"How far can you go for 50p?" Jack Waldo said.

"50p?" Miranda exploded "Fifty-bloody-P?"

Of all the cheap stunts her boss had tried to seduce her this had to be the lowest. She knew he was mean, but 50p?

"Yeah, it's all I've got; I don't want to break into a tenner. Can you get to Notting Hill by tube for 50p?"

Miranda almost smiled.

"You can't get anywhere for 50p nowadays. How long is it since you took a tube? And why are you going to Notting Hill?"

"Not me... we." he chuckled.

"And why do we want to go to Notting Hill?"

"To visit a clairvoyant. It's all arranged."

So this was the latest ploy. Miranda remembered casually remarking that her sister had recently seen a clairvoyant and how she'd always wanted to do the same, but never seemed to get round to it. Enter Waldo. Ask and it shall be given. Costs permitting.

She'd once mentioned that she loved carnations, and sure enough, on her desk the next morning was a pink carnation. One. Not a bouquet, not a bunch, not, in fact, even a carnation, but a pink. To date the sum total of Waldo's extravagance was a single pink pink. So this must be his coup de grace; the master stroke that would have her sliding between his polyester sheets at last.

Miranda almost laughed.

"So what time is this psychic booked for?" she asked.

"Nine. I thought we could go for a meal first."

Dinner too? He really was pulling out all the stops.

"I've always liked this place. Great burgers." Waldo peered at Miranda over the top of the laminated parchment menu card.

Miranda smiled wearily. From their table by the window she watched the people rushing along Oxford Street on their way home from work and envied them.

The clock on the wall told her it was nearly seven. This time yesterday she'd been coming out of Greenwich station watching the late summer sun set the Thames on fire. Today that sun was behind her, bouncing off the face of her watch into Waldo's squinting eyes.

"You've got lovely doodah." Waldo circled his fork in the general direction of his ear.

"What?"

"Hair." He found the word he'd been searching for.

"Oh." As Waldo's compliments went, she'd had worse.

"I know I've got the address here somewhere," Waldo patted the pockets of his jacket and came up empty handed. "Now was it Westbourne Park or Ladbroke Grove station we want?"

"We're going to be late; it's ten to nine." Miranda said.

Over dinner, Waldo had launched into one of his lengthy golfing anecdotes which had left them with barely enough time to make their appointment.

"I remember. Westbourne Park. We'll be there in no time."

"Jack Waldo to see Ali Singh." Waldo spoke into the intercom. "Sorry we're a bit late." It was ten o' clock.

It hadn't been Westbourne Park they'd wanted after all, and the extra walk, plus a few wrong turnings had cost them a good half hour. There was a buzz, and the door opened.

The clairvoyant lived on the top floor of the large three storey house. Waldo and Miranda were met on the landing by a slim dark haired young man dressed in faded Levi's, white shirt and brocade waistcoat.

"Ali Singh?" Waldo enquired.

"No, I'm Sam. Come in, he's just tuning himself in."

The large reception room was tastefully exotic: plain wood floors, a hand woven rug here and there.

On the mantle piece and along the window ledges stood ornate candelabrum in which scented candles burned. Adding to the ambience, New Age music drifted from a CD player that was almost obscured by a large trailing pot plant.

The clairvoyant himself sat, with legs crossed and eyes closed, in front of a low table between two sumptuous cream sofas.

Ali Singh was a pale skinned, red cheeked individual in his forties, dressed in black jeans and a black polo neck sweater, whose only visible connection with the Mystic East was an embroidered skull cap that perched precariously atop an explosion of fuzzy ginger hair.

"Mr Waldo." Sam announced.

Ali Singh's eyes flew open revealing themselves to be a bright cobalt blue, and he rose to his sandalled feet.

"Welcome, welcome," Ali had a strong Edinbrugh accent and a theatrical manner.

"Mr Singh." Waldo nodded.

"Oh, Ali, please. It's short for Alistair. And before you ask: Singh is my real name; from my step-father."

