The Perfect Fit - A Psychic Romance, Laney's Past Life & Love (6 page)

At some point I'd fallen asleep, exhausted. It's almost lunchtime as I look at the clock. I'm not hungry at all but I need to get out and get some air.  Grabbing my coat , I set off in the opposite direction for a change, to the fields beyond the town. Stepping over the wooden stile, I follow the path. Walking helps me put things in perspective usually, I don't care about that right now, I just need to be outside. The field path winds softly and slowly up to a beauty spot, giving a great view of the town, the sea beyond as well as a large chunk of the south coast.

At the top, I turn to look at the view. At least nature is a constant, it's season's may change but there is a kind of honesty about it; it is what it is and does what it does. It never tries to be anything other than itself. Walking has shifted my energy. My feelings of shock and despair are turning into anger. By the time I make it back to town I'm ready to confront Lawrence.

Heading straight for the cafe I'm keen to get this sorted. Striding past my own front door I'm only a few minutes away when I see him turn the corner, coming this way. He waves, looking pleased to see me and quickens his step. Standing still,  I watch his frame, his apparent pleasure at seeing me, it looks so genuine, so real. How could he be lying to me?

"Hi Laney, you ok? I've been worried about you? Where were you this morning?"

In his eyes I see genuine concern, confusing me even more. Was I overreacting? Was he that good at lying? Am I that crap at reading people? Sadness and disappointment sweep over me, temporarily flooding my anger. I have never had any interest in playing mind games. Looking directly into his eyes I simply say.

"I'd like my journal back Lawrence."

Ashamed, he hangs his head. At least he wasn't going to deny it. He's about to start speaking but suddenly the anger in me surges back again. I don't want to hear it. "No, Lawrence, no more lies, no more pretending. What, did you read it and feel sorry for me? Is that what you've been doing? How could you? Why the fuck would you do that? "

I rarely swear but at times the 'f' word seems to fit and I'm certainly going to use my quota today.

Every now and then Lawrence tried to speak but I was not going to let him lie to me anymore. I felt stupid for having believed him, naive for trusting someone, humiliated by him having read my journal and angry at his lies. Crying again, I turned and headed home. I didn't care who was watching and who heard. I'd thought he and I had something special, that we were 'meant to be'. How bloody stupid was I?

Once I got back home, I slumped into my armchair, not sure what to do next and needing time for my thoughts to settle. My mind was frantically trying to make sense of it all, not just about the lies and deceit but about how good our relationship had seemed. Had I made that up, were there any signals he was faking it that I had missed? I really couldn't say there was but maybe I was just so out of touch and possibly naive. Why was I so angry? What hurt the most? It wasn't just the deceit; it was a sense of loss, of losing a wonderful relationship. But had I really lost it, if it was all based on lies?

Oh God. I know that playing this over and over in my head is not a good idea, so I eventually move to make a cup of tea, hunting around in the back of the cupboards for sugar. I never have sugar in tea and rarely use it at all but right now it feels like I need some. Only able to find caster sugar, I use that. Staring at the mug and stirring, the door bell rings. Hesitating for a moment, deciding whether to answer it or leave it, I put the spoon down. It can only be Lawrence.

He looks terrible. It's dark now but I can see he's holding my journal, he quietly asks to come in. I turn and walk back into the kitchen, leaving him to come in and shut the door. He follows me into the kitchen. Right now I feel more deflated than angry and I know that at some point I need to hear his justification, otherwise I will always be wondering why. I'd managed to vent my anger but I still had no explanation. I make him a tea too and we silently move into the sitting room. I'd already said what I'd needed to, and have never liked conflict of any kind. I wait silently for him to start, sitting in the chair furthest away from him. Blowing to cool my tea, I take a sip. I'm not going to start this conversation, it's down to him. I want to hear what he has to say.

Still holding the purple book he places it on his lap. Looking at the book and then at me he begins.

"Laney, I am so sorry, really." He sighs, blowing out as if releasing pressure.

