The Extraordinary Life of Lara Craft (not Croft)

Chapter Thirty Five

Soul, as the psychic was called, answered the door wearing a floaty, patterned dress and earrings that resembled mini dream catchers. Her mystical presence was accentuated by the sweet waft of sage smoke and incense, and a poster of Buddha behind her in the hallway, peeling at the corners.

‘I’m here for a tarot reading?’ Lara said.

‘Yes, please come in,’ Soul replied, standing aside and smiling beatifically at her. ‘I’ve been expecting you.’

A low table surrounded by scatter cushions sat in the middle of the room. On it was a velvet cloth, on top of which had been placed a candle, a crystal ball, a deck of cards and several coloured stones.

Lara followed Soul’s pointing finger towards the table and sat down on the floor. She gazed at the crystal ball, hoping it would show her aboard a luxurious yacht, with Javier Bardem oiling her suntanned thighs. But as she deliberated over her imaginary bikini she realised that in fact, all she really wanted the crystal ball to show was her, back in her crappy flat in England, watching Britain’s Got Talent with Lucy and ordering pizza with extra toppings. She sighed.

She’d had so many amazing adventures; had met George Clooney (sort of), had stayed in palaces, five star hotels and on outback ranches, seen things she’d never expected to see in her life (disturbing things in some cases, like the lion mauling and the cow being turkey basted with prize sperm). She’d had amazing sex, proposals of marriage from a Prince, a cowboy and a crazy Twihard enthusiast, and she’d made some brilliant friends along the way. Well, CP at least.

Lara had learned lots of things about herself and in the process, she’d discovered that what she really wanted wasn’t fame or money or a rock star/artist boyfriend. None of those things would truly make her happy, she realised. The thought was quite surprising.

‘You are seeking answers,’ Soul said, nodding her head like an old wise woman.

‘Well, yes,’ Lara answered, resisting the temptation to ask why else she would be paying for a visit to a fortune teller. The woman wasn’t winning any points so far.

‘You are not married, but you are engaged,’ Soul said.

Lara glanced at the ginormous ring of bling on her finger. ‘Well, kind of,’ she admitted, remembering Tyler and then poor, dead JJ.

‘He is very wealthy, the man who gave you this ring.’

Lara raised her eyebrows. It really didn’t take a psychic to deduce any of this.

‘He is dead now.’

Lara gasped.

Soul’s eyes shut and her head swayed from side to side like a nodding dog in slow motion, as though she was sifting through visions behind her eyelids.

‘I see… I see a white beast,’ she said, her eyes flashing open. ‘Your totem animal spirit, I feel. He is here in the room. He protects you.’

Lara was completely speechless. She thought about pointing out that the white beast wasn’t a totem animal spirit at all. It was the lion that had killed her almost-fiancé. But she decided it was all too complicated. Besides, time was money and she didn’t have much of either.

Soul peered into the crystal ball. Lara leaned closer. What could she see?

‘I see many men,’ she frowned. ‘Many, many men.’ She looked up then and shot Lara a rather disgusted look. Lara shifted on her cushion.

‘One shines like a jewel.’

Lara frowned. She must be meaning Blaine.

‘Another is wild, like an unpredictable storm. He is not for you either. His destiny lies with another.’