"I'm Jack, this is Miranda," Waldo said proudly.

"Super. Would you like some tea? Sam, put the kettle on, there's a love. Now, you two sit down and I'll tell you what what I do," Alistair said. "I start with a basic Tarot spread, supplemented by crystal and palm. Then you can ask specific questions. Okay? Shall I start with the young lady?"

"Yes please." Miranda smiled. The corners of her eyes turned up like a cat's.

Ali took the Tarot pack from the table and handed them to her.

"Shuffle the cards, then cut them into three separate packs." he instructed. "Don't worry about being neat, just so long as they're nicely mixed up. Shuffle until you feel it's right, then cut them into three packs, and choose one."

Miranda obeyed. Ali picked up the chosen pile and laid them out in the shape of a cross and staff. His pale brows knitted together as he studied the spread.

Alistair Singh wasn't conventionally attractive, but Miranda couldn't stop looking at him. Especially at his hair. She wanted to bury her fingers in it to see if it was as coarse and springy as it looked.

"Is there a special man in your life?" He asked her.

"Not at the moment."

"Well, he's coming, he's definitely coming. Look, there he is," Ali tapped a card bearing an image of a stern looking man sitting on a throne at the edge of a rolling sea. "He'll be older than you, or perhaps in a position of authority."

Waldo could scarcely conceal his glee.

"He could be someone you know already." Ali went on.

"Can't think of anyone." Miranda shrugged.

"Well, whoever he is, he'll change your life in a big way... and what's more, he's got a rival. Yes," Ali nodded "There are two men vying for your affections. Who's a popular girl?"

Miranda smiled her pussy-cat smile.

"Have you recently changed your job? Or are you thinking about a change?"

"Not really." she said.

"Well, change is on the way. Perhaps a promotion of some kind. Now, you do need to watch your diet. I don't mean weight watching, far from it. Steer clear of junk foods and try to increase your fibre intake."

"Does it really say that?" she laughed.

"I'm saying that. The card just points to health and diet," Ali smiled "Let's take a look at your hand."

Miranda turned her palm up. Ali's long finger traced her life line. The skin on the back of his hand was covered with a soft down of deep gold.

"Good long life line." He nodded as he peered at her palm through a large magnifying glass.

Miranda glanced up and caught sight of his eye enlarged and framed by the magnifier. Close to the pupil were flecks of green. His eye was like an Egyptian brooch; jet at the centre with a fine ring of turquoise blurring into a band of lapis lazuli. The Eye of Horus, an eye she could trust.

Ali lowered the magnifying glass and rubbed his lid with a finger startlingly pale against the ruddy complection of his face.

"You've got some Mystic Crosses there too." He said.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you should be doing this instead of me," He smiled "I'm going to turn to the crystal now.... I can see a silver thread, and a shaft of gold; does that mean anything to you?"

She shook her head.

"No? Well it will. Probably sooner than you think... "

Sam returned with the tea, and placed three cups on the table, then disappeared back into the kitchen. Miranda took a sip of the milkless brew. It was pungent, scented, slightly bitter but not unpleasant.

"Who's got the green sofa." Ali said suddenly.

"My sister." Miranda laughed. "She bought it last week. I haven't seen it yet, but she described it to me."

"I see you sitting on that sofa laughing; no, she's laughing, you're peeved about something."

Waldo was bored. His hopes had risen when the 'older man liaison' had been hinted at only to be dashed with the mention of the rival looming on the horizon.

He'd begun to lose interest when the conversation veered towards job prospects and dietary fibre. Now they'd moved on to family matters he was willing the psychic to round things up so he could be getting Miranda home. He hadn't come to hear about sofas and sisters.

Ali turned his attention back to the cards:

"I have to warn you there's someone you can't trust; this fellow here," he tapped another of the cards "He's devious but not dangerous. A sheep in wolves clothing: all talk. Don't trust him as far as you can spit, as my old Gran used to say. Do you know who he might be?"

