Chapter 22
James: I Can’t Reach You
Back in our army days, the boys and I had put together a band, doing the occasional gig at a pub, and generally having a laugh – nothing too serious, but we all loved it.
Luke was on guitar, Andy on drums, and I was on bass and vocals, but we also did some acoustic stuff when we were away from home.
One day I’m telling The Boss about it, and the next day he shows up with a pile of instruments for us – top of the range too – and he hands me a key and tells me to go and look in the back garden, and there, would you believe it, is a brand new summer house.
And when I step inside I find it’s been kitted out as a full-blown recording studio where we can rehearse and record stuff.
‘Wow! This is amazing! Thanks!’
‘Ah, it’s nothing,’ he says, almost embarrassed. He’s funny like that with gratitude. Weirdly modest. ‘Let’s have a listen then.’
I don’t need to be asked twice. I can’t wait to try out the kit. I pick up a guitar and start playing and singing. Moments later, The Boss is tapping his foot and swaying in time to the music. He claps appreciatively as I finish the song.
‘Was that one of your hits?’
‘No, I didn’t have hits. I didn’t do this for a living. I was in the army, remember.’
‘Yeah, I know, but didn’t you record some songs too?’
‘No.’ I’m not sure what he’s talking about.
‘You sure? Wasn’t it you who sang that song – “Beautiful” something or other?’
‘Ah, you’re thinking of another James. That was James Blunt.’
‘Oh, really? But in the army?’
‘Yes.’
‘But not you? Right. Well, whoever he is, he’s very good.’ And he wanders off humming something that sounds vaguely like ‘You’re Beautiful’ to himself.
So, now the boys are round and we’re in the middle of our version of The Killers song ‘All These Things’ when in rushes Daphne. We all stop mid-bar.
‘So sorry to burst in like this,’ she says, slightly breathlessly. ‘I did knock but you obviously couldn’t hear me.’
‘Sorry,’ I grin. ‘I guess we did have the volume up pretty loud. But this studio has perfect soundproofing, so it’s not like we’re disturbing anyone.’
‘But you need to hurry, James. It’s about to start.’
‘What’s about to start?’
‘The evening – the spiritual mediumship evening!’
‘Oh sh— bother. What time is it?’
‘It’s nearly seven o’clock.’
‘What?! I set an alarm for it and—’
‘And your alarm was really going to be loud enough for you to hear it over that?’
‘I guess not.’
‘Come on. You know she’s going to be desperate to reach you. And you need to reach her.’
She’s right, I do. And now I’m really mad with myself. I meant to get ready early for this, remind myself of what I’m doing with that terrible app. I know it’s highly unlikely this mediumship thing will be genuine. But reaching Amy matters so much, I have to give it my best shot, just in case.
‘Any chance you can stay to help me with the app this time, Daphne?’ I plead.
‘Love to.’
I turn to the lads.
‘Sorry guys, guess I’m going to need to take a rain check on this.’
‘No worries, mate. Amy comes first,’ says Luke firmly. ‘Time for a pint anyway, eh Andy?’
‘You’re welcome to stay for it,’ I add.
‘Medium or pub? What do you reckon, Andy?’ Luke asks.
Andy looks at him like he’s losing it.
‘Fair enough. Pub it is.’ Luke puts his guitar on the stand.
The boys grab their jackets.
‘Good luck, mate,’ calls Andy, turning round as they head out of the door.
‘Cheers. I might need it.’
I show Daphne into my house.
‘Thanks so much for helping me with this. Can I get you a tea or coffee – or something stronger, Daphne?’
‘No, no time for that.’
Daphne’s already getting the viewer set up.
I must admit I’m completely cynical about these things.
Even the medium’s name makes me sceptical – I mean, why would you call yourself Amber Del Rune?
It’s hardly subtle. But Amy obviously thinks it’s worth going to, and she’s not the only one – there’s not a spare seat in the theatre.
