The Love I Wished For

Prologue

HER MOTHER SMILED up at her, bright blue eyes crinkling at the corners, a snapshot of that deep throaty laugh frozen in time.

There had been a pile of programmes left over after the memorial – or, as her mother had called it, her Celebration of Life Ceremony.

Helena couldn’t bring herself to throw them away.

As she leafed through the pages a passage from one of the readings caught her eye, in looping italics.

You created my being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

Her very being had been stitched together from her mother’s flesh and blood, no wonder she felt such visceral rawness at her loss.

The gaping hole in her core was untenable.

She longed for her mother like an unquenchable thirst; she would give anything to wrap her arms around her one more time.

To feel the warmth of her embrace, the little squeeze she always gave her when they hugged.

The smell of lavender soap on her skin and patchouli on her clothes.

The way she saw right to the heart of her soul, no matter what was going on in her life.

A tear splashed onto the keyboard as she opened her laptop and searched for the email.

Despite her nerves, she was sure her mother would have approved of this plan.

When she was alive, she was always trying to make Helena open her third eye or listen to what the tarot cards were telling her.

Mostly, Helena managed to resist her mother’s esoteric tendencies, preferring practical solutions to life’s problems. But now, with her mother and father both gone, she felt drawn like never before to what her mother had called ‘The Other Side’.

The psychic, Rosemary, had come highly recommended by a colleague, and the email promised that ‘If your loved ones want to be found, we will find them’.

Helena was desperate for some confirmation that her parents were still there.

Somewhere. The loneliness she was feeling was becoming unbearable.

She clicked on the link and waited to be let in from the virtual waiting room.

Her hands trembled with nerves. She knew that if no one came through she would be devastated.

The camera connected and a slight, older lady with a heart shaped face appeared before her, sitting at a desk with a pot plant by her side.

Helena hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t this.

She greeted Helena and explained how the session would work.

She would connect with ‘spirit,’ as she called it, and see who came forwards for her.

But first she would shuffle her tarot cards and give her a reading.

‘Okay.’ Helena watched as Rosemary split the deck, pulling several cards out and placing them in front of her. Her mother used to read her tarot every week, not that her predictions ever helped with the utter mess that was Helena’s life.

‘You work in events? Right?’ Rosemary said, peering at her through half-moon glasses perched towards the end of her nose, a string of rose quartz beads dangling around her neck.

‘Yes,’ said Helena, impressed. She had only given the psychic her first name, so it would have been impossible to google her. She had even set up a fake email account for the purpose of scheduling the call.

‘You live in the city, you do not live alone,’ she said.

Helena nodded. ‘That’s right. I have a flatmate.’

Rosemary closed her eyes. ‘But you are lonely,’ she said. ‘So, so lonely.’ Rosemary frowned, shaking her head, as if feeling the weight of it herself.

Grief clamped its jaws around Helena. A tear trickled down her cheek as she nodded.

Her flatmate had just got a boyfriend, and the two of them were constantly draped all over the shared spaces in the flat.

They were kind, cooking meals for her and even setting her up on the odd date.

She put a brave face on it, trying to pretend she was happy to be a third wheel in their boardgames and movie nights.

She enjoyed her quiet nights in with a good book and a long bath when they were out.

But the truth was, she had never known loneliness like this was possible.

‘Now, let’s see.’ Rosemary placed her deck of cards to one side and closed her eyes. ‘Who do we have here? Oh yes… Your father is in spirit. He is with you now.’

Helena’s eyes filled with tears at this. ‘Are… are you sure it’s him?’

‘Does he have a birthmark the shape of Africa on his left shoulder?’

‘Yes!’ Helena was astounded.

‘He is showing me that very clearly. He was too young when he passed, wasn’t he? He tells me he had only just celebrated his fortieth birthday.’

Helena couldn’t believe her ears. ‘Yes, he died two days after it.’

‘Cancer of the pancreas?’

Helena nodded as flashbacks of her dad on his death bed, so fragile and pale, flooded back.

‘He wants you to know that he loves the flowers you lay on his grave each year. And the poem you wrote him.’

Helena sniffed back tears. She had never shown that poem to anyone. Not even her mum. ‘He wants you to know that he loves you.’

Rosemary closed her eyes again and sighed deeply. ‘Now, we have someone else coming through. Who do we have here?’

Helena realised she was holding her breath; she was so desperate to connect with her mother.

‘Do you have a mother in spirit, too?’

Helena nodded.

‘She is here. You poor thing, both your parents… and you are so young.’ Rosemary shook her head.

‘She loves you so much.’ She chuckled to herself.

‘She is quite a character, isn’t she? I feel her personality – very warm, very charismatic.

A ball of energy! She says that her dog Frank was there to welcome her when she crossed, as well as your father. ’

Helena reached for a tissue, laughing and crying at the same time.

Frank was her mother’s childhood bulldog, and the great love of her mother’s life, after Helena and her dad.

Rosemary went on to describe her mother’s collection of Russian dolls, how she used to eat marmalade with her sausages and how she loved to play the harp.

A small smile appeared on Rosemary’s face as she told Helena that her mother was proud of her for trying to reach the other side.

‘Not everything can be seen with just your two eyes, you know dear,’ she said, and for a moment it felt as if her mother was speaking directly to her.

Helena wiped away the last of her tears. ‘Can I ask a question?’ she said.

‘Of course,’ answered Rosemary. ‘Anything you like.’

Helena swallowed. ‘What… what will happen to me now?’

‘I’m so glad you asked, my love. And so is your mother.’ She paused, as if tuning into a frequency that only she could hear. ‘The spirits tell me you will find new friends in a new place. And you will meet someone wonderful; I can see him. He is dark haired, so handsome.’

Helena could hardly imagine it. It had been years since she’d been in a relationship. Every date she went on was worse than the last, the pool of men her age seemed to have shrunk to the size of a puddle.

‘I know there is hardship in your life,’ Rosemary continued, ‘but from this hardship will come joy. You will have a child. Curly haired, beautiful.’ Helena felt a tendril of hope unfurl deep within her.

‘You will move closer to nature. Yes, interesting - there will be big changes soon. No more city. A new home. A new purpose.’

As the session drew to an end, Helena felt clean and whole, as if she was a broken jug that had been scrubbed out and pieced back together again. She thanked Rosemary for the priceless gift of peace of mind, which was more valuable than anything else.

As she lay in bed that night, waiting for sleep to come, she thought about the curly haired child Rosemary had seen in her future. For the first time in a long time, Helena began to feel less alone.