Читать книгу Blast from the Past - Cathy Hopkins, Cathy Hopkins - Страница 8

We set off for the Taj Lake Palace Hotel in the early afternoon, feeling soothed and scented after our treatments. I’d resigned myself to going along to keep Marcia happy, to smile and listen to whatever rubbish the fortune-teller had to say and not to let my cynicism be too apparent.

‘A car’s coming to take us down to the bay,’ said Pete, as we made our way down to the hotel lobby. Two minutes later, a maroon and beige vintage Bentley rolled up. It was straight out of the days of the Raj. ‘Is that for us?’ I asked.

Marcia nodded. ‘We’re going in style. I thought it might sweeten the experience for you.’

‘Blackmail,’ I said, ‘I like it.’

Marcia laughed. ‘I wanted to make sure you came.’

The car took us a short distance to a car park by the lakeshore, where we got out to see a tall Indian man, in a white turban and Eastern-style gold uniform, holding a large fringed red parasol. He was waiting to escort us into a white tent. ‘Your boat is ready,’ he said as he led us through and down to the water. Minutes later, we took our places in a small speedboat, which was open on the sides and canopied on the top, the seats inside scattered with colourful cushions.

‘I really do feel like I’m in a Bond film now,’ I said as the boat whooshed through the water to the hotel. Looking back at the shore gave us the best view of the City Palace so far: with its domed turrets, terraces and balconies, it was a truly magnificent piece of architecture.

Our boat arrived at a small jetty, where another Indian man, this one in a red turban and navy uniform, stepped forward to help us up onto the marble landing area at the front of the hotel. A red carpet led to the reception area, which we could see behind a glass wall. From an open balcony on the floor above came a shower of rose petals. I looked up to see the faces of two smiling Indian women. ‘Welcome,’ they said, as they scattered more petals down on us.

We stepped through an open door where three smiling ladies in emerald green saris were waiting. They came forward and placed garlands of golden flowers around our necks. One of them introduced herself as Adita. She reached down to a brass tray on a small table behind her, then dotted red powder on our foreheads. The other ladies handed each of us an iced pink drink in tall glasses. ‘Passion fruit,’ said one of them, ‘you will like.’

As I looked around me, I could see that the décor of the hotel was a mix of old and new, with marble floors, white arches and pillars and tall gold Indian statues placed in alcoves along a corridor in front of us.

‘You here for Saranya Ji?’ asked Adita.

‘We are,’ Pete replied, and he handed her our vouchers.

‘Please you follow,’ she told us, and led us into a white courtyard with a pool in the centre of the hotel where she indicated we should take a seat in one of the alcoves. The atmosphere was very tranquil, the only sound from a bubbling lotus fountain in the middle of a pool of water.

‘You two go first,’ I said when Adita had left us alone.

‘OK,’ said Marcia, ‘I can’t wait to see her.’

On the dot of one, Adita returned and took Marcia away.

‘You nervous?’ asked Pete when they’d gone.

‘Not at all. What is there to be nervous about?’

‘She might see into the depths of your soul and all your dark secrets …’

‘Stop trying to wind me up.’

Pete laughed. He always liked to tease, and had been doing so since I’d met him almost thirty years ago, when Marcia had brought him back from Glastonbury. They’d met there, then worked together manning a food stall. Pete was 100 per cent hedonist, with a particular love of good food and, with his clever business head, he had turned that passion into money. He’d started out doing food at the Glastonbury festival, which he and Marcia still went to every year, then moved on to running a café up north, then a small shop when he moved to London. Now he ran Harvest Moon, a food emporium in the city. It was a glorious place to visit and sold everything organic: bread, pastries from all over the world, fruit, vegetables, cereals, grains, every type of health food and supplement, cheeses, herbs and spices. There were also a couple of juice and healthy snack counters where local office workers could pop in for a takeaway lunch and get something tasty, fresh and good for them. Marcia worked there with him, running the office and keeping the admin side of things in order.

‘But I do wonder what Saranya Ji’s going to come up with,’ Pete said. ‘I know it’s more Marcia’s thing than yours but it could be interesting. I think there are some genuine psychics in the world, people who have a true gift.’

