“It’s a load of rubbish,” the girl twirled a strand of hair nervously. “I don’t believe in it.”
The woman in the shawl smiled. “You don’t have to believe in it, my dear. Just follow my instructions; that’s all you need to do.”
The man sitting across the table checked his watch. The woman in the shawl noticed.
“Perhaps we should begin,” she said. “Place your finger on the glass.”
The man, the boy and the woman in the shawl placed the tips of their index fingers on the base of an upturned tumbler. The girl, hesitant, was the last.
“What happens now?” she whispered.
“Ssh!” the man hissed.
“We wait,” said the woman in the shawl. “Close your eyes, if it helps.”
“If we close our eyes,” the boy interjected, “how will we read the letters?”
“Obviously we won’t all close our eyes,” the man grumbled.
“So, we just have to trust this old biddy to tell the truth?” the boy scoffed.
A low groan emitted from the old biddy. The girl squeaked in alarm as the glass began to move, sliding across the board, painstakingly spelling out a message.
Around the table, no one dared breathe.
“Oh bollocks,” said the old woman. “There’s just no talking to people since they put up that mobile phone mast.”