‘Now this is exactly who you need to keep your guests entertained at Larkins,’ he told Ruby. ‘Let me introduce you to the amazing Madame Burova – tarot reader, palmist and clairvoyant!’

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

1972

Jeanie propelled the post trolley along the polished wooden floor of the corridor, singing more loudly than she should have been. She had been warned about it several times before, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. The acoustics in that part of the college building made the temptation too great. ‘I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm’ was her current favourite and she twirled the trolley in a full circle as the corridor widened at a junction. A door opened and a stern-looking woman in a tweed suit peered crossly over her glasses at Jeanie.

‘Miss Rogers! I believe that you are employed here to deliver the post, not second-rate renditions of cheap romantic ditties. Please conduct yourself with a little more decorum. My students are trying to work, and they will be able to concentrate considerably more easily if they are not subjected to your deplorable caterwauling.’

Jeanie exposed her teeth in an expression that was more akin to a snarl than a smile, but answered demurely. ‘I’m truly sorry, Miss Sharp. I don’t know what came over me. I suppose I’m just so happy in my work.’ She picked up a pile of brown envelopes fastened together with an elastic band and handed them to Miss Sharp, who snatched them from her and then shut the classroom door in her face.

‘Miserable old cow! How dare she call a Billie Holiday classic “cheap”. Bloody caterwauling. I’ll give her caterwauling,’ she howled loudly before rattling off with her trolley at perilous speed to continue her round of deliveries.

At lunchtime in the college refectory, Jeanie was finishing her cheese and tomato sandwich when a young woman, whom she recognised as one of the students, approached her table and asked if she could join her.

‘I’m Vivienne,’ she said, holding out her hand having set down a cup of coffee on the table.

‘Jeanie. Take a pew. What can I do for you?’

Vivienne was slim, slight even, with long, blonde hair and grey eyes, but there was something determined in her manner and expression that belied her delicate physique. She sat down opposite Jeanie and shrugged off the cardigan that was elegantly draped around her shoulders.

‘You have an amazing voice.’

Jeanie smiled. ‘Ha! So, you’re one of Miss Sharp’s? My apologies for disrupting your shorthand lesson.’

Vivienne stirred her coffee. ‘I hate shorthand, and I’m no fan of Miss Sharp either. She’s a dried-up, bitter old spinster who hates us because we are young and have our whole lives ahead of us. All she’s got to look forward to each night is Ovaltine and an empty bed.’