“Not with my back.”
“Your back? You never mentioned it.”
“You never gave me the chance.”
“Cut again. Left hand, Colette, left hand. Well, I can’t do it. I’ve got a bad back too.”
“Really? Where did that originate?”
“When I was a child.” I was dragged, Alison thought, over the rough ground.
“I’d have thought it would have been better.”
“Why?”
“I thought time was a great healer.”
“Not of backs.”
Colette’s hand hovered.
“Choose one,” Al said. “One hand of seven. Seven cards. Hand them to me.” She laid down the cards. “And
“What?”
“The problem. Where it began?”
“Brussels.”
“Really?”
“I was carrying fold-up tables.”
“That’s a pity.”
“Why?”
“You’ve spoiled my mental picture. I thought that perhaps Gavin had put you in some unorthodox sexual position.”
“How could you have a picture? You don’t know Gavin.”
“I wasn’t picturing his face.” Alison began to turn the cards. The lucky opals were flashing their green glints. Alison said, “The Chariot, reversed.”
“So what do you want me to do? About the garden?”
“Nine of swords. Oh dear.”
“We could take it in turns to mow it.”
“I’ve never worked a mower.”
“Anyway, with your weight. You might have a stroke.”
“Wheel of Fortune, reversed.”
“When you first met me, in Windsor, you said I was going to meet a man. Through work, you said.”
“I don’t think I committed to a time scheme, did I?”
“But how can I meet a man through work? I don’t have any work except yours. I’m not going out with Raven, or one of those freaks.”
Al fluttered her hand over the cards. “This is heavy on the major Arcana, as you see. The Chariot, reversed. I’m not sure I like to think of wheels turning backward … . Did you send Gavin a change-of-address card?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“As a precaution.”
“Sorry?”
“Something might come for me. For forwarding. A letter. A package.”
“A package? What would be in it?”
Al heard tapping, tapping, at the sliding glass doors of the patio. Fear jolted through her; she thought, Bob Fox. But it was only Morris, trapped in the garden; beyond the glass, she could see his mouth moving.
She lowered her eyes, turned a card. “The Hermit reversed.”
“Bugger,” Colette said. “I think you were reversing them on purpose, when you were messing about.
“What a strange hand! All those swords, blades.” Al looked up. “Unless it’s just about the lawn mower. That would make some sense, wouldn’t it?”
“No use asking me. You’re the expert.”
“Colette … Col … don’t cry now.”
Colette put her elbows on the table, her head on her hands, and howled away. “I ask you to do a reading for me and it’s about bloody garden machinery. I don’t think you have any consideration for me at all. Day in, day out I am doing your VAT. We never go anywhere. We never do anything nice. I don’t think you have any respect for my
