Chapter Fifty-Five
When Keith had shared with Diane what Nina had told him and how hurt he’d been by the severity of her criticism of him, he had hoped for Diane’s support. But it hadn’t been forthcoming, certainly not in the way he’d anticipated or hoped for.
‘Nina’s right, you can’t abandon Hilary, you’ve both been through too much together to walk away without helping her when she’s in such profound pain.
I’m shocked that you would even think of doing that.
’ Nina had warned him that Diane wouldn’t think well of him if he abandoned Hilary by refusing to help her.
Just as he had with Nina, and not without a degree of exas-peration, he’d said, ‘But what about my pain? Why does Hilary’s grief always have to trump mine?’
‘The strong should always help the weak,’ Diane had replied, her voice mild but tinged with what he’d perceived as admonishment, as if he were a naughty child.
He’d found her comment particularly galling. Why did she think he was stronger than Hilary? For that matter, there was nothing weak about Hilary! He’d tried saying this, but Diane had shaken her head and told him he was taking her too literally.
‘I’m not talking about a physical state of being,’ she’d said, ‘I’m talking about the inner person, the soul.
Perhaps your wife has never been as mentally strong as you thought she was.
It’s possible she was always trying to be the woman she believed you wanted her to be.
Have you ever thought that the two of you have never really been honest with each other? ’
He’d sensed a change in Diane in the last month or so.
He blamed it on her attending a spiritualist church, because ever since she’d started going, he hadn’t felt as in step with her as he had before.
For a start, he couldn’t understand her sudden interest in spiritualism, the whole concept was bunkum as far as he was concerned.
Surely she was far too grounded and sensible to believe a word of it?
Everyone knew that the psychic world was a con that took advantage of the vulnerable, who were desperate to feel closer to those they’d lost.
After seeing a poster at the local library advertising a talk to be given by a supposedly well-known medium, Diane had announced that she wanted them both to go. He’d initially thought she was joking and said he couldn’t think of anything he’d like less.
‘You might at least have an open mind on the subject,’ she’d said. ‘A closed mind is as good as an empty mind.’
It had been the first time they’d really disagreed on anything, but he’d stuck to his guns and refused to go with her.
When she came home after the talk, he’d felt duty bound to encourage her to tell him all about it, if only to hear her admit that it had been a load of old hokum.
‘I’ll tell you about it if you’re genuinely interested,’ she’d said.
He’d lied and urged her to share what had gone on. She spoke cautiously at first and then she warmed to her subject and said how amazing it was when the medium started receiving messages to pass on to various people in the audience.
‘The woman knew so much about them and about the loved one they’d lost and how they died. It was very moving.’
Of course it was, it was a stage show acted out by a grasping charlatan! Keith had wanted to say. But wisely, he’d held his tongue and had merely nodded and made what he hoped were supportive comments.
Since that evening, Diane had begun reading something called The Seven Principles and signed up for a workshop and lecture on healing, as well as attending Divine Services at the spiritualist church where the talk had been held.
Every time she came home, she pressed Keith to go with her the next time.
‘It’s really nothing like you think it is, you’re falling into the trap of imagining something out of a television programme with people being tricked,’ she’d explained.
‘There are hymns and prayers at the Divine Service, just like in an ordinary church service. There’s a healing part to the service and time for when a medium connects with the departed in spirit and shares their messages.
Next Sunday I’m going to ask if the medium can connect with my daughter, Fiona.
’ Reluctantly, and because Keith didn’t want to see her made a fool of, or be hurt, he agreed to go with her.
But now, as Diane parked her car and pointed across the road to where they were going, Keith felt his worst fears rise to the surface of his dread.
Their destination looked unlike any church he’d ever been to before.
It was a brutal seventies-built eyesore, squat and ugly and with a flat roof.
One of the windows was boarded up and there were daubs of graffiti on it.
On a bitterly cold December afternoon, with what little light there had been that gloomy day, the so-called church could not have looked less inviting.
