The Second Path by Virginia King

Author:Virginia King
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: woman’s coming of age self-discovery journey saga, modern mystery superstition folklore twist secrets, magic realism psychological thriller series, strong female protagonist under pressure, mature women’s fiction suspense exotic setting, travel adventure Hawaii Sydney Paris France, woman starting over searching love true self
Publisher: Virginia King
Published: 2017-01-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

After my French lessons, I catch the bus to the airport to meet Fabienne. I recognise her immediately from a photo on her shelf. Blonde, tanned, beautiful. She’s wearing a turquoise midriff top with splashes of white over orange jeans and crocs. Her stride across the terminal shows she’s comfortable with herself, like the rest of her nation. Is she older than me? Probably by ten years, but who cares? She’s tall and lithe like a dancer and she’s got skin that will carry her into old age with grace. I read somewhere that French woman regard each other as rivals, but I’m the one feeling jealous. Not of her beauty, of her poise.

She picks me out in the sparse crowd, no doubt for the opposite reason. “Selkie?” she says, before greeting me with kisses on both cheeks.

As I help her with her bags, she bombards me with accented questions. What have I been doing? Has her apartment been comfortable? Do I adore France?

On the bus, she knocks me over with her next question. “Why do you want to go to the Rouffignac?”

“What?”

She laughs at my confusion. “You have changed your mind?”

“No. I don’t know.” If she’s psychic, I’ll move out immediately. “How did you know?”

“You do not remember? You sent me a text last night. You asked me how do you get to Rouffignac.”

No, I don’t remember, but I pretend I do. She’ll hardly want to share her home with a somnambulant amnesiac. But it’s about to come out anyway. I start with the spoon, and how Derek inspired me with his talk of crystals.

“Derek,” she laughs. “He’s a black donkey, yes?”

Shit. Did I text her about the donkey too? But Fabienne means something else. It takes a minute to work it out.

“A dark horse, is it?” she says.

I can’t help laughing. “Yes, we do say that. But I wouldn’t call Derek a dark horse.”

“No?”

“He’s more like...an open book.”

She thinks she understands as I explain how predictable Derek can be. They know each other through an old boyfriend of Fabienne’s who went to school with Derek, back in the days before Derek embraced the new-age with such gusto.

“So this thing with the spoon, this divination – is it the same word in English?” I nod. “Derek, he does it before?”

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