"I have my suspicions." Miranda glanced at Waldo over the rim of the teacup poised at her lips.

Waldo frowned. This wasn't how it was supposed to turn out. He drummed his anxious fingers against the arm of the sofa.

"Do you have any questions?" Ali said gathering up the cards.

Waldo was oblivious to Miranda's reading now. He had let himself drift off on a little flight of fancy.

His reverie had been sparked by the mention of the green sofa. He pictured the sofa with Miranda reclining on it, her long hair flowing like a river of gold over its curled arm.

"Jack," she sighed in his fantasy "Hold me, Jack,"

"Jack?" Ali's voice jerked Waldo from his trance "Would you like to shuffle the pack?"

Waldo grudgingly jiggled the cards around for a second or two then cut them as instructed.

As Ali laid out the cards, Waldo decided he hated him. If things didn't work out with Miranda he'd hold this ginger haired twerp responsible.

Out of the corner of his eye, Waldo saw Sam coming out of the kitchen with more tea. He hoped they all choked on it, himself included.

Waldo listened to his reading with only half an ear. The clairvoyant's voice seemed distant somehow. Only certain key phrases, mostly doom and gloom, jumped out at him: money troubles, visits to a hospital, constipation - this man seemed to have a thing about bowels - malicious gossip, false friends.

As if that wasn't enough, the final card in the spread depicted a tower struck by lightning; it meant, apparently, "A bit of a shock which clears the way for something new". Waldo took it to mean disaster all the way.

As the psychic droned on, Waldo totted up his financial losses: the meal, the reading, the cab he'd have to take Miranda home in, and she lived miles away. He cast her a sideways glance. She was loving it, hanging on Ali's every word.

Miranda's eyes were on Ali's hands. Long delicate fingers laying cards methodically and elegantly.

He was extremes of colour: his black clothes, his white skin; his blue eyes, his orange hair. Waldo was sludge grey in comparison. Ali had found Mystic Crosses in her hand; perhaps he would teach her his secrets, share his power with her.

She wanted to quiz Sam about Ali. Was he married? Was he gay? Were they lovers? Did Ali's hair feel as wonderful as it looked? Had Sam run his fingers through that glorious bush, or gazed at length into those vivid blue eyes?

Miranda gulped her second cup of tea, embarrassed. She found herself entertaining the most uncharacteristic thoughts. If Sam and Ali were lovers, then she wanted to watch, no, better still, she wanted to join them as an invisible force, between them, within them, sharing, experiencing all they did.

She wanted to lose herself in Ali's head. Push through his hair, through his scalp, get right inside his skull and fill him. Then she would have not only his knowledge but also his boy, have Sam's firm brown body pressing into her.

Her fantasy forced her attention towards her body, specifically her bladder. The two cups of tea had more than filled it, and her need to pass water was suddenly urgent. She wandered into the kitchen and found Sam.

"Could I use the bathroom, please?"

"Sure, I'll show you,"

Sam led the way. Miranda hung back, watching the casual swing of his hips, wishing she could have him right there on the floor. God! What was the matter with her? She wasn't usually a lustful creature.

"There you go." Sam opened the bathroom door and pulled the light on.

Miranda was on fire from the waist down.

"Thanks." She said.

She closed the door, adjusted her clothing and sat down on the pine lavatory seat. Her bladder, though full enough, was reluctant to empty.

"Come on," she begged "Don't do this to me."

She strained; nothing. She turned on the tap for encouragement; still nothing, and still she burned. Her abdomen was tender and slightly distended.

"Damn!" she pulled up her knickers and smoothed down her skirt; then pulled the chain and washed her hands out of habit, and rejoined the party.

Miranda sat down next to Waldo, wincing as she did so, and checked her watch. It was way after eleven. She felt sick, and the burning sensation had spread up over her torso and neck. She leaned back into the sofa, her head spinning as she sank into a fever dream.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked her.

