«Tell My Fortune, Grandma»
«Whats got you so down, my love?» Grandma Eileen sat across from her granddaughter, peering into her face. «Dont like the soup? Ill make you some bangers and mash instead.»
«No, Nan, Im not hungry,» Emily mumbled, barely glancing up as she stirred the soup listlessly.
«Somethings bothering you. Out with itmaybe I can help.»
Emily sighed and set down her spoon.
«All the girls at uni dress so posh, like theyve stepped out of a magazine. They look at me like Im some relic. They dont laugh in my face, but Im not stupid. The lads dont even notice me.»
«Because of your clothes?» Nan frowned.
«Thats part of it. I look frumpy. Outdated.»
«Who put that nonsense in your head? Youre the prettiest girl in London! Theyre just jealous. As for clothesIll get my pension tomorrow. Well go shopping, get you a proper dress.»
«No, Nan.» Emily shook her head. «I want proper jeansbranded ones. You know how much they cost? How will we afford food? I told you I shouldve gone part-time at uni and got a job.»
Nan gave her a stern look. «Dont be daft. Youll get a proper education while Im still breathing. Whats the point of part-time? Youll work soon enough. And those who mock you are small-minded. Clothes dont make the person.»
«Who even cares about degrees these days? Youre so old-fashioned, Nan. Maybe I should try finding work anyway?»
«Not a chance,» Nan said firmly. «If you switch to part-time, theyll cut my pension top-up. Every little bit helps.»
Emily dropped her gaze. Useless. Nan didnt understand the shame of wearing her mums hand-me-downs at nineteen. They were fine, surejust painfully unfashionable.
«Eat up. Ill think of something.» Nan rose from the table and disappeared into her room.
Emily heard drawers opening, the rustle of fabric. When she wandered in, Nan was sitting by the window, lost in thought.
«Nan, Im sorry,» Emily murmured, sinking beside her and wrapping an arm around her.
«What for, love? Youre right. You need a proper coat, some boots»
«Dont you dare borrow money. Well never pay it back.»
«I wont. But Ive got Grandads ringthe one with the yellow stone. Doubt youd wear it. Ill take it to the pawnshop tomorrow. You still havent eaten?»
«Ill finish later. Tell my fortune instead.»
Nan turned sharply. «What? Since when do I tell fortunes?»
«You do,» Emily insisted. «Mum said you predicted Dad for her.»
«When did she tell you that?»
«She did.»
«You young ones always want to peek ahead. Why? Fates written at birth. She doesnt like being tricked. And what good are fortunes? Even if I saw something bad, I wouldnt sayyoud fret and bring it on yourself.»
«Then tell me something good,» Emily teased.
«I dont need cards to know youll be just fine. Patience, love.»
«Come on, Nan! Whats the harm?» Emily nudged her, grinning.
«Oh, you little fox. Fine.» Nan fetched a fresh deck from the cupboard. «Sit at the table.»
She spread a lace cloth, shuffling the oversized cards with practiced ease.
«Focus on your hearts desire,» she instructed.
Emily held her breath, watching Nans hands. The cards were laid face down, then flipped one by one. Nan studied them, her expression shifting.
«Well? See this?» She tapped two cards. «Two sevens side by side. Loves comingreal love.» She pointed to another pair. «The King of Diamonds and you, close. Rare to see so many pairs.» Then she frowned.
«What is it?»
«Nothing dire. Just spadesworries ahead. But whats life without them? No joy without a little sorrow.»
Emily listened, memorising every word.
«Nan, can I ask»
«Enough. You got what you wantedlove, didnt you? Its coming soon.» Nan swept the cards up. «Put the kettle on.»
Over tea, Emily pressed about the king.
«Works for the Crown, young. Thats all the cards say.»
«And the worries? Youll be alright, wont you?»
«Course I will. Now stop fussing.»
The next morning, Emily walked to uni lighter than air. Let them mock her clotheslove wasnt about fashion.
After lectures, she lingered in the sunshineuntil she saw the police car outside her flat. Neighbours clustered nearby.
«Emily, love, such awful news» Mrs. Higgins from downstairs clutched a damp handkerchief.
«Whats happened? Wheres Nan?» Emily bolted for the door.
Her heart hammered as she raced upstairs. The flat door hung ajar. Inside, drawers gaped open, belongings strewn. A uniformed officer stood.
«Emily Charlotte Whitmore?»
«Yes. Wheres my nan?»
«Sergeant Harris. Im afraid your grandmother, Eileen Margaret Dawson»
«Is she hurt? Nan!» Emilys voice broke. She already knew.
«A neighbour found her. Shed been struck, but lightly. It was her heart that gave out.»
Emily clapped a hand over her mouth.
«Sit down.» He guided her to the sofa, fetched water.
«Someone killed her?» she whispered.
«Did she collect her pension in cash?»
«Y-yes. Hated cards.»
«Was anything valuable taken? Jewelry? Money?»
Emily scanned the room. «Nan mentioned pawning Grandads ringgold with a yellow stone. She was getting her pension today…»
«Neither was on her. Likely the thief followed her from the post office or pawnshop. Too many witnesses outside, so he came up…»
«So her pension killed her?» Tears dripped off Emilys chin.
«Looks that way. Well find him.»
Mrs. Higgins helped tidy up, offering her spare room, but Emily returned to the flat that night. Nan would worry if she wasnt home. Then she remembered.
Theyd only had each other since her parents died in a crash years agoa minivan running a red light.
Next morning, grief hit fresh. She spotted Nans glasses on the telly and instinctively tucked them into their case.
Sergeant Harris returned later.
«Neighbours chipped in for the funeral,» he said, laying an envelope on the table. «Youll need to choose something for her to wear.»
Emily numbly picked a navy dressthe one Nan had once said would bury her. Shed scolded her for it then.
The next days blurred. She switched to part-time studies, took a job at a nearby shop. Harris visited often.
One day, he cleared his throat. «Emily… I fancy you. Maybe bad timing, butif you need anything, call me.» He saved his number in her phone.
Her first proper outing in ages was a cinema date with him. He talked of his mum remarrying, his baby sister, his law studies.
She liked him. He was steady. When he proposed, she said yes.
That night, staring at Nans photo, Emily remembered the fortune. The frown, the odd warning.
«Nan… you knew, didnt you? Said you couldnt tell fortunes.» She touched the frame. «Id trade all the love in the world to have you back.»
In the picture, Nan smiled back, warm as ever.
