“Have any of you been to a demonstration of mediumship before?”
Most hands in the hotel’s comfortable bar area went up. Miranda’s and mine stayed down.
A young man, Peter someone, tall and slim with receding hair, smiled. “Well, I’ll be making contact with those who have passed over into spirit.”
This should be interesting! Sceptical, I’d come under protest.
“I feel the presence of a Steve, the energy is coming from over here.” He gestured towards a large lady with coiffured hair.
“My husband was called Steve.”
“He had cancer. Is that right?”
“Well, he wants you to know that he’s looking out for you, he sends love to you and your dogs. I’m hearing Napoleon and is it… Kayleigh?
“Yes.” She wiped her eyes.
Christ! How could he know that? Unless…
After a number of other ‘readings’ of increasing accuracy I was getting worried. I had a secret…
“Does anyone over here know a Frank who has passed over?” He looked directly at me. Relax! Sweating, I stayed schtum.
“Yes, my ex-husband,” said Miranda, misty-eyed.
“He died in a shooting accident, is that right?”
“He says he’s OK now, and he sends his love.”
After some thankfully insignificant details I began to relax. Phew! I couldn’t have Miranda finding out who was really responsible for it!
After the show we stood at the bar, chatting and admiring the hues of an enormous rubber plant.
Peter passed us on leaving, face impassive.
Further on, he turned, then beckoned to me, smiling.
“Better see what he wants,” laughed Miranda.
I threaded my way towards him.
The smile evaporated. He spoke sotto voce. “We’re not allowed to say in public everything the spirits tell us. But Frank forgives you.”
I found I was shaking. “God bless you.”
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