The World Through Three Eyes

"Wotcha Shoes."

Wotcha.. I sound just like Dad, don't I?

Well, to be honest, Shoes, I'm a bit worried now. I know I said I wouldn't think too much about it but it's driving me mad. I mean, really mad- I can't stop thinking about it.

It was only meant to be a bit of fun, as well."

I can't believe I did it. I broke the simple Diviner's rule, stabbed them all in the backs!

"Never, ever let anyone tell your own fortune." That's what we swear by. Well, you can never be sure that they're right, you see, the other Diviners. Sometimes it can be a bit of a scam.

But, hang on, suppose your best friend was a Diviner, just like you. And you know she's got the gift of the inner eye because you sense it sometimes. It's what connects me and Parv, I suppose. We can see each other's souls. There couldn't be any harm in asking her to have a little look into her crystal ball, could there?

It all started after I began worrying about my love life, really. The very thought of turning Seamus gay made me begin to wonder.. Am I a kind of man repellent? Do I have any future at all with the male species, or should I just enrol at the convent now? I could just picture it, me hoisting up my habit as I wafted into confession where I would stay for an extremely long time indeed.

I hadn't even planned it or anything when I asked her to do it. It just came hurtling out of mouth, before I even knew what I was saying.

"... So, we're sitting there in her flat with a Chinese and she's telling me about her new boyfriend, Mr Perfect-Pants. Really, there's nothing worse than hearing someone harp on about how happy they are, is there? Not that I'm the jealous type or anything. No, I wasn't jealous of her Bobby at all with his green eyes and soft, brown hair and big bank account and.. Yeah, anyway.

So I notice her crystal ball on the table and start having this huge moral struggle. Should I or shouldn't I? Oh Shoes, I'm not a selfish person, really I'm not. But you've got to know, haven't you?

'Parv,' I said, no second thoughts, 'I want you to tell my fortune. For my love life.' Now, Parv's a good girl and she doesn't like breaking the rules, but she's hardly going to say no to her best mate, is she? Nah, not with a face like mine. You know the guilt trip? I invented it.

I don't know how long it took to persuade her, or how much Lambrini for that matter but she did it in the end. Go on, I said, it'll be fun. I won't tell if you don't! Go on, it'll be a laugh.

Ha-ha. Bloody laughing now, aren't I?

Well, she's staring into the old crystal ball and I don't like the look on her face at all. I mean, Diviners aren't meant to give anything away but when you're as highly intuitive as I am, you know when something bad is being foretold.

Of course I expected the worst. My one true love was going to die a horrible painful death or maybe I was. I thought I might fall in love with someone dreadful, like that You-Know-Who. God knows what he'd be like in bed, eh?

It took ages for her to summon up the courage to say something, and when she did, she actually took my hand. She was shaking and all. Poor old Parv, she's a sensitive one.

'Lav,' she said in that voice people use when they're going to tell you something Earth-shatteringly terrible, 'You're not gonna like this but....'

But?

'But I can't see anything. In terms of love, your future is totally blank.'

I wanted to... hit her. I think I did actually, even though it wasn't her fault. God, I was fuming.

Blank? Oooh, I'd give her bloody blank!"

So that confirmed it. I was going to be a manky old spinster, living in a grotty bedsit with a couple of dead cats. It was all so unfair. I just wanted somebody to tell me, really, why I was going to end up alone.

Which was the reason I turned up at a certain sandy-haired Irishman's flat at two in the morning, drunk enough to think I was actually being sensible. I hadn't taken a coat and had walked a fair distance in the rain to get there, resulting in my white skirt going see-through and displaying a black thong to the world. Classy bird my arse!

I rung the bell and Dean answered, that bloody kitten in his arms. He took one look at me and called for Seamus, who appeared behind him.

"Ugh," he said, looking me up and down. "You look like shite."

He couldn't have said anything less appropriate. All my fears of being Ultra Man-RepellentTM were confirmed. I was ugly. Hideously so.

I must've burst into tears, as the next thing I remember is being on their sofa with Seamus fussing around me.

"Shay," I squeaked covering my decidedly bulbous nose with my hand. "Am I really, really ugly?"

"Well," he said, taking a seat next to me and tugging on a strand of my hair. "I can't lie to you, tonight you are grotesque."

He must've realised that I was about to start blubbing again because he started rambling.