14. Theodora
14
THEODORA
CORNWALL
PERIDOT: Motivates growth, removes blockages, negative emotions
T he nightmares returned again last night.
The uncomfortable images of me captured and locked behind a heavy metal door feel real; they hover over me, and I’m foggy-headed while I dress. After scarcely touching a mouthful of breakfast, I leave the hotel, eager to break into the daylight and shake it off.
I glance at my phone, feeling the familiar tug in my gut and expecting to see Luke’s name on the screen. The sooner I cut all ties with him, the better. Tucking it deep inside my jacket, and breathing in a lungful of fresh air, I head for the coastline.
Sunlight reflects off the water, and a liquorice all sorts row of fishing boats bob on top of the waves. By the time I reach the path, I’m refreshed by the sea air and the claustrophobic tension has eased. In Melbourne , I exercise on the track around the lake. But here I’m far removed from the city and pressures of modern life. I could almost forget myself.
I’ve surprised myself with a sudden interest in reading. Amelia’s diary is a compelling examination of a woman’s role in the late nineteenth century and reads more like a memoir. Her life was filled with contradiction; the most recent musings fill me with a sense of limitation. On one hand she was a free spirit, but she was bound by an era where there was a distinct lack of choice available to women. Her ‘sight’ as she called it, regardless of what you believe, set her apart from others.
Walking becomes meditative, with my thoughts turning back to Amelia’s diary. I’m still thinking about last night’s pages when I take the path towards Porthleven . It’s an exhilarating view. The sea breeze swirls around me, and the wind dishevels my hair. I imagine the many foreign vessels that have sailed this coast, the treasures traded or smuggled by pirates over thousands of years. Spices from Africa , silk from China . Each turn of the path leads to a new cove, another hidden mystery.
The sun is lowering overhead when I reach the steep incline to the village. Relieved to find a town at last, I buy a bottle of water from a van selling fishing bait.
‘ You look some parched.’ The fisher frowns at me as seagulls caw overhead. ‘ Where you too?’
‘ I walked from Marazion . I lost track of time.’
‘ Happens . Be some walk. Don’t go back that way alone. Some big cliff falls. Ain’t safe.’ He points me to the bus stop, and I decide to take his advice. But with buses leaving on the hour there’s still plenty of time to wander.
The village’s pretty shopfronts are identical in structure. A quaint lolly shop advertises sticky treats with recipes passed down from long ago while another offers the latest fashions in breathable linen and hemp, sourced from local farmers and handmade in Cornwall . Remembering it’s almost Star’s birthday, I decide to search for a gift.
I imagine her family in my home. There will be more vitality than Clarence has seen for some time. Her last text indicated the boutique was under control and reminded me to check out the new links she’s added to our website.
On the corner of a narrow lane are two adjoining shops set back from the roadside—they were probably fisher families’ cottages at one time. The pair’s thatched roofs match and stubby chimneys spout sweet peaty smoke into the sky.
A welcoming flurry of colour catches my interest. The sign on the shop window says Euphemia’s , and the entrance is brightened by silk dreamcatchers in rich rainbow colours hanging from the rafters. A silver and violet one immediately appeals, and I take a closer look. I’m sure Star will love it.
On the veranda, a set of wicker baskets displays an assortment of shells. Nearby , small bowls of beautiful, polished crystals shine in the afternoon light. I remember Tristan’s translation: semi-precious stones. I reach into a bowl marked malachite and imagine the cool smoothness of the opaque pastel green stone before my hand reaches it.
‘ That’s not for you,’ calls a voice from the doorway, and I stagger back, surprised by her tone. An elegant-looking woman stands before me wearing a long artist’s smock over a straight denim skirt. Her dark hair is wrapped in braids around her head.
‘ You’ll be wanting another if it’s a scrying stone you’re after. Come inside, me lover. I won’t bite.’
I follow her with a frown.
The pleasant and brightly lit studio surprises me. A treasure trove of shelves lines the walls holding everything from paints and pencils to pretty floral notebooks and macrame plant holders. Familiar scents of rosemary and sage linger—and something earthier. I wrinkle my nose. Cedarwood .
‘ Here , choose one of these.’ She points me to a basket of mixed colour stones. ‘ These are perfect for you.’
I cross my arms. ‘ But what do I do with them?’
