Beyond Black: A Novel

armpits exposed as if for a bite. She heard a buzz in her ear; the meek little woman came through, saying, ’scuse me,’scuse me, have you seen Maureen Harrison?

“Look in the kitchen,” Al said. “I think she’s behind the fridge.”

When 9/11 came, Colette was watching daytime TV. She called Alison through. Al rested her hands on the back of the sofa. She looked without surprise as the Twin Towers crumbled, as the burning bodies plunged through the air. Alison watched till the news looped itself around again and the same pictures were played. Then she left the room without comment. You feel as if you should say something, but you don’t know what it is. You can’t say you foresaw it; yet you can’t say no one foresaw it. The whole world has drawn this card.

Merlyn rang up later that day. “Hello,” she said. “How’s you? Seen the news?”

“Awful,” Merlyn said, and she said, “Yes, awful, And how’s Merlin?”

“No idea,” he said.

“Not seen him on the circuit?”

“I’m quitting that.”

“Really? You’re going to build up the psychic detective work?”

Or psychic security services, she thought. You could certainly offer them. You could stand at airports and X-ray people’s intentions.

“No, nothing like that,” Merlyn said. He sounded remarkably buoyant. “I’m thinking of becoming a life coach. I’m writing a book, a new one. Self-Heal Through Success. It’s using the ancient wisdom traditions for health, wealth, and happiness. Believe the world owes you: that’s what I say.”

Alison excused herself, put the receiver down, and went into the kitchen to get an orange. When she came back, she wedged the receiver under her chin while she peeled it. You don’t want to waste your time, Merlyn was saying, with these young girls and grandmas. Here we are in the heartland of the hi-tech boom. Affluence is as natural as breathing. Each morning when you rise you stretch out your arms and say, I possess the universe.

“Merlyn, why are you telling me this?”

“I was hoping you’d buy a franchise. You’re very inspirational, Alison.”

“You’d have to talk to Colette. She makes the business decisions.”

“Oh, does she?” said Merlyn. “Let me tell you now, and I’ll tell you for free, you alone are responsible for your health and your wealth. You cannot delegate what is at the core of your being. Remember the universal law: you get what you think you deserve.”

Peel fell on the carpet, fragrant and curly. “Really?” she said. “Not much, then, in my case.”

“Alison, I’m disappointed by your negativity. I may have to put the phone down, before it contaminates my day.”

“Okay,” she said, and Merlyn said, “No, don’t go. I’d hoped—oh, well, I was thinking along the lines of a partnership. Well, there you are. I’ve said it. What do you think?”

“A business partnership?”

“Any kind you like.”

She thought, he thinks I’m stupid, just because I’m fat; because I’m fat, he thinks I’m stupid.

“No.”

“Would you be more specific?”

“More specific than no?”

“I value feedback. I can take it on the chin.”

The trouble is, she thought, you don’t have a chin. Merlyn was running to fat, and his damp grey skin seemed to sweat out, in public, the private moisture contained within the shell of his trailer home. She looked, in imagination, into his chocolate-coloured eyes, and saw how his pastel shirt stretched over his belly.

“I couldn’t,” she said. “You’re overweight.”

“Well, pardonnez-moi,” Merlyn said. “Look who’s talking.”

“Yes, I know, me too. But I don’t like the way your shirt buttons are bursting off. I hate sewing, I’m no good with a needle.”

“You can get staplers,” Merlyn said nastily. “You can get dedicated staplers nowadays. Anyway, who told you that I would require you to sew on my shirt buttons?”

“I thought you might.”

“And you are seriously giving me this as a reason why you are turning down my offer of a business arrangement?”

“But I thought you were offering something else.”

“Who knows?” Merlyn said. “That’s the technical term, I believe, that people use when advertising. “For friendship and who knows?”

“But in your case, what you want is my money in your bank, and who knows? Come on, Merlyn! You just think I’m an easy touch. And by the way it’s no good ringing up Mandy—Natasha, I mean—or any of the girls. They all don’t like you, for the reason I don’t like you.” She paused. No, that’s unfair, she thought. There is a particular reason I don’t like Merlyn. “It’s your tie pin,” she said. “I don’t like the sight of a tie pin. I always think it’s dangerous.”

“I see,” Merlyn said. “Or rather, I don’t, I don’t at all.”

She sighed. “I’m not sure I can account for it myself. Goes back to a past life, I suppose.”