“Lucinda is an anomaly,” Mimi said mysteriously.

“It’s vitally important Myrtle gives us all some good advice,” Evelyn added. “Especially about relationships.”

They all jumped when Myrtle’s door swung open with a bang. The hunched figure of a stranger hurried out clasping a tissue to her face. She let out a sob as she rushed out of the hut.

A stocky woman wearing a black velour tracksuit with a silver fringed scarf around her shoulders and matching glittery running shoes appeared in the room. Her thick winged black eyeliner matched her jet-black hair, emphasizing the pale scalp and complexion that suggested she didn’t see much daylight. She was probably in her mid to late sixties and she surveyed the group with a raised fine eyebrow and shrewd eyes. “Why do I only see you lot at funerals, weddings or when you want to know the future?” she asked. At first her face was stern, then her lips twisted into a small smile. “Who’s first?”

Jess jumped to her feet. “Me.”

“Jess, this is Carla’s—” Lucinda started to protest.

“It’s okay, let her go,” Carla said. The small space seemed to be shrinking around her and she really wanted to get out of here.

The remaining women chatted while Jess had her reading. “Is Tom superstitious at all?” Evelyn asked, her voice still hushed.

Carla shook her head. “He’s interested in the history of superstitions and how they originated, without actually believing in them. After all, how can a horseshoe possibly bring anyone good luck?”

She was met with a sea of fierce stares.

“It’s scientifically impossible,” she said under her breath. She felt sorry for her past relative Agatha, who was known for the death of her fiancé rather than anything else she might have achieved in her lifetime.

“It’s lovely you’ve met someone special,” Evelyn whispered. “I’ve actually met a very nice person, too.”

“You have?” Mimi immediately sat up straight. “Since when? Why do I not know about this?”

“We’ve been taking time getting to know each other,” Evelyn said, a smile skirting her lips. “His name’s Bertrand and I’d like you all to meet him soon. I’m hoping Myrtle will have some joyous things to tell me.”

Jess suddenly burst out of the room with her phone clasped in her hand. “Ohmygod,” she rasped, pausing to upload a photo of a tarot card layout to Instagram. “Myrtle is amazing.”

“What did she tell you, honey?” Lucinda asked.

“Lots of things.” Jess began to count on her fingers. “One, I’m going to be working near water very soon...”

“That’s doubtful.” Carla rolled her eyes. “Unless I install a fish tank in the office.”

“Ha ha, funny. Well, I believe her,” Jess said, her eyes shining. “Two, I’m going to get engaged within the next twelve months and, three, Myrtle can see me holding a baby.”

Carla’s urge to shout Rubbish was overwhelming. She’d added Jess’s details to the Logical Love database a couple of years ago, but her sister hadn’t scored any matches above forty-nine percent. It was highly improbable she was going to get a new job, meet someone special, receive a marriage proposal and become pregnant within a year.

Myrtle’s crooked finger appeared around the door, beckoning the next person into her lair. A hand pressed against Carla’s back, pushing her up out of her seat, and her armpits prickled when she entered the tiny space. Small colored glass windows cast a patchwork of light across the room, and there was an aroma of patchouli and cigarettes. Black-and-white photos on the wall featured fortune tellers from times past and Myrtle standing beside bygone celebrities like Liza Minelli, Elizabeth Taylor and Cary Grant. Carla wondered if they were fake compositions.

“There used to be a magnificent theater in Silverpool,” Myrtle recollected, as if reading her thoughts. “The stars used to flock to me for readings and I still host the occasional TV, film or pop star. Keanu Reeves was my favorite. He has an intriguing aura.”

Carla sat down and knitted her fingers together as a shield. “I should tell you that I appreciate your profession but don’t believe in fortune-telling.”

Myrtle’s lips curved into a small smile. “You used to believe...”

“I don’t think so.”

“We met once, when you were a small girl. Do you remember? You came with your mother to see me. I predicted you were going to be a successful businesswoman, something to do with numbers and people. I see you’re wearing Suzette’s necklace.”

A sharp pain stabbed Carla, as it always did when she thought about losing her mum. Her fingers crept to her pendant and she held it tightly. Myrtle’s description could apply to most jobs. “I don’t believe in luck. I think things happen randomly or because you set certain processes in motion.”

Myrtle’s deep violet eyes intensified. “You’re much more insightful than you think.”

A tingle ran down Carla’s spine. She sensed it was a bad idea to be here.

“You should follow your feelings more, deep in here.” Myrtle rubbed her own belly. “Like you used to do.”

“I don’t...” Carla started, then clamped her mouth shut. She supposed she did used to follow her gut more, especially when she’d gone traveling or gotten married the first time around. After her divorce, she’d started to question things much more, and facts, figures and things that could be proved had become her friends. “If you and I really have a gift, we could have predicted what would happen to Mum,” she said in a prickly tone.

Myrtle’s expression was unreadable as she gathered her cards together. “You may wish to record this reading on your phone,” she said. “Do you have anything on your person that belongs to Tom? Jess told me you’re getting married soon.”

Carla took a key ring out of her pocket that incorporated a screwdriver, bottle opener, scissors and tiny tweezers. “He gave this to me. It’s incredibly useful.” Not wanting to offend Myrtle, she set her phone to Record.

Myrtle cupped the key ring in her hands. “Shuffle the cards and think of a question.”

How can I kill my family and get away with it? was the first one that popped into Carla’s head. Her second, more involuntary thought was Please tell me that everything will be okay with Tom.

Taking the tarot cards back, Myrtle placed six of them on the table in a symmetrical layout. She handed the key ring back to Carla. “Who likes cats?” she asked.

“Half the population?” Carla gritted her teeth. She didn’t really listen as Myrtle reeled off a vague list of observations, questions and predictions, that she should be wary of The Knight of Wands and that The Magician had something to do with positivity and confidence.

It was only when the fortune teller said “You met Tom a long time ago, didn’t you?” that Carla’s attention snapped back into focus.

She shifted warily in her chair. “We went to the same school but he’s two years older than me, so we didn’t really know each other back then.” She’d always thought it was a strange coincidence that they’d subsequently matched through Logical Love, though she didn’t tell Myrtle this.

Myrtle raised her eyes as if communicating with someone on the roof of her hut, then she let out a loud “Ouch.”

Carla inched back. “What is it?”

Myrtle winced and rubbed her own elbow. “You had an accident while you were traveling, a couple of decades ago. I can see you lying on the ground with people looking down at you. You hurt your arm.”

A hazy picture began to form for Carla, of staring up at the blue sky, unable to move because of pain searing through her body. She’d fallen from a horse and broken her arm while riding in Spain.

But how could Myrtle possibly know about this?

“You met a man of great importance to you, during that time,” Myrtle continued. “You’re destined to be reunited and he holds the key to your true happiness.”

Carla wrinkled her nose in disbelief. During her gap year from university, she’d visited several places, including Amsterdam, Barcelona, Sardinia, Majorca, Portugal and Paris, and had enjoyed a few fleeting romances along the way. None of the men she’d dated had been particularly important to her. “I met my fiancé before then,” she corrected.

Myrtle shook her head, her tasseled earrings swinging. “You met someone very special to you while traveling, a once-in-a-lifetime connection.” She paused for effect. “It’s not Tom.”

Carla’s pulse rocketed and she swept a hand under the table, trying to grab hold of her handbag. “Thanks for your...insight. I think my gran’s next to see you.”

“There’s more,” Myrtle said. “I can see more things...”

But Carla stood up abruptly, almost knocking her chair over. More images were filtering back to her from her accident and she headed blindly toward the door.