by Alan Liptrot

Created on: July 12, 2009

'Your luck's going to change', she said, locking the door to bar my way. 'I'm closing now, come back tomorrow. I'll be here after ten'.

I needed it to; it had been a grim couple of months, what with losing my job and my abject failure to lure a woman into my life. 'Can't you see me now?' I asked, wanting to bring on the metamorphosis as soon as possible.

'I've finished for today; I have things to do.' She took my hand and squeezed gently as we stood on the pavement outside the rickety cabin that served as her office. 'Another day won't hurt; come back tomorrow,' she smiled. 'Your luck's going to change, and how.'

I hadn't imagined that a fortune teller could be pretty, but thinking about it, I suppose they can be anything that anyone else could be; young, old, fat, thin, rich or dirt poor. But this one was pretty and, more than that, I thought I saw something in her eyes, a hint of a come on maybe, but it had been so long since I'd seen that look that I wasn't sure I recognised it.

'Be here tomorrow,' she said again, as I watched her move away towards the bus stop. She looked just as good from the rear as she did face on.

'Bye', I called, cheerfully confused.

I'd seen her advert in one of those free pocket-sized magazines that end up littering the streets, and although I lived in a seaside town and knew that the services of fortune tellers were freely available, I'd never before considered visiting one, but then again I'd never before been so depressed. It seemed like fate; the first time I ever pick up one of those trashy magazines and there's her advert, extolling the virtues of knowing what's around the corner. Then, when I get to her place, I find a good looking woman who seems interested in me. Tomorrow can't come quick enough.

I couldn't sleep for thinking about her. During the night, she changed from mere pretty to beautiful, her smile had broadened and the hand-squeeze had tightened. Why didn't I ask her name, her real name? I knew her simply as Madame Lee, but she was a girl with a real name. Lee could have been her surname, but I doubted it, so I contented myself with speculating about her first name. She looked like a Helen to me, or maybe a Sara, but whatever her name, it would fall softly from her lips in a few hours' time.

I rose early in anticipation, showered, ate what breakfast I could force down, because by now I was consumed by my feelings for her, and showered again. I tested different after-shaves on each wrist, worrying that this was too strong, or that one so subtle that it was unnoticeable. The end result was a concoction of aromas, which would have heralded my arrival the moment I approached within a mile of the cabin, so I showered again.

I'd wanted to be on her doorstep before her arrival, but I'd made myself late by worrying about how I looked and smelled. In the end, I'd chosen a smart, dark blue suit with an unostentatious tie; better to play it safe, I thought. I thought about running to make up time, but I didn't want to make myself sweaty, so I walked briskly in the direction of the cabin. I could feel the blood bouncing off the inside of my skull as it coursed around my body. In due course, I was at the cabin and after straightening my tie, prepared to knock on the door. It was then that I noticed the hastily written note that was pinned just below the knocker; it read 'Closed today due to unforeseen circumstances'.

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