“Yes. You are correct,” Cash was enunciating his words with scary clarity. “Normally, it would be unacceptable. But you appear to have helped yourself to my girlfriend’s house to do…” he hesitated, cast an irate glance around the living room and continued, “whatever-the-fuck you’re doing and by the looks of it, it isn’t fucking good.”
Abby looked around and realised he wasn’t wrong.
Not only were there candles burning, there were heavy scarves thrown over the shades of her lamps, muting their brightness so much Abby didn’t notice until then they were switched on. More scarves of velvet and silk festooned the table in front of the couch, on which there was a variety of paraphernalia, including burning incense, more candles (dripping onto the cloth, by the way), bowls filled with dark liquid, a huge, clear, round ball on a poofy, tasselled, velvet pillow and what looked, distressingly, like the bones of a small animal (or an infant and, even though neither choice was good, Abby was hoping for the former).
“You weren’t supposed to be home until later,” Mrs. Truman stuck with her earlier theme.
Cash rocked back on his heels and sucked breath in through his nose in an obvious attempt at patience.
Jenny looked at her watch and hesitantly entered the fray.
“Um, Mrs. Truman, I think it is later,” she said.
Mrs. Truman looked at her own watch then up to Jenny and remarked sedately, “Oh, so it is.”
“Time flies when the spirits aren’t talking,” the Gypsy Queen put in.
Cash spoke again and this time he had his anger in check but you could tell, just barely.
“Let’s start this again,” he suggested. “What are you doing here?”
“Séance,” Mrs. Truman instantly replied as if this was an entirely natural thing to be doing in someone else’s living room or at all.
Cash’s eyes narrowed and Jenny and Fenella both took steps back. The Gypsy Queen crossed her arms on her chest, a small smile playing at her mouth and Mrs. Truman went into stare down mode with Cash.
“You’re having a séance,” Cash repeated in a way that said he not only couldn’t believe his ears, he didn’t want to.
“Yes,” Mrs. Truman replied calmly.
“In Abby’s living room,” Cash went on.
Mrs. Truman glanced at Jenny then back at Cash and explained, “It would upset my dogs if we did it at my house.”
“Kieran would totally freak if we did it at ours,” Jenny threw in.
Cash’s eyes cut to her and he gave her a look that said without words, “no fucking kidding?” therefore Jenny took another step back.
Bravely, Fenella spoke up, “And you know Alistair would have a fit if we tried something like this at the castle.”
Cash pinned Fenella with a look. “Would you like to explain why you’re here?”
Fenella’s glance darted around the room then she took in a deep breath and tried but failed to perform a nonchalant shrug. “Well, see, I was in Clevedon the other day, um…” she glanced at Jenny and then said, “shopping. And I thought I’d pop by and say hi to Abby. She wasn’t here because, you know, she was with you.”
When she stopped speaking, Cash prompted, “Yes. I know. Continue.”
Fenella’s mouth moved around like it had forgotten how to form words before she plucked up the courage to go on. “I was knocking on the door and waiting and Mrs. Truman came out and asked who I was. Then we got to chatting then she invited me to tea then she told me about the séance and invited me to come. I’d never been to one and well,” she hesitated before throwing her hands out at the sides and finishing in a voice that was several octaves higher than normal, “I’m here.”
Cash stared at Fenella and it was clear even to someone who hadn’t spent nearly every single day of two weeks with him that he didn’t believe a word she said or at least not the important ones.
Surprisingly, he let it go and turned to The Gypsy Queen. “And you are?”
She lifted her chin while saying, “Cassandra McNabb. Clairvoyant and white witch, at your service.”
Cash watched her for a moment which slid into two which slid into three as all the women stood tense, waiting.
Then he muttered, “Fucking hell.”
“Obviously you’re tired and want a private moment to say goodnight to Abby before you go home,” Mrs. Truman said then continued pointedly, “to your own bed.”
This comment, Abby noted with alarm, made Cash, whose anger had partially cooled, look like he was going to explode.
“Actually –” he started with deadly calm but Abby jumped in front of him, pressed her back to his front and interrupted.
“Actually, why don’t you all just go on home? I’ll blow out the candles and clean up for you tomorrow.”
“Works for me,” Cassandra muttered, wandering toward a fringed bag that lay beside the hearth.
“I’m, um, staying with Mrs. Truman,” Fenella made this surprising announcement, her eyes on Abby looking weirdly like she was trying to communicate something she could not say out loud. “Maybe tomorrow you and I could have a cup of –”
Cash cut her off by saying, “No.”
Fenella’s eyes flitted to Cash and she uttered a strangled, “No?”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday. Abby’s mine,” Cash declared and when Fenella opened her mouth to speak, Cash went on, “all day.”
“But you just spent three days with her in Germany!” Mrs. Truman snapped.
“Three days where I was working. Tomorrow, I’m not working and Abby’s spending the day with me,” Cash returned.
“You don’t own her,” Mrs. Truman shot back and Jenny made a telltale choking noise which brought Cash’s newly-narrowed eyes to her face.
Bloody hell! Abby thought.
She sought to minimise any possible future damage by quickly announcing, “It’s late. You all get home.” She looked at Fenella. “I’ll call you. Does Cash have your number?”
Fenella nodded, eyes on Cash, and said, “I think so.”
“Good,” Abby smiled at Fenella and then turned to Cassandra. “Sorry this has been heated but I hope you understand we’re both kind of tired,” Cassandra made no reply so Abby went on in a desperate attempt to be polite. “Anyway, it’s nice meeting you.”
Cassandra’s dark brown eyes looked into Abby’s and Abby stood frozen, having the eerie but not entirely unpleasant feeling that Cassandra was reading the words written on Abby’s soul.
Then she broke her own spell by saying, “We’ll meet again.” She walked to the door, stopped, and looked back at Abby. “You’ve got a great cat.”
Then she was gone.
The others followed close on her heels.
Abby closed the door on them and met Cash in the hall, the faint light from the living room was gone indicating that Cash had blown out the candles and turned out the lights.
Abby flipped a switch that flooded the hall with light.
The minute Cash’s eyes focused on her, he remarked, “That woman is a nut.”
“Mrs. Truman?” Abby asked.
“Take your pick,” Cash answered dryly and Abby wanted to be detached and beyond finding Cash amusing but she couldn’t help but laugh.
While still laughing, she felt his arm slide around her shoulders and he started to lead her up the stairs.
“Do you know why Fenella would come visit you?” he asked and Abby could swear she read more than mild curiosity in his tone.
“No idea,” she replied with all honesty.
Fenella’s being there was, far and away, the weirdest part of a very weird night.
Cash may have wanted to say something else but while they were on the landing turning toward the next flight of steps the lights flickered then they did it again then the hall went black.