The Grey Girl by Eleanor Hawken

a deck of cards she had pulled from her pocket. I watched as she spread the cards out in front of her, touching them with great care, a look of absolute concentration on her face.
    They were tarot cards. Even I could see that. I’d never seen a deck of tarot cards before but I knew what they looked like. The death card, the lovers, the magicians, the two of swords and cups. ‘You can read tarot cards?’ I asked her.
    She nodded. ‘The guests love it.’
    I waited for her to offer to read my cards, but she didn’t even look up at me. Whatever she was seeing in the cards must have been far more interesting. I watched on silently as she patiently lay out the cards in a formation on the kitchen table. She carefully lay them on top of each other, touching each one almost lovingly and taking a moment to study it before she moved on to the next. I wondered if there was any truth to them, and what they might be telling her. I absently started picking at the skin around my nails, my eyes glazing over as the cards blurred into a puzzle of shapes and colours.
    â€˜Trouble sleeping?’ Nell said without looking at me. ‘I find it difficult to sleep during storms too. My mother used to say I was a sailor in a past life, died at sea in a storm. Even as a baby I couldn’t bear the sound of thunder, that’s obviously why.’
    â€˜Obviously,’ I said dryly.
    She smiled warmly at me and looked back down at her cards. It dawned on me that someone like Nell must be used to people thinking she’s crazy. It clearly didn’t bother her. I wished I could be like that. Our school chaplain used to preach to us in his sermons, saying that everyone we meet in life has been put there by God to teach us something. If that’s true then maybe Nell’s lesson for me is not to care what people think.
    â€˜What’s on your mind?’ she asked, once again without looking up.
    â€˜You mean you can’t see that in the cards?’ I snorted. Nell said nothing, and I immediately felt like a bitch for being such a predictable teenager. ‘Sorry,’ I mumbled apologetically. ‘I’m just tired.’ Nell looked up and smiled. ‘Will you read the cards for me?’ I asked before I could stop myself.
    Nell hurriedly scooped up the cards from the table and began to shuffle them in her hands once again. ‘Do you know what you’re asking me, Suzy? Tarot cards are powerful things, they’re not a game.’
    â€˜You don’t need to treat me like a party guest,’ I said, annoyed. ‘I’m big enough to know what I’m asking. But if you’re too scared of my aunt …’
    â€˜Your aunt?’ Nell snorted. ‘No, Suzy, Meredith doesn’t worry me. Unlocking flood gates do, though.’ As the mental image of gushing floodgates swept through my mind I realised that I didn’t care. I’ve always been attracted to fire, I’ve always wanted to walk on the wild side. Ouija boards, seances, tarot cards – they might be a gateway to darkness, but they’re also part of who I am. There was nothing Nell could say to deter me once I had my mind fixed on something. And my mind was fixed on having my tarot cards read.
    â€˜I’d like you to read for me,’ I said with certainty. ‘Please.’
    â€˜Very well.’ She sighed and sat back thoughtfully. ‘What do you want to ask them?’ As if the cards were a sentient entity unto themselves.
    The answer to Nell’s question came as simply and as suddenly as a dream. ‘I want to ask if I’ll ever be happy.’
    Nell frowned and then nodded in understanding and passed me the cards. ‘Shuffle them and then fan them out on the table, face down.’ I did as she instructed.
    The back of the cards had a symmetrical pattern of the moon at its various stages against a midnight-blue background. ‘I want you to repeat the question over and over