All That She Can See(17)



Cherry knew there was a famous gin distillery in Plymouth. Gin was one of the very few alcoholic drinks that Cherry actually liked. It was her father, Lucas’s, favourite and he had let her try some of his gin and tonic one Christmas when she was small. It had tasted dry and bitter but the fizz of the tonic and buzz of the gin made her feel like she was swallowing a lightning bolt and right now all she wanted was to feel that sensation again. She quickly googled the distillery’s location (she was getting the hang of this internet thing) and seeing that it was only a short distance away, she began walking in its direction. After a few minutes, she turned a corner and could see the white-painted building ahead with its blue trimmings. However, something else caught her eye and snatched her attention away. On the right-hand side of the road was a bright red and yellow shop. White window stickers in the shape of crystal balls, open palms with lines zig-zagging across them and several constellations were scattered across the glass. The window display was made up of crushed velvet red cloth and a real crystal ball. From a distance it looked as though the crystal ball was hovering magically in mid-air but when Cherry got closer she could see that there were strings holding it up. Behind the ball was a photo display of, Cherry guessed, some of the shop’s clientele. Some faces looked excited, beaming at the camera. Others wore slightly more reserved smiles. Above the shop, in intricate white writing, were the words PSYCHIC SISTERS. The door opened and the bell above it rang out, startling Cherry.

‘Coming in, sweetheart?’ A woman wearing a beautiful orange headscarf poked her head out of the door, a cloud of smoke wafting around her. Her make-up had been applied with precision, giving her face a doll-like appearance. Purple eyeshadow had been blended all the way up to her eyebrows and a beauty spot had been painted on her left cheek. As she tapped the cigarette holder in her hands, making the burnt ash fall to the ground, Cherry noticed the little brown liver spots on her hands and was astounded at how well the make-up was concealing her age.

‘Erm… no. Not today. I’m new here. Just looking around,’ Cherry said, trying to smile.

‘It’s all right. You’ll be back.’ The woman grinned, revealing a large gap between her two centre teeth. There was a smear of red lipstick on them.

‘Right,’ Cherry said, nonplussed. ‘Um, could I ask a favour though?’ She pulled out one of her flyers and held it out to the woman. ‘Would you be able to put this up in your shop, please?’

The woman took the flyer, gave it a quick once over and bobbed her head. ‘We have a notice board inside. Consider it done.’ Cherry thanked her and then went on her way once the woman had disappeared inside the shop.

Despite her own abilities, Cherry couldn’t help but doubt fortune tellers. In all her life she’d only met one other person who could see what she could see and she still felt sad every time she thought of Peter’s fate. Being openly vocal about his gift had resulted in Peter being taken away and Cherry had never heard from him again. Surely it was best to do what she did in private and keep it to herself? It meant she was able to use her gifts subtly, without anyone seeing madness in it. How many people were out there who were really like her and shouted about it to the world? Very few, she thought. It’s the people who have no idea what it’s like to truly be different who do scream about it. If they really knew what it was like, to feel so isolated because of that difference, they wouldn’t wish it upon themselves.

Loneliness reached out and interlinked its fingers with hers, sending a shiver through her.





Cherry purchased a bottle of sloe gin from the distillery and a bottle of tonic water from the supermarket before she got on the boat back to Royal William Yard. She thought about the day on the journey back and just as the boat docked, her phone buzzed. It was Miss Kightley again. Her text said, Check your Facebook page.

Cherry raced as fast as she could back to her tiny bedsit above the bakery, the cold stopping her frozen feet from getting there any faster. She put the bottles down on the counter, flipped her laptop open and fumbled over the password three times before successfully logging in. Once Facebook was open her eyes darted about, still not used to the interface, so she wasn’t sure what Miss Kightley’s text had been about or what she was supposed to be looking for. It was then that she saw the number next to the word ‘Follows’.

‘A hundred and two?!’ she squealed. She snatched up her phone and shot a text off to Miss Kightley. A hundred and two?! How?!

A moment later the reply came back: Welcome to the internet. Cherry grinned and sent a quick reply back. It’s bloody marvellous.





7





The Big Day





Cherry hadn’t laid out a single baked good. How could she when her baking was so personal? Each item had to be hand-selected for its recipient otherwise she’d be handing out Chocolate Charms to already charming Charlies and doling out Don’t Doubt Yourself Danishes to undoubtedly independent Danielles! Cherry’s bakery was unique because of her personal, intimate touch and there was no way to know what particular feeling a person might need in their own special piece of Victoria sponge until she had met them – and their Meddlum.

Cherry was pacing around the bakery in her gold silk pyjamas. She’d thought that matching the wallpaper would be a nice touch, and she’d even strung up some black and gold balloons around the place and on the door so people knew that they had the right place. At 8 a.m., she pulled the black ties around her bunches tight, unlatched the door and turned her father’s old sign that she’d hung up last night from CLOSED to OPEN. There was no one waiting outside but Cherry hadn’t expected there to be. She was hoping that people would arrive later on, after work maybe. She was planning to stay open until 7 p.m., just in case there was a post-work rush. I hope people come, she thought. She turned back to her counter, ready to send out another Facebook post to let everyone know the bakery was open, when the bell above the door rang out. Cherry turned to see an elderly woman with silvery dreadlocks, dressed in purple and green patchwork and reams of silk. She was also hopping from foot to foot.

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