‘Um, I changed my mind. I’d like a Martini, please. Very dry.’
‘Coming up,’ the bartender said.
Amanda looked around. A man sitting alone at one of the high tables caught her eye. To her surprise, he grinned and winked at her. It made her distinctly uncomfortable. He was old — at least thirty. What was he doing, winking at a fourteen-year-old?
He doesn’t know you’re fourteen years old, she reminded herself. Quickly, she looked away. The bartender set a frosted glass with a long stem in front of her.
‘One very dry Martini,’ he announced. ‘I threw in two olives. No extra charge.’ Then he winked at her. All this winking was giving her the creeps. And she hated olives. When the bartender wasn’t looking, she fished them out with her fingers. Then she held the drink to her lips and took a tentative sip.
It was disgusting. How did adults drink these things? It was all she could do not to gag.
Suddenly, she realized that the man who had winked at her earlier had come to the bar. There were several empty places, but he took the stool right next to her.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Good to see you again.’
Oh no! It was somebody who knew Margaret. She should never have gone to a bar so near Margaret’s apartment.
‘Um, nice to see you too,’ she murmured.
His eyebrows went up and he seemed pleased. ‘Yeah? The way you blew me off last time, I didn’t think you’d be so happy to see me.’
He whistled to the bartender and indicated Amanda’s Martini. ‘I’ll have one of these,’ he said. ‘And put them both on my tab.’
Amanda’s brow furrowed. ‘You don’t have to pay for my drink. I’ve got my own money.’
‘My treat,’ the man said. ‘Now, let’s get to know each other.’
Amanda fumbled in Margaret’s bag, and took out what she hoped would be a large enough banknote.
‘No, thank you,’ she said quickly, putting it on the bar. ‘I have to go.’
‘You just got here!’The man’s protests rang in her ears as she fled the bar. OK, maybe she wasn’t ready for this kind of adult life.
But she still had the credit cards, and she’d found another card in Margaret’s wallet — a video-club membership. She could still be an adult, in a different way. She used the credit card to buy food she normally never ate — fried chicken wings, French fries and sugar-packed soft drinks. Microwave popcorn with butter. And real ice cream, not that reduced-fat stuff they always had at home. For once in her life she didn’t have to worry about gaining weight — these calories weren’t going into her body!
At the video club she picked up movies that she wouldn’t have been allowed to see in a cinema. Not dirty stuff — just sophisticated films that were ‘restricted to over-eighteens’. She brought her goodies back to Margaret’s apartment and had a very enjoyable evening all by herself.
She told herself that on Sunday she’d do more ‘adult’ things, like go to a really fancy restaurant. Get a pedicure, or maybe have her legs waxed. Find a club where she could dance.
In the end, she spent all of Sunday doing what she did on Saturday night — eating junk food and watching movies. And totally enjoying herself. This was the kind of adult life she could handle.
On Monday morning she learned what Margaret did for a living. The phone woke her at seven a.m.
‘Miss Robinson, this is Eastside Elementary School. We have a teacher who just called in sick. Could you substitute today?’
Amanda wasn’t even tempted.‘Oh, I’m very sorry, but I’m sick myself. I’m about to have my tonsils out.’
She didn’t even have to lie! Because right now, at the hospital across town, someone who looked like Amanda Beeson — who was Amanda Beeson, physically at least — was being put to sleep before her operation.
Yes, it was a very pleasant weekend. But now she had to return to the present, and she looked at Ken across the table. His eyes were shut tightly, and he was gripping the hand of the young boy, Stevie.
‘I can’t seem to reach your father, Stevie,’ the medium said, ‘but I can feel him getting closer. We’ll try again tomorrow.’
Ken opened his eyes. He glanced at Margaret, but his eyes didn’t linger. He doesn’t have a clue, Amanda marvelled. Wait till he hears this is me!
Once again, she didn’t get the opportunity to tell him. When they rose from the table, Cassandra spoke to her.
‘I must have a word with you, Margaret,’ she said. ‘Could you stay back for a minute?’
‘OK,’ Amanda said. ‘I just need to—’ but by then, Ken was already out of the apartment. Stevie was gone too.
Cassandra waited until Dahlia had left and then she turned to Amanda. Her tone changed dramatically.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she asked shrilly. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
Amanda was startled. ‘Huh?’
‘Look at you! Nobody’s going to believe you’re a grieving daughter! And you didn’t behave today the way we practised. Do you want to blow this whole thing?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I brought you in on this to make it look like a real seance. You’re supposed to be looking for your dead mother and I’m pretending to talk to her for you. You were fine last week — why are you screwing up tonight?’
As she spoke, Cassandra tugged at the scarves that veiled her face.
‘I–I don’t know …’ Amanda sputtered, but she didn’t finish the sentence. She was suddenly speechless.
Because the last scarf had come off, releasing long, thick blonde hair, and Amanda recognized the face that had been hidden. The last time she’d seen that face, its owner had been hypnotizing Emily in an effort to learn the next week’s winning lottery numbers.
Cassandra the medium was Serena Hancock, the student teacher.
CHAPTER NINE
KEN HAD WANTED TO stay behind and talk to the medium, but Stevie looked so upset when he ran out that Ken had to go after him. On the street in front of the medium’s building, he could see disappointment written all over the younger boy’s face.
‘Are you OK?’ Ken asked.
‘Yeah … well, no, not really. I thought she would have made contact with my father by now.’
‘It’s not that easy,’ Ken said. ‘Sometimes the spirits of dead people are totally open to communicating. You don’t even have to look for them — they’re there. Others are harder to find. Your father might not even be aware that he can get a message to you.’
Stevie looked at him curiously. ‘How do you know so much about it?’
Ken couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘I’ve read a lot.’
Stevie stared at the ground. ‘My youngest sister, Dena, she keeps getting these rashes. My mother thinks she might be allergic to something, and she wants to take her to a doctor for tests. Only we can’t afford it. We don’t have any medical insurance. And my other sister, Cindy … she’s growing so fast, and now she’s complaining her shoes are too tight. Only there’s no money to buy her a new pair.’
Ken could see he was close to tears. ‘Listen … you know the public library, on Slater Street?’
‘Sure.’
‘Well, I need a bunch of books for — for an English assignment,’ Ken said. ‘And I don’t have time to go there. If you could go for me, and check out the books, I’d pay you for your time.’
Stevie gazed up at him. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah. Here, I’ll give you a list.’ Ken dived into his backpack. He didn’t really have an assignment, but his English teacher had given everyone in the class a list of ‘suggested reading’ — not required — which meant nobody was going to read the books. But Stevie wouldn’t know that. He handed the list to the boy.