Chapter 11
Amy: Spirit in the Sky
So, the candles are lit, a very small amount of incense is burning on the sideboard, and we’re all seated around the large oval table.
No one says a word. The nervous anticipation is almost palpable.
Janice has emphasised how important it is that everyone should keep an open mind about the séance, even if they don’t really believe in this sort of thing.
Scepticism brings a type of negative energy into the room which Janice says could be disruptive for our communication.
As I understand it, basically it could deter anyone on the other side from contacting us, which would really defeat the object of the exercise.
I know all of these lovely people will do their best to set aside their doubts about the whole thing because they are all so kind, and I know they genuinely want to help me.
I think they all feel sorry for me because they mostly lost their husbands or wives much later in life.
They’d had lots of good years and, by comparison, James and I had only just begun our lives together.
‘Is everyone ready?’ asks Janice. She’s very softly spoken and sometimes it can be hard to hear what she’s saying. But right now you could hear a pin drop, and clearly no one feels like disturbing the silence because everyone just nods silently.
‘Right then. Over to you then, Elsie.’ Elsie appears to be lost in thought. Janice gives her a gentle nudge. Elsie opens her eyes. ‘Huh? Oh, yes. Are we…?’
‘I think we’re ready to begin, Elsie,’ says Janice gently.
Elsie clears her throat. ‘Oh. Yes. Good. Friends, we will open with a few words to bless the spirit board.’ She clears her throat again and looks upwards.
‘We ask you spirits to bless us. We welcome only positive spirits this night. Negative energies are not permitted to join us in this room.’ There’s a brief silence and then she turns to us, ‘Please join me in a few moments of meditation to cleanse any negativity from within us. If you would all kindly close your eyes.’ I obediently do what I’m told.
I hope the others have done too, I really need this to work.
I don’t think I’ll be able to meditate though.
I’m not much good at meditating at the best of times.
If the yoga teacher tries to get us to meditate, my mind just insists on wandering off and thinking about things, all sorts of things.
Not deep things, like: is there a meaning to life?
Or, should mankind try to inhabit another universe before the sun implodes?
No, more like: what am I going to get my mum for her birthday?
Or, did I remember to add granola to my Tesco order?
So, no, meditation is really not my thing.
Besides, right now my senses are way too active, they’re on red alert for anything which could indicate that James is nearby – in spirit at least. Was that a tapping I heard?
I could swear I smelt something familiar.
Oh, my goodness, was that the aftershave James used to wear?
But could it really be? And now the silence seems to be going on an awful long time.
How long do we have to wait before something happens?
I told James about this, I gave him loads of notice, and told him I really needed him to be here.
Every night I write a letter to James. Just like I used to when he was away for work.
And I post them in the little white ‘heaven’ post box at the crem.
I know, it’s completely ridiculous. Honestly, James would be laughing at me if he could see the crazy stuff I do these days.
I do realise he can never read the letters.
I do realise Royal Mail doesn’t deliver to heaven.
I do realise someone at the crem probably just burns them.
But when I write them, for a few moments I can kind of kid myself that he’s just on tour, and that some day soon he’ll come back to me.
So, every night, without fail, I write to him to tell him how my day has been.
I tell him all the little things I would have told him if he was still here, like that I’ve been given a new project at work, or that a friend from uni is getting engaged, or that the lady at Waitrose offered me some free flowers to cheer me up because I was crying in the Marmite aisle again.
And I’ve told him lots of times about tonight.
So if he is out there, he’s got no excuse for not showing up.
But it’s all still completely silent. Nothing seems to be happening. Unless it is and none of us can see it because we’ve all got our eyes closed. That’s it, curiosity has got the better of me. I open my eyes.
Elsie has her arms folded on the table and she’s dropped her head down onto her arms. Perhaps this is how she focuses on reaching spirits.
I obviously wasn’t the only curious one, as everyone now has their eyes open.
Everyone except Elsie. We all sit watching her expectantly.
There’s no clock in the room, and I’ve not got a watch on, so I’ve no idea how long we’ve been sitting here.
Eventually a few others start to fidget.
It does feel like something should be happening.
Then there’s a shudder and a snore from the direction of Elsie, and it becomes abundantly clear what has happened.
Poor Janice looks quite embarrassed. I suppose it’s because she was the one who asked Elsie to run the séance.
But it’s not her fault. Janice clears her throat loudly.
That doesn’t work, so she gives Elsie a nudge again.
And another. Finally, Elsie is back with us.
Unfortunately, she’s clearly not been off in the spirit world, just the Land of Nod.
‘Shall I get you a glass of water, Elsie?’ asks Janice.
‘Oh, thank you, dear.’
The water seems to revive her. ‘Spirits, are you among us? James – what was his surname again, dear?’ she asks in a half-whisper.
‘Harrington,’ I whisper back. I’m not sure why we’re whispering.
‘James Harrington, are you there? Can you speak to us?’
Elsie is holding a crystal pendulum above the spirit board, dangling the chain from her slightly shaky hand. I’m not one hundred per cent sure what is meant to happen now. Are we just waiting for the pendulum to start swinging? Will it spell out words from a spirit?
After what feels like an age, but might only have been a couple of minutes, the crystal pendulum in Elsie’s hand starts to quiver. Oh my goodness! Does this mean he’s coming through? My heart is pounding so hard, everyone in the room must be able to hear it.