‘ Tourmaline is a powerful healing crystal. Helps you see the way forwards—find the right path. They’re used for scrying but also for protection. In the past, farmers planted them in the soil to keep pests away from crops—but this one,’ she holds up a stone of rich peacock blue, ‘this colour unlocks psychic awareness. It opens you to truth and love, and dissolves sadness and blockages. For healers, it’s like a ray of peace.’
‘ They’re lovely, but I’m actually looking for a gift for a friend.’ I smile politely. ‘ I’m not sure I believe in all that.’
She looks up with a slight curl of her lips. ‘ If that’s what you think. Now , what can I help you with?’
I select the dreamcatcher for Star and scan the room as she wraps it. Crystals and candles and scented oils are grouped on small display tables, while books about angel healing and esoteric practices are stacked on a dresser against the wall. Behind the counter is a painted sign in Old English cursive: Spiritual Readings and Life Lessons with Euphemia . When I look back, she’s watching me, her smile wide and knowing.
‘ Aye . I can do a reading for you.’
‘ I’ve never had one done before.’
Go on , a voice inside my head whispers. Try it .
‘ A first for you then. Nothing to fear.’ Her smile is encouraging, and although I hear Gran suggesting this sort of thing is rubbish, I recall my vow to say yes to new experiences. I’m tempted by the freedom of a new country to do as I please.
‘ Follow me.’
Excitement builds in my body like a cork ready to pop. I’m swayed. Euphemia appears genuine, so what harm can it do? I trail behind her to the attic at the top of the stairs like a lamb. Will she read my thoughts?
The room is dimly lit and when she closes the door behind me, I’m gripped with the fear that I’ve seen this play out before. Darkness frightens me. Since childhood I have slept with a bedside light on. I bite my lip, tempted to change my mind.
‘ Sit and make yourself comfortable.’ She indicates a seat with her hand. I notice her long fingers covered in rings. One is a silver Celtic cross like many I’ve admired here. Others are adorned with coloured stones set into decorative engraved bands.
‘ Your name is…?’
‘ Theodora ,’ I answer, my voice shaking, ‘but I’m sorry… I don’t want to waste your time….’ I don’t sound convincing.
‘ Theodora . A grand name. Relax , and I’ll explain the process.’
She ignores my hesitation and smiles, calmly unwrapping a velvet cloth from around a deck of cards. Her rings flash and distract me while her hands move deftly across the table. I feel lightheaded, dreamy.
‘ You’re wondering what led you to my door.’
‘ I was just passing….’
‘ There be no such thing as coincidence. We cross paths with those who are meant to serve us in each lifetime. Those we are destined to meet. I am guided by the messages I have for you.’ Her voice is soft and even. The gentle humming of bees sounds outside the window.
‘ Messages ?’ My heart thumps in my chest. The air around me is thick with the scent of incense and sweet fragrant oils, but pleasantly intoxicating.
‘ Trust in me. You have naught to fear.’ Her face lights with a smile and her cobalt eyes are bright against her jet-black hair.
‘ I’m not afraid.’ I smile bravely despite the prickle at the back of my neck.
Euphemia is silent. Her eyes close. A seagull caws outside the window. I take a deep breath and calm washes over me, peaceful once more. I ease back into my chair.
‘ You have the gift, Theodora .’ Her voice is soft. ‘ It is strong inside you. Much is to be learnt from the spirit world.’
‘ No . I think you’re mistaken…’
‘ You have the gift. The wisdom that comes from those who trust the ancients. Use it well. Perhaps you have already found someone to assist you on your spiritual path…’
Pressure tightens in my chest; I turn away from her shining eyes. Yes , I see images in my head sometimes, but there’s no gift to it. It’s rubbish. What next? A black cat jumping from the shadows or a magic broomstick sweeping the path?
‘ No . I don’t think so.’ My laugh sounds tinny and does little to hide my embarrassment. If I had the power to see the future, surely I’d have avoided myriad problems in the past. Luke and Renata , for one.
‘ Trust in the process. Relax and let me guide you. You’ve been drawn to me, and I to you. We share a path. Let me show you.’
Her melodious tone is calming, and my tension settles.
‘ Let us commence.’
She hands the deck to me to shuffle. The cards are worn from overuse and shiny patches make them slippery to handle; the rectangular shape is awkward in my hands. I am finding my rhythm when Euphemia leans forwards.
