My wedding dress is cream silk. Hundreds of tiny crystals, hand sewn into the bodice, catch the light as I turn. Tears sting my eyes as I think of my dad and how proud he would be of me right now and how sad I am at the thought of him not being there.
‘I am so proud and I will be there, Sammy Puddleduck. I promise,’ I hear him whisper in my ear.
‘… and I wasn’t sure quite what to do,’ Valerie says.
Whoops!
‘Sorry, Valerie, I was miles away.’
Valerie goes quiet.
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter.’
‘No, go on.’
‘No, really. It’s …’
‘She was telling you that Donald, that security guard downstairs, has asked her out for dinner and she doesn’t know what to do.’
This time it’s not my dad that I hear, it’s Frank, Valerie’s dead husband, and not only do I hear him, I can see him smiling back at me in the mirror that hangs over the mantelpiece in Valerie’s living room. I recognise him from the many photos that Valerie has dotted around the place and he’s smiling a kind, genuine smile as he looks down on her hemming my dress. I must be getting used to this because I no longer freak out at the thought of seeing dead people. They always look so serene, peaceful and worldly-wise to me.
‘She should go. She knows I’m always here for her, but she has to live her life and stop worrying about what I think,’ Frank says.
‘Frank says you should go to dinner with Donald. He says he will always be here for you, but you have to live your life and stop worrying about him.’ I look over my shoulder. Valerie just nods. She’s pretending to concentrate on my hem, but I know she’s secretly smiling to herself.
And who’d have thought it? Valerie and Donald!
As Frank’s face fades from the mirror, I see my own reflection.
‘You look friggin amazing, hun!’ Ange says.
I do, don’t I?
And I do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
‘I think you’d better come and see for yourself,’ a very worried Colin says to me over the phone as I am just about to leave Valerie’s apartment.
‘OK, Colin, don’t worry, I’ll be there in a minute.’
The reason why my mother’s boyfriend sounds so worried is because my mother is at this moment dressed in full Rastafarian costume and is entertaining the tourists as she bangs on a set of bongo drums, while sitting cross-legged on the steps of Bath Abbey.
‘She appears to be in some kind of trance, Sam,’ Colin said when he phoned me. ‘I thought she was only going to the Abbey to sort out where the flowers were going to be placed for the wedding, but when she came down with fake tan on her face and a woolly hat on her head, asking if I could dreadlock her hair for her, I began to worry.’
Quite right, too!
‘Oh my God, you didn’t, did you?’
‘Didn’t what?’
‘Dreadlock my mother’s hair?’
I can imagine it now: my mother with dreads in her hair at my wedding. There is no way her hair will be back to normal in time!
‘No, no, Sam. I told her I had to go and check on the carrots. Then she took off, saying something about how she would get someone called Germaine to do it,’ Colin said.
This just gets worse by the day. The other day I caught her and Marjorie in town, outside HMV, singing and dancing to UB40’s ‘Kingston Town’ that was blaring out of the shop, while trying to sell shell-rope bracelets to the tourists of Bath. I’m surprised they didn’t get themselves arrested. Bath City Council doesn’t take kindly to buskers at the best of times, let alone a pair of white middle-aged women dressed up like Eddy Grant.
Thankfully, one of Jack’s ex-colleagues from HMV recognised my mother and persuaded them to pack up and go home before any police officers appeared.
‘Boomchakawahwah!’ was my mother’s reply, followed by Marjorie’s, ‘It’s cos we’re black, innit!’ before they ran up the road, looking, well, looking like two mad, middle-aged women with Rastafarian hats on.
On the scale of the most embarrassing things my mother has done, this moment has got to be one of her best. As I pull into the car park I can spot her a mile away. She’s the one dressed from head to foot in multicoloured clothes with a tea cosy on her head, and dancing in a very odd fashion as she plays her drums, completely in the way of visitors trying to gain access to the Abbey. Thankfully, no one seems to think it slightly odd that this woman is there. Perhaps they think it’s all part of the tourist attractions?
‘Mum,’ I prod her in the arm, ‘what on earth are you doing?’
She doesn’t reply, but simply smiles at me as she concentrates on pounding her drums. ‘She’s been like this for over an hour,’ a worried Colin says. ‘I’ve tried everything to move her.’
‘We could always use a tow rope,’ I mutter. Right, I’ve had enough of this. Is she trying to get me banned from having my wedding here?
‘This is brilliant!’ I hear Ange say.
This is not brilliant, Ange! This is a bloody nightmare!
‘One minute she’s a normal woman and the next she’s Rastamouse! Ha! Oh, you couldn’t make it up, could you? I tell you what: you could earn a few quid selling your story to Pick Me Up!’ Ange laughs.
That’s it! She’s been possessed again. My God, my mother must be one of those people who are really easy to possess. I speed dial Miracle’s number.
‘Miracle, it’s me. Look, my mother has become possessed again; she’s playing drums outside the Abbey as if she’s Bob Marley and refuses to be moved. What should I do?’
‘OK, you’re going to have to ask Ange to help you.’ Miracle doesn’t sound at all surprised by the fact that my mother has become possessed again.
‘Ange? You’re kidding, right? Do you know what her suggestion was? To sell my story to Pick Me Up!’
‘Well, Sam, you need someone on the other side to persuade the other spirit to move on from your mum, Sam,’ Miracle says.
‘You hear that, Ange?’ I say
‘Me? I can’t do that. I know nothing about it. I’m new to all of this, you know!’
‘Hum, I thought as much. I’m going to have to think about getting a new spirit guide to help me, Miracle,’ I say into the phone.
‘What do you mean, a new spirit guide?’ Ange asks.