"I should have said something straight away and I don't really know why I didn't. Then once I hadn't, I couldn't see a way back. It's all a bit complicated and I can't say that I really know what is going on."

I watch his discomfort but say nothing.

"After you left the cafe that day, the people sitting at your table found this on the chair. They guessed it might be yours and gave it to me, assuming you'd realise and come back for it. I put it by my jacket and thought you'd probably come back later that day and if not I'd give it to you the next morning.

It was busy that afternoon and I didn't think about it until we'd closed. I took it up to my room and to be honest I was glad to have another reason to speak to you. I don't know, I felt strangely attracted to you, not just about the way you look but something about you. Lying on my bed, I picked it up and the next thing I was leafing through and something intrigued me, then I was reading it."

Lowering his head, he seems really embarrassed. I still have no words at this point and wait for him to continue.

"I didn't consider it might be your journal, your personal thoughts, I think I just assumed that it was your book and as I read I was genuinely interested and touched by it."

"So you felt sorry for me is that what you're saying?" Hearing him admit to having read it had brought my anger back.

"Yes. No. Yes I was sad at what I read but it's more than that. That's not the reason I wanted to spend time with you. I think reading about someone else's pain reminded me of my own. When I saw you the next morning I was going to say something but when you said it was your journal that confused me, and I felt terrible at having read it. When you asked, I don't know I bottled, I wanted to get to know you and before I knew it I'd lied about it. Then as we talked all that stuff came out about my wife and then we had such a lovely day afterwards, I didn't want to destroy it by telling you I lied. I'd backed myself into a corner and had no idea how to get out."

I go to speak but he interrupts

"Wait there's more." Stroking the front cover of my journal he continues softly

"This is going to sound weird and I haven't got my head round it myself yet, but what you've written, it has happened."

"I bloody know that - it's my sad life remember."

"No, I mean happened to
us
." Pausing and looking me right in the eye "I think we are the couple in France."

That was it, my anger was back with a vengeance. I'd temporarily forgotten I'd written about my past life romance. I was embarrassed at the thought of him having read that part, more than the sad mundane events of my life.

"Get out Lawrence! Just get out! You can stop having a laugh at my fucking expense now! You got caught out lying and this is the best you can do? What were you hoping for, me to fall in your arms, old loves reunited? That's pretty sick. Just leave. Now! "

Jumping up, I take the book from his lap and point to the door.

"Seriously Laney, please let me explain."

"Just leave Lawrence! How can I believe anything you say? Just go!"

Without saying anything else he left, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

Tossing the journal into the waste paper basket, I know it is only a symbolic gesture and I know I'll take it out later but right now that's where it belongs as far as I'm concerned. Life seems suddenly rubbish. Knowing I needed some kind of distraction but not sure what, I grab my coat. I don't want to sit indoors but I don't feel like walking, it's dark for one thing. Picking up my keys I get in the car, I'll go for a drive.

On the way back I realise I need petrol. Luckily I always leave twenty pounds in the car. I've been caught out too many times before.  At times like this, comfort food is one thing I can trust in, and stopping to fill up will give me a chance to fill up on that too. Passing the magazines on the way to the chocolate, I grab a couple and after paying for them I head back home.

Not in the mood to read properly, I flick through the pages, idly looking at the pictures, the usual collage of makeup ads promising miracles, ladies with flat stomachs and the odd hunky six pack. Then I land on the classified pages. A red and white box catches my eye, promising clarity and peace of mind 24-7. It's late, I'm alone and peace is something I could really do with right now. Before I know it, the phone is in my hand. I've never been one for predictions and psychic readings before, but what the hell.

Colin is very nice but I must admit I am initially a little disappointed, I thought all psychics had weird names like crystal or white feather or something, the name Colin seems a little ordinary but in for a penny. Listening to his introduction, I wonder what the hell I'm doing but don't like to put the phone down on him straight away. As I listen though, he starts coming out with things that have happened, accurately describing people and events, from my first car to how my mother died. He now has my full attention.