‘ Cut the deck into three piles with your left hand.’
I do as she asks and wait. She fans the cards out and begins to turn them one by one, laying them on the table like a haphazard game of Patience . Then she closes her eyes. Nods . Shrugs her shoulders. It appears she’s having a private conversation. Then her eyes spring open. ‘ You’re on a journey, far from home.’
I’m sure she can tell that by my accent.
‘ Be careful to protect yourself from the past; it’s coming to you through dreams and in your actions. There is a man known to you from past lives.’
‘ A man?’ I ask. Does she mean Luke ?
Her stare pierces into my soul. I hold my breath.
‘ You have a connection…there are past debts to repay, together and apart. But it will be decided in this life. You are reaching the end of your soul’s journey—the time the true path of destiny is upon you.’
‘ I don’t understand. What kind of debt? Who is he?’
‘ I cannot see his name.’ She studies the cards with a frown settling between her brows. ‘ But Thomas will be with you. He watches over you.’
I shake my head. ‘ Thomas ?’
‘ He passed over a long time ago. He suffered deep hurt but is now at peace in the afterlife.’ Does she mean Amelia’s Thomas ? I don’t know another…
‘ Your sisters are standing beside him. I see them holding hands?—’
I stifle a gasp, and my eyes fill with tears. Where has this come from? I reach for the tissues and grapple to extract one from the box.
‘ They find comfort with him. He is kind. Thomas is looking after them.’
How can she see this?
‘ They know you tried your best. There is no blame. They’re telling me to say, thank you. Oh ! Your parents are here too…they love you very much, Theodora ….’
The cry I hear is mine. I squeeze my eyes tightly, but all I can see is Esther’s glassy stare and her mouth wide open. I suck in a sharp breath, and the air is cool between my teeth.
‘ It is time their souls were free to pass to another realm. They want you to know they’re sorry.’
My hands shake, and I’m cold. So cold. The salt in my mouth makes my stomach swirl. Something is dragging me down. I want it to stop… Esther ! Beatrice !
‘ Don’t let grief take over your life, Theodora . They ask me to tell you to enjoy your time on earth—to have fun and love freely. You are a good person. Face the person inside and be who you are destined to be. Please Theodora ,’ her voice fades to a whisper, ‘they’re begging you.’
My vision is blurred as I blot my eyes with the tissue. I can’t contain my sobs. How does she know what happened to them?
‘ You have a lesson to learn. You have dealt with this in past lives, but it will be repeated. Don’t be afraid. You have the strength of the High Priestess in you. The cards show that this time you will succeed. If you believe.’
My dread is visceral and casts a shadow over the reading. I cover my face. I don’t! I won’t think about this superstitious nonsense. I have to go….
I stand unsteadily and hold on the table. ‘ I have to go. Thank you.’
But she doesn’t stop, nor do her eyes leave mine. ‘ Wait , Theodora .’ Euphemia’s stare is haunting, her eyes a lighter shade, as if a switch is flicked on behind them. I lower myself into the chair. ‘ It wasn’t your fault…’
‘ What did you say?’ I ask, the words tight and stinging in my throat. My fault?
‘ They say it was their time, but not yours, Theodora . You are a teacher—a healer—you must learn to trust your instincts.’
Her words barely register as I block out her voice and cover my ears. But the voices are loud inside my head. My little sisters are calling my name, but their screams are blown away; something holds me down.
A wave of nausea hits me. Heat claws my neck as I gasp for breath; fear rises and catches in my throat. Scarcely aware of my surroundings I stagger from the chair and flee with Euphemia calling after me.
Outside , I blink in the daylight and force my focus on a point across the road, willing the images to disappear. I wave her away with false bravado and make my way to the bus stop, relieved one is ready to go. Euphemia was so certain about what she’d seen, but I don’t understand. What should I believe?
I chew my bottom lip to hold my mask from slipping and shiver in the back seat all the way to the village. The metallic taste of blood makes me feel sick, and I curl into a ball in my room and drag the comforter over me. I try to make sense of the experience but as much as I deny its validity, I’m confused. If Euphemia was communicating with my sisters, does she know what happened too?
I wish I could tell them how sorry I am. If it were in my power, I’d move Heaven and Earth to go back in time, to reverse that day.
For the first time in years, I need to know exactly what happened to my family. I must. There’s more I have to remember. But why now?