leave with someone? Will you find suitors? I see two faces, but theyre empty shellsno heart will stir yours. She jabbed at a scarlet king. Youll love him, but hell be a wandering soul. Stay away, lest you weep bitterly.
She sighed, as if resigned. Can love ever be stopped? she muttered, waving her hand.
She turned another card, her eyes lighting up. This onecrossshapedwill be a decent fellow. With him, things will sweeten, but not quickly, my dear. She ruffled my chestnut curls, and we both burst into laughter, the tension loosening.
—
GranJens cottage became my secret refuge. Id never met my own grandmother; she had passed long ago. Yet GranJen lived alone, and she loved me, her granddaughters child, as if I were her own. Sometimes my heart thumped with terror when her mood soured, but her reputation as a renowned seer drew folk from every village. She never charged a penny, but always had a pot of tea and fresh scones waitingalways generous.
One afternoon, while we were sharing a hearty slice of oatandegg pie, I asked cautiously, GranJen, can I ever learn to read fortunes?
The question caught her offguard. She stopped chewing, stared at me with coalblack eyes, then, after a moment, whispered, Perhaps maybe tomorrow, if youre serious. She added sharply, Come back, if you dont change your mind.
Time flew like a swift swallow. Yesterday, I was racing through puddles with my friends, hopping rope, flying paper kites; today, wed just finished Year7, completed a summer placement, and the sweltering heat of August wrapped us in its embrace.
With a thick report card in my hands, I sprinted home, eager to brag about my mostly Agrades. The moment I crossed the threshold, I saw my mothers tearstreaked face, an envelope clutched in her hands. A letter from AuntNell, I guessed, my mind racing. Shes begging me to go back again.
Father, ever the stubborn farmer, protested, Annie, why would we leave this fine little cottage? We have the house, the chickens, the cows, the river beside us!
Mother whispered, Our girls have never seen the blooming apple trees, never tasted the ripe cherries, never dug into a juicy watermelon Her goldenbrown eyes pleaded with Father.
Womens tears are a powerful force, Father muttered, perhaps softening his stance.
—
The first day of September, the whole school turned its gaze toward us. At the assembly, we stood in immaculate dresses, lace aprons, enormous ribbons that set us apart from the modestly dressed peers. I cared little for the spotlight; I worried more about how the other pupils would accept me.
A girl approached, introducing herself as Gwen. She smiled earnestly. Blythe, dont worry, the boys here are nice!
Would you like to sit at my desk? she asked, her grey eyes shining. I nodded, grateful. Thats how Gwen and I became inseparable, a bond that would last a lifetime.
During a break, a lanky boy named Vince grabbed a guitar and began to sing. His voice, tinged with longing, made my heart flutter like waves against a cliff. He seemed to sing solely for the girl he adored, his eyes never leaving her.
Is Vince falling for Gwen? whispered Gwen, watching his face.
Hes singing for you, Gwen replied softly.
Are you joking? I asked, bewildered.
Gwen shook her head, her lips barely moving: Poor Vince
Why does fate play such cruel tricks, casting our hearts toward one, while our eyes chase another? The yearning was palpable.
In Year8, a handsome rogue named Tom strutted onto the field, his charm undeniable. I, like a bird startled from its nest, swore to avoid him at all costs. Yet, his confidence made the girls swoon, and even the teachers whispered about his prowess in every sport.
Meanwhile, Harrietthe new teaching assistantarrived with glossy black curls, striking eyes, a svelte figure, and an ample bosom that turned heads. She was brilliant, and we, the senior pupils, hung on her every word.
One Saturday, Tom promised to meet me for a datehe never showed. He missed the next Sunday too. Finally, I spotted him at school, smiling brightly as he rushed toward his own sweetheart, Mia. Their eyes locked, and in that instant I understood: they were meant for each other.
My heart is racing, I whispered, feeling the world tilt. What about me?
My mothers comforting hand steadied me.
—
Blythe, forget that fool! urged my friend Tessa. Youre the best! Hes not worth a penny! She wrapped her arms around me, eyes soft, and we both sobbed.
On Gwens birthday, we were invited to her familys home. Her mother had baked a towering Napoleon cake, and the house was brimming with guests. As the party dwindled, Gwen whispered, Blythe, will you read our fortunes? You always know!
I frowned, surprised. How did you know I could?
She confessed, I saw you practising with GranJen once.
Really? Gwens eyes lit up. Lets see what the cards say!
We shuffled the deck, and the cards fellknights, queens, even two kings. Two husbands? I laughed nervously. Why two?
The kings lie, I muttered, frowning.
Your future holds love, I assured Gwen, continuing the spread.
My fingers trembled as I turned the next carda grim skeletal figure. Its the Death card! I gasped.
Dont be frightened, Tessa said authoritatively. We thanked GranJens spirit and left, the night air crisp.
—
Later, at home, my mother whispered, Sweetheart, could you read my future?
Mother, why now? I asked, seeing the sorrow in her eyes. I nodded, and laid out the cards, explaining each symbol.
Father was staying with his brother Michael at the time. The cards hinted that my father would soon be far from Michael, perhaps in a government house.
Dont worry, love, Mother said cheerfully, Im not going anywhere.
The next morning, a telegram arrived: Anna, come quicklyNicholas has had a stroke.
Mother glanced at me, eyes wide. Your cards werent lying
Within an hour she was on a plane.
—
Years slipped by. One night, I awoke to soft footsteps in the hallway. The creak of a heavy boot echoed, and a cold draft slipped under the door. My heart hammered as a sliver of moonlight illuminated the hallway, and the door shivered, as if something massive pressed against it.
Whos there, breathing like a locomotive? my mind raced. What if the door gives way? Panic surged, and I whispered desperately, Lord, if you are there, protect me!
The moment the words left my lips, the door stopped trembling, and the house fell silent.
At dawn, my mother burst into my room, her face pale. Darling, what happened?
I told her about the night visitor. She shook her head, Blythe, stop dabbling in fortunes. That isnt a gift from above; its the work of the Unclean.
I burned the cards that very day; life felt lighter without their weight.
—
In the end, GranJens predictions and mine both came true.
Gwen married her great love; they had a beautiful blueeyed daughter. Tragedy struck when the car they were in collided with a lorry; both mother and child perished.
My sister Harriet found a wonderful husband after a failed first marriage.
MsVladimirovna, the beloved teaching assistant, completed her training with distinction and left for a new postno one called her back, but a suitor waited at home, and a splendid wedding followed.
Tom, on his knees, begged my forgiveness. I could not grant it, though I still loved him deeply. He later married the kind and steadfast classmate, MasterVasili, and they now have three sons and grandchildren.
I am over sixty now, and I can say with confidence that life is richly varied. All you need is to live it fully and cherish its bright moments.
