Read Online Snow Angels, Secrets and Christmas Cake by Sue Watson - Free Book Online
Authors: Sue Watson
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clipped tones and posh vowels. ‘On Wednesday, Mrs J peered into the remains of my Darjeeling and announced in a very dark voice that “Big changes are coming. Vultures are circling.”’ I said, shaking my head.
‘Yeah. I was here. She also said she could see a map of Antarctica, and the face of a clown, but then decided it was the reflection of her own face,’ Sam rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly Tamsin you’ve got to stop with the spirits and the tarots and stuff, Mrs J hasn’t got a bloody clue.’
‘What cheek!’ came a voice from the other side of the kitchen. Mrs J was now emptying cupboards and popped her head out.
‘Oh Mrs J, I hadn’t even realised you were still in the room,’ I said. I swear the woman was SAS trained and used silent stealth to gain intelligence on me.
‘I have got a clue Sam Angel ... didn’t I tell you who would win X Factor this year, Tamsin? I bet Psychic Sally couldn’t even tell you that.’
‘Yes you did... she did,’ I nodded to Sam in confirmation, ‘and he wasn’t the favourite, even Simon Cowell was shocked.’
‘Well, if Simon Cowell had me workin for ‘im he’d know who was goin to win and he wouldn’t take on all them daft acts,’ she continued, her voice now coming from inside the cupboard.
‘Anyway, as I was saying,’ I rolled my eyes to Sam who was trying not to laugh. ‘I looked into my cup at the tea leaves too and unlike Mrs J couldn’t see any vultures, clowns or X Factor winners... but after only a few seconds I swear I saw Anouska staring back at me. There she was, bold as brass among the debris of Darjeeling,’ I whispered, going very cold. ‘And I have just realised why – it was a premonition, she’s going to try and make hers the best party, the best canapés... photograph. Photograph! Oh God. I need to speak to Jesus...’
‘You mean to pray?’
‘No. To check he isn’t in Anouska’s sitting room papping those little fairy children of hers like bloody Disney child stars while my life goes down the toilet,’ I hissed, iPhone to my cheek.
Fortunately Jesus was as loyal as ever; ‘I never betray you and go to the other side,’ he said in that lovely Portuguese accent.
‘Thank God there’s still one man I can rely on,’ I sighed putting down my phone.
‘If Jesus is the only man you can rely on then you’re truly lost,’ Sam sighed.
I feared she might be right.
5
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Sam
T amsin was understandably sad when I arrived the morning after the night before. She was all over the place, shouting about Anouska stealing Heddon and Hall and Jesus for Christmas – it was as though she hadn’t taken it in, that this wasn’t her life any more. I said that she had to think of her life as pre-bailiffs and post-bailiffs – and that everything was different now.
After several cups of coffee and some encouraging clichés from me she still wasn’t budging, so I suggested we pack her stuff together. I wanted her to have the possessions she loved and needed with her. I didn’t care that my van was small and my flat was tiny, I just didn’t want Tamsin to lose any more of her life than she had to. If that meant bringing all the family photos and every precious memento she treasured, then so be it.
‘So, what’s precious that we need to pack?’ I asked, guiding her out of the kitchen like she was a little old lady suffering from dementia.
‘My jewellery’s worth a fortune... and my art,’ she muttered, looking around helplessly.
‘Yes but is it of value to you? I don’t care how much it’s worth we just need to make sure we get the stuff that matters... that’s precious to you and the kids.’
The bailiffs had said the repossession order was for the house and cars only... these were now owned by the bank. The furniture, clothes, jewellery and computers still belonged to the family and were therefore moveable, but there was only so much we could take that day. ‘We can come back
‘Yeah. I was here. She also said she could see a map of Antarctica, and the face of a clown, but then decided it was the reflection of her own face,’ Sam rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly Tamsin you’ve got to stop with the spirits and the tarots and stuff, Mrs J hasn’t got a bloody clue.’
‘What cheek!’ came a voice from the other side of the kitchen. Mrs J was now emptying cupboards and popped her head out.
‘Oh Mrs J, I hadn’t even realised you were still in the room,’ I said. I swear the woman was SAS trained and used silent stealth to gain intelligence on me.
‘I have got a clue Sam Angel ... didn’t I tell you who would win X Factor this year, Tamsin? I bet Psychic Sally couldn’t even tell you that.’
‘Yes you did... she did,’ I nodded to Sam in confirmation, ‘and he wasn’t the favourite, even Simon Cowell was shocked.’
‘Well, if Simon Cowell had me workin for ‘im he’d know who was goin to win and he wouldn’t take on all them daft acts,’ she continued, her voice now coming from inside the cupboard.
‘Anyway, as I was saying,’ I rolled my eyes to Sam who was trying not to laugh. ‘I looked into my cup at the tea leaves too and unlike Mrs J couldn’t see any vultures, clowns or X Factor winners... but after only a few seconds I swear I saw Anouska staring back at me. There she was, bold as brass among the debris of Darjeeling,’ I whispered, going very cold. ‘And I have just realised why – it was a premonition, she’s going to try and make hers the best party, the best canapés... photograph. Photograph! Oh God. I need to speak to Jesus...’
‘You mean to pray?’
‘No. To check he isn’t in Anouska’s sitting room papping those little fairy children of hers like bloody Disney child stars while my life goes down the toilet,’ I hissed, iPhone to my cheek.
Fortunately Jesus was as loyal as ever; ‘I never betray you and go to the other side,’ he said in that lovely Portuguese accent.
‘Thank God there’s still one man I can rely on,’ I sighed putting down my phone.
‘If Jesus is the only man you can rely on then you’re truly lost,’ Sam sighed.
I feared she might be right.
5
Designer Shoes and Profanely Priced Face Creams
Sam
T amsin was understandably sad when I arrived the morning after the night before. She was all over the place, shouting about Anouska stealing Heddon and Hall and Jesus for Christmas – it was as though she hadn’t taken it in, that this wasn’t her life any more. I said that she had to think of her life as pre-bailiffs and post-bailiffs – and that everything was different now.
After several cups of coffee and some encouraging clichés from me she still wasn’t budging, so I suggested we pack her stuff together. I wanted her to have the possessions she loved and needed with her. I didn’t care that my van was small and my flat was tiny, I just didn’t want Tamsin to lose any more of her life than she had to. If that meant bringing all the family photos and every precious memento she treasured, then so be it.
‘So, what’s precious that we need to pack?’ I asked, guiding her out of the kitchen like she was a little old lady suffering from dementia.
‘My jewellery’s worth a fortune... and my art,’ she muttered, looking around helplessly.
‘Yes but is it of value to you? I don’t care how much it’s worth we just need to make sure we get the stuff that matters... that’s precious to you and the kids.’
The bailiffs had said the repossession order was for the house and cars only... these were now owned by the bank. The furniture, clothes, jewellery and computers still belonged to the family and were therefore moveable, but there was only so much we could take that day. ‘We can come back
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