Chapter 28 #2
“I can only tell you what they tell me, and they sometimes aren’t as clear as they could be, so if something doesn’t make
sense, take it away with you and think about it, all right? They can be a bit cryptic, and your guess is as good as mine why
that is.” Now Pat went to the far right of the stage.
“You there, in that flowery top. Does the name Steve mean anything to you?”
“He’s our window cleaner,” came the reply, which caused a titter to ripple across the room.
“It’s not him. He’s closer to you than that,” Pat snapped. She would not have her gift rubbished, though plenty of smart-arses
had a go. “He’s a man who liked a pie. A pork pie, he’s saying. Lots of brown sauce and—”
A gasp. “Oh my God, it’s my uncle. But we always called him Uncle Steph, because it was spelled with a ph and not a v .”
“He’s been in spirit a long time, hasn’t he? He’s sending you love and he’s saying don’t worry about your mum. That’s his sister, isn’t it. He says he’s not coming for her yet.” A gasp from flowery top. “Oh, and are you redecorating your front room?”
“Yes.” A sniffle now.
“He said don’t go for the stripy one, go for the bright colors.”
“Oh my God, we couldn’t decide.”
“Can I leave you with that then, lovey?”
There was a ripple of applause. Pat moved her attention to the back. “Lady there, with the scarf on. Yes, you. Who’s connected
to class-A drugs? Does that mean anything to you?”
A hearty “Yes.”
The woman next to Marielle turned to her and raised her eyebrows.
“Not sure I’d have admitted that,” she said.
Pat carried on. “He’s in court, isn’t he? He’ll be okay. His grandad will be right there with him. He’s standing here now
saying he has to clean up his act. He says he doesn’t like the smell in the attic. ‘ It’s my attic ’—ooh, he’s cross. All those plants growing.”
Marielle’s neighbor said, “I hope there’s no police in tonight.”
“I’ll come to as many people as I can,” called Pat from the stage. “I obviously can’t get around to everyone, but here, in
this area, who’s Stanley? He’s got big glasses on like bottle bottoms, black frame. He’s saying, ‘Put me a bet on that horse.’”
A woman right at the back on the other side said, “I think that might be me dad.”
“Is he in spirit, lovey?”
“Last week.”
“You put a bet on a horse for him, didn’t you? On the day he died.”
A hiccup. “Yes. It came in at ten to one.”
“He’s sending love. He says you’ve promised not to put your mum in a home but you might have to, lovey.
Don’t promise what you can’t do. You’ll realize now he’s gone how much he kept from you about your mum, and he doesn’t want you to take on the burden.
Think on. She’ll be okay. He leaves you with love. ”
“What I can’t understand,” said Marielle’s neighbor, who had obviously been chewing on it, “is why would a spirit come through
and start talking about wallpaper?”
Marielle hunched up her shoulders. “Maybe to prove something personal?” was her only suggestion.
“Somewhere in the middle. You in the brown top. I’m seeing a little boy and a problem with social services.”
After an hour and a half there was a break. Marielle asked Sabrina if she wanted a drink in the bar.
“Only if I can get them then, out of the money left over from buying the clothes,” said Sabrina.
They went into the bar and she took a tenner out of her pocket. Marielle wondered if it had come out of her purse and then
slapped the thought down.
“So what do you think?” she asked, when they’d found a seat at a table.
“It’s fascinating,” replied Sabrina.
“Would you like her to come to you?”
“The trouble is, if she does, will I know if she’s right? What about you, Marielle?”
Marielle tilted her head from one side to the other. “The answer to that changes every thirty seconds. I’ll leave it in the
lap of the gods to decide for me.”
They went back in after the interval and were ten minutes from the end when Pat walked from one end of the stage to the other
and drew a circle in the air which encompassed them.
“Have I got a Polly here?” No response. “A Molly? A Dolly?”
“I’m a Wally,” said a man farther back, which caused a wave of laughter. “Short for Walter,” he added, realizing that people thought he was making fun.
“No, it’s a woman here. Polly or Molly.” Pat circled the area again, almost impatiently now because she was adamant she was
within it. She turned to the side and appeared to be listening to someone before she spoke again.
“I’ve got a young lady here, and she’s with a man in spirit. Big strapping fella, loud, full of love. He’s saying, “I’m sorry,
I’m sorry we let you down by leaving you too early.” He’s trying to show me that he’s got her, he wishes you could see that.”
To Sabrina’s surprise, Marielle pulled in a sharp breath and said aloud, “I think it’s me.” Molly , Mari , she wanted it to fit.
“She’s all right, you don’t have to worry,” Pat said, holding the flat of her hand up to Marielle as if to push away her doubts.
“She’s happy. And they’re watching over you and keeping you safe. Aw, she’s beautiful. He’s telling me she’s so like you.”
Tears were rolling down Marielle’s cheeks.
“They’ll always be with you, lovey.” Pat’s palm patted the base of her neck as if it was trying to touch something there.
“And your mum. Is your mum in spirit, lovey? Well, they’re all together and sending love.” Pat was still patting. “Is that
all right?”
Marielle nodded, unable to speak, and Pat moved on to someone at the back with a visiting spirit called Jeff who worked in
a factory in his earthly manifestation and had a penchant for Kit Kats.
Marielle fished in her handbag for a tissue. “I had a miscarriage after Teddy,” she explained to Sabrina in a low voice. “They
told me it was a blighted ovum, but it was always a baby to me. Sal’s got her.” She smiled even though her tissue was saturated.
Loud, full of love , though she wouldn’t have described him as strapping, but it had to be him; no one else in the audience had claimed him.
And her mother coming through too, trying to make amends. She was beyond comforted by what Pat had told her. She only wished
that someone had come through for Sabrina too.