Dead Flowers

A Whiter Shade of Pale

A Whiter Shade of Pale

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The Loggerheads pub, Nottingham

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It was Saturday night glad times in the Loggerheads pub and Harry was propping up the bar with his skinny red streak of a pal Bobby O’Quaid. An old man a couple of tables away tipped his hat at the pair of them. Harry lifted a hand to wave then slicked back his dark hair, pomade leaving a sticky film on his fingers.

The three old crows who sat together in the corner most nights and drank gin until they fell over were cackling away. The oldest one shouted out. ‘Oi, Harry, come and chat with us, duck.’

Bobby turned to him with one raised eyebrow. ‘They’re after your body again, Harry. Watch ‘em, that’s all I’m saying.’

‘Well, I havenay had sisters afore, so could well be tempted,’ Harry said, laughing and slapping Bobby on the back. The carpet sucked at the soles of his shoes as he walked towards their table.

The three women grinned at Harry as he approached. Not a one of them had a full head of hair and their mouths were missing several teeth, except the smallest who had perfect chops that could only be false. ‘Hello, my lovelies,’ he said. ‘What’re ye lassies up to tonight?’ He fixed them with his lively blue eyes and gave them the big smile that he knew made ladies' hearts beat a flutter.

‘Gladys’us brought her tarots,’ one of them said. The one with the false gnashers was holding a pack of cards.

‘I’ll do a reading for you, if you want, me duck,’ Gladys told him. ‘You don’t have to cross me palm with silver or owt like that. I just like the cut of your jib.’

‘I’m no sure, lassie,’ Harry said. ‘I’ll no have a thing to do with that carry-on.’ His voice was playful, though, at odds with the words. ‘Ah, gwaan then. What harm’s in it?’

Gladys glanced up at him through her lashes, looking weirdly coquettish. She handed him the deck to shuffle. Then she took the cards back and dealt them on to the table in a cross formation. Harry had seen this before; his Granny Mac used to do the tarot. She swore by them and would deal the cards whenever she had a decision to make.

The old woman turned the cards face-up, one then another, announcing them as she went. Bobby strolled across and watched over Harry’s shoulder. ‘The King of Swords,’ Gladys said, ‘oh my goodnight.’ She turned more cards. ‘Now don’t be startled, young man. This un’s death but don’t take it all literal.’ She looked up, and her eyes met Harry’s. ‘The Trent’ll run red with the blood of trees before you see your end,’ she told him.

Harry and Bobby exchanged a doubtful look. Then Harry lifted a hand to his forehead, play-acting a dramatic shiver and making the old ladies laugh. Gladys continued to slowly turn cards over and announce their names.

‘The Three of Swords.’ Turn. ‘The Wheel of Fortune.’ Turn. ‘The Lovers.’ This card had a picture of a half-n***d couple on it, wrapped up in each other and tangled with ivy.

‘Ooh err,’ said Bobby, elbowing Harry with a smirk on his face.

‘There’s a big future for you here,’ Gladys said, looking at Harry with a very level gaze. She glanced down at the table with a frown. ‘You’ll have fame, be in all the papers. They’ll talk about you long after you’ve passed on from this world.’

Harry let out a comic gasp, then clasped his hand over his mouth.

‘More than that,’ she said. ‘You’ll be king of your world.’ Gladys smiled in a far-off way.

The tallest woman spoke, her voice rich and deep. ‘King of it all,’ she said, her words like an echo. She pointed at a card. ‘Wheel of fortune,’ she said, ‘and the King of Swords.’ She smiled and tapped the side of her nose, as if there were an in-joke that Harry should know about.

Gladys turned her head to take in the whole cross again. She pushed at one or two of the cards, adjusting their positions ever so slightly against the scratches in the wood.

Bobby pointed at the Lovers’ card. ‘What’s this ’un about?’ he said, winking at Harry.

‘I see a beautiful young woman. Oh, yeah, one heck of a looker, she is, this gell,’ the third old bird piped up. ‘I see you, nearly half a century after the day you both get wed, wrapped in each other’s arms.’

‘What about me?’ Bobby nudged Harry again. He was enjoying this a bit too much.

‘You’ll do alright,’ Gladys said. ‘You’ll be happy, in the end.’

‘Fame and fortune sounds better, being honest.’

Gladys smiled like she knew all his secrets, rocking gently in her chair. Dancing to her own tune. ‘I see something good here for your children,’ she said, and left it at that.

‘What about my weans?’ Harry said. ‘How many? Will they be happy and rich?’ He was grinning and catching Bobby’s high mood.

Gladys grabbed the cards and cleared them quickly. ‘The Tarot don’t tell you everything,’ she said.

The women turned towards each other then, and back to their glasses of gin and orange. Whatever they had wanted from Harry, it was over now.

‘What the hell were that about?’ Bobby said, as they walked back to the bar. ‘Blood of trees!’

Harry shrugged. He wasn’t smiling anymore. The way she’d suddenly packed up the cards when he’d asked that question about children had put the willies up him.

They stood at the bar and he ordered two more pints of mild. He thought about the cards. The pints were handed over and he took a big gulp. Bobby stood beside him, staring into space as he took his first sup.

‘Penny for ’em,’ Bobby said.

Harry took another gulp of his drink and shrugged. ‘Naw, I cannay believe in any of that shite, anyways,’ he said. But he closed his eyes and all he could see was a picture from the cards; three swords piercing a heart, and blood. Blood, gurgling and bubbling and thickening like it was boiling in a pot, leaking all over the sticky floor of the pub and pooling at his feet.