neck.Momma pressed a cold cloth against her forehead.
‘I’m a regular druggist’s dream, aren’t I, Topper?’Topper
nodded, the white fringe of hair that lined his bald head
waving in the air. ‘I took her to a doctor when we wasplayin’ down in Louisiana. He sai
d she had theseheadaches ... migraines, he called them. Said there
wasn’t much he could give her to get rid of thepain.’From the moment she had entered the Hoopers’
trailer and seen Momma laid out on the couch in herblue quilted robe, her usually ruddy face gone quite paleand her eyes shut against the light, Lindsay hadsuspected that the older woman had a migraine.Although Lindsay never had headaches herself, she hadvivid childhood memories of her mother stretched out onthe bed with a cloth to her head and the blinds half-drawn. Medication had failed to lessen the pain of themigraines, and a headache just had to run its coursebefore disappearing until the next recurrence.Lindsayhad sympathy for Momma, but the idea of dressing upand playing the part of the fortune-teller was frightening.There were some people, she knew, who would have fun
impersonating Madame Zaire, but she wasn’t the type.
She was too shy, too reserved to confront all those