Eva's Journey Page 3

  This time the silence was even longer. I was beginning to wonder if Victoria had fainted at the news, when she spoke again.

  ‘Woodpark’s meant to be …… OK,’ she said slowly.

  ‘No, it’s not,’ I said angrily. ‘I’ve heard some of the girls in my school talk about it. They say it’s really rough and scary.’

  ‘What do they know?’ said Victoria. ‘They probably just made that stuff up. Anyway, my mum went to Woodpark, and she turned out OK.’

  ‘That was hundreds of years ago,’ I said. ‘And it so doesn’t count.’

  Victoria decided it was time to change the subject.

  ‘Do you want to hang out for a while? You can come over here if you like.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you come here?’

  I didn’t finish the sentence –

  – while you still can?

  A few days later, Mum sold her jeep and came home in a tiny, battered old car.

  ‘I really like this car,’ she said brightly, as she patted the fading red paint. ‘It’s got personality.’

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t look for personality in a car – all I wanted was satnav and a super sound system and leather seats.

  That wasn’t so much to ask for, was it?

  A week after that, Dad’s business closed down completely.

  When he came home and told me, I wasn’t even surprised.

  Nothing could surprise me any more.

  I hugged him. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I’m sure you’ll find another job soon.’

  He nodded. ‘I’m sure I will,’ he said.

  I wondered why we were bothering to tell lies, since we were both so bad at it.

  Our house was sold very quickly. That’s the way the new owners wanted it, and Mum and Dad didn’t argue. I knew how they felt. How can you enjoy something when you’re just sitting there, waiting for it to be taken away from you forever?

  I’m not going to say much about the day we moved out – not because I don’t want to, but because it’s all a bit of a blur.

  I can remember lots of packing cases and lots of tears.

  I can remember Dad telling me to grow up, which so wasn’t fair, as he’s always saying that I’m still his baby girl.

  I can remember the slam of the front door, as we left for the last time.

  I can remember Mum, Dad and me piling into Mum’s small red car.

  I can remember the crunch of the car tyres on the gravel.

  I can remember turning back for a last look at the name-plaque on the gate post – Castleville House.

  I can remember the dull clang of the electric gates as they closed behind us for the very last time.

  I can remember the short, silent car journey.

  I can remember pulling up outside the small, ugly house we had rented.

  I can remember thinking that my life was over.

  Chapter Five

  Soon it was my last day in The Abbey. My form teacher, Mrs Reynolds, was really nice. She shook my hand as I walked out after my last class.

  ‘You’re a bright girl, Eva,’ she said. ‘You’ll do well wherever you go.’

  ‘But I don’t want to go anywhere’ I felt like crying. ‘I just want to stay here.’

  But that would have been too weird, so I just gave Mrs Reynolds’ hand one last shake, and went outside to catch my bus.

  Most of my friends were in the school yard. We all hugged and kissed and cried.

  They all called after me as I climbed on to the school bus for the very last time.

  ‘We’ll still be friends.’

  ‘Let’s keep in touch.’

  ‘We’ll never forget you.’

  Most of them did remember me – for the first few days anyway. But they all lived too far away to be proper friends. Even though their fathers’ cars hadn’t been towed away by evil tow-truck men, they didn’t seem to be able to travel the few miles to visit me during the holidays.

  Some of the girls texted me – for the first few days anyway. But I had no credit on my phone, so I couldn’t reply – and soon the texts stopped coming.

  I didn’t take it personally.

  But that didn’t stop it hurting.

  The days in the dump that I was supposed to call my new home seemed to go by very slowly. I wandered around the small rooms feeling cross and miserable.

  ‘Go upstairs and unpack some of your boxes,’ said Mum one morning. ‘You’re driving me crazy with your moaning.’

  I thought about arguing, but felt sorry when I saw Mum’s tired face. This whole thing couldn’t have been much fun for her either. So I gave her a quick hug, and then I went upstairs and looked at the boxes stacked in the narrow hallway outside my bedroom.

  I tried, I really did. But how can the contents of three wardrobes, two chests of drawers and seven bookshelves, fit into one very small, very narrow cupboard? It was like trying to fit a rugby team into a Mini Cooper – totally impossible.

  Dad came in when he heard me crying. He looked at the cupboard that was already stuffed to bursting point, even though I’d only unpacked the first two boxes.

  ‘You’ll get used to it,’ he said. ‘My two brothers and I had to share a wardrobe about that size.’

  ‘But that was so different,’ I said. ‘You only owned one set of clothes each.’

  ‘Didn’t do us any harm,’ he said. ‘We survived.’

  ‘But I don’t want to just survive,’ I wailed. ‘I want to live.’

  I started to cry again, and Dad came over and hugged me. He always hates to see me cry. He patted my hair.

  ‘There, there, my little Princess,’ he said. ‘Please stop crying and I’ll buy you a …’

  I stopped sobbing and looked up at him hopefully, but he put his hands over his eyes.

  ‘Just stop crying, please,’ he said.

  Then one morning I woke up and realised that the next day I’d be starting my new school.

