Page 15 of Worth Every Risk

Back in my room, I close the door and flop on the bed.So comfy.Just firm enough without being hard.I nestle on top of the duvet and pull out my mobile phone. Mum will be anxious to hear from me. I dial her number and wait.

“Aries.” My name is little more than an excited squeal. “Oh, honey, how is it down there? Is it amazing?”

I relax at the sound of her voice. My mum is my best friend. It sounds weird, but after Dad left, it was me and her. A team. She became this rockstar energy healer, travelling around Scotland. I went with her and she home-schooled me as we went. Looking back, the whole thing was pretty wild. Dad leaving was probably the best thing that ever happened to her. She flourished, and I got to be raised by a mother who was happy and fulfilled by her calling in life.

“It’s great.” Should I tell her about mistaking my new boss for the gardener?No. She’ll know as soon as I bring it up that I like the guy. Her intuition is always bang on. She’s had enough time to hone it, that’s for sure. “The house is amazing. And Mrs Minter seems lovely.”

“And the kids?”

“There’s only a little girl here right now. Lucie. Really cute. I think we’ll get along. There’s a teenage boy too, but he’s away at boarding school.”

Mum tuts. “I always think it’s sad to send children away from home. They need to be with their parents.”

“I disagree. It sounds like the house was miserable. Lots of fighting. Maybe it’s better that he wasn’t here.” My chest tightens as fragmented memories ambush me. Hiding under the stairs, hoping the yelling would stop. Mum and Dad, screaming at each other…

Mum is quiet for a moment, and her voice is soft when she says, “Let it go, honey. It’s over. Breathe it out.”

She always knows what I’m thinking, and that soothing tone she uses works its magic.Everything will be all right.I breathe for a moment, following the sensations the memories drag through my body, and then, when they’ve all but dissipated, Mum says, “I love you, Aries. Even back then, when it was tough. I loved you.”

A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow around it. “I know.”

“Good,” Mum says, as though she’s closing the matter. “Your father called me.”

I’m stunned into silence.What the hell?Dad left when I was six, never to be seen again. No birthday cards. No messages.Nothing. The idea that he would call is…insane.

“No way,” I reply, once I’ve processed the information.

“Yes. It’s a thing, apparently. People call when they find out you’re dying. A conveyor belt of people you thought you’d got rid of, ringing you up to see how you are.” Mum laughs, sounding genuinely amused despite the morbid topic. “It’s hilarious really. ‘I heard you’re dying, so I thought I’d call.’ Did I not make it clear enough at the time that I didn’t want to hear from these people?”

I bite back a smile, shaking my head. “You’re the most bitter spiritual healer I know.”

“I’m not bitter.” She states it like an indisputable fact. “I’ve sent them all unconditional love, but I don’t actually want to hear from them in the 3D world. How they didn’t get that message, I have no idea. I’d disconnect the phone, but then how would I speak to you? I guess we could use telepathy.”

“Mum, this isn’t funny.”

She sighs. “We have to joke about this stuff, Aries. Otherwise, what would we do?”

The comment hangs in the air. I don’t know what the answer is, but it feels heavy.

“Anyway,” Mum continues, “I can sense something’s up with you. How’s the job? How’s Mrs Minter? How’s London? Tell me everything.” I’m about to answer when she says, “No, wait. Let me sense it. Hmm.”

I can picture her pulling that face she does when she’s trying to read information in the ether; the intense focus, her eyelids flickering, revealing freakish slivers of the whites beneath the lashes.

“A man,” she announces. “Looks like Clark Gable.”

I snort. “There is a man, but he doesn’t look like Clark Gable. Henry Cavill, maybe.”

“Who’s he? You know I only watch Golden Era Hollywood.”

In my mind, I start drawing comparisons between Mr Hawkston and Henry Cavill, and I’m pretty sure Henry is losing. “You’re missing out.”

“Hmm, but thereisa man… Wait… something else is coming through. A kind soul. Angry. But kind. You have a connection—”

“Mum, please. Enough with the Mystic Meg stuff.”

She chuckles. Wheezes. Coughs. At the sound of her struggling, a stinging sensation hits the back of my nose. I’mhelpless to ease her discomfort, and not just because I’m so far away. “I’m right though. This is a great opportunity for you.”

I bristle. “What does that mean?”

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