“Don’t you feel bad?”
“About what?”
“Exploiting people’s grief.”
Mary had expected this when she turned up at the quiet pub for her biannual seance. Although her evenings always sold out, she knew not everyone liked what she did.
But this woman with the grey eyes and fragile hair came every time to berate her. Every conversation was the same, as if she’d forgotten they’d ever had it before.
“Let’s agree to disagree. See you next time Ruth.”
As the pub started to fill, Mary watched Ruth leave the pub through the wall, glaring over her shoulder as she went.
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