Date with Destiny

Chapter Thirty-Five

Celeste is having a selfie with a security guard.

Oh and now with the man and woman on reception.

Now some guy with a lanyard who was on his way out is asking for one.

Several others now crowd around my mother with their selfie requests, and Celeste beams her exquisiteness into a thousand cameras as basically every single person in this building queues up, pointing and whispering.

It must be such a weird, exhausting life.

Selfie acquired, the lanyard man approaches Myfanwy and I, where we sit, quiet and unnoticed in the corner, just how we like it. ‘Are you here to see Ms Ball?’ he murmurs discreetly, and we nod excitedly.

As if we’re getting to meet Crystal Ball! As if! Even if she didn’t happen to be the fortune teller that changed my life sixteen years ago and predicted this whole bananas year, she’s also Crystal Ball, the legend that we’ve been obsessively binge-watching on TV and YouTube.

Last week, Celeste happened upon us in the living room watching back-episodes of the show and, after hearing how much we love Crystal, she made exactly one phone call to her agent. Within an hour, we had a personal meeting arranged with Ms Ball for today. For now! It’s another absurd and brilliant perk of my mother being my mother. I didn’t tell her Crystal Ball happens to be the fortune teller I met when I was a teenager. I didn’t know how she’d react and I didn’t want to chance it.

As we pass by Celeste and her beloved fans, Myfanwy assumes the role of bad guy PA, tearing her away as she loudly protests and promises to reply to every Instagram DM. We follow the lanyard guy through turnstiles and long winding corridors, staring in wonder at picture after picture on the walls of local celebrities. We pass a long trophy case and I pause briefly, almost losing lanyard guy as I admire an array of awards I’ve never heard of.

I catch up with the group as we arrive outside a door. On the front is her name:

Crystal Ball.

I briefly wonder if I can ask to see her passport. It can’t be her real name? Not the one she was born with anyway. But maybe she had it legally changed. If she were actually born with it, that’s some next-level nominative determinism. Move over Phil McCann reporting on a petrol crisis.

Lanyard guy knocks efficiently and piles in without waiting. We follow him inside, to find Crystal posing elegantly – and very deliberately – on a long velvet chaise. In front of her is a low table full of fruits, nuts and crisps. It makes my stomach rumble.

Our psychic leaps up, a long skirt flapping around her ankles as she comes towards us.

For a moment I think she is moving towards me; sensing it’s me who needs her. She knows that I’m the one who came for her, who requires her powers once again.

But no, of course it’s not me. Not when I’ve brought a bona fide celebrity with me. She throws herself at Celeste, lavishing her with compliments.

‘Celeste Bretherton, I am an enormous fan of yours! I watch every episode of Engage! Without fail. I cried buckets over the season finale, but Trisha really deserved the bejewelled crown, she was so talented, and so relatable.’ She waves behind her at a desk in the corner. ‘You’ve even inspired me to try my hand at a spot of jewellery making.’

Celeste makes that ‘incredibly interested’ face she uses with contestants on the show. The one viewers have recreated over and over in memes all over the internet.

‘How wonderful!’ she claps her hands, towering over Crystal. ‘You must show me, my darling.’ She pauses, remembering her lines when it comes to a fellow TV star, even one as small-fry as Crystal. ‘And of course, I am a huge fan of yours, too. You are dazzling on the screen, my darling.’

Celeste has never watched a single minute of the show, despite our haranguing.

Crystal pales. ‘I’m honoured,’ she says humbly. ‘And if you ever need someone with my skills on Engage!, I am more than available. I could do a five-minute segment at the end of each episode, revealing who is going to falter or win the following week.’

Celeste nods emphatically. ‘That could be an interesting angle!’ she lies. ‘I shall have a discussion with my producer, darling, and get in touch.’

I clear my throat awkwardly, knowing she won’t get in touch. Celeste uses the opportunity to redirect the conversation.

‘Darling Chryssy,’ she begins informally and Crystal colours with joy. This is the magic of Celeste; she can be as fake as anything but still make people feel special. Crystal thinks they’re now friends, as does, almost certainly, everyone out in reception who got a picture with her. ‘This is my beautiful daughter, Ginny, and her friend Myfanwy.’

Crystal turns her attention towards us, adopting her own professional Fan Face. ‘Hello Ginny, hello Myfanwy,’ she says in a softer tone, one I recognize from her show when she’s starting a reading with someone. She shouts YOU at them, and then goes into this hypnotizing voice that reels you in.

‘Hi Crystal,’ Myfanwy squeaks, while I can only grin stupidly. ‘We really, really, really love you,’ she continues and I manage a nod. ‘You’re the best. That reading you gave that guy the other day, the one who was shagging his boss? It was amazing! I can’t believe she’s going to get pregnant and he’s going to set fire to his office building. That is just so… cool.’ She finishes breathlessly and I stare dumbly at this woman, trying to cling onto the real reason we’ve come here today.

Crystal smiles benignly as, behind her, Celeste looks put out. Neither of us have ever reacted to her like this. ‘Thank you, girls,’ Crystal says in her soft voice. ‘I’m glad to have brought you some insight.’ She turns to look fully at me, taking me in, and for a moment I think she will remember me. I want her to so desperately. I want her to prove herself; I want her to show me everything she said back then was real. I want her to be the real deal. I want to believe. I do believe.

She opens her mouth, still looking at me intensely. ‘Ginny,’ she begins slowly, ‘can you,’ she leans closer, ‘put in a good word for me with your mum?’ she tinkles, throwing a glance back at Celeste.

I swallow hard.

She doesn’t remember me.

‘Of course,’ I choke out words at last. ‘She’d be lucky to have you!’ Over her shoulder, I see Celeste roll her eyes. I take a deep breath. ‘Crystal, I know it was a long time ago, but we’ve actually met before.’

