A Cuckoo in Candle Lane (5 page)

‘No, dear, it’s not that sort of reading,’ Elsie told her, trying to stifle a laugh. ‘I just look at the lines on your hand and they tell me things about you.’

As Elsie gazed at Sally’s palm she was shocked by what she saw. This girl was special and she had rarely seen such lines.

‘What can you see then?’ the girl asked curiously.

Elsie’s heart went out to her. She felt they were destined to meet and there would come a time when Sally would need a lot of guidance, but for now she would have to tread carefully. ‘Well now, let me see. Hmm, your lifeline shows me that you’re strong and healthy and this line here tells me that you’re a clever girl. What do you think of that then?’ she ended with a chuckle, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Ann reached across and touched Sally’s arm. ‘Don’t take any notice of my mum. You should hear my dad making fun of her. He calls her an old witch, and if she’s been out shopping, he asks her where she parked her broomstick.’

‘Oi, you cheeky moo, that’s enough of your lip,’ Elsie laughed. ‘Anyway, it’s nearly nine o’clock and time you girls were in bed. By the way, Sally, would you ask your mum to pop round one morning for a cup of tea? I’d love to meet her.’

Sally nodded, her head turning quickly as the kitchen door opened.

‘Hello you lot,’ Bert called as he walked in, with Arthur trailing behind him. ‘You must be Ann’s new friend from next door,’ he smiled as he stepped towards Sally, startled when the girl backed away nervously.

‘It’s all right, love, I don’t bite,’ he told her, his soft voice at odds with his huge build.

Elsie saw Sally’s reaction and frowned. What was the girl so nervous about? Bert was a gentle giant and wouldn’t hurt a fly.

‘Mum, I’m starving,’ Arthur whined, breaking into her thoughts, sniffing loudly and cuffing his nose with the back of his hand.

‘How many times have I told you to use a hanky,’ Elsie complained as she bustled over to the bread bin. ‘Right, I’ll make you a sandwich, then it’s off to bed.’

‘That’s not fair. Ann’s still up and I’m older than her,’ Arthur complained.

‘You’re both going to bed,’ Elsie told him shortly.

‘But—’

‘Don’t argue with your mother,’ Bert ordered.

‘Sorry, Dad, but it’s still not—’

‘Goodbye,’ Sally whispered, before Arthur had finished speaking.

‘Bye love, see you again,’ Elsie called as she lathered margarine onto thick slices of bread. Does her mother know, she wondered, recalling what she had seen in Sally’s palm. And if not, should I tell her?

R
uth guided her threadbare sheets through the mangle, her mind distracted. She had realised the time would come when Sally would rebel against being confined to her room, but hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

It had started on Friday evening when she had begged to go next door. When Ruth refused, Sally had bombarded her with questions. Why did she have to stay in her room? Why couldn’t she go to her friend’s house? Why did she have to keep out of her dad’s way?

As in the past, Ruth tried to evade the answers, but this time Sally just kept on and on until she felt as though her head was splitting. Unable to tell her the truth and running out of excuses, she allowed her daughter to go next door, but her nerves had jangled the whole time. What if Ken came home? It would be her that got a belting, not Sally.

With a sigh she picked up her basket of washing. Why, oh why did that bloody lot have to move in next door? she thought, making her way outside to the yard.

‘Hello. I’ve been hoping to see you.’

Her mouth full of wooden clothes pegs, Ruth looked up to find her next-door neighbour grinning at her over the fence.

‘If you’ve finished your washing, why don’t you come round for a cup of tea,’ she invited. ‘I don’t know about you, but I could really do with one.’

Ruth looked into a round friendly face that beamed at her invitingly and found herself grinning back. She liked Elsie on sight and was sorely tempted to accept her invitation. When Ken and Sally were out all day she often felt alone and isolated, sometimes longing for another female to talk to, but dare she take a chance?

They had lived in Candle Lane for a long time now, but she hardly knew any of the other residents. They probably thought her snobbish, but Ken was adamant about not letting anyone know their business, and he refused to let her mix with them.

