Maddy gazed at a knot of young men clinging greenly to each other’s shoulders behind a hot dog stall and reluctantly allowed Fran to lead her away from the fairground. She sniffed at the air. ‘You can really smell the excitement, can’t you?’

‘I can smell people, diesel, fried onions, and sweat,’ Fran said prosaically. ‘Oh, Christ! Now where are you going?’

‘In here. Wait for me.’

‘Maddy! No!’ Fran’s wail was drowned by the splintered rendition of a dozen different pop songs. She gazed at the gaudily painted caravan in horror.

Maddy blinked wildly in the gloom. It was hot inside Madame Maria’s living wagon. The pink velvet curtains were pulled against intrusive stares, but it had a cosy odour of coffee and fresh bread. Maddy was somewhat disappointed. She had expected incense and roast hedgehog.

‘Won’t keep you a sec, my duck.’ Madame Maria stubbed out a cigarette and folded the Daily Mirror away tidily. ‘Do you want the crystal, the cards, or the palm?’

‘Whichever is most accurate, please.’ Maddy perched on a pile of Algarve holiday brochures. ‘The palm seems more personal, doesn’t it?’

Madame Maria raised a pencilled eyebrow and clanked more gold jewellery than Mitchell D’Arcy. ‘It’s entirely up to you, my duck. But I will tell you the truth, and your hand can’t lie. Is that what you want?’

Maddy nodded, making the green ostrich feathers dance frenziedly. ‘Oh, yes, please. I don’t care how bad it is, I just want to know.’

‘Fine, duck.’ Madame Maria leaned forward and took Maddy’s left hand in both of hers. ‘But I don’t do death. I can’t. The hand doesn’t foretell death, only destiny. Your life line doesn’t indicate the length of your life, you know, only the smooth or otherwise passage of it.’

Maddy nodded again. Madame Maria scrutinised her palm closely, then raised her eyes.

‘Your heart line is much stronger than your head line. You are ruled by your emotions, and not always wisely. You love without selfishness, and because of this are loved in return. I see a deep and troubled relationship with little happiness in the past and a new and complicated one in the present.’

‘That’s right.’ Maddy’s feathers bounced enthusiastically. ‘Is it happy?’

‘Very – in bursts.’ Madame Maria returned to Maddy’s hand. ‘There is an obstacle to total happiness, which looks as though it is permanent.’

‘His wife,’ Maddy muttered.

Madame Maria jerked her head up sharply. ‘Can’t do nothing about that, my duck. You plays with fire and you gets burned. I can’t hex his wife for you.’

‘Good heavens, no! I didn’t want you to. She’s nice. I just wondered if she might, er, disappear somewhere along the way.’

‘This is a palm reading, duck, not a Mafia contract. Do you want me to go on?’

‘Please.’