Biddy placed her finger over her lips, telling Shelagh not to speak, but it was too late.
‘I need quiet, Shelagh,’ said Kathleen. ‘I can’t find the answers in the middle of chatter.’
Shelagh’s eyes widened; the atmosphere in the room had changed, fear of the priest was replaced by a thrill of excitement and everyone almost stopped breathing as the warmth of the room was replaced by an icy chill. The candles that Alice had lit and placed on the table, ‘to keep the bad spirits away,’ flickered violently from side to side, as though someone had suddenly opened the back door, but no one had.
Kathleen took a deep breath and it took all of her willpower and reserve as she looked at Maura and saw, as plain as day, Kitty standing at her shoulder and, on her other side, her first daughter-in-law, Nellie’s mother and Maura’s closest friend, Bernadette, her long red hair iridescent against her whiteness. They had come together and Kathleen knew instinctively that this was not a good thing that they had come to warn her, to help her. Kitty inclined her head towards Maura’s cup. She was urging her to read and Kathleen knew that the message contained within was from them.
The room was silent as Kathleen reached out and picked up Maura’s cup; Kitty gazed at her and waited. And from the moment she looked inside, Kathleen wished she hadn’t.
‘Oh, angels of mercy, why did we do this?’ She looked around the table at the women waiting on her every word with bated breath.
‘Why, what is it? What can you see?’ asked Maura.
Kathleen took a shuddering breath. ‘I can see water, deep water, black and deep,’ said Kathleen. ‘And I can see a new baby in here, too.’
Kathleen tipped Maura’s cup to the side. ‘Look, Maura, see, there’s a babby on one side of your cup and trouble all over the other – but it’s not for you. See those leaves there? They are a warning to us, to you.’ She tipped up the cup for everyone to see and they nodded in unison. Not one of them had a clue what it was she was talking about. ‘That’s the dockers’ steps, see, going down the side of the handle, there, and that crowd, that’s us at the top, and trouble. See that side,’ they all nodded, ‘that’s the water. There’s a dark cloud hovering over us and it’s waiting to do its worst. There is a baby and it’s not a baby to be – that would be a different sign – this is a baby that’s here. It’s a dark cup this is.’
‘Maybe one of the ships is going to sink?’ said Deirdre. ‘Have you seen the state of the Morry, it’s leaning over to one side.’
‘Good job all the men are sleeping in Malcolm’s and not on board in that case,’ said Biddy.
‘I know what it is,’ said Maura, ‘we’ve just crossed deep water to get here, the leaves are just a few hours behind, that’s all.’
Shelagh, with hand shaking, held out her cup to be read and with an effort Kathleen took it. She did not want to see any more bad news. They all waited with eyes wide as she stared into Shelagh’s cup. The only sounds were the clock ticking on the mantelpiece, the gentle hum of the kettle on the range and the coals shifting in the grate.
‘It’s the same! The two cups are identical and I think I might know why,’ said Kathleen. They all knew better than to ask. It was not a question and they wouldn’t usually interrupt without being invited to do so. Kathleen was a seer. The dead used her to commune with the living via the medium of a nice strong cup of tea with two sugars. It was Annie O’Prey who broke the silence.
‘Anything about Frank the Skank moving in among us?’ she whispered, almost too afraid to speak. They all knew that her question was rooted in good sense. Jimmy would not last at home for five minutes with Frank the Skank as his neighbour.
Mary shivered as she ran her hands up and down her arms. Next was Biddy’s turn and this time Kathleen gasped and banged Biddy’s cup onto the saucer. ‘It’s just the same! Never in all my years have I ever picked up two cups that were the same, never mind three of them, and that’s the message. It’s the steps, dark, deep water and trouble. Mary, pass me yours; it’s your first time and surely to God the spirits won’t make your cup a dark one for your first.’
Kathleen slipped a glance towards Kitty and Bernadette; they were both still there and she could tell there was no objection to reading Mary’s cup, but the sense of urgency was building: they were letting her know she had to go.
Mary wasn’t remotely nervous handing her cup over, she was excited.
‘Ah, ’tis a long and happy life you have ahead of you, Mary, and big change is coming. See there,’ she tipped the cup up, ‘you are going to be a woman of means and love is around the corner and with it, not because of it, I see success, business and independence and lovely hair.’
Deirdre laughed. ‘Kathleen, that’s our Mary’s cup, not Elizabeth Taylor’s.’
They all laughed as Mary blushed, but nothing could dampen the girl’s pleasure at Kathleen’s words.
When she’d finished the last cup, and all the rest of them telling the same story, Katheen was as white as the sheets Deirdre and Shelagh had just placed on Maura’s bed. She put both of her hands down on the table and pushed herself upright with all the energy she had left.
‘Ladies, we need to put a guard on the top of the steps, see who goes down and, even though it’s pitch black, see if we can
