Never Close Your Eyes (10 page)

‘I saw Mother the other day,' Griselda was saying on the phone. ‘Sittin' on the end of me bed.'

‘Did you?' Carol said. Mother had died years ago, but Carol took the view that it was best to go along with Griselda. She was always claiming she could see things, feel the presence of dead people around her and so on. It was creepy but she didn't actually do any harm. And she certainly wasn't going to change now, at her age. Challenging her just made her upset.

‘She said she was sorry for what she did to you. She sent her love,' said Griselda.

Carol swallowed. ‘That's nice.'

‘We sat and chatted for quite a while,' Griselda went on. ‘She said Aunty Vi was there with her, but I couldn't see her. Mother said—'

‘Please, Griselda,' Carol interrupted. This was getting too much.

Griselda tut-tutted. ‘You should listen to her,' she chided. ‘She's different now, she wants to help.'

She said 'elp' instead of ‘help'. And she tended to leave the ends off her words. She'd developed quite a cockney accent having lived so long in the East End. Carol didn't approve.

‘There's an “h” at the beginning of “help”, Griselda,' she corrected her. Griselda would always be her baby sister, even though they were knocking sixty, the pair of them.

‘Oh, you and your bloody elocution lessons,' Griselda cackled. ‘Just leave off, will you? And stop callin' me Griselda. You know I don't like it.'

‘Sorry, Zelda,' Carol added.

Zelda put down the phone, lit a cigarette and reflected on the conversation. Carol was quite batty, what with all her cats and that. Getting battier by the minute.

She'd wanted to tell Carol about all them visions she'd been having, as well as the conversation with Mother. But Carol would never listen properly. She mistrusted the spirit world. In fact, she tried to pretend it wasn't there. She went to church every Sunday, said her prayers like a good girl and hoped for the best. Bit of a Miss Goody Two-Shoes actually. Or pretended to be, more like. Bit of a joke considering what she'd done.

Zelda looked at the sky outside. The evenings were drawing in fast. It'd be winter before she knew it. She'd better go for her walk soon or it'd be too dark. She pulled her green cardy over the blue kaftan, tied a pink and white silk scarf round her head and opened the heavy front door. The air was cool and she was glad of the cardy. She glanced back at the dark-red front door just to make sure she'd closed it properly.

It was in a state, that door, no two ways about it. All peeling. She couldn't remember the last time it was painted. How long had she lived here? Must be getting on for forty years. Well, it had maybes only been painted once in all that time, not that it bothered her.

She'd been lucky to get a flat right opposite Victoria Park, she thought, fastening the buttons on her cardy. It'd probably be worth a fortune now to some yuppy from the City with more money than sense. Good job the landlord didn't want to sell. He had houses all over London. He couldn't be bothered to do them up, he liked the rent.

She'd seen enough people come and go over the years. She didn't mind the young couple with a baby above her, but the grumpy old geezer right at the top was a bit of a pain. He made a heck of a fuss about the baby's crying but it didn't worry her. She could just zone out and think of other things.

She turned right along the pavement past the blue iron railings till she got to the park gate. Most of the roses in the rose garden were over now, but there were a few tired red blooms. She followed the little path through the garden till she reached the open grass, beyond which was the big, round pond. It looked grey and murky today. Zelda shivered.

There were lots of ducks and Canada geese swimming around. On the left-hand side was the little café, where she often treated herself to a cup of coffee and a Chelsea bun. It would be closed now though. Anyways, she'd be having her tea soon.

She took some stale bread out of the plastic carrier she'd brought with her, tore off a few pieces and threw them in the water. Some ducks and a couple of Canada geese whooshed over, squawking, and dived for the bread.

Zelda laughed. ‘Don't get yer knickers in a twist, I've got plenty.'

She tore off more bread, making sure nobody was left out. ‘Wait yer turn, you greedy so-and-sos.'

A couple of geese heaved themselves out of the water and started waddling towards her. She picked up a stick from the ground and gently prodded them until they plopped back in the pond. ‘You won't get no dinner unless you stay in the water,' she warned them. ‘I don't want you nipping me bum.'

