‘Hello dearie, do come into the light, won’t you?’
She raised both eyebrows. ‘Umm, light? You’re, like, blinding me.’
The woman who had spoken, sat in the armchair, leant forward and squinted at her. Scarlet stared back, taking in the leathery skin and gummy half-smile and eyes white with age. The staring contest was short. Whatever she could or couldn’t see with those milky eyes, they made Scarlet’s water and she looked down.
When she glanced back up, the old woman was nodding. ‘She has the sight, this one, strong, too.’ She was addressing the other two women, but she turned her attention back to Scarlet now. ‘You can switch it off, dearie, it’s really very easy, you know. Blink a few times, and remember how things normally look.’
Scarlet blinked, trying to see the darkness behind the women, and just like that, the glow was gone. It was replaced with shadows, that jumped as she took a step forward, eyes fixed on the lamp that hung from the ceiling. It looked as old as the woman to whom she’d spoken, but the light was bright and demanding.
The other two turned now, and Scarlet squirmed as they stared at her. The one nearest, looking over the back of one of the sofas looked like her mum, hair pulled back off her face and lines beginning to creep out from her eyes. The other, sat on the second sofa, had turned her entire body and was, without putting too fine a point on it, breathtaking.
Scarlet had conflicted feelings about this. She paid very little attention to boys, mostly ‘cause the ones at her school weren’t worth talking to, but also ‘cause some of the girls were. The woman staring at her now was like everything she imagined a woman could look like. Long, gorgeous hair, and a face she could stare at for, like, hours. She was really fit, and only a few years older than she was.
Her mouth was open, and she shut it, cheeks reddening. The young woman smiled at her, and she grinned weakly in return, clutching her hands before her like she was in the Headteacher’s office. She was, just, amazing.
‘Welcome, girl, what is your name?’
She opened her mouth to answer, and closed it again, the words from the big man in the Underworld coming back to her. She glanced at all three women, seeing them waiting, and swallowed. ‘Umm, I’m Joanna. Yeah, Joanna Slater. Who are you?’
The three women kept staring, smiles spreading across all their faces. The young one patted the cushion beside her. ‘That is well done, Joanna, you are cautious already.’
‘Sad in one so young.’
‘Everyone is young in your eyes, sister.’
The older woman grunted, leaning back in her chair, and reached for a piece of wood that lay on a table beside her. It was a disk with grooves around the edge, and thread dangling from it. The old woman settled into a rhythm, lifting first one thread, and then another, fixing them into the grooves. The centre of the disk was hollow, and emerging slowly from it was a colourful piece of string, like a shoe-lace.
Scarlet stared at it, mesmerised, until the woman sat beside her coughed quietly. Scarlet blinked and glanced around. The woman who looked like mum but not, shook her head. ‘That is not a game we play with young ones, sister, you know that.’
The older woman grunted again, and her movements lost their hypnotic rhythm. Scarlet looked around, at the damp, dark and shook her head. Where the hell was she? ‘Look, sorry, but I’m looking for someone, so, like, who are you please?’
‘Sisters, dearie, just like you. You may call me Crone, it feels right, these days.’
‘Oh, hush now, that’s not true.’ The middle aged woman waved away the Crone’s words, and placed her hand on her chest. ‘You may call me the Mother, which has always been suitable, and this is Maid.’
‘OK, so, like, what are you?’
The women looked at one another and back at her. ‘Sisters, dearie.’
