Mysterious Mysteries of the Aro Valley Read Online Free Page B

an alternative to global capitalism so they set up stalls where people can barter for goods and services as equals in a trusting, loving environment.’
    â€˜Do they sell food?’
    â€˜Yes, but you don’t want to eat anything from there. And stay away from the organic beetroot juice. I’ve heard stories.’
    Danyl sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, watching Verity as she moved around the room. She was in her late twenties, average height but small-framed so she seemed shorter than she was. She was pretty but not as pretty as she could be, Danyl felt, if she grew her hair longer and dyed it blond, and wore makeup and short skirts and tight tops instead of jeans and T-shirts. Her shoulder-length black hair fell over her face, which was pale even in summer. Her eyes were green. Or maybe brown; it was hard to tell in the bright sunlight. He reminded himself to look at Verity’s eyes more.
    â€˜Get up,’ she ordered, moving to the window overlooking the street. ‘I want to get photos of the fair before everyone goes home.’ She pulled up the blind and then hissed and stepped backwards.
    â€˜What’s wrong?’ Danyl sensed danger; he started to climb back beneath the bedclothes. Verity stared, a shocked expression on her face. Her eyes flashed—they were actually kind of grey —and she scanned the road, her hands on her hips.
    Danyl asked, ‘Did you see something?’
    â€˜I don’t know. There was someone standing on the corner of Aro Street looking at our house.’ She shook her head. ‘They’re gone now.’ She smiled at him. ‘Probably just a ghost.’
    There were dozens of stalls. Hundreds of people browsed them, or danced in the middle of the park to the band who played ‘Three Little Birds’ over and over again. The smells of cinnamon and cannabis and burnt halloumi hung heavily in the air.
    Verity and Danyl walked through the crowd. Danyl looked for a book stall. Verity took photos. She had another exhibition coming up but she didn’t know what it would be about. Her last photography exhibition consisted of gloomy monochromatic photos of the Aro Valley, and it won an award for Most Troubled Young Artist. ‘I don’t know what to shoot,’ she complained. ‘It can’t just be Te Aro again.’
    They passed a stall selling handicrafts: children’s toys, drug paraphernalia, woollen hats. Then a stall selling organic beetroot juice. A sign above it read: The Rumours are TRUE! A long queue of silent, expectant men stood waiting. Verity put her hand around Danyl’s arm and hurried him on.
    The next stall sold more toys, bongs and woollen hats. So did the stall after that. But at the end of the row was a drab canvas tent with a blackboard in front of it reading: Fortunes Told! Secrets Unveiled! Beware! Dr Zuzanna’s Cards Predict a 20% Chance of Rain!
    â€˜A fortune teller!’ Verity turned to Danyl. ‘Do you want to go first?’
    â€˜I’m not going in there. Don’t tell me you believe in this nonsense?’ Danyl and Verity hadn’t been a couple for very long and they were still learning things about each other, not all of which were pleasant. Verity was unhappy to learn that Danyl couldn’t cook or clean while Danyl was appalled to discover that Jane Austen was Verity’s favourite author. And now this. She believed in psychics and he didn’t.
    She said, ‘It’ll be fun.’
    â€˜Fun? These people are frauds. Is it fun to give your money away to someone who tells you lies?’
    â€˜Yes,’ Verity replied. ‘It’s fun. It’s a fantasy. And how do you know they’re frauds? I’ve seen some strange things in my life. Things that defy rational explanation.’
    â€˜Ha! So you do believe in them! You’re like a child, Verity. What if—’ He held up a cautioning finger. ‘What if the fortune