She cocks her head, curious but not alarmed. ‘We have?’

I nod slowly. ‘When I was a teenager, I went to a funfair, where you were working…’

She looks a little embarrassed. ‘Oh my goodness, that was a different life!’ she exclaims, turning to glance at Celeste for a reaction, but she’s too busy staring at me, eyebrows knitted with confusion, to care about this woman’s shameful past as a fairground fortune teller. I feel a pang of guilt for not telling Celeste the truth, but plough on regardless.

‘You gave me six predictions for my future,’ I tell her quickly. ‘And loads of them have come true! But I need to… I need to know…’ I trail off. What do I need? What do I need to know? What am I asking for?

Crystal looks at me closely. ‘You, know, Ginny, you do look familiar. And I remember…’ She stares off into the distance, her eyes glazing over. ‘I remember those predictions. I can see! I can see it all. Your path is clear.’

My heart leaps with excitement. She can see! She can see what’s going to happen on my path. She can tell me everything’s going to be OK. ‘What?’ I ask eagerly. ‘What can you see? What’s going to happen?’

Her eyes return to normal and she smiles nicely.

‘Ginny, this is my work.’

‘Huh?’ I glance nervously between Crystal and Myfanwy, who looks as confused as me.

Crystal’s smile gets wider. ‘I mean, Ginny, that I do personal readings and I do the show, but we’re not currently on camera and you’re not a member of my TV audience.’

‘Of course!’ I say quickly. ‘Can I schedule a personal reading then?’

‘Sure!’ she says brightly. ‘It costs ￡15,000.’

‘Oh.’ I feel myself deflate. ‘I see.’

Crystal places a kind hand on my arm, barely disguising a glance back at Celeste. ‘But I can offer you a ten per cent discount as you’re the daughter of my special friend, Celeste Bretherton!’ She puffs up, proud of her generosity, and I smile weakly.

‘That’s great,’ I swallow hard, knowing there’s no way in the world. ‘I’ll, er, I’ll be in touch.’

‘It was so wonderful to meet you all,’ she says magnanimously, handing me a crisp white business card. ‘Would you girls like a selfie?’ Myfanwy yelps a delighted affirmative and the three of us crowd in front of her phone. I try to smile as the flash goes but I feel a little disappointed. Actually, more than that: I’m crushed, deflated. Of course she charges. What did I think was going to happen? That she’d sit me down and spell everything out for free? Even back then at the funfair, she charged me a fiver. And with the way inflation’s been going, a price increase of ￡14,995 seems about right.

As we leave, filing back out the way we came, at lanyard guy’s heels, Celeste is silent. But the moment we exit the building – twenty-five more selfies later – she explodes.

‘Why didn’t you tell me she was your fortune teller?’ she growls. ‘Why did you lie? You tricked me into arranging all this!’ I cower, feeling terrible. I should’ve told her, I should’ve explained. Celeste paces back and forth angrily, before jabbing a finger back towards the building. ‘That woman was the one you met when you were young? You should’ve told me! Why are you hiding things from me?! You keep hiding things! What have I done to deserve this? You’re always shutting me out! You’re always lying! You don’t seem to like me or want me around. You let me stay up all night worrying about you and wondering where you are—’

‘Mum, that happened once.’ I try to find the firmness in my tone. ‘And I’m really sorry again—’

She interrupts furiously. ‘You never tell me where you’re going or what you’re doing! You can’t wait to get out of the house every day! What’s so terrible about me that you want to escape so much?’

Myfanwy takes a small, protective step forward, still acting as my shield. ‘Celeste,’ she starts in a warning voice. ‘You’re not being fair.’

‘It’s none of your business!’ Celeste looks even angrier. ‘You stay out of it!’

Myfanwy turns to me calmly. ‘Gin, do you want to come stay at mine and Sonali’s for a while? This is not a healthy situation.’

Celeste turns white at this. ‘How dare you?’ she shouts and a couple of people in the street look over. ‘You have no right! You’re always interfering, Myfanwy, always trying to get between Ginny and me! You want to steal her from me!’

‘A person can’t be stolen, Celeste,’ Myfanwy starts to redden. ‘Ginny doesn’t belong to you! She doesn’t owe you anything. She’s an adult, her own person! You want to control her and it’s not OK!’

I feel myself starting to shake. I hate this so much. They both love me, they both want to protect me, and they’re both talking for me.

‘Please stop!’ I get out at last. ‘Please, both of you. I don’t want you to argue.’ I turn to Celeste, speaking calmly, ‘Mum, I should’ve been honest with you about Crystal, I’m sorry. And we need to talk properly about everything, but not right now, in the middle of the street.’ Now I turn to Myfanwy. ‘Myfanwy, thank you for the offer, but I can’t live with you guys. You’re just about to—’ I stop myself saying the obvious: that they’re about to get engaged. Project Proposal is still a couple of weeks away and Celeste has no idea. ‘You’re, er, a couple and I don’t want to live with a couple of lovebirds!’ I try to make my tone playful, to lighten the mood as they both stare at the ground. I sigh. ‘Please, you guys? Let’s not argue?’

Celeste nods at last. ‘I’m sorry for losing my temper with you both,’ she says quietly and Myfanwy takes a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry too – I shouldn’t get involved.’ She glances at me a little reproachfully and her message is clear: she shouldn’t have to get involved, because it’s time – after everything I’ve said and promised – that I should be more honest with my own mother. And I will. But not today.

We return to the car in silence, my whole body vibrating with misery.

Finding the fortune teller was a bust, my mum is furious with me, and I’m still no closer to finding a soulmate.

I pick up my phone, flicking to the camera roll. At least I got a selfie with Crystal Ball.