She didn't reply. Couldn't reply.

"I think your friend's in trouble," Sam told Waldo.

Waldo looked at her in horror.

"Oh my God! What's happened to her?" He laid the back of his hand against her burning cheek.

"I think we should get her to hospital." Sam said.

"We'll use my car," Ali headed for the door.

Sam scooped her into his arms as if she was a child and carried her down the stairs and into the waiting car.

"There you go, Sweetie," Sam eased Miranda onto the back seat and got in beside her.

Miranda was vaguely aware she was moving. Her fever dream told her she was in a boat on a rough sea. The motion made her queasy.

Miranda woke briefly when the rocking of the dream boat ceased and she was carried into a bright place.

The three men sat on black plastic chairs in the hospital's reception area waiting for news of Miranda's condition.

"This is all your fault." Waldo jabbed an accusing finger at Sam.

"My fault? I only did what you asked." Sam protested.

"Would somebody mind telling me what's going on; Sam?" Ali fixed him with those too blue eyes.

"I slipped some of the brew into her tea." Sam confessed shame-faced.

"You did what?" Ali's face reddened with an uncomfortable blend of anger and embarrassment "You gave her the Spanish Fly mix?"

"He paid me to do it." Sam stabbed his thumb in Waldo's direction.

"Oh, you pathetic worm!" Ali rounded on Waldo and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Sam touched Ali's sleeve.

"Someone ought to tell the doctor what she's had, don't you think?"

Sam was chastened. He'd never seen Ali angry before.

"Now look what you've done." Sam pouted.

"You poisoned her." Waldo said."I wanted her horny not dead."

"She's not going to die." Sam folded his arms and slid down in his chair. "I did what you paid me for."

"And through the nose." Waldo ran a hand down his ashen face.

"So, it's the money you're really concerned about, not Amanda."

"Miranda. And the money's got nothing to do with it. I just wanted her to... love me."

"I think 'shag' is the word you were looking for."

"Whatever, It's immaterial now. I've blown it." Waldo dropped his head into his hands.

"Yeah, you have, haven't you?" Sam grinned.

"You think it's funny do you? Miranda hovering between life and death."

"No. I think you're hilarious."

"Creep." Waldo sneered.

"Arsehole."

"Look who's talking."

"My, aren't we the perfect bitch? At least I don't have to drug people to sleep with me."

"Oh, shut up." Waldo glanced up at the clock. 2.45 a.m. They'd been waiting nearly three hours and still no news. He considered getting a cup of the bilge water that served as coffee from the vending machine in the corner, when Ali returned.

"How is she?" Waldo rose slowly, unconsciously adopting a slightly bowed position of acquiescence.

"She's not exactly bouncing with health, but she'll live."

"Are you angry?" Sam said.

"Of course I'm angry! How could you do it, Sam?"

"He...!" Sam began.

"No excuses. You're both equally to blame. This is so embarrassing," Ali covered his eyes with his hand. "If this gets out we can kiss our reputation goodbye."

Ali wandered over to the vending machine and returned with a cup of sweet tea. He sat down between Sam and Waldo and said not a word to either of them.

After another forty minutes, Miranda's doctor appeared and asked:

"Which one of you is Alistair?"

Ali found Miranda sitting up in bed wearing a white paper gown. She looked a little the worse for her experience, but a good deal healthier than she had a few hours earlier.

"I can't apologise enough," Ali began. The eyes were all the bluer in humility.

"There's no need, I'm fine now. Thanks for telling the doctor what happened, it made their job a lot easier."

"It was the least I could do. I'm just relieved you're okay. Will you see Jack now? He's really worried about you."

"I bet he is, the bastard." She smiled "Still he wasn't to know I'd be allergic to the stuff. But giving me an aphrodisiac; it's pretty low, isn't it?"

"Sam's as much to blame."

"I suppose so. But the beautiful are easier to forgive."

"Aren't they just?" Ali smiled.