Two kids who'd been sitting on a green bench a few feet away got up and strolled towards her. They were wearing tracksuit bottoms, trainers and baseball caps back to front. One was black, the other white. Zelda checked them out. She was used to doing that. They must be about sixteen or seventeen. They didn't look like trouble but you could never be sure. She kept her eye on them as they approached.

‘You got a light?' the white one asked.

‘Sorry,' Zelda said. ‘Don't smoke.' She wasn't going to dig in her pockets for her lighter. She wasn't that stupid. They might get ideas about what else could be in there.

‘You still got your slippers on,' the black boy pointed out.

Zelda looked down and saw the royal-blue fluffy nylon slippers Carol had given her one birthday. She'd forgotten to change them.

She shrugged. ‘Nothing wrong with that, they're comfy.'

The two boys shook their heads and walked off, sniggering.

Zelda finished throwing the bread and strolled around the pond. Apart from the youths, hardly anyone was about now. She came to Victoria Park virtually every day at different times. Sometimes, though, when it was sunny, instead of visiting the pond she'd stroll across the road and watch the children in the adventure playground. She'd take a sandwich with her and a flask of tea and sit on the grass or a park bench. She enjoyed doing that. She didn't have a garden to sit in. Victoria Park was her garden.

She thought about her clients. The phone usually started ringing around 8.00 p.m. and kept going until eleven or twelve. Later sometimes. She must have about twenty regulars now; she'd built up quite a business. She'd never planned to get into psychic lines but when her breathing got bad and she couldn't work in the old people's home any more, she had to find some other way of making a living.

Lucky she'd spotted that ad in the local paper. ‘Genuine psychics wanted', it said. Well, that was her all right. They'd invited her for an interview. She'd been dead nervous but it wasn't too bad. The man asked her a few questions, told her to give him a reading and that was that. The job was hers. It was a bit of a swizz. She had to give him half her earnings, that was the deal. But she still made a fair whack. People kept coming back, they wanted her specially. Particularly that Evie. She must have spent a fortune on readings.

Zelda had walked all round the pond now and she could feel her chest getting tight. Time to go home and sit down. She retraced her steps through the little garden and along the pavement, passing a few people in suits on their way back from work. She kept her head down. She didn't want to be distracted by the spirits. She wasn't in the mood; she needed to conserve her energy for tonight.

Sometimes complete strangers would pass by with the dead sitting on their shoulders or walking by their side. The spirits would try to attract her attention by whispering rude comments or issuing warnings. They'd expect her to answer, the cheeky bastards. She couldn't help all of them. She was only human.

She was glad when she reached the house again. It was getting chilly. She took off her scarf and cardy and opened a tin of soup, warming it on the cooker in the corner of the lounge. She didn't have a kitchen as such. Just a sink, a cooker and a mini fridge. It was quite sufficient.

She ate the soup from a bowl sitting on the armchair beside the electric fire. She'd lit one ring. She needed it this evening. Then she dropped a piece of bread in the bowl and scraped it round the edges to get the dregs. It was tomato, her favourite.

The phone rang.

‘Here we go,' she muttered, putting the bowl on the floor beside her chair and picking up the handset. She cleared her throat and put on her telephone voice. ‘Zelda speakin'.'

It was one of her regulars, the woman whose husband had topped himself. Zelda had spoken to the husband several times but the problem was, he didn't seem very keen on the wife. In fact he was really rude about her. Zelda couldn't repeat some of the things he said, so she had to use her imagination and make up something nice.

‘He's missin' you really bad, darlin',' she said. ‘He wishes you weren't on your own with the kiddies, he just couldn't cope with the stress at work no more.'

The woman was sobbing on the end of the line. ‘If only he'd told me, I could have done something, we could have got professional help . . .'

The man was being really annoying, whistling in Zelda's ear, calling his wife a nag and a harridan.

‘Stop doing that, will you?' Zelda hissed, before she could check herself.