Yet as she looked into her new neighbour’s merry twinkling eyes, Ruth wondered if it would hurt, just this once. Before she knew it she spat the clothes pegs out of her mouth, and found herself agreeing.

Now she sat at Elsie’s kitchen table, her eyes roaming around the room, unable to help feeling envious at what she saw.

There was a beautiful Welsh dresser against one wall, crammed with blue and white striped china. The gingham curtains at the window were also blue and matched the tablecloth. Her eyes turned to the fireplace and she had to withhold a gasp when she saw the lovely brass companion set in the hearth, with a matching coalscuttle glowing like copper as it reflected the flames from the huge fire. She sighed; the whole room was in stark contrast to her own dingy and uninviting kitchen.

As Elsie bustled round putting the kettle on the hob, and getting out cups and saucers, she was surreptitiously studying her neighbour. The other woman’s clothes looked washed out and drab, thin wrists poked out from the sleeves of a shapeless cardigan and her dark brown hair was scraped back unbecomingly from her face. Feed her up, she thought, put her in some decent clothes, and she’d be a right beauty.

As they chatted together she was surprised at her reaction to Ruth. When Ann told her that Sally was forced to stay in her room, she had found it disturbing, unable to understand why the child was treated so badly. But now she wondered if Ann had exaggerated, finding that not only did she like the woman, she somehow felt sorry for her too.

‘So what brought you to Battersea?’ Ruth asked.

‘Well, it’s a long story but I’ll try to cut it short,’ Elsie told her, whilst pouring tea through a strainer into the cups. ‘You see, my husband has always wanted to start up his own furniture removals business, and when he got left a bit of money, he decided to give it a go.’

‘Blimey, he’s got his own firm then?’

Elsie chuckled. ‘I wouldn’t call it a firm, he’s only got one van. Still, as he said, it’s a start, and if things go well we’ll be able to expand in the future. Now tell me, what does your husband do?’

‘He does delivery driving for a builder’s merchant.’

‘Then we’ve got something in common – both our husbands are drivers,’ Elsie said, smiling across the table at Ruth.

‘Yeah, but my Ken would give his right arm to work for himself.’

‘Oh, I don’t think it’s all it’s cracked up to be. At least you know you’ve got a regular wage coming in each week. Until Bert gets himself established I’ll be worrying myself sick most of the time in case he doesn’t get any work.’

Ruth nodded slowly. ‘Yeah, I suppose you’ve got a point.’

‘How long have you lived in Candle Lane, Ruth?’

‘For about seven years now.’

‘Well, I must say, people are friendly here. I had no end of offers to help when we moved in, and Mrs Green, who lives opposite, kindly carried over a tray of tea while we were unloading the van, which made us feel welcome.’

‘That’s nice,’ Ruth told her, then abruptly changed the subject. ‘My daughter tells me that you read palms.’

‘Yes I do, but I’m also a medium. It runs in my family – my mother was a clairvoyant.’

Ruth’s face was alight with curiosity. ‘I’ve never met a medium before. If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do?’

‘Oh, I don’t do much, just a bit of palm-reading and I occasionally read the cards. It’s a hobby and I don’t do it professionally. I tell you what, I’ll give you a reading if you like.’

‘You don’t go into a trance or anything, do you?’ Ruth asked nervously.

‘No, don’t worry, I’ll just do your palm.’ Reaching across the table, Elsie took Ruth’s hand, examining the lines and mounts. Hmm, she thought, this lady has been through a lot. ‘You’ve had a hard life, but it will be a long one,’ she told her. ‘There was someone in your past who meant a great deal to you, but for some reason you broke up with him.’ Seeing something else, her brow creased and she looked up sharply. ‘I see a child from this relationship too.’

Ruth snatched her hand away, her face pale. ‘How do you know that?’

Before she could form an answer Elsie felt as though she was being drawn into a vortex, and her senses heightened. She could feel a presence and heard a name. ‘Who’s Charlie?’ she asked.

Ruth jerked. ‘Ch-Charlie?’ she stuttered nervously. ‘Me dad’s name was Charlie.’