"Do you remember what you saw in the crystal? About the silver thread and the gold shaft?"

"Yes,"

"Well?" Miranda grinned.

"Well what?" Ali failed to make the connection.

"They had to catheterise me." she laughed "If that's not accuracy, I don't know what is."

Ali threw his head back and laughed loudly: "Sometimes I even amaze myself."

"Thank you," Miranda said taking his hand.

"For what?"

"For being here; and... I don't know... I felt something during the reading. Just for a moment; a bond, a link, I can't explain it. It's stupid, I'm sorry, forget it."

"It's not stupid. I know what you mean. It's all those Mystic Crosses coming into play. You've got something, you know." Ali gently tapped her nose "I could train you if you're interested."

"Would you? I'd like that." Miranda stretched and ran a hand through her hair "Oh well, I suppose I'd better face Waldo."

Waldo's eyes skimmed briefly over Miranda's ashen face before settling somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes, as far away as possible from her accusing green eyes.

"They stuck a needle in me this long." She held the equivalent measurement between thumb and forefinger in front of his guilty face. "My bladder was too inflamed for anything to pass out of it. If it hadn't been for Alistair I could have died. People do die from allergic reactions you know."

Waldo didn't reply.

"Of all the lowest tricks.... Well, what have you got to say for yourself? Other than 'sorry' of course, it's too late for that."

"I only wanted you to love me."

"Love? That's putting rather a pretty ribbon on it, isn't it? Unless your heart beats somewhere below your belt."

"I do love you, Miranda, and I'm truly sorry about the aphrodisiac, but at least it didn't work."

"Ah, but it did work, Jack Waldo. I was so hot I wanted Sam, I wanted Ali; in fact I would have had anyone apart from you. You disgust me with all your petty, cheapskate seductions. As of now you can find yourself another secretary. And as you leave, would you be so good as to send Sam in?"

At least she's going to tear him off a strip too, Waldo thought, until she added:

"I want to forgive him."

By 4.30 a.m. Miranda was given a clean bill of health and sent on her way.

"Your carriage awaits, madame," Ali bowed as he opened the car door for her "Where to?"

"Greenwich. Near the Cutty Sark. Do you mind? it's a bit of a drive." She said.

"No worries; in you get." Ali said, "I sent Sam home in a cab, so it's just the two of us. Honestly, he can be such a mischievous devil."

"But he's so forgivable." Miranda smiled.

"Aye, that's the trouble. How can you not love that face? And he knows it. But enough of my problems, how are you?"

"Unemployed." She sighed "I told Waldo where to stick it."

"Good for you."

"But now I've got to find another job."

"Well, that's not quite the problem you think it is. I meant what I said about training you. You've got the gift, and there's money to be had from it. Aside from the readings I do at my place, there's the home visit, the roadshows and fairs. Sam and I get by on it, so there's no reason why..."

Ali glanced over at Miranda and found she had fallen asleep.

A gentle shaking of her shoulder lifted Miranda out of a dream she'd already forgotten.

From where Ali had stopped the car the famous clipper ship, 'The Cutty Sark' was clearly visible. The dawn had just broken and the sky behind the ship's masts was a tangerine flame.

"Where to now?" Ali said softly.

"This is my road." She smiled at him. The sun had made a burning bush of his hair and his eyes were almost green in the warm light.

"Come in and have some breakfast." She said.

"Thanks, I will." He climbed out of the car then opened the door on her side.

Ali placed an arm across her shoulders. "This is the first day of your magical new life. Now, tell me what you've learned so far."

She shook her head.

"The moral of this story is, sweet Miranda, while a catheter may give you the needle, it takes more to make a Mystic cross."

"Oh please!" she laughed.

Ali kissed her forehead: "Okay, no more bad jokes. Are we partners?"

"You bet." she said

The sunrise softened to the pale gold of morning. Miranda took her Guru's arm and they walked to her flat.

"Magic is everywhere," he told her, "You only need to open your eyes."