He describes Lawrence and that there is tension and a misunderstanding between us. Then he says "You have known each other before."

"What do you mean?"

"Not in this lifetime. I know it's hard for people to understand sometimes, but your spirits have kissed before. You have loved this man in another time and he has loved you, very much." He suggests I give Lawrence the benefit of the doubt, there is something that I'm not seeing right now and when I do see it, I will have clarity. "You have the two of cups here, the sign of a loving bond, two people who are good together. He has more to say to you and something to show you."

There are a few things he says that I can't relate to. No I'm not going away anywhere, I have no holidays booked I tell him. And all too soon the twenty minutes is over.

As I put the phone down, I can't say I feel much clarity at all. I'm strangely happy and bewildered by what I've heard. There is no way Colin could have known all that. Catching the waste paper basket out of the corner of my eye I smile and think unless he's read my bloody journal too! I go over and picked it up. Just what had I written about that life in there?

I'd assumed that Lawrence was latching on to that as a way of holding on to our relationship but then why bother, what would he hope to gain by that? He did genuinely seem gutted at having lied to me, and he was upset that morning. Now I started to feel a little awkward and embarrassed at about how I had shouted at him in the street and how I didn't listen to him. But this couldn't actually be for real, could it? But then why not? If past lives are real and I can accept what I have seen and felt, then they aren't just real for me. Is it possible that Lawrence and I have lived and loved before?

Quickly turning the pages I find the sketch and read what's written there. Could Lawrence be Jeanne Pierre?

I decide not to do anything off the cuff. The day has been exhausting. A long hot soak is what I need right now. I run a hot bath adding a few drops of Lavender oil, hoping it will bring some calm to the whole situation.

This morning I find myself checking my phone, hoping to see that Lawrence has sent a text or that the doorbell might ring. By mid afternoon, I can't wait anymore; I walk down to the cafe to catch up with him there. Pushing open the door, I can only see Cath, she seems pleased to see me.

" Hello you! The usual?"

"Yes please Cath. "

For a change I choose a seat inside, near the window. I wonder if Lawrence has said anything to her, if he had she showed no sign of taking sides. There are no raised eyebrows or tut tuts.

"There you go love."

"Thanks Cath. Is Lawrence about?"

"No love. He left early this morning." Just then the phone rang and she went back to answer it. Left! He's gone back home. I must have really upset him. He was upset, I was upset. The whole thing is such a bloody mess.

Maybe it wasn't to be between us afterall, whatever it was. How can I have fallen for him so quickly and deeply and for things to so suddenly turn out like this? More customers piled into the cafe and leaving my money on the table, I gesture goodbye to Cath and head off to the cliffs. By the time I've plodded to the top and made my way to the bench, I'm relieved to sit down.

Looking out to sea, I think how nice it looks but how suddenly lonely and forlorn it is too. Unusually there are no boats resting on the waves, I sit staring out at the point where the sky and horizon merge, resigning myself to the fact that maybe it is better this way. Maybe it had all been too good and too quick anyway. Two weeks ago, I didn't even know Lawrence. So why is my stomach so churned up at the prospect of not seeing him again?

The weekend came and went and still no word from Lawrence. I hadn't contacted him either. I wasn't really sure what to say. I was still upset over the fact he'd lied although I could understand more now why he had. But I didn't understand why he would think he was Jeanne Pierre.

Colin's words kept going through my mind but if Lawrence had chosen to walk away then the decision had been made. He must have been wrong about things after all.

I haven't felt inclined to write since this has all kicked off. It seems to have created more trouble than it was worth. I look around the room and suddenly feel the urge to change it around. That's what I need, something to physically do. I'll move the chair over there, nudge the sofa nearer the wall and move my desk away from beside the fire, to sit in front of the window. I plump cushions, wash the throws, restock the log basket, dust and polish every surface I can find. I even cut some flowers and greenery from the garden and put them in a vase. Surveying my work a few hours later, I feel satisfied. That was what was needed; new energy.