This is really not my kind of thing, but I need to sit through it for Amy’s sake, just on the off chance that this medium is a little more competent than the last one and can actually get a message to Amy from me.
Suddenly the lights are going down in the auditorium and a spotlight appears on Ms Del Rune.
I have to say, her appearance doesn’t exactly inspire confidence – a kind of OTT boho look, with an excess of mismatched flowery clothing and copious amounts of chunky jewellery – like she’s really trying a bit too hard.
And the icing on the cake is the incense – clouds of it – woah, I’m going to have to open the window here.
Or work out how to turn down the smell transmission.
After introducing herself, Amber Del Rune is now sitting down in an almost throne-like chair in the centre of the stage, with wisps of dry ice floating around her feet.
It’s all very theatrical. She turns her gaze upwards in silence.
A dramatic pause and then she calls out, ‘Peter. I have Peter here with me. Does anyone here want to speak to Peter?’
About half a dozen people in the audience raise their hands hopefully.
This is brutal. At least five of them are going to be disappointed.
I mean, this can’t be everyone’s Peter. That’s if there really is a Peter with her at all.
I know, I should try not to be so cynical.
Maybe there really is some mileage in this.
So, I’ve stuck with it, despite the incense, and Daphne and I have been trying really hard, but we’ve not managed to get any messages through to Amy.
To begin with I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt.
I thought perhaps the problem was that there are just so many people there – over three hundred I reckon, and of course all wanting to hear from someone up here.
But an hour and a half later, still no luck.
I’ve tried sending messages in every possible format option available on the app.
Daphne even tried sending a couple of messages to Tom, and we know she can reach him with the app direct, but the medium didn’t even pick up her messages.
Instead, Amber is claiming to receive the vaguest messages from people with the most common names you could imagine, Helen, Jo – or is that Joe?
That one could work either way for Amber. Here she goes again.
‘I’m hearing from someone called David. Anyone here waiting to connect to a David?’ And instantly about eleven hands shoot up. Well of course they would – just about everybody knows someone called David.
So now I’m just convinced the problem is that the medium is rubbish.
Actually, not a medium at all. Just an absolute sham.
It makes me so mad, to think she’s taking advantage of people who are missing someone so much that they will go along to an evening like this.
It’s not even just that she’s conning them out of good money.
What’s worse is she’s getting their hopes up for nothing.
And now Amy’s one of her victims. I bet there’s a special place in hell for people like her.
Come to think of it, must ask The Boss about that.
And now, who’s this guy talking to Amy outside the theatre?
He just followed her out of the doors and tapped her on the shoulder, and started talking to her.
It’s hard to see in the dark, but I’d say Amy doesn’t look happy.
Oh, don’t say it’s another scammer vying for her money.
What the hell is going on at this place? He’d better not be harassing her.
And now he’s handing her a business card. Jeez, doesn’t hang about, does he?
No! Amy, please don’t fall for his bullshit. It’s not worth it! That’s it. I need to send her a message to try to stop her.
‘Walk away, Amy.’ Too late, there she goes, putting the business card in her phone case.
Trouble is, she’s so ready to assume the best of people, unless they push her to the absolute extreme where even she can no longer believe in them.
If only I could be there to protect her from all of this.
But obviously if I was still there with her, if I hadn’t died, she wouldn’t have got into all of this weird spiritual stuff and she wouldn’t be vulnerable to being conned by these idiots.
‘Come on Amy, just walk away.’ Why on earth am I shouting that into this phone? If there’s one thing tonight’s taught me, it’s that I still can’t reach Amy.
And he’s still talking to her. And as the headlights from a car shine on them, I can see she’s listening intently.
She doesn’t look harassed. Oh. Maybe she’s actually interested in him.
And maybe he’s not a scammer. Perhaps he just fancies her.
Now I’m curious. And jealous. I want to know exactly what he’s saying, what he looks like.
But with the noise from passing cars and the dark, it’s impossible to hear or see much. Question is, would he be good to her?