Now Elsie’s eyes have glazed over, but in a strange way, as if she’s watching something in the distance. I’m desperate to ask her if she can see someone. But I can’t disrupt the moment, it might break any connection.
‘A small animal, furry.’
We all look at each other.
‘Has anyone lost a cherished pet recently?’
People are looking around shaking heads.
‘I’ve never owned a pet,’ says Liz. Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. Liz has recently taken early retirement from some kind of high-flying IT career. She travelled all over the world, so a pet would hardly have suited her lifestyle.
‘I used to have fish,’ volunteers Janice.
‘Not usually furry though are they, fish?’ Bob adds helpfully.
‘When I was little I had two hamsters,’ Elle offers.
‘Oh no, dear, this is definitely bigger than a hamster.’
It seems we’re not the most pet-oriented bunch ever. So why is Elsie so adamant that a medium-sized furry animal is trying to make contact?
‘With glasses. Actually, I think they’re sunglasses.’
Really? This isn’t exactly what I was hoping for. I mean, I know people love their pets, and all that, but I need to reach James.
‘A small furry animal wearing sunglasses? Are you sure?’ questions Janice.
‘Quite sure, dear,’ replies Elsie, in a dreamlike state, clearly transfixed by what she’s seeing – or thinks she’s seeing.
‘It sounds more like a cartoon animal. Why would a cartoon animal be there?’ I can’t help asking. I’m feeling a bit frustrated now.
‘Well, dear, it could be something that meant something to one of you here and to the person you’re trying to reach. Something symbolic. Not everything’s literal, you see.’
‘Oh, right,’ I say, feeling like perhaps I was meant to have known that. But it’s not like I’m a regular at these sorts of things.
And then it hits me. Oh my god! What if it’s Rocket?
You know, Rocket Raccoon, from Guardians of the Galaxy?
James loves that film. Okay, it’s not his absolute favourite – no, his favourite is The Apartment – another of James’ gran’s influences.
It’s the one with Jack Lemmon and Shirley Maclaine.
Wow! The chemistry between them is just out of this world.
If you haven’t seen it, you really must. It’s an absolute gem of a movie.
So, The Apartment is number one, but the Guardians franchise is probably in his top five.
And we watched the two movies together so many times.
And this animal could be a raccoon, and if it’s a raccoon it could definitely be Rocket.
‘Do you think it could be a raccoon?’ I ask eagerly.
‘Hmm. Perhaps. Remind me what a raccoon looks like, dear.’
‘You know, kind of brownish grey, with a black and white face, and furry and—’
‘About the size of a badger,’ chips in Tom.
‘Well, I’m not sure I’d call it a raccoon then. More like a squirrel or a rabbit.’
Oh. Well, maybe Elsie’s eyesight’s a bit dodgy, like her hearing. I’m going to go with the raccoon theory anyway.
‘What’s the raccoon saying?’
‘But I’m really not certain it is a raccoon.’
‘Squirrel, rabbit, raccoon, whatever – let’s just call it a raccoon for now. What’s it saying?’
‘Nothing, dear, raccoons don’t talk.’
No, I get that. But they don’t tend to wear sunglasses either. So it seems to be a pretty unconventional raccoon. Surely she must see that.
‘But I think it might be Rocket Raccoon, you know from—’
‘From Guardians? No, it can’t be,’ interrupts Elle. ‘Rocket doesn’t wear sunglasses.’
‘Doesn’t he? Oh no, you’re right. Is he carrying a gun or anything?’
Elsie clearly doesn’t think that question is even worthy of a response.
‘Could it be Roland Rat?’ asks Joe. ‘I’m pretty sure he wore sunglasses.’
‘Oh yes, he did,’ Liz confirms.
Is this a joke? I’ve never even heard of Roland Rat.
‘Who on earth is Roland Rat?’ Elle echoes my thoughts.
‘Oh, you two are too young to have heard of him,’ chips in Bob. ‘He was—’
‘Do you think we could perhaps stop discussing TV animals and get back to the matter at hand?’ interrupts Elsie.
But this could be a clue and I’m about to press her for more information when the crystal pendulum in her hand starts moving.
Oh my goodness, this is exciting. Everyone’s now intently focused on the board and the crystal dangling above, gently swinging.
The pendulum is making more definite movements now, moving towards letters.
Janice has been appointed the role of scribe, so she is noting down the letters to see what words, and maybe messages, can be deciphered.
S – H – I – T
‘Oh dear,’ says Elsie. ‘Perhaps that didn’t come through correctly. Let’s try again.’
Well, that could have been him. He might be courteous, but his language can be…
well, a bit colourful at times. He was in the army after all.
And now the pendulum is going again. This time it spells out the words ‘Time to move’, then it seems to swing uncertainly before coming to a standstill.
We all look around at each other blankly.
‘Well, I suppose it could possibly be for me,’ says Laurence. You know I’ve been considering downsizing for a while. Perhaps this is a message from Celia telling me to jolly well get on with it. Clearly hasn’t changed a bit. Bossier than my squadron leader!’
It’s gone quiet again, as we all wait for another message to come through. Elsie is staring into the distance now, as if she can see something, or maybe someone? Please, please, please let it be James.