«Tell Me My Fortune, Gran»
«Whats the matter, love? You look so down.» Edith Wilson sat across from her granddaughter, searching her face. «Dont fancy the soup? Ill pop some sausages and mash in instead.»
«Not hungry, Gran.» Emily barely glanced up, stirring the broth absently.
«Somethings bothering you. Out with it. Maybe I can help?» her gran asked gently.
Emily sighed and set the spoon aside.
«All the girls at uni dress so posh and trendy. They look at me like Im some charity shop reject. They dont say it to my face, but Im not daft. The lads dont even notice me,» she mumbled.
«Over clothes?» Gran frowned.
«That, and Im just frumpy. Out of date.»
«Who put that nonsense in your head? Youre the prettiest girl I know. Theyre just jealous. As for clothesI get my pension tomorrow. Well go get you something nice.» Edith gave her a soft smile.
«No, Gran.» Emily shook her head. «I want proper designer jeans. Dyou know how much they cost? How would we manage after? I shouldve gone part-time, got a job. Wed have more to live on.»
Edith gave her a stern look.
«None of that. While Im breathing, youll get a proper education. Whats the point of a part-time degree? Youve years to work. And those laughing at you? Small minds, love. Clothes dont make the person.»
«Who even cares about degrees these days? Youre so old-fashioned, Gran. Maybe I could just find a little job?»
«Dont even think it,» Edith cut in. «Theyll stop my benefits if you switch courses. Every penny counts.»
Emily dropped her gaze. Useless. Gran didnt get how humiliating it was at nineteen, wearing her mums hand-me-downs. They were decent, but hopelessly out of style.
«Eat up. Ill think of something. Got an idea, actually.» Gran rose and shuffled to her room.
Emily heard drawers rummaged, the wardrobe creak. When she followed, her gran was perched on the bed, staring out the window.
«Gran, Im sorry,» Emily murmured, sitting beside her and hugging her tight.
«What for, pet? Youre right. You need proper boots, a coat» Edith sighed.
«Gran, dont you dare borrow money. Wed never pay it back,» Emily pleaded.
«Wont need to. Ive got Grandpas ring. Doubt youd wear it. Pawnshop tomorrow. You still not eating?» Gran brightened suddenly.
«Ill finish later. Tell me my fortune instead?»
Gran turned sharply.
«Whatve you been on about? Im no fortune-teller!»
«You are,» Emily insisted. «Mum said you predicted Dad for her.»
«Whend she tell you that?» Gran looked startled.
«She did,» Emily said stubbornly.
«Youths always want to peek ahead. But why? Fates written at birth. Doesnt like being tricked. And dyou really trust tea leaves and cards? Even if I saw bad, I wouldnt sayyoud fret and bring it on yourself.»
«Then tell me something good,» Emily teased.
«I dont need cards for that. Youll be just fine. Patience.»
«Oh, come on, Gran!» Emily nudged her, grinning.
«You little fox. Fine.» Gran heaved up, fetched a fresh pack from the cupboard. «Sit at the table.»
Edith smoothed the lace cloth, shuffled the deck with practised hands.
«Think hard on your hearts desire,» she instructed.
Emily held her breath, watching. Gran cut the deck, laid the cards facedownlarger than usual, intricate backs. One by one, she flipped them, pausing, studying. Finally, she smiled.
«Well? See?» Edith nudged two cards apart. «Two sevens side by side. True loves coming. Soon.» She tapped two more. «Young King of Diamonds near you. Pairs everywhererare, that.» Her brow furrowed suddenly.
«What? What is it?» Emily pressed.
«Nothing bad. Impatient, arent you? Clubs mean worries ahead.» Gran looked up. «But whats life without a few? No joy without sorrow. Lose one thing, find another.» Her voice was steady, calm.
Emily listened, memorising every word.
«Gran, can I ask»
«Enough. Got what you wanted, didnt you? Love, wasnt it? Its coming. Soon.» As Emily leaned to look again, Gran swept the cards up. «Put the kettle on.»
Over tea, Emily kept circling back to the King.
«Works for the council, young. Cards say no more,» Gran deflected.
«The worriesyoull be alright, wont you?» Emily blurted.
