Noah, who had been pretending to read a magazine, couldn’t contain himself any longer. ‘It’s all nonsense, Rona.’
She continued to trace a line with her forefinger. ‘And what makes you say that?’
‘There’s no science to it at all,’ said Noah, getting up and poking at the fire.
Rona lifted her face, her eyes so bright in the firelight they appeared almost glassy. ‘You know what? You sound like Dr Mortimer talking about ghost hunting.’ She nodded her head towards the doctor where he sat at the card table deep in conversation with his wife.
Midge peered through the fringing of the lampshade, leaning forward in order to watch the exchange. Noah had momentarily paused in his poking but resumed again with a shrug. ‘The two aren’t even comparable. With parapsychology, it’s about finding scientific evidence.’
‘Evidence?’ snorted Rona. ‘What evidence have you found so far?’
‘EMF,’ replied Noah, still with his back to her. ‘That’s something you can actually measure. My equipment has already picked up loads of interference.’
‘I’m not sure you can call something scientific just because you’ve stuck an “ology” on the end of it,’ said the doctor, looking up from his conversation.
‘You’ve been recording?’ asked Harold, taking his hand back from Rona.
‘Yeah. I was going to analyse the rest of the material tonight.’
There was a silence, broken only by the spitting of the fire.
‘I like stories,’ said Harold, eventually. He nudged Rona. ‘Anyway, I reckon it’s good to keep our minds occupied.’
‘I’ve never done tarot cards before,’ said Gloria, dragging the table across the room and placing it in front of the sofa.
‘So, what happens exactly?’ asked Noah, who had joined them on the sofa. ‘Do we need teams?’
Midge desperately hoped not. She was always picked last for these things. For some reason, people never seemed to notice her. She’d even been handed her own retirement card to sign when she left the force because, despite thirty years of service, the HR lady wasn’t entirely sure who she was.
Rona’s laugh spread out across the room. ‘No, stupid.’ Noah blushed. ‘You need a reader. It has to be someone very empathetic and in tune, which will bemoi, obviously.’
Midge moved out from behind the lamp and sat down on a chair next to Harold, having to squeeze up in order to fit her legs and cane behind the table.
‘What lovely cards!’ exclaimed Gloria, bending forward to examine the pack that Rona had laid on the table. ‘Such delicate illustrations.’
‘They are, aren’t they?’ beamed Rona, fanning the cards out. ‘I got them after a three-week bender in the Golden Triangle in Asia. It’s tarot told through the Kama Sutra positions.’
‘Oh!’ Gloria swallowed and sat back. ‘Yes, I can see now. Gosh.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘How is that even possible...?’
‘You’ll be amazed at what they get up to in the East,’ said Harold, nodding his head.
‘That’s incredibly racist, Harold,’ said Noah.
‘Here we go,’ yawned Harold, stretching out his legs. ‘Your generation didn’t end racism, you know –’ he pointed a finger at Noah – ‘you just hid it behind keyboards.’
‘Did you enjoy Asia?’ asked Midge, who had always wanted to travel but disliked sweating.
‘Oh yes,’ smiled Rona, before frowning. ‘At least, I think I did.’
‘Typical!’ snorted Noah. ‘You’re like those trust-fund backpackers who bang on about experiencing the “real” Asia but only actually go so they can get a load of cheap drugs.’
‘Shut up,’ said Rona, blinking. ‘Clearly, you’ve never tried haggling in Nyaw but let me tell you, Willow said it wasn’t cheap.’
‘Have you ever considered being an environmental tourist?’ asked Noah.
‘Is that what they call moving back in with your parents nowadays?’ snorted Harold. Noah flushed and went back to poking the fire.
Rona picked the cards up with an elaborate flourish and handed them to Harold. ‘Be a love and sort these into four equal piles.’