‘But what if they see something awful, do they tell you? Like your plane is going to crash on the way home, you will lose all your money, and all your family are going to die in an attack by a plague of locusts.’

Pete laughed. ‘Pessimist. I think they’d probably say something vague, like you’re in for a challenging time.’

‘I already know that I am,’ I said.

‘Are you worried about what you’re going back to?’

I nodded. ‘I am but I’m determined not to think about it while we’re here. It’s been wonderful to have a break from all my concerns back home. I’ll deal with it when I get back. Heather’s been texting but I purposely haven’t read her or Stuart’s messages.’

‘Good for you. Heather’s a good manager so I’m sure will cope if anything’s come up. And you know Marcia and I will do whatever we can to help.’

‘I do, but let’s not talk about it now. If I start worrying here, there’s not anything I can do, it’s not going to make any difference, and it would only spoil our last day.’

‘Exactly,’ said Pete. ‘Very wise.’

We chatted away about our plans for Christmas and the time flashed by until Marcia came back with Adita, who beckoned to Pete to go with her.

‘So, how was it?’ I asked.

‘Not saying. I don’t want to influence you. How about we tell each other what she said when we’re all done,’ she said, and with that, she went over to a sun-lounger, picked up a magazine from a nearby table and stretched out on the bed.

‘OK, but good or bad do you reckon?’ I asked.

Marcia put her hand up to her mouth and zipped. ‘My lips are sealed.’

‘Spoilsport,’ I said. I could see she wasn’t going to be budged, so I got out my book of puzzles to do while I waited. I loved puzzles and crosswords; they were great for passing time at airports, on planes and trains, or anywhere I had an hour to kill. I’d even been known to have a jigsaw on my dining table on a rainy weekend, something that Marcia found hilarious.

An hour later, Pete was back. He looked slightly dazed and, for the first time, I felt a twinge of apprehension. ‘OK?’ I asked.

‘Fantastic,’ he said as he went to sit by Marcia. ‘She’s definitely got something.’

Hmm, I’ll be the judge of that, and I mustn’t give anything away, I thought, as Adita beckoned that I should follow her. I got up and she led me back to the reception area, along a corridor to the left and into one of the hotel rooms. I knew from gullible friends that sometimes fortune-tellers fished for clues. Well, I wasn’t going to give her any.

‘Saranya Ji will come in short time,’ said Adita, as she indicated that I should take a seat, then she left me alone to wait.

I looked around the small suite, with its closed shutter doors that I presumed led to a bedroom. The room was tastefully decorated in traditional style with cream walls, a red velvet sofa and chaise longue with gold cushions, a navy blue Persian rug on the floor and an antique-looking painting on the one wall showing a maharaja riding an elephant. This must have cost a packet, I thought. Gypsy Rose Ji must be doing well out of the psychic business.

Moments later, the door opened, and I stood as a small Indian lady in a white sari came in. She exuded warmth and came over and greeted me like a long-lost friend.

‘My dear Bea, I am so pleased to see you,’ she said as she clasped my hands in hers and I noticed the soft scent of roses and sandalwood. I couldn’t help being charmed by her manner and found myself smiling back at her. ‘Please, sit, sit. Would you like tea? They have mint here, made with fresh mint, no teabags. It’s very refreshing.’ She spoke with a perfect English accent and I found myself wanting to know more about her. I resolved to google her as soon as I got back to my hotel.

‘Yes, that sounds wonderful.’

She picked up the phone and ordered tea then turned back. ‘So my dear, how can I help?’

‘Help? Oh no. I don’t need help, no, my friend Marcia, the lady you saw earlier, she bought a session with you for me as a birthday gift.’

Saranya Ji regarded me in a manner I found a little uncomfortable. It wasn’t that she looked at me unkindly, more that she stared right into me and I felt exposed in some way. I felt myself blush. After a few moments, she nodded and smiled. ‘OK, a gift. So what would like to know?’

‘I … I thought you were going to tell my fortune.’

‘Ah. Fortune. I don’t exactly tell fortunes. Is that what you want? Someone to tell you your future?’

She’s fishing, I thought. ‘No. Not that.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘The past has gone, the future is yet to be written; only the present is real.’

