She wasn’t your typical clairvoyant.
“Sit down, I’ll be there in a minute.”
I couldn’t stop looking at her bright blue hair, and wondered whether she had the qualifications to speak to the departed. I only wanted to know one thing, but I wasn’t even sure she would know what that was.
“My name’s Sarah, have you got what I requested for you to bring?’ she asked, when she drifted into the room. In her hands, a wooden tray, with two cups of steaming coffee.
She put a cup on the table, and smiled as she sat down. I looked down to her painted nails, and then down to my own. I never took care of my own, they normally were bitten until they were afraid to grow.
“I’ve brought what you asked me to bring,’ I said, handing over a set of house keys. They were my husband’s, the rest of his stuff now at a charity shop.
She took hold of the keys, and covered them with her palms and closed her eyes. I wondered if she already knew what questions I was going to ask him.
Her office, decorated with pictures of famous actors, and beach scenes of Scarborough. She was my last hope, and I needed answers. The room felt cold, but then it was the middle of December.
“What is the question you would like to ask Dave?”
“Can you ask him . . . where he left the car keys, I can’t find them anywhere.”
“In the usual place, on the side.”