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She gives the little laugh. “Scent-memories can evoke strong subconscious associations. Even mistaken ones. A lot of people smoke apple-flavored e-cigarettes.”
“True,” I say. “I knew that it probably wasn’t you. I don’t even know if my memory of the car and the cigarette was all real. Because I’m psychic too. But you must already know that, from seeing me talking to Raif Silverstone’s ghost when we were both in the morgue waiting room.”
“Yes,” she confesses. “I did think that was rather odd. It took me by surprise.”
“But you didn’t react,” I say. “And in hindsight that was a really strange thing for me when I realized it.”
“In my job you get used to odd things, and I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“But you knew it was Raif’s ghost I was talking to? Weren’t you curious? Didn’t you want me to ask him anything about what happened to him?”
“In hindsight, yes. But I have to admit that it took me by surprise of the time. What did he say?”
“He was babbling. He wasn’t really making sense, I’m afraid. His remnant was fading quite fast and was nearly already gone.” I watch her face, and I cannot quite tell if I see a hint of relief on it.
“That’s a pity. It would have been incredible had he been able to tell you what happened.”
“True,” I say. “But the point I was making was that I’m psychic. I’ll admit the thing that made me scream in Raif’s office was that being in your presence gave me a vision.”
She is watching my face eagerly, her eyes riveted, and I sense her nervousness. But her shoulders are stiff and defensive. No matter what I say, she knows that she is perfectly placed to deny it.
Just say it already, snaps the little voice. I want to see the look on her face.
But what if we’re wrong? I ask.
We might be, she says firmly, but we won’t know until you say it.
“In the vision,” I continue. “I saw you in Otherworld. You were younger than you are now. Probably around my age. And you were wearing a wedding dress, white, with a beautiful lace veil. But you were marrying Dr Carrington. And it was such a shock to me that I screamed.”
She has gone perfectly still, her face pale. “I’m so sorry,” I say. “I didn't want to bring up bad memories for you.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she says.
“He was an awful man. So controlling and clever and relentless. It must have taken a lot of courage for you to leave him and start this new life. I imagine you’ve had to change your name and everything. You must have been so worried that he would find you.”
Her eyes are wide. Hands trembling. I take hold of one gently. I squeeze her fingers. “I’m sorry that you went through that. It must have been terrible for you. And I’m so sorry to bring it up here and now. I just… I just really needed to tell you that I know. So that we can trust each other.”
She gives a brief jerky nod of her head. When she speaks her voice is husky with held back tears. “I never knew what kind of man he was until it was too late,” she whispers. “What kind of business he ran. How he used people. I just can’t believe how he was able to keep it from me for so long.”
I nod. “I know what you mean. Everyone thought he was so wonderful. He hid it so well.”
Her voice turns angry. “He turned me into a fool. I felt so stupid. And then I was so scared because no one would believe me. The whole community adored him and thought he was doing wonderful work. And in the end I just had to leave.”
“And that’s why you started your charity. To help young women. To make up in your own way for the awful things your husband did.”
She nods. “To make it right. But it’s never enough. Never enough.”
I clutch her hand sympathetically. “But it is! It’s why you’re the perfect person to help people like me. The only one we can trust. Because you know what that was like. And you were strong. You survived it. You came through the other end, and I just really need someone to show me how to do that. To stop being so angry and afraid all the time.”
She sniffs, and quickly wipes away the tears that had been shining in her eyes. This time it is her who hugs me, wrapping me tightly in a warm embrace. “Thanks for trusting me,” she whispers huskily.
We both break apart, giggling a little. “So if I give you my phone number, will you call me with an appointment?” I ask a little anxiously.
“Of course I will.” She takes out a little case from her purse and hands me a business card. “You can call me anytime.”
“Thank you. And I’ll be sure to text you my number.” I smile at her, turning away slightly because everything just feels overly awkward now. “If I stay here am just gonna keep thanking you,” I tell her. She laughs as I turn to walk away.
I swing back towards her suddenly. “Beatrice, sorry, one last thing.”
