Paint. The art of scam. (10 page)

‘Polly?’ came a
voice behind her. Polly, startled, jumped from her thoughts and looked around
to see Tracy standing there: bulging canvas bags in each hand.

‘Oh. Hi. Tracy?
How are you?’

‘I'm fine, how
are you doing?’

‘Um. I'm fine.
Yes fine. Gosh. Haven't seen you for ages. Not since um...’

‘Since you gave
me that note for Seymour. How is the old fool?’

‘He's great, yes
great.’

Tracy looked at
her with an amused suspicion, dropped the clearly heavy, near to bursting bags
and sat down next to Polly on the bench.

‘Not interrupting
you am I? You looked like you were miles away.’ said Tracy, pulling out a pack
of tobacco.

‘No, not at all.
It's good to see you again. So what have you been up to?’

Tracy nudged at
her bags with her foot as she rolled her cigarette and licked at the paper.

‘Just a spot of
shopping, supermarket throwaways.’

Polly looked
puzzled for a moment then remembered what Seymour had told her about Tracy's ‘freegan’
philosophy and looked at her bags.

‘That's amazing.’
said Polly. ‘You mean they actually throw away all that stuff.’

Tracy lit her
neat thin roll-up and took a satisfying drag, exhaling a fine thin jet of smoke
skywards. ‘Yup. Bloody stupid isn't it. Still, suits me.’

Polly looked at
Tracy. She admired the simplistic aura that radiated from her, her proud
uncorrupted composure.

‘So, are you two
shacked up together then?’

‘Yes. Yes we are
shacked up together.’

Tracy cast a
sideways glance. ‘Fuck me. Well done. What a catch.’

Polly wasn't sure
if Tracy was being sarcastic but let it go.

‘Seymour told me
you even make wine from the stuff you get.’ said Polly, feeling the need to
change the subject.

‘I don't know if
I'd call it wine, but it does the trick. So what's Seymour up to then? Still
painting is he?’

‘Oh yes, he's
been doing some beautiful stuff lately.’

‘Talented boy old
Seymour, shame he's such a knob head.’

Polly looked at
her: taken aback. Seymour had always spoken highly of Tracy: she assumed their
feelings about each other were mutual.

‘You know what I
mean.’ said Tracy, ‘I love the bloke to bits, but fuck me, can't tell his ass
from his elbow when it comes down to it. It's like all talented people I
s'pose. Fucking artists. Life's just one big argument.’

Polly thought
about Tracy's words and although she was initially affronted by them: she was
right.

They both looked
out to sea for a few moments in a peaceful silence.

‘How about you
Tracy, are you still doing your Tarot readings?’

‘Yup.’ said Tracy
taking another drag of her roll-up.

‘Seymour told me
about the reading you did for him, it really affected him.’

‘Oh yeh, I
remember it well, it was a good one. So he's on good form is he?’

‘Yes. Yes he is.’

‘Good.’ Tracy
leant forward, stubbed out her roll-up on the pavement and put it back in her
tobacco pouch ‘Well, better be off then. Nice seeing you Polly and give Seymour
a hug from me won't you.’

Tracy stood and
hoisted the bags up, their contents threatening to burst them.

‘Tracy?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Um...Will you
give me a reading?’ said Polly, slightly embarrassed.

Tracy looked down
at Polly and studied her for a moment. ‘You?’

Polly nodded.

‘Ok.’ said Tracy.
‘Here grab one of these bags, me bus is just up here a bit.’

‘You’ve got a bus
now? That's great! Seymour told me you always wanted to get a bus. He'll be so
pleased.’

‘Yeah well you're
bloody lucky to catch me, I'm buggering off to Spain in a few days, come on you
silly cow.’

Polly leapt to
her feet and joined Tracy, clumsily picking up one of her heavy lumpy bags.

‘Spain? You going
to see your family? Seymour said you were Spanish.’

‘Nah, we've all
lost touch over the years since me mum died, never really knew them anyway.’

‘And your Father?’

‘Could be
anyone...Mum was a party animal see, real character, brought me up single
handed, bless her.’

I was born here
see, the only connection I got with Spain is a fat ass. I just want to get away
from this hole Polly. Need some sun, sex and cigarettes.’

‘Oh.’ said Polly,
struggling with the bag to keep up with her.

‘Well, here it is.’ said Tracy as they approached the dilapidated
old bus and dropped her bag. It was larger than Polly had expected and had
clearly seen better days. Tracy went around to the windscreen, ripped of a parking
ticket taped to the glass and dropped it in a close-by litterbin.

‘Do you have to pay that?’ said Polly innocently.

Tracy winked at Polly as she opened the side door and beckoned her
in. ‘Sit down there. Fancy a cuppa?’

‘Yes, yes that’ll be lovely thanks.’

Polly sat down at
the rickety table and looked around at the interior of Tracy's camper, a
converted community bus she'd bought at an auction and converted, by her, using
fork lift truck pallets and, as to be expected, anything else she'd found. It
had a pleasant atmosphere and although roughly finished, had a homely charm
about it. Tracy opened the back doors; the wheelchair lift -that still worked
and now served as a balcony overlooking the sea. The curtains were made from
dyed potato sacks, the carpet from sample squares and in the kitchen area; a
full size stainless steel sink and 70's G-plan fitted cupboards. All rescued in
the dead of night from various skips. While Tracy made the tea she gave Polly
her pack of Tarot cards and told her to hold them and shuffle them, get them
warm, whilst thinking about her question.

‘I don’t know
what the question is.’ said Polly.

‘Then it must be
a fucking big one.’ said Tracy.

Tracy was right.

By the time Tracy had made the tea and sat down, Polly was feeling
nervous, having looked through the powerful images on the cards. Some looked
horrific, others just strange: all disturbing.