  I lay in bed, looking around my small bedroom; even though I still hated my new home, I’d have happily locked myself in there forever, if it meant I could have avoided facing in to Woodpark School all on my own.

  I was still in my pyjamas when Victoria called over.

  ‘Come on, Eva,’ she said. ‘It’s the last day of the holidays. We should be out having fun.’

  ‘I’m not sure if I mentioned this before – but my life is over,’ I said. ‘How can you expect me to have fun? I don’t do fun any more.’

  Victoria ignored me, and I couldn’t really blame her. I’d done nothing but moan ever since I’d moved house.

  ‘Come on,’ she repeated. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Go where?’ I asked sulkily.

  ‘Town?’

  ‘That sounds like loads of fun,’ I said bitterly. ‘We can stand outside restaurants and smell the food I can’t afford to eat. After that we can look in the shop windows at the clothes I can’t afford to buy. It’ll be a total blast.’

  Once again she ignored me.

  ‘We’ll go to the park in town. That doesn’t cost anything. It’s a nice day, and there’s always stuff going on in the park.’

  I felt like punching her.

  Did I look like the kind of girl who liked hanging out doing stuff in a park?

  But I didn’t say this. I had just remembered that this was my new life.

  My new life where everything was different.

  I pulled on my clothes, called to Mum and Dad that I was going out, and followed Victoria outside.

  She was right, it was a nice day, and even though I wouldn’t have admitted it to Victoria, being outside did make me feel a bit better.

  ‘I know a short-cut to town,’ she said. ‘It’s just down this street.’

  I looked at her, surprised.

  ‘I’m the one who lives here. So how come you’re the one who knows the short-cuts?’

  She made a face.

  ‘If you spent less time crying in your bedroom, you might get to know the short-
cuts too.’

  Once again she was right.

  ‘I’m sorry, Victoria,’ I said. ‘I’ve been a right pain these last few weeks.’

  She smiled at me.

  ‘That’s OK. Everyone gets to feel sorry for themselves for a while, and then the time comes when you have to just get on with your life.’

  ‘And I’m guessing that time has come?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Exactly.’

  I followed her as she led the way through a maze of small streets. Then as we turned a corner, I stumbled on a sign that was propped up against a garden wall. I rubbed my leg, and then bent to pick up the sign that had gone flying into the street.

  Madame Margarita it read, in wobbly gold lettering.

  Then underneath that, in even wobblier red letters, it said. I can tell your fortune. The secrets of the future will be yours. For ten euro you can change your life.

  I put the sign back where it had been, wondering for a second why my fingers were stained with red and gold. Then I stood there and looked at the sign for a long time.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Victoria.

  I shook my head.

  ‘Hang on a sec,’ I said. ‘Look at this sign. It says you can change your life. Do you have any idea how much I need to change my life?’

  Victoria sighed.

  ‘I know you want to change your life, but surely you don’t believe in that stuff?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘I don’t know. I used to believe in all kinds of stuff that turned out not to be true. Maybe it’s time I found different stuff to believe in.’

  Victoria shook her head.

  ‘Forget it, Eva. It’s crazy. No-one with a brain believes in fortune tellers, and last time I checked, you had a brain.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I muttered.

  ‘And besides,’ she continued. ‘Even if this Madam Margarita could tell you your future, how would that help you?’

  I thought for a minute.

  ‘I just think it would. If I knew how long it would take for my life to get back to normal, maybe I could cope better.’

  ‘But, what if … what if Madam Margarita told you that your life isn’t going to get back to normal? What if this is as good as it gets?’

  ‘Well, at least then I’d know, wouldn’t I? You couldn’t possibly understand, Victoria. These last few months have been crazy for me. It’s like being in one of those fairground crazy-houses – the ground under my feet is suddenly all wobbly. If I don’t find something to hold on to, I’m going to go crashing down in a heap. Nothing seems right any more. I want to know what’s going to happen next. I have to know what’s going to happen next.’

  Then I put my head down.

  ‘It doesn’t matter anyway. It costs ten euro to see Madam Margarita. I don’t have ten euro. I don’t have ten cents. I don’t have any money at all.’

  Victoria smiled.

  ‘I have ten euro. I was going to buy you a present in town – to wish you luck for your first day in your new school. You can have the money instead if you like.’

  ‘Really?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Really. I still think this whole fortune-telling thing is total rubbish, but if it’s what you want …’

  I hugged her.

  ‘It is so what I want. Thank you so, so much Victoria. Will you come in with me?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘No way. That future stuff freaks me out. The present is more than enough for me to cope with. Here, take the ten euro before I change my mind. And I’ll wait out here, just in case Madam Margarita decides to eat you or something.’

  ‘And if she does, will you come in and rescue me?’

  Victoria shook her head.

  ‘No! I’d be too scared. But at least I’ll be able to go home and tell your parents what happened to you.’

  ‘You’re a true friend,’ I said, and we both laughed.

  Then I took the ten euro from Victoria, and watched as she went to sit on a wall at the other side of the road.

  ‘You know you could buy a really nice t-shirt with that ten euro,’ she called.

  ‘No, thanks,’ I called back, and then I walked slowly up the path to Madam Margarita’s house.

