{"id":5572,"date":"2023-04-20T16:27:27","date_gmt":"2023-04-20T05:57:27","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.wakefieldpress.com.au\/blog\/?p=5572"},"modified":"2023-04-20T16:30:22","modified_gmt":"2023-04-20T06:00:22","slug":"announcement-valerie-volk-tea-leaves","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.wakefieldpress.com.au\/blog\/2023\/04\/announcement-valerie-volk-tea-leaves\/","title":{"rendered":"ANNOUNCEMENT: Valerie Volk wins the March WWWC!"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"reading<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

We\u2019re pleased to announce the winner of the March WWWC: Valerie Volk! Responding to the prompt \u2018reading the tea leaves\u2019, Valerie’s \u2018Tea Time\u2019 follows a woman who practices in unusual healing methods confronted by the angry spouse of a former client.<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Read Valerie’s winning story below.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Content warning: this story discusses mental health and suicide.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

\u2018You\u2019re not at all what I\u2019d expected.\u2019<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

The speaker is truculent, his body language aggressive. He sits, shoulders square, feet apart and planted firmly on the floor. Interesting, Clara thinks, that he\u2019s chosen the hardest, most unwelcoming seat in the room, well back from her desk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She gets up now and moves to sit closer to him. No point trying to talk with that desk between them. He\u2019s refused her offers of tea, coffee, something to drink. Suspicious of any friendly move, she decides. He\u2019s on the attack. No point in taking offence. Speak gently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018You know your wife used to come here?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018I told you that on the phone.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018You also know that anything we discussed was in confidence?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            The man laughs bitterly. \u2018I can imagine the sorts of things she told you about me!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Very little.\u2019 Clara tries to pacify him. \u2018We talked mainly about her and why she had come to me.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Hah! That\u2019s it. That\u2019s what I want to know. Why did she come to see someone like you?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s amazing how much venom he can pack into those last words. She is used to it. There have always been people suspicious about any thought of seeing the future. She\u2019s been called \u2018quack\u2019 by many. Fraud. Snake oil salesman. Con woman. Imposter. Fortune teller. Charlatan. And others far less repeatable.<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Yet it is often those same people who are quick to turn to the astrologer column in the daily papers, and to check what the stars have in store for them that day. Quite likely Mr Foster does that too, but not a good idea to ask him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018You know,\u2019 she moves the pot plant further along the coffee table, \u2018that\u2019s what your wife said the first time she came here. She\u2019d expected someone different. I think she\u2019d thought that someone in my field would be a little less \u2026 ordinary.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 He does not look convinced, but repeats the question. \u2018You still haven\u2019t said. Why did she come?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Clara had wondered that herself. For several sessions the drab, faded little woman had said little, just cried quietly, dabbing her eyes with a crumpled handkerchief until Clara moved the tissue box close to her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She would drink her cup of weak black tea, then look despairingly around the room, just shaking her head in answer to Clara\u2019s gentle questions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018How can I help?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018What is troubling you?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But the woman would not say. At the end of the hour she would leave an envelope with money and look at Clara.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Next week?’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Each time Clara nodded she felt guilty taking the envelope. She had done nothing. But sometimes that was what her clients needed. Just a safe space to sit, even if they didn\u2019t talk. If they came with questions, with things they needed to know, sometimes it took a while before they could express them.<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

It was only during their fourth session that Clara voiced her concern.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018I don\u2019t feel that I am helping you. What can I do?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For a long time they just sat. No attempts she\u2019d made had brought any response. Yet Mrs Foster kept coming back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Elaine,\u2019 she said gently, \u2018how can I help you?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018I just want to know. I thought perhaps you could tell me. Maybe you\u2019d have a crystal ball or something.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Nothing like that. Sometimes I read tea leaves.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018That\u2019s what my Nan used to do.\u2019 The woman\u2019s eyes clouded over at the memory. \u2018She was good at reading the tea leaves. She could always tell us what would happen next.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Is that what you want to know? What will happen next?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mrs Foster simply shook her head and put the envelope on the coffee table. Clara did not expect to see her again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yet the weekly visits still came, and outside the window the golden elm\u2019s spring green faded into summer and finally into the glorious gold of autumn. She came to feel the woman\u2019s misery.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Reading<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018What\u2019s it all for? That\u2019s what I want to know. What will become of me?\u2019<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