‘True,’ I said as there was a knock at the door and a waiter brought in a silver tray with tea.

After he’d gone, Saranya Ji poured and handed me a cup, then we sat in silence for a while which I found awkward. I didn’t know where to look, so I stared at the carpet. I am not going to give anything away, I told myself.

Finally Saranya Ji began to speak. ‘I feel sadness in you, Bea, and resistance. I feel scepticism, but this will change.’

Doubt it, I thought, and as for appearing sad or resistant, that could apply to most of the population. Who hasn’t got to the age of fifty without a few knocks?

‘Why are you here?’ she asked.

‘We’re on holiday—’

‘No, I mean here today, with me.’

‘My friend Marcia, the gift, I couldn’t refuse. I … there’s nothing I want to know specifically.’

Saranya Ji sighed and then nodded to herself, as if accepting that I wasn’t going to blurt out my whole life. ‘OK. Give me your hands,’ she instructed. I held my hands out and she took them in hers, turned them palm upwards and studied them. She closed her eyes as if tuning in to me, then opened her eyes and let go of my hands.

‘You have known pain with love in this lifetime, no?’ she asked.

‘I … I …’ I blustered. ‘I’ve had good relationships and some not so good, probably like everyone my age.’ I was about to tell her more, then remembered that I’d resolved not to give anything away.

‘I mean the joy of love and contentment that comes from meeting your equal and soulmate,’ said Saranya Ji. She looked at me with such compassion that I felt my eyes well with tears. It was as if she knew, she understood how empty my life felt, but that couldn’t be. I’d known her five minutes and some people I’d spent a lifetime with had no idea about what went on in my head and my heart. I had a good public mask of being cheerful, positive, not needing anyone. Only friends like Marcia, Pete, Heather and Stuart knew what went on behind the act. I blinked the tears away. Ridiculous. What was wrong with me? And what was happening here? Maybe Marcia had been filling her in on my past, or Pete? I’ll kill them when I get out of here, I thought. Marcia saw my present lack of love life as her private mission, and was forever trying to pair me off with inappropriate single men.

‘You have travelled far through time to be here,’ said Saranya Ji.

‘True,’ I said again. ‘It was a long flight from England and we go back tomorrow.’

‘No. Not in India, I mean in this body you call Bea. What I want to talk to you about is your life as Bea.’

‘OK.’

‘What you must understand, Bea, is that in life, first comes destiny, next comes free will. Understand? How you react to what happens to you.’

I nodded. ‘I understand.’

‘Our soul has many lessons to learn on this journey. You have had many lives, many incarnations, gathering knowledge and experience to bring you here today in this lifetime as Bea. So far this time, you have not found lasting love, but it is there as your destiny, you could know the joy of finding your true companion.’

Me and a thousand others, I thought, and wondered how many people she’d fed the same lines.

She reached across, took my hands in hers again and closed her eyes. Her touch was soft and warm and it felt soothing. She opened her eyes again and continued, ‘There is a reason for this and that is because you have it imprinted in your unconscious mind that lasting love is not for those such as you; for you it brings pain, that people you love, they leave you, and you are destined to be alone. In your attempt to go beyond this and not to get hurt further, you have repeated a pattern. You recreate the familiar in your relationships so you can think, yes, it is true, love hurts, no point. I am better off alone. I don’t need anyone.’

Whoa, I thought, steady on. It was true, I did believe that love brought pain and that people leave, because so far that had been my experience, but imprinted on my unconscious mind so that I was creating it? I did not like what I was hearing. I glanced at the door and wondered whether to end the session there and then, but another part of me was fascinated as to what else she had to say. I stayed where I was. Let’s hear what baloney she comes out with next, I told myself. I can have a laugh about it later with Pete and Marcia.

‘I see a man, your soulmate. You have been together many times in many lives. It is a great love, powerful, and each time brought you a joy that you have not come close to in this life. He was and is your true love and you brought out the best of each other’s nature. This was good. You encouraged each other to be open to learn, you challenged each other. Ah …’ she paused then continued with confidence. ‘Here it is. In your last life, you were Grace Harris. You worked as a dressmaker in London, England. You were to be married but … something happened to end that love.’