‘He’s warning you about something … something to do with your daughter.’ Elsie closed her eyes, listening to the voice. ‘There’s a man who may harm her, a man she should keep away from.’

Elsie could feel the presence fading, drifting away as she struggled to hold onto it. The room slowly came back into focus, and she opened her eyes to find that Ruth was visibly trembling. ‘Oh I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to frighten you, but the message must have been important for a spirit to come through so suddenly. Do you know what it means?’

White-faced, Ruth shook her head. ‘No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Scrutinising her through half-closed eyes, Elsie could sense this wasn’t the truth, but despite that she liked Ruth and didn’t want to spoil their budding friendship. ‘Well, I think you should listen to the warning,’ she told her. ‘The message was very strong.’

Ruth just nodded, her lips compressed. It was obvious from her expression that the subject was closed, and whilst pouring them both another cup of tea, Elsie found herself thinking about Sally’s palm, wondering if she dare talk about the child’s gifts. Deciding to trust her instincts, she sat forward in her chair and spoke earnestly. ‘Do you know that your daughter is special, Ruth?’

‘Special? What do you mean?’

Elsie groped for the right words, praying inwardly that she could make her understand. ‘Some people are born with natural psychic abilities and your daughter is particularly gifted. She could grow up to be a spiritual healer.’

‘No, no, not my Sal. You must be mistaken,’ Ruth protested.

Giving a gentle smile of encouragement, Elsie urged, ‘Think carefully. Haven’t you noticed anything different about her?’

‘No, not really. She does come out with some funny stories at times, but she’s just a kid with a vivid imagination, that’s all. Anyway, what sort of things should I ’ave noticed?’

‘Well, has she talked about seeing imaginary people? It sometimes manifests itself like that.’ Elsie watched Ruth’s reaction and saw that something had struck home; she was staring at her now, as though transfixed.

‘Her friend,’ she whispered. ‘She’s always talking about her friend, and I’ve told her time and time again that it’s all in her imagination.’

‘What has she told you about this friend?’ Elsie asked.

Ruth rubbed the pads of her fingers across her eyes. ‘It started last year after she had emergency surgery for a ruptured appendix. Oh Elsie, it was terrible. The surgeon told me that they nearly lost her during the operation and that she had to be resuscitated.’

‘How awful for you,’ Elsie consoled. ‘But please, go on.’

‘When she came round from the anaesthetic she started to say strange things, they sounded so daft that I thought she was delirious. She went on and on about the place she’d been to, saying she wanted to go back to the lights and to see the lovely lady again.’

‘Did you ask her about this place, Ruth?’

‘Yeah, but it didn’t make any sense. She said that she floated through a tunnel and at the end of it there were beautiful shimmering shapes. Even as she recovered from the operation it didn’t stop, and I remember getting quite cross with her. There I was, her mum, but she didn’t want to know. All she wanted was this other lady and I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.’

As she listened to the story unfolding, Elsie realised that Sally must have had a near-death experience. She had heard similar stories before, but such things were little understood, and rarely discussed.

‘When she came home from the hospital,’ Ruth continued, ‘she gradually stopped talking about it, but sometimes when she’s upset or not feeling well, she tells me about this friend who comes and makes her better.’ She stopped, her eyes suddenly widening in fear. ‘Oh God, Elsie, are you telling me that my Sally’s talking to ghosts?’

‘No, at least not yet. But by the sound of it I think she has a spirit guide, or what some people call guardian angels.’

Ruth sat quietly for a few moments, before a look of denial crossed her face, and shaking her head, she said, ‘I don’t know about all this, I need time to think.’ Pushing back her chair and rising abruptly to her feet she added, ‘I had better be off now, I’ve still got a lot to do. Thanks for the tea.’

‘You’re welcome. Why don’t you pop round again in the morning? Or I could come round to you.’

There was a pause, followed by a sigh as Ruth said, ‘Look, I had better be straight with you from the start. My husband won’t allow me to make friends with any of our neighbours. I took a chance coming round here today and if he found out, he’d go mad. I’d love to return the favour and invite you round to my house, but I’m sorry, I just can’t risk it.’