‘Ready?’ asked Tracy as she slurped from her chipped mug.

‘Yes, yes I think so. They look quite dark.’ said Polly handing
the pack to Tracy; who nodded, knowingly. She felt them and looked at Polly,
concerned.

‘I said get them warm, not cook the bloody things.’ said Tracy
dryly, as she placed the pack face down on the table. ‘Now cut them.’

After some hesitation, Polly cut them and watched as Tracy
gathered them up; holding them tightly in her hands for a few moments, eyes
closed in concentration. Tracey looked into Polly’s eyes as she lay the cards
face down on the table in neat formation. Two cards crossed in the centre,
surrounded by four others and alongside them, to the left, a vertical row of
four. Polly’s eyes jumped between the cards and Tracy’s eyes, unsure of what
she was supposed to be doing. Tracy said nothing, as she turned the first card
in the centre that crossed another, then turned the rest over one by one; her
eyes fixed on Polly’s without a blinking.

Polly looked down at the cards spread on the table in front of her.
They drew her in, the strange medieval characters and icons disturbed her. At
last, Tracy’s eyes slowly moved down to the cards.

‘Mmmm.’ said
Tracy, her eyes occasionally darting up to Polly’s again.

Polly waited.
Tracy was studying each card intensely as she leant on the creaking table with
her elbows.

‘Well?’ said
Polly.

Tracy didn't
reply, but waved her index finger for silence. Polly looked up at the entrance
to the driver's cab at a small painting of a smiling Tracy, definitely a
Seymour Capital.

‘Right!’ said
Tracy, laying her hands flat on the table either side of the cards, looking
Polly squarely in the eyes.

Polly held her
stare.

‘You are in for a
tricky time Polly.’

‘I am?’

‘Yup and you know
it. Something is happening to you, something you engineered and you are going
to have to deal with it. I don't know what it is and I don't want to know. All
I know is that you are going to have to be really careful if you want to
survive it.’

Polly looked down
at the cards again.

‘Can you explain?’

Tracy looked down
at the cards then back at Polly.

‘There is evil in
your life Polly, there has been for some time, but you now have the chance to
rid yourself of that evil once and for all.’

‘But I don't
understand.’ said Polly. ‘How can you tell? I mean which card tells you that?’

‘They all do
Polly.’

‘All of them?’

‘Yup.’

‘But. God. You're
frightening me Tracy. Please, stop it!’

Tracy raised her
eyebrows and smiled compassionately.

‘Would you rather
I lied to you?’

‘No. No. But at
least, well you know, explain how a bunch of cards can lead you to say
something like that.’

Tracy leant back
and stretched her arms.

‘Ok Polly, I will
explain. These cards mean nothing on their own. Not a toss. You might as well
do the lottery. You can buy hundreds of books that will tell you what each card
in the pack symbolises in whatever position they are and you know what? It's
all bollocks.’

‘So. How? You
mean it's all a big con.’

‘Yup.’

‘That's awful!’

‘However.’ said
Tracy leaning forward and zooming in on Polly's eyes. ‘If you put me, you and
the cards together. Then they mean something. It's how you react to the cards
Polly that tells me what's going on. You are telling me what you are thinking
and what you are thinking is what will determine your future. Nothing else.
Because you Polly Capital are a liar.’

Polly recoiled
back into her seat. ‘Now hang on a minute Tracy!’

‘Don't worry
Polly,’ said Tracy, ‘you're in good company, it's a human trait, we are all
liars, that's why humans are so fucked up.’

‘Sounds like
you've been talking to Seymour, he says that sort of stuff.’

‘That's why
Seymour is so special Polly, silly bastard that he is. That's why he might
appear to be so lost, that's why he has trouble placing himself in this life
thing. That’s why he smokes so much hashish, because, deep down, he is honest.
That's why you fell in love with him. Why else? He ain't exactly good husband
material is he, you know what I mean? When you see the cards Polly, your
instincts immediately react, for a brief moment mind, that's when I pounce.’

Tracy gathered up
the spread and sorted them back into the pack.

‘You mean the
cards are like some sort of lie detector.’

‘No. A truth
detector.’

‘A truth
detector?’

‘Yup....Humans
are just bastardised apes, nothing more, nothing less. Apes have instincts and
they use them, humans have lost sight of them. To survive they have to lie,
because they make so many mistakes. We all have two sides Polly, one is animal
and the other is totally artificial. Some need to lie more than others and that
depends on how rich you want to be.’

‘And you Tracy,
do you lie?’

‘Nope...Take a
look around you Polly,’ said Tracy gesturing to the inside of her camper, ‘I
didn't get where I am through lying.’

Polly laughed.

‘But seriously.
You be careful Polly. I know you can sort this out and if you are clever, the
outcome will be good. But make sure you learn from it. OK?’

Polly stared at
Tracy, drawn in by her sincerity, then slowly nodded.

‘Ok.’

As Polly watched
Tracy carefully putting her cards back into their well worn velvet bag, she suddenly
knew what Tracy meant; that unstoppable grin that appeared on her face in the
mirror felt explained: as did her eyes. Eyes, that, she had felt, several times
in her chaotic past, belonged to someone else.

‘Is that it then?’
said Polly.

‘Yup. That'll be
a tenner.’

‘Oh. Of course,
hang on.’ Polly reached into her bag for her purse.

Tracy laughed.
‘Nah, only joking. Fuck me. You're living with Seymour Capital! You need every
penny you got.’

Polly smiled and
looked down at her lap, feeling humbled by Tracy's honesty.

‘Would you like
to come back to our flat, I know Seymour would love to see you. It's not far.
Just down at Hove.’

Tracy slowly
shook her head. ‘No thanks, just give him my love. OK.’

‘OK. I will. And
good luck with your trip.’