Amy: Right. So no pressure, then?
Lily: The cards are supposed to offer guidance, Amaryllis! I really think this one could help if you’d put your snark aside and do a little reflecting.
Right now, Amy wasn’t in the mood for any more reflecting. In fact, some rapid deflecting was called for.
Amy: OK, I’ll try. Thanks. For thinking and worrying about me, I mean– NOT for the unasked-for tarot readingx
Lily: You do that. You’re welcome (for BOTH). And please know that if you ever need to talk about things or feelings that are troubling you … I know you have Grace– but I’d like the chance to try and listen. Love you x
Amy felt a rare swell of missing her mother then– of not having her quite close enough to lean on. For all her new age nonsense (as Amy saw it), Lily was determined, intelligent and strong: she and Amy were bonded by blood and shared these characteristics. In truth, their deepest natures weren’t dissimilar– a fact that had been a source of fascination and occasional pain for Amy’s father, who’d sometimes looked at her in wistful admiration and said, ‘You’re so like her, you know.’
She typed back:
Love you too. And thanks again x
She had no intention of calling Lily up for a heart-to-heart anytime soon, but she still appreciated the offer.
A few minutes before Amy’s train was due into Stratford station, her phone began buzzing.
She’d turned the sound off so her fellow passengers wouldn’t be notified every time her mother sent her a message– but even thefzzz fzzzof its silent ring was embarrassing, amplified by the movement of the handset across the metal tray-table Amy had pulled down to place her water bottle on.
Carolyn was ringing her. Briefly, Amy considered dropping the call.
Just lately, every time Carolyn appeared with no warning– even if only virtually– she was accompanied by bad news, or caused some minor catastrophe that Amy then had to contend with alone.
Amy still hadn’t quite forgiven Carolyn for the debacle over the bedrooms in Robin Hood’s Bay, not least because her boss– in a characteristic display of supreme indifference to the embarrassment she’d caused– had shrugged off her error with the vaguest of apologies.
Nevertheless, shewasstill her boss.
Reluctantly, Amy picked up the phone.
‘Hello?’
‘Amy!’ Carolyn boomed, shouting over the sound of revving engines, car horns and the busy street she must be walking down. ‘Glad I’ve caught you.’
Here we go,Amy thought. She tried to remember a time when the words ‘glad I’ve caught you’, spoken byanyone, hadn’t preceded something awful that she didn’t want to hear.
‘Oh?’ Amy said. ‘Why’s that?’
‘There’s been an exciting development on the RomFest front,’ Carolyn announced.
Amy’s heart sank. ‘Really?’ she asked, one hundred per cent sure that whatever Carolyn’s announcement was, it was far more likely to infuriate than excite her.
‘Yes! The marketing team here has come up with a wonderful wheeze– since Philippa’s book is another hot historical tale, they’ve suggested launching her talk with a dance!’
‘Er. What?’
‘A dance! There’s apparently a local troupe who specialise in old-fashioned country dances– the sort that any Regency heroine would have known. They’ve agreed to come along and perform, and to teach the festivalgoers a few moves.’
‘But we’re holding the festival outside, not in a ballroom,’ Amy argued.
‘Oh, pish,’ Carolyn said. ‘What does that matter? We’ll set up an outdoor dance floor with the Hall in the background. They’re cheap, it will look fabulous and it’s not as though we’re pushed for space.’
Amy closed her eyes in despair, trying to process what Carolyn was saying. The last thing she and Sam needed at this late stage wasanotherelement of the festival to organise, insure and oversee.
‘Here’s the best part,’ Carolyn went on. ‘You and young Mr Ainsworth, as hosts of the festival, will lead the first dance. Isn’t that the most wonderful idea?’
At this, Amy felt her soul leave her body. Her dead-from-horror spirit stared down at her corporeal form, laughing heartily at its latest misfortune.