A Week in Winter(91)

‘Can you tell my future too?’ Freda had asked.

Mrs Scully studied the small hand carefully. She saw a tall, handsome man, marriage and three delightful children. She saw holidays abroad – did Freda think she might like skiing? ‘And you will live happily ever after,’ she said, smiling down at Freda.

There was a pause. After what seemed a long time, Freda sighed. Although her mother seemed pleased about what she was hearing, Freda was confused. She just knew that none of it was true.

‘I want to know what’s going to happen,’ she insisted, and she started to cry.

‘Whatever’s the matter? It’s a good future,’ said her mother, pleading with her daughter not to make a fuss about silly fortune-telling.

But Freda wouldn’t listen and just cried harder. She was having no part of this prediction. It just wasn’t right. She knew. Sometimes, she thought she knew what was going to happen, though she had already learned to keep quiet about it.

She didn’t see a husband and three children. And she certainly didn’t see herself living happily ever after. She cried all the more.

Freda’s mother just didn’t understand why Freda was so upset. Never had she regretted anything as much as persuading Mrs Scully to tell a child’s fortune, and she would make sure it never happened again.

Mrs Scully wasn’t invited to tell fortunes after that. And Freda never told anyone what she saw about the future.

Life at home was quiet and a bit frugal for Freda and her two older sisters. Her father died young, and there was no money for luxuries like central heating or foreign holidays. Mam worked in a dry cleaner’s, and Freda had a very undramatic time at school, where she was bright and worked hard and got scholarships. She had her heart set on becoming a librarian; her best friend, Lane, wanted to work in theatre. The two were inseparable.

Freda couldn’t remember when she got the first inkling that she might have some unusual insights. It was hard to describe them. The word ‘feelings’ didn’t quite cover them because they were more vivid than that. Nor did she recall when it had been that she realised not everyone had the same insights; but over the years, she had learned not to talk about them to anyone. It always upset people when she mentioned anything, and so she had kept quiet; she didn’t even talk to Lane about it.

There was no passionate love life: as a student, Freda went to clubs and bars and met fellows but there was nothing there that made her heart race. Mam was inclined to be overcurious about Freda’s private life, and yet at the same time disappointed to hear that there was no love interest at all.

Freda loved books, and felt she had everything she ever wanted when she got her library certificate and was lucky to find a place as an assistant at the local library. Her sisters, though, were dismissive about her lack of love.

‘Well, of course you can’t find a fellow. What do you have to talk about except books,’ Martha said.

‘You could have bettered yourself if you had tried,’ Laura had sniffed.

Freda looked very defeated, and her sisters felt remorseful.

‘It’s not as if you’re a total failure,’ Martha said encouragingly. She had a very stormy relationship with a young man called Wayne, and was not predisposed to believe the best of men.

‘You did get taken on as a library assistant, and now you could earn a living anywhere.’ Laura was grudging but fair. She was going out with a very pompous banker called Philip, to whom style and reputation meant everything.

Theirs was not neutral advice.

It was during the run-up to Christmas that Freda got another of her ‘feelings’. They were having a family lunch to plan the Christmas festivities. Freda was coming for the day for sure, but Laura would be going to Philip’s parents’ big Christmas Eve do. Martha was very irate because Wayne would make no plans. What kind of person made no plans for Christmas?

Their mother edged the conversation back to the turkey. They would have their Christmas lunch at three p.m. with whoever wanted to join them, and that would be fine.

Laura fidgeted; she had something she wanted to share. She wasn’t absolutely certain but she thought that Philip was going to propose to her on Christmas Eve. He had been very vague about his parents’ party. Normally he put a lot of store by these events, and would tell her in advance who everyone was. No, there was something much bigger afoot. Laura was pink with excitement.

And totally unexpectedly Freda knew, she didn’t just suspect but she knew that Philip was going to break off his relationship with Laura before Christmas; he was going to tell her that he was expecting a child with someone else. It was as clear as if she had seen a newspaper headline announcing it, and Freda felt herself go pale.

‘Well, say something!’ Laura was annoyed that her huge news and confidence was not meeting with any reaction.

‘That would be wonderful,’ her mother said.

‘Lucky you,’ Martha said.

‘Are you sure?’ Freda blurted out.

‘No, of course I’m not sure. Now I’m sorry I told you. You’re just saying that because I dared to say you couldn’t get a fellow of your own. It’s just spite.’

‘Did you and Philip ever talk about getting married?’ Freda asked.

‘No, but we talked about love. Leave it, Freda. What do you know about anything?’

‘But you might have it wrong.’