«Gracious, no fuss! Ive had my time. Youve happiness comingthats all you need know. I warned you Im no good at this.»
Next morning, Emily floated to uni. Let them sneer at her clothesGrans words were her armour. Love wasnt about labels, but heart.
After lectures, she ambled home, soaking up the sununtil she saw the police car, the huddled neighbours.
«Emily, love, such awful news» Mrs. Higgins from flat 1B clutched a soggy hankie.
«Whats happened? Gran!» Emily bolted for the door.
Her heart hammered as she took the stairs two at a time. The flat door stood ajar. Insidedrawers upended, cupboard doors gaping. A uniformed man stood.
«Emily Louise Carter?»
«Yes. Who? Gran? GRAN!» She already knew.
«Detective Sergeant Harris. Your grandmother, Edith Wilson»
«Shes ill? Whys everything? TELL ME!»
«Neighbour found her, called us. Struck on the head, but lightly. Heart gave out.»
Emily clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.
«Sit.» He guided her down, fetched water.
«Someone killed her?» she whispered.
«Your gran collected her pension in cash?»
«Y-yes. Didnt trust cards,» Emily stammered.
«Anything valuable missing? Jewellery? Money?»
Emily scanned the room.
«No. She she mentioned pawning Grandpas ring last night. Gold, with a yellow stone. Not worth much. She was getting her pension today.»
«No cash or ring on her. Likely spotted at the post office or pawnshop. Too many witnesses outsidefollowed her home instead.»
«So her pension killed her?» Tears splashed her shirt.
«Seems so. Thief mustve panicked. Well catch him.»
«Gran» Emily bit her lip hard.
«Any feuds with neighbours?»
Emily shook her head violently.
«Gran was kind to everyone. Even gave that drunk, Mick from 14B, beer money sometimes.»
«Mick» Harris began.
«He wouldnt» Emily dissolved into sobs.
The detective asked after parents, her studiesshe answered mechanically.
«Ill check in tomorrow. Might remember something.»
Mrs. Higgins helped tidy, took Emily inbut come bedtime, Emily returned. Gran would worry if she wasnt home. Then she remembered. Gran was gone.
Just the two of them now. Her parents had died years backminicab ran a red light, ploughed into a lorry. Mum died instantly; Dad by morning.
Waking, the grief hit fresh. How would she manage? She spotted Grans glasses on the telly, automatically tucked them awayalways misplacing them.
Harris returned at eleven.
«Detective Sergeant Harris,» he reminded.
The name tickled her memory.
«Yesterdaysorry, its all blurry.»
«Understandable. Neighbours chipped in for the funeral.» He set an envelope on the table. «Come with mepick out something for her. A dress, underthings, a scarf.»
Numb, Emily went to the wardrobe. Her fingers brushed a navy dresslast year, Gran had refused to wear it to a friends do. «Save it for my funeral,» shed said. Emily had scolded her then. Now she folded it carefully, remembering.
They went somewhere, signed things The next days were fog. Even Grans face in the coffinstrange, peacefulleft no imprint.
After the funeral, she dragged herself to lectures. Home was unbearable. That afternoon, she switched to part-time studies, got a job at the corner shopstocking shelves, cleaning. The till girls knew Gran, offered quiet condolences.
Harris dropped by sometimes. Once, he came with newstheyd caught the killer. Confessed, but the ring was long sold. It changed nothing. Gran was still gone.
«Emily, I wanted to say» Harris fumbled. «Ive fancied you since we met. Bad timing, but you can count on me.»
Emily stared.
«If you need anything, call.» He saved his number in her phone. Studying himhandsome, the uniform suited himshe felt a flicker.
«Whens your day off?»
«Friday.»
«Fancy the cinema?»
She shrugged. Sitting alone was worse. They went, then walked. He spoke of his mum remarrying, a baby sister, his own law studiesdreamed of being a detective.
She liked him. Felt safe. When he proposed months later, she said yes.
That evening, telling Grans photo the news, Emily remembered the fortune. The frown, the odd words about loss.
«Gran, you knew, didnt you? Said you couldnt tell fortunes. I fancy him, but not at this price. Why didnt you warn me? Id never have let you go.»
In the framed photo, Grans eyes twinkled back, warm and smiling.