‘What?' the woman asked, surprised.

‘He says he loves you very much,' Zelda said quickly. The man whistled even louder in her ear. It hurt. She moved her head away.

‘Does he really?' the woman asked hopefully. She'd stopped sobbing. ‘Tell him I love him back.'

‘I will, darlin',' Zelda said. ‘He's blowin' kisses and askin' you to give the kids a cuddle for him.'

She felt a sharp pain in her upper arm. ‘Ouch.' She could swear he pinched her. He must be in the room though she couldn't see him. She hoped he wouldn't hang about, keeping her awake all night. She'd better let him alone and he might go away.

‘Oh,' she said, ‘I'm losin' the connection. It's fadin'.'

There was a sharp intake of breath at the other end.

‘I'm sorry, darlin',' she told the woman. ‘He's gone.'

The woman was disappointed but nevertheless hung up sounding much happier than before. Zelda was relieved. She felt sorry for her, even if she had driven her old man to his grave. She wouldn't have meant to. And maybe he was a rotten husband. He wouldn't tell her that now, would he?

The next call was from a man whose daughter had died twenty years earlier. Zelda couldn't find the girl at all so she had to dream it up. The truth was, she couldn't always make a connection. Sometimes the spirits just didn't want to be disturbed. But she was providing a service and her clients were paying good money. She couldn't let people down. They weren't to know whether it was all a load of old bollocks or not. So long as they went away satisfied, what was the harm?

At last Evie phoned. Zelda knew it was her before she heard the voice. She reached for the grey shawl on the back of the brown chair, wrapping it round her as best she could with one hand.

‘I want to know more about what you told me – about that terrible, bad thing,' Evie said. She sounded anxious. ‘I've been thinking about it all week.'

Zelda closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly. She tried to focus on Evie. She'd never met her, of course, she didn't need to, but she had a clear enough picture of her and she could see her essence, her core. It was agitated.

Zelda's mind started to go blank and an image began to form. She saw strange figures arguing, saying terrible things to each other. Burning with hate.

‘What can you see?' Evie's voice cut through the silence.

‘Danger,' Zelda moaned. She was rocking back and forth in her chair. ‘Terrible danger.' The hand in which she held the receiver felt clammy. She switched it into the other hand and wiped the damp one on her skirt.

Evie started to cry. ‘What sort of danger? You've got to tell me. What can I do?'

Zelda was trying so hard to talk to the figures, but she couldn't get through. ‘I don't know,' she sighed, slumping forwards in her chair and putting her head in the free hand. ‘I can't tell you no more.' She felt exhausted. Her whole body was heavy and aching.

Evie was still crying at the other end. Zelda wanted to go and lie down, have a rest, but she couldn't leave the woman like this. ‘I can see something else.' She tried to sound bright. ‘It's that man again, the tall handsome one, the one you're going to meet.' She slid a cigarette from the box lying on the little table beside her, lit it and took a long drag.

‘Tell me more.' Evie had perked up; the crying seemed to have stopped. ‘Where does he live? What exactly does he do for a living?'

Zelda racked her brains. ‘I can see a beautiful hotel, darlin', with palm trees outside. Blue sky, the ocean. I think you're going to travel. Do you like travelling?'

Evie sounded pleased. ‘Oh yes. I love it.'

‘And I can see a white dress, flowers, lots of people.'

‘A wedding?' Evie said, startled. ‘You mean we're going to get married? Goodness, I never thought I'd get married again.'

Finally she hung up. Zelda made sure she'd left her in a good mood. She was exhausted, now, drained – and troubled. She wished she could put Evie out of her mind for once.

She got up slowly, turned off the electric heater and switched out the little light on the table. Then she shuffled into her tiny bedroom next door, drew the faded blue curtains and put on her nightie. She hopped into bed quickly, pulling the blankets around her for warmth. Right now, she wished she'd never been born with the gift. It felt more like a burden. Why couldn't she be like ordinary people? Life would be so much simpler.