She refused all suggestions of doctors, psychologists, medication, and would only rarely give any hint of her marriage or home. Clara drew on every scrap of her experience, but nothing worked. Elaine Foster ignored every overture. The woman just came and sat. She no longer cried \u2013 that was something.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was unsettling. Something about her was eating away at Clara\u2019s confidence, and she was tempted to refuse to see her again. Yet when she suggested ending their sessions, the woman had looked so desperate that she had relented.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Why do you come to me?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018One day you might be able to tell me\u2026\u2019 her voice trailed away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Tell you what?\u2019 Clara had urged. But Mrs Foster just shook her head and heaved herself up from the couch. For a small woman she seemed to find her body a weight, an impediment, and her movements were slow and awkward.<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Would you like to bring someone with you? Your husband \u2013 or your daughter?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mrs Foster looked more terrified than ever, her eyes scurrying around the room like a frightened rabbit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Oh no. Not at all. I couldn\u2019t do that. They don\u2019t know I come here. They wouldn\u2019t approve.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Of me?\u2019 Clara had been intrigued.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Not you. But what you do. They don\u2019t want to know.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Men often didn\u2019t, Clara had reflected later. Her own husband was often impatient with how she spent her time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Get rid of her.\u2019 Tom\u2019s advice that night at dinner was brutal. \u2018She\u2019s upsetting you. You haven\u2019t been yourself since she started coming to you. Tell her you\u2019re finished. After all, it\u2019s not as if you\u2019re qualified.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stung, Clara had defended herself. \u2018But I do help people. The others come because they believe what I say.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018More fool them. You can\u2019t really look into the future.\u2019<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018I don\u2019t pretend that I can.\u2019<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Now she recalls how it had started. Almost a joke, with friends. \u2018Reading the tea leaves\u2019 they called it, laughing. But gradually their morning teas together had become times of contemplation, even meditation. People must have heard about her, because soon there were others who came to talk to her. It might have started over the tea cups at the kitchen table, but now women came to her, hopeful, asking. They must have been reassured by the very ordinariness of her living room, she thought. The ritual of the cup of tea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I don\u2019t really read the leaves, Tom. No one believes that. But they just want someone to listen to them.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He simply raised an eyebrow in that annoying way he had and laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Clara had stayed silent, seething.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She knows that often she has been able to help people look ahead and see a path to take. But not this woman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was a relief when, as suddenly as she had started coming, Elaine Foster missed an appointment, and did not reappear. Perhaps, Clara thought, she found her answers to the questions she could not voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But now this man is forcing her own question on her. Why had Elaine come?<\/em><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018What does your wife say about it?\u2019 She tries to keep her voice cool and detached, but feels uneasy when he stares incredulously at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018You didn\u2019t know? My wife\u2019s dead.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            Shocked, Clara stares back. \u2018No, I didn\u2019t. I\u2019m so sorry. When did it happen?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Call yourself a mystic! Where\u2019s your second sight now? Thought you\u2019re meant to be able to see things like that!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Like what?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018She killed herself. Three weeks ago.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They sit in silence. Then she forces herself to go on.<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018How? And why?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Took all the sleeping pills in the house. And that\u2019s what I want to know from you. Why?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018I can\u2019t answer that.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looks disbelieving. But she sees only baffled rage, no pain in his eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018She gave me no hint that she was feeling like that. I think she came here wanting to know about life. What it was for.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018You didn\u2019t help her much, did you?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018No,\u2019 Clara admits. \u2018She wouldn\u2019t listen to anything I said. Or suggested.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018You don\u2019t seem to be very good at it, do you?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Clara flinches. He sounds just like Tom. Can\u2019t they see that sometimes just talking helps? But then again, it didn\u2019t this time.<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I don\u2019t think she really wanted answers. She was just so unhappy. Nothing we talked about gave her any hope. She wanted to see what the future held for her. I couldn\u2019t help her find out.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The thickset man drags himself to his feet, still angry. \u2018I guess she\u2019s found out now. Maybe you could have stopped her somehow. Perhaps you should have looked into your crystal ball. Or maybe even read those tea leaves for her.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Clara sees him through the front door, the leadlight panel reflecting its colours on his face. She turns into the kitchen, contemplating the familiar, comfortable room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yet it is almost uncontrollable, the urge to smash the teapot.<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/figure>
\n

Valerie Volk<\/strong> is an award-winning Adelaide writer of poetry (Marking Time<\/a><\/em>), verse novels (Passion Play<\/a><\/em>), short stories (Bystanders<\/a><\/em>, Witnesses<\/a><\/em>), travel tales and longer fiction (In Search of Anna<\/a><\/em>). A self-confessed voyeur of other people’s lives, she is fascinated by the perennial question ‘What if \u2026?’.
Valerie loves all music \u2013 especially classical, opera and jazz \u2013 travel and cats, not necessarily in that order, but she loves writing most of all.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

We\u2019re pleased to announce the winner of the March WWWC: Valerie Volk! Responding to the prompt \u2018reading the tea leaves\u2019, Valerie’s \u2018Tea Time\u2019 follows a woman who practices in unusual healing methods confronted by the angry spouse of a former … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":12,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"advanced_seo_description":"","jetpack_seo_html_title":"","jetpack_seo_noindex":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[80],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5572","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-for-fun"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4v1Of-1rS","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.wakefieldpress.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5572","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.wakefieldpress.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.wakefieldpress.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.wakefieldpress.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/12"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.wakefieldpress.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5572"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.wakefieldpress.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5572\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5578,"href":"https:\/\/www.wakefieldpress.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5572\/revisions\/5578"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.wakefieldpress.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5572"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.wakefieldpress.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5572"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.wakefieldpress.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5572"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}