Saranya Ji was quiet for a few moments, and her head tilted as though she was listening to someone in the room, to her right, someone I couldn’t see. She nodded. ‘Ah, this could be where the pattern of belief that you carry now began. You were to be married but it was the war, Second World War. He had to go and fight but, oh … his life was interrupted. He didn’t return. You were heartbroken. This loss caused you great pain because you believed you would have a whole life together in the future. This belief that love hurts went deep, deep into you, and you have carried this with you, the idea that a smooth love affair happens to other people but you lose those whom you truly love. This has made you cautious to give your heart and so you prefer to choose men who are wrong for you so, if they leave, it doesn’t matter so much and if you do begin to care, you push them away so they cannot get too close and wound you.’

I almost laughed out loud. Grace Harris? A soldier killed in action? What a load of tosh. She’d probably seen an old war movie recently and was repeating the storyline back to me.

‘What I want to tell you is that, as you are back in this lifetime, so is he. Like you, he has travelled far through many dimensions to be here. In this life, you must find him if you are to be truly happy. This is important, Bea. You are meant to be together. You must find him, recognize and let him in, if you are ever to know the joy of love.’

The atmosphere in the room felt charged and I felt a shiver go up my spine, but I was not going to be taken in. ‘Was he by any chance tall, dark and handsome?’

Saranya Ji looked directly at me. ‘You are cynical, Bea. Don’t be, it doesn’t suit you. It is a wall to protect yourself and is not your true nature. You have an open and loving spirit. You must learn to let go of your distrust if you are to progress. Yes, you may scoff at what you hear – many do when they hear a truth, and doubt me, but I simply tell what I see. It is always your choice to make of it what you will, but this man from your past who was …’ She listened to her right again, ‘He was known as Billy Jackson, he is your destiny. You can believe me and try and find him and who he is now in this life, or dismiss what I say and drift from one meaningless love affair to another, never finding the true contentment and companionship that your soul could know. Or you can immerse yourself in your work as you have done, so busy that no one knows that you are hiding. People see success but you are alone and …’ She stopped and looked at me with tenderness, ‘I don’t think so happy with this, yes?’

You’re beginning to freak me out, I thought as I looked away.

‘Have you any questions?’ Saranya Ji asked.

‘There are millions of men on the planet, in different countries, how would I know him?’

‘Recognition, there will be familiarity. A sense of, ah there you are. Have you ever met anyone and thought, where do I know you from? Yet you have never met them in this life.’

‘I suppose I have felt it with some friends.’

‘Yes, but it will be much more so with this man. A sense of, oh I know you. That is what you must look out for, but with your soulmate it will be stronger than with friends; it will feel exciting to find each other and maybe a little scary for you because it will confront your fear of loss and being hurt, so be careful not to push him away. Trust what you feel, as deep down there will be an awakening of that knowledge that yes, we belong together.’

I still didn’t believe what she was saying. It was too unlikely, romantic fodder for the easy-to-fool, and I wasn’t going to be taken in. ‘OK, Saranya Ji, but what if we miss each other? He’s on one continent, I’m on another.’

‘Trust. Don’t doubt that he will come into your life or has already come into it, that part is taken care of; but, as I said, it is your free will as to whether you accept him or reject him for fear of pain. You choose.’

‘If you say he was Billy Jackson last time, can’t you tell me his name this time? It would save a lot of time.’

She shook her head. ‘I cannot, because then you would look for a name not for his spirit. You must recognize him, look into his eyes and connect with that soul you have known many times. If I give you a name, it would influence your search.’ She regarded me again with her birdlike eyes. ‘You are still sceptical, yes?’

‘I’m sorry but I am, Saranya Ji. I’m afraid I don’t believe in past lives or even soulmates, although it’s a lovely, idealistic notion.’ I didn’t add that I thought that what she had said was ridiculous, preposterous.

Saranya Ji looked at me with a kind but weary expression. ‘My dear Bea, open your heart and try not to be ruled always by your head. Change is coming to your life. Allow for possibilities that are …’ she raised an eyebrow and smiled, ‘ridiculous and preposterous. See where they take you. Life may surprise you yet.’