‘Well, you’re no use, are you? I mean, it’s all very well haunting your exes and getting me to read Cheryl Cole’s latest celebrity tweets out to you, but in the grand scheme of things, you’re not really helping me, Ange,’ I say.
‘You don’t think I can do it? Well, I’ll bloody show you!’ Ange snaps.
The next thing I know my mother is lying on her back, arms and legs flailing in the air, looking rather like a fly that has been swatted.
‘Now sod off and go and possess someone else, you stupid Rasta! Just cos you can play the drums, doesn’t make you less of a pain in the ass, you know!’ I hear Ange shout.
My mum sits upright and looks up at me and Colin.
‘Sammy, what are you doing here, love? Have you come to talk to the reverend about the wedding too?’ she asks. ‘You should have said, we could have come together,’ she adds, looking down at her unusual costume in puzzlement.
‘Yes, that’s right, Mum. I’m done now, so shall we go?’ I offer her my hand and pull her up.
‘Did you ask him if it’s OK to have the congregation all sitting together?’ my mum asks as we put her in Colin’s car. I want to cry. As funny as it may look, to a passer-by my mum just looks like a confused and bewildered woman, and as Colin drives away, I burst into tears.
‘Don’t cry, Sam,’ I hear Ange say in my ear. ‘I got rid of him for you, didn’t I?’
‘I know you did and thank you, Ange. I couldn’t have done it without you and I’m sorry … it’s just … it’s all getting too much for me,’ I sob in the car park.
Ironic really: my mum dresses up as a Rastafarian and no one bats an eyelid; I have a breakdown in the car park and all eye
s are on me.
‘I think it’s time we had another séance, don’t you?’ Ange says. I agree.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I haven’t heard from Gem since she heard about Simon, her husband, and she went to stay with her mum. Being back at the WI hall brings back the memories of her helping me out the last time we were here.
‘Well, I don’t think it’s really affected anyone, do you, Sammy? I can’t say I’ve noticed anyone acting strangely. Have you?’ my mum says as she helps me to pull all the chairs round in a circle.
‘Nothing strange? You are joking, Mum?’
My mum looks at me as if I’m the one that should be locked up.
‘What about Marjorie begging on the streets, not to mention the two of you outside HMV? And Mrs Samuels and Mr Brent?’
‘What, the one with one leg shorter than the other? Not that you can tell.’
‘Yes, Mum. The one with one leg shorter than the other. Remember, I told you I caught them kissing outside Mr Brent’s house?’
‘Who was kissing who outside Mr Brent’s house?’ my mum asks as she moves another chair into the circle.
‘Aggh! Mrs Samuels, Mum!’
‘What, the one with …’
‘One leg shorter than the other, yes Mum!’
‘Not that you can tell, mind you. Well, I can’t see Mr Samuels agreeing to that, can you? You must have got your wires crossed, Sammy love. You are funny,’ she muses to herself.
You know sometimes I could quite happily strangle my mother.
‘Mum, do you know why we are here tonight?’
My mum is now waving a fire lighter around in the air as she attempts to light the nine tea light candles on the table.
‘What’s that, dear?’
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter. Just watch what you’re doing with that thing, will you?’ I dodge the flame thrower as she turns to wave to Mrs Bannerman who has just come through the doors.
Thankfully, Miracle and her motley crew have also arrived to help me; the motley crew consisting of a few select people from the psychic academy, including Alistair, aka Elvis, who insisted he knew how to make these spirits return to their rightful homes in the sky. The fact that he is dressed as Elvis is slightly unnerving, but then looking around at the odd combination of people here, he actually fits in quite nicely. We have Mr Brent, who is still dressed as a Viking and sporting a fully grown bushy beard, and I’m talking proper beard here. Not one of those little bits of fuzz on the chin ones. No, it’s a real, heavyweight, fully fledged bushy beard. Mrs Samuels (yes, the one with one leg shorter than the other, although you would never tell) is standing by Mr Brent’s side, looking longingly at him. Mrs Horsham – the one with the sleepwalking husband – is talking to Marjorie, telling her that she didn’t realise there was an extra WI meeting this month.
We haven’t told anyone the real reason we are here. Our explanation was that the last séance went so well that we are going to repeat the experience. Yeah, it went so well that half the village became possessed!
‘So, are you ready?’ Miracle asks.
‘As ready as I will ever be, I guess,’ I reply glumly. You know, all I want is to live a normal life, doing normal things. I want to be able to arrange my wedding with Jack, rather than by text message, and I want to go out to a club with friends of the living kind, rather than a deceased Essex girl who thinks she’s a member of TOWIE. I just want to be normal!
‘You’ve been given a special gift, Samantha,’ Miracle says – I’m sure she’s a mind reader as well as a psychic, you know. ‘I know it’s hard for you and it takes a lot of getting used to, my love.’ She hugs me to her huge bosom.
Getting used to? I don’t think I will ever get used to this.
‘Come on, let’s get this over and done with,’ I sigh.
‘Mind if I join you?’
Gem appears in the doorway.
‘Gem! What are you doing here? I thought you were staying with your mum?’
Gem hugs me, bouncing me off her protruding stomach.
‘I was. I am. I needed to check on the house; you know, post and stuff like that, and Mrs Jackson mentioned that you were having another séance, so I thought I would come along, if that’s alright?’
‘Alright? It’s fantastic. And Gem? I am so, so sorry … you know, about Simon.’
Gem shrugs.
‘I knew what could happen when I fell in love with him, Sam. I hope … well you know, I thought coming here tonight might …’
This is why I’m doing this job; for people like Gem. I just hope that Simon does come through for her.
‘Right, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?’ I say as my mum dims the harsh hall lights. I’m thankful that