Page 16 of Here One Moment

“Perhaps a clairvoyant gone rogue, do you think?” says her seatmate. “I believe there was a new age festival in Hobart this weekend.”

“Oh, yes, I saw that advertised,” says Paula. “Are you a believer in all…that?” She’s finding this adult conversation as stimulating as a double espresso.

“I confess I enjoy all things occult,” says the Scottish man. “But I’m not a true believer.”

“What is your profession?” asks Paula, because he seems too distinguished a man to ask “What do you do?”

“I’m a professor of psychiatry in the University of Tasmania Sleep and Chronobiology Department. I’m speaking at a conference in Sydney this week. What about yourself? When you’re not busy looking after these two? I’m guessing you probably don’t get much sleep right now.”

He’s so lovely! Why didn’t they talk earlier? She’s so interested in everything he has to say!

“Contract law,” begins Paula, but now the lady is nearly upon them.

“Did you just tell me I have diabetes?” says the passenger sitting directly in front of Paula.

“Cause of death, age of death,” says the lady tersely. “I couldn’t be clearer.”

“Great way to derail someone’s weight-loss journey!”

An older woman’s voice cuts in, “Danielle, she does not mean you have diabetes.”

“Well, I think that’s exactly what she means, Mum!”

The Scottish man snickers. “I shouldn’t laugh.”

The lady is now talking to the three broad-chested men crammed shoulder to shoulder in the row diagonally opposite. “I expect heart disease, age eighty-four. I expect dementia, age eighty-nine. I expect skiing accident, age fifty-five.”

Three heads turn in startled unison.

“Lots of heart disease,” comments the Scottish man. “Perhaps she’s sponsored by the Heart Foundation?” He chuckles generously at his own joke and Paula laughs along.

The lady steps forward.

“Ooh! Our turn!” The Scottish man rubs his hands together.

Paula thinks, Wait, I know her. Something about her mouth? She can imagine her smiling. Laughing. She’s not smiling now, that’s for sure. She looks grim.

Paula has always been excellent with faces and sometimes suspects she might be a “super-recognizer,” one of the two percent of the population with such superior facial recognition skills that they get employed by the military. However, it’s also likely she overestimates her abilities simply because she’s just so good in comparison to her sister, who is notoriously bad with faces and once stood behind Paula in a supermarket line looking blankly at her for a good few seconds before Paula said, “Lisa, you idiot, it’s me.”

Paula is clearly not a super-recognizer because if she really has seen this woman before, she can’t remember where. There goes her career with the military.

“I expect pneumonia.” The lady points at the Scottish man. “Age ninety-one.”

“Ah. Pneumonia. The old man’s friend.” The Scottish man nods with satisfaction as if that’s exactly what he’d anticipated. “Very likely. I’m sure you’re right.”

The lady points at Paula. “I expect—”

“I don’t want my fortune told,” interrupts Paula. “Thank you anyway.” She shifts the baby in her arms.

“I expect chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. Age eighty-four.”

“Really?” Paula’s not sure what chronic obstructive pulmonary disease means, but eighty-four does not seem particularly old to her. Her grandmother just turned eighty-eight and is in excellent health, still playing golf twice a week. She has far more energy than Paula.

“We actually have excellent longevity in our family.” She’s not sure if she’s trying to be witty for the benefit of the Scottish man or if she’s truly hoping to convince the lady to give her a different prediction. “So I would have thought I’d make ninety.”

It doesn’t matter because the lady is not interested. She points at Willow. “I expect—”

“No,” says Paula. “No, thank you. Definitely not. She’s too little. Please don’t.”

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