Trickster [CW series #23]

Henry was whistling all the way down the stairs on his way into the kitchen. There was a lovely breakfast smell, a blend of freshly made toast and coffee.

“Aha, Pergolesi’s Stabat Mater. Had a good night then last night, I take it? Didn’t hear you come back, I slept like a baby.” Junior pointed toward a large glass bowl filled to the rim with espresso capsules in different colours, “Which colour will it be this lovely Wednesday morning?”

“I’ll have an orange capsule, please.”

Junior grinned and reached into the front pouch of the black cotton hoodie he was wearing and pulled out an orange capsule. “Ta ra! I guessed right so. I’m good.”

“Impressive. Are you going to tell me how you did that?”

Junior slid the orange coloured espresso capsule into the espresso machine. He loved the ritual of inserting the capsule and pressing the button to set off the murmur and vibrations which produced the steamy brown broth, age old instiller of vitality and clear thought.

“Okay, it was easy. You have five different colours there, see?” He removed another four capsules from his trouser pockets and dropped them back into the glass bowl. “It wasn’t difficult to remember which pocket had which capsule in it. I’ve already had two cups. There was a crow pecking at the window, woke me up.”

Henry laughed and gave Junior’s arm a playful punch. “Ah, Luce would say that’s your totem animal and tell you all about what it means.”

“Luce? Not the same Luce who blogs about Mind, Body and Soul events by any chance? Luce what’s her name, Robbins I think.”

“Now, there’s a surprise. That’s her alright. Lovely woman, if somewhat eccentric. How did you come across her? I didn’t have you down as a spritual sort of guy, Mr IT guy and big city dweller.”

“I was a bit wired after you left last night and that woman MJ told me about, Cath, Catherine White, the one you’d been so worried about after a tantrum she’d thrown here, she kept going around in my head. So I googled her. I hadn’t really expected to find anything about her on the internet, but man, you wouldn’t believe how many hits I got. And there was this blog post by a Luce Robbins. How much do you know about this Catherine White, can she really not remember anything from before the hit and run?”

Henry sighed, “I don’t know, I guess not. I’m not dealing with any past life events in my therapy sessions with people who come to me for stress relief and to give their overwrought minds a break, so the subject never came up. Not until yesterday that is. She accused me of not caring. Said she needed help with remembering and that I was blocking that.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird that no one has ever come forward, someone somewhere has to know who she is. Her picture was all over the papers and the internet, Facebook, Twitter, everything. I’m curious now and I’d like to meet her.”

“Not much chance of that I’m afraid. She stormed out of here and I don’t think she’ll ever come back to see me again. It was like she thought I was the impersonation of the devil himself. I tried to reason with her, gave her John’s card, but she hasn’t got in touch with his practice to make an appointment. Not yet anyway. She called Luce yesterday afternoon telling her she was going into a retreat for a couple of weeks. Actually I think I have a flyer from that place on the notice board at reception. An Tobair Ban it’s called, and they don’t allow any contact with the outside world, take people’s mobiles and laptops off them on entry and only hand them back when they leave.”

Junior scratched his head, “Hm, maybe a couple of days retreat would do me good, too.”

The phone at reception rang and Henry went out to answer it. When he returned after a few minutes, he flung himself into the chair with an air of exhaustion.

“Can’t let you go off on a retreat just yet I’m afraid. That bloody moon. Do you still want to make yourself useful around here?”

“Sure. Secretary still suffering the effects of the full moon then? No worries, I can fill in.”

© Ash N. Finn, 2016

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