  Chapter Six

  I knocked on the door, and stood back as flakes of blue paint fluttered and floated towards the ground. After a minute, I could hear a very weird squeaking noise. I held my breath as the squeaking became louder. Whatever was making the noise was getting closer. I could feel an icy cold shiver run slowly up and down my spine. I turned to look over to Victoria, who just waved cheerfully.

  ‘This is crazy,’ I thought. ‘What am I doing here?’

  Then, just as I turned to go back to my friend, the door opened.

  I found myself looking at a woman. Her face was thin and pale. She had dark hair, and huge brown eyes. She was wearing an ugly blue track-suit, and runners that were totally last season. She was sitting in a wheelchair.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m sorry for disturbing you,’ I said. ‘I was looking for Madam Margarita.’

  ‘That’s me,’ she said.

  ‘You don’t look like a fortune-teller,’ I said.

  ‘Well, you don’t look like a princess,’ she shot back.

  When I didn’t answer, she pointed at my necklace, which said ‘Princess’ in sparkly pink letters – one of Dad’s little jokes, from way back when he still had a sense of humour.

  ‘Ha, ha,’ I said. ‘Very funny. Not. Anyway, I think I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want my fortune told.’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Don’t go. Please. You’re my first customer.’

  ‘You mean I’m your first customer today?’

  She hesitated. ‘Er …… yes.’

  I knew she was lying. That’s why the red and gold paint had stained my fingers – her sign hadn’t even had a chance to dry.

  How did I end up with a fortune teller who was on her first day on the job?

  ‘Come in,’ she said, wheeling herself backwards into the narrow hall. The squeaking sound started again. It must be awful to have to use a wheel-chair, but surely oiling the wheels occasionally would make it easier to bear?

  ‘Come in,’ she said again, smiling this time.

  She looked younger when she smiled.

  It seemed rude not to follow her, so with a last glance over at Victoria, I stepped in to the hall.

  I looked around. I don’t know a whole lot about fortune-tellers’ houses, but surely they weren’t meant to look like this – small and shabby and sad?

  Madam Margarita was watching me.

  ‘What were you expecting?’ she asked. ‘Buckingham Palace?’

  I shook my head embarrassed.

  ‘No.’ I said quickly. ‘It’s just that this house is a lot like the one I live in.’

  It was the truth.

  Madam Margarita didn’t comment on this, but her face made it clear that she didn’t believe me.

  ‘In there.’

  She pointed to a room, and I obediently stepped inside.

  ‘I’ll be back in a second,’ said Madam Margarita as she closed the door behind me.

  I was in a small, untidy room. All of one wall was taken up by a bed. In the middle of the room there was a round table, and one chair.

  Before I had made up my mind whether to sit or stand, Madam Margarita was back. Now she was wearing a turban made of cheap-looking shiny fabric, and wrapped around her shoulders was a silver shawl. She looked a bit like a turkey all ready to go into the oven.

  ‘Sit,’ she said.

  I sat on the only chair, and Madam Margarita wheeled herself so that she was facing me.

  She took something from her knees and put it on the table.

  ‘My crystal ball,’ she announced.

  It looked more like an upside down goldfish bowl. I wondered if there was a poor fish in the kitchen, desperately holding its breath until it could get its home bac
k.

  ‘So you want to know what the future holds for you?’

  At first I didn’t answer.

  This was all too stupid.

  If Madam Margarita could tell the future, and could tell how she was going to spend the day, why did she bother getting up out of bed?

  If she had such great powers, why didn’t she use them to get herself a better life than this one?

  But then I figured I was going to have to pay the ten euro now anyway, so I might as well just get on with it.

  And besides, behind Madam Margarita’s tough expression, there was the hint that maybe she was quite a nice person. Maybe she really could help me.

  So I opened my mouth and the words came tumbling out.

  ‘Yes, I want to know my future. You see, things have been really awful lately. My dad’s business has closed down, and we have hardly any money, and his car is gone, and Mum’s jeep is gone, and we have to drive around in this totally embarrassing old banger, and we had to move house, and I have to go to a new school tomorrow, and I’m really nervous about that, and—’

  ‘Stop!’

  Madam Margarita had folded her arms.

  ‘That’s all very interesting, Princess, but before you say another word, will you go back outside and read my sign again?’

  ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘No, I’m not. Just do it.’

  This was too weird, but for some reason, I found myself doing what she said. I went back outside, leaving the front door open behind me. While I was outside I looked across at Victoria, but she didn’t see me. She was busy playing with her phone.

  I thought about running across to her.

  I thought about forgetting the whole crazy fortune-telling thing.

  But instead, I carefully re-read the sign and then I went back inside the shabby house and sat down.

  ‘So,’ said Madam Margarita. ‘Did you see where my sign mentions counselling?’

  I shook my head. ‘No.’

  ‘That’s because it’s not there. I’m a fortune teller, not a counsellor.’

  Then her voice softened, and she sounded almost kind.

  ‘I’m sorry, Princess, but I’m not qualified to be a counsellor. It would be wrong of me to listen to your problems. So why don’t you just let me tell your fortune and you can go on your way?’