“It’s very probable.”
“Too bad I’m not further along with my psychic training. I could just close my eyes for you and pick up her vibrations.”
“Your guru, Randy, tried to do that and didn’t come up with anything. How did your session go with him today?”
“It didn’t. He wasn’t there. I went to his office but he didn’t show up. I expect he got called away for something more important than me. I know they had new guests arriving today. He’ll fit in my sessions when he can.” She leaned against the edge of the draining board, watching him. “Emmy says that my powers may be remarkable. She says that I may be able to see other people’s lives and even make things happen. She says the most powerful psychics can just picture something in their head and it happens, just like that. Isn’t it exciting?”
“I’d take it all with a grain of salt if I were you,” Evan said as he dropped the spaghetti into a huge pot of boiling water. “These people believe in all that stuff, but I’d want some proof, myself. I’ve never yet met anyone who was truly psychic.”
“My old nain used to see the Derin Corff, didn’t she?” Betsy demanded.
Evan smiled. “I shall be only too delighted if you turn out to be a famous psychic. You’ve always wanted to be famous, haven’t you?”
Betsy beamed. “Imagine me on a TV show someday with Randy.”
“Sorry to remind you, love, but he’s already married.”
“Oh, he’s too old for me. He’s way over thirty. I like younger blokes myself.” She hoisted herself up onto one end of the counter and sat there, swinging her legs. “Tell me, Evan,” she said carefully, “if Bronwen wasn’t around any longer … if there was no Bronwen Price in the world, do you think you might be interested in me then?”
“Betsy!” He laughed uneasily. “I really like you. Honestly I do. But I don’t think I’m the right bloke for you. You need someone who’s more lively and fun. You know I don’t like dancing and the type of thing you like.”
“I’d also like to settle down with a steady bloke of my own someday,” Betsy said. “Oh, well, I’m not going to give up without a fight. Do you think I could use my psychic powers to make Bronwen disappear?”
“Hey—that smells wonderful,” came Bronwen’s voice as she opened the front door. “You see, I told you that you could …” She stopped short as she came into the kitchen and saw Betsy sitting on the kitchen counter beside Evan. “Oh,” she said. “I hope you haven’t been cheating.”
“I’m here on an errand from Mrs. Williams,” Betsy said, sliding gracefully from the counter. “You don’t have to worry.”
Bronwen laughed. “I meant cheating by having someone who knows how to cook help you. You haven’t been helping him, have you, Betsy?”
“Only washed some lettuce or you’d have eaten it full of caterpillars,” Betsy said. “Well, I’ll be on my way then. Enjoy your dinner. I think you’re doing just fine, Evan.”
Evan was conscious of Bronwen looking at him as Betsy closed the front door behind her. “You didn’t ask her to come and help you, did you?” she said accusingly.
“Of course not. Mrs. Williams wanted to make sure I was all right. Betsy had been having dinner with the famous Emmy, so she stopped by on her way home.”
“If you ask me, Betsy’s all too influenced by the famous Emmy. She’s been following her around like a sheep.”
“And by the famous Randy,” Evan said.
“Oh, who’s he?”
“The star psychic at the Sacred Grove. You should see him, Bron. Hair over his shoulders like Samson. Very tanned and muscled and Hollywood.”
She gave him a wicked smile. “Ooh, sounds interesting. Maybe I’ll go and check him out for myself.”
Evan grabbed her round the waist and pulled her close to him. “None of that, or I won’t share my secret spaghetti sauce with you.”
Bronwen laughed and kissed him.
“And none of that when I’m trying to concentrate,” he added. “Make yourself useful and open the bottle of red wine I’ve put on the table.”
“First sensible suggestion you’ve made all evening.” She waltzed out of the kitchen. Evan came through to join her. “I haven’t got as far as candles and tablecloths and things.”
“This will do just fine. You’ve done a lot in a week.”
“Especially since I’ve been up and down to that bloody Sacred Grove all weekend. Missing college student from America,” he added. “Turns out she was there briefly then left a couple of months ago, so we’re none the wiser.”
Bronwen poured out two glasses of red wine.
“You sit down and I’ll serve,” Evan said. He went through into the kitchen, stopped in horror, and yelled, “Bloody hell!”
Bronwen came running through. “What? What is it?”
Evan pointed silently at the huge glutinous mound that was currently creeping out of the pot and down the side of the stove. “Spaghetti isn’t supposed to behave like that, is it?”
Bronwen started laughing. “It’s like something out of a horror movie—The Blob That Swallowed Wales. Evan—how much spaghetti did you put in?”
“Well, I started with one packet but that didn’t look like very much, so I added another one.”
Bronwen wrapped her arms around his neck. “My dear sweet twit, each packet is enough for eight people. You’ve just cooked enough to feed half of Llanfair.”
“Well, I’m not inviting them to share,” Evan said, annoyed and embarrassed at her laughter. “I planned a special dinner with my girlfriend and that’s what we’re going to have. Now go and sit down and don’t watch while I serve up.”
Still smiling, Bronwen went back into the living room.
It was very early the next morning when Evan’s phone roused him from sleep. He staggered downstairs and picked up the receiver.
“Evan—are you all right?” He was surprised to hear Bronwen’s voice.
“Me? Yes, I’m fine, as far as I know. I’ve only just woken up. What time is it?”
“I don’t know. Early. I’m sorry I woke you, only I’m not fine, and I just thought maybe there was something in the food … .”
“You mean you’re sick?”
“As a dog,” she said. “I’ve hardly left the loo all night.”
“I’ll be right over,” he said. He scrambled into his clothes and ran up the high street. It was a misty morning and the milk float loomed like a ghostly specter as it crept up the street, making the morning milk round. The schoolhouse was barely visible through the fog. Evan ran across the school playground and let himself in with the key Bronwen had given him.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Bronwen said as he came into her bedroom. “It might be catching.”
“You look terrible. I’m phoning for the doctor.”
She nodded. “I feel terrible. But you’re fine and we both ate the same things last night, so it can’t be food poisoning.”
“I like that,” Evan said, smoothing her hair back from her forehead. “I cook her one meal and immediately she accuses me of poisoning her.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …”
“It’s okay, love. You’ve probably just got a touch of flu. Would you like to try a cup of tea and some toast?”
She nodded. “I’m not sure if it will stay down, but I’ll give it a try. And could you make a phone call for me? I have to let the Office of Education know that they’ll need to send up a substitute for me today.”
“You’re lucky this is my day off,” Evan said. “See, I knew there had to be some advantages to working every other weekend.”
“Lucky me.” Bronwen managed a smile. “If the first meal didn’t finish me off, he’s got a chance to try again.”
Betsy sensed as soon as she entered the Sacred Grove that morning that something was wrong. Emmy had dropped her off at the entrance. “I’ve got some new prospects to interview,” she said. “Fascinated as I am by your particular case, I’m supposed to be compiling a body of evidence about extrasensory perception among Celts. Just one Celt isn’t likely to satisfy my professor at home. Let me know how your session with Randy goes today, won’t you? I’ll try to stop by later.”