The Switch(23)

I nurse the third cup of tea I’ve had since walking through Letitia’s door and beam at her across the collection of pots and vases occupying most of her dining table. I’m feeling better than I have all day. What a fascinating woman to have found living just next door! It’s a real wonder Leena never mentioned her – though it seems the two of them didn’t cross paths very often. I find that hard to believe, given that there’s only a very thin wall dividing their lives, but from what I can gather, Letitia doesn’t speak to any of the neighbours. Or rather, none of the neighbours speak to Letitia.

‘Nobody?’ I ask. ‘Not a single person came to introduce themselves when they moved into the building?’

Letitia shakes her head, sending her long earrings rattling. They drag at the lobes of her ears; it makes her look rather mystical. ‘Nobody talks to me,’ she says, without particular rancour. ‘I think you’re the first person I’ve said a word to since …’ she pauses, ‘last Friday, when I got my Iceland delivery.’

‘Oh, love. What about that communal area downstairs? Have you tried setting yourself up down there? Then people will say hello as they come by.’

‘I tried, once,’ Letitia says. ‘But someone complained. They said it was bad for the building’s image. So I just sit up here, now, where I can’t bother anyone.’

‘That’s awful! Don’t you get lonely?’ I ask, then catch myself. ‘I’m sorry, that’s ever so personal of me.’

‘I do get lonely,’ Letitia says after a moment. ‘But I’ve got Solstice. The cat. Who always walks a bit funny, by the way,’ she adds. We did start by talking about her cat, but then got talking about other things, and now three hours have passed.

‘Well. I’m very sorry our Leena didn’t ever pop by.’

Letitia shrugs her shoulders. I notice the stains on her tunic dress and wince a little.

‘She’s hardly in, from what I can gather, and when she is, she’s with that man of hers. The one with the shiny hair. I don’t like him. I think he’s …’ Letitia waves a hand, sending a dreamcatcher spinning above her head, which in turn sends a purple and silver wind chime tinkling. ‘I think he’s wet.’

Ooh, I do like Letitia.

She looks into my cup. We’re drinking loose leaf tea; there’s a collection of black tea leaves in the bottom of my cup. ‘Would you like me to read them for you?’ she asks.

‘You read tea leaves?’

‘I was a fortune teller,’ Letitia says. ‘I used to sit in Trafalgar Square and read palms, once.’

Letitia might be the most interesting woman I’ve ever met. And to think of her stuck in here, day in day out, with not a soul coming to speak to her! How many more fascinating people are pocketed away in these little flats around the city, I wonder?

‘How exciting! Please, read away,’ I say, pushing the teacup towards her.

She waves it back to me. ‘Lift it with your left hand and swirl, three times at least,’ she says.

I do as I’m told, watching the leaves shift in the last mouthful of tea at the bottom of the cup. ‘Like that?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’ She reaches for the teacup and then carefully tips the remaining liquid into the saucer, leaving just the leaves in the cup. She turns it back and forth very slowly, breathing deeply, absorbed, and I realise I’m holding my breath. I’m not sure I quite believe in reading the future in somebody’s teacup, but then, what do I know? I wonder fleetingly what Wade would say – he’d be very scathing about this – and then push the thought away. Bother what that old sod would think.

‘Hmm,’ says Letitia.

‘Yes?’ I say hopefully.

Letitia presses her lips together, hmms again, and then glances up at me rather apologetically.

‘Are you not … getting anything?’ I say, trying to peer into the cup.

‘Oh, I’m getting something,’ Letitia says, rubbing her chin. ‘It’s quite … clear.’

She pushes the cup back towards me, turning it so the handle points towards her.

I look down into the tea leaves. Letitia’s shoulders start shaking before I see what she sees; by the time I start laughing, she’s whooping, really going for it, tears in the corners of her eyes, stained tunic bouncing with each gulp of laughter.

The tea leaves look like … genitals. Male genitals. It couldn’t be more distinct if I’d tried to arrange it that way on purpose.

‘And what does that mean, eh?’ I say, when I’ve finally got my breath back.

‘I think it means good things are coming your way,’ Letitia says, wiping her eyes. ‘That, or it’s telling me the tea leaves game is a load of cock and balls.’

I put my hand to my mouth at her language, then burst out laughing again. This is the best I’ve felt in … well. I can’t remember how long.

‘Will you come around again?’ Letitia says.

I reach across the table for her hand, dodging between vases. ‘As often as you’ll have me.’ I nod towards the teacup. ‘I expect you’ll want to stick around and find out what comes of that little prediction, won’t you?’

‘There’s nothing little about it,’ Letitia says, and sets us both off again.