They were greeted by two young women wearing beanie hats and an excessive amount of metalwork pierced into their lips, noses, eyebrows and ears. They smiled brightly at Diane, saying it was good to see her again.
‘And this must be your friend, Keith, who you’ve been telling us about,’ the taller of the girls said.
‘Welcome, Keith,’ she added, increasing the wattage of her smile and revealing what looked like a bit of spinach stuck between two of her teeth.
‘It’s so lovely that Diane persuaded you to come.
We’re sure you’ll feel right at home with us. ’
Nothing could have been further from the truth. This was so far out of his comfort zone, he might just as well have been transported to Mars.
The service was led by a tall, thin man about the same age as Keith dressed in an ill-fitting suit, the trousers of which were too short.
The bright strip lighting in the low-ceilinged room reflected off the man’s shiny balding head, giving him an alien-like quality.
Or perhaps others saw it differently: aura-like.
He was exceptionally quiet spoken which had the effect of making his audience lean forward as though afraid to miss what he was saying.
There was no show to the man, no flamboyance or obvious quackery; in fact he was disappointingly mundane.
But then everything changed when the bald man sat down, sending his trouser hems up around his calves, revealing white hairless legs, and it was the turn of the visiting medium to take to the dais.
She was of a statuesque build and was wearing a shapeless dress of vivid purple.
Her thick hair had a matching purple tint to it and was coiled on the top of her head like a large cottage loaf.
From the moment she made herself comfortable in the chair on the dais, closed her eyes and held out her hands as if in an act of supplication, her presence commanded total silence, and a zealous hush fell on the room.
And so it began, the part that Keith had dreaded but which Diane had so looked forward to. He sensed her sitting up straighter beside him, all eager hope and anticipation. He didn’t dare turn his head to look at her for fear of showing the dismay and disbelief on his face.
Keeping his gaze on the statuesque woman who now seemed to be in a trance – her eyes were open, but her expression was entirely blank – he wondered how the hell he’d got here.
This wasn’t him. He wasn’t some poor deluded sap who needed to believe in the afterlife to comfort himself.
What’s more, he hadn’t thought Diane was the sort to need this kind of false hope.
He felt disappointed that her seemingly rock-sure ability to bear the death of her own child was in fact far shakier than he’d believed.
For some reason he felt let down, cheated.
He’d thought her too intelligent and secure in her acceptance of losing her daughter, but seeing her like this and realising he’d fooled himself into thinking she was the answer to his own grief, he knew with gut-wrenching conviction that this was the beginning of the end of his relationship with her.
Whatever they’d had, or thought they’d had, he couldn’t conceive of being part of her life if it included this …
this world of supernatural jiggery-pokery.
What next, Ouija boards and tarot cards?
The spirit world being peddled here didn’t exist, it was nothing but a cheap parlour trick that gave the vulnerable and the gullible false hope.
And to his mind, there was nothing worse than false hope.
Why couldn’t these people accept that death was the end?
There was nothing beyond it. It was what he’d always believed.
And as much as he’d loved his son, he knew that Hugh was gone, and no amount of wishful thinking, or tapping into ‘the other side’ would ever change that.
He suddenly longed for the certainty of his old life. It might not have been perfect but at least he’d known exactly where he’d stood. What he’d give to turn back the clock to when he and Hilary had rubbed along well enough together … to that time before Hugh’s death had imploded their lives.
Thinking of those relatively halcyon days, he was hit with a wall of shame.
Despite Nina’s urging that he involve himself with helping Hilary, he had selfishly, not to say childishly, dug in his heels.
She wasn’t his responsibility! To his further shame he hadn’t even bothered to contact her sister, Lindsay.
What kind of man had he become that he could be so self-centred and heartless?
He decided, just as soon as this nightmare was over, he’d ring Lindsay. What was more, he would go and see Hilary. He would apologise and do his best to help her just as Nina had asked him to.
At the sharp nudge in his ribs, he turned to look at Diane.
‘It’s Hugh,’ she whispered, ‘the medium’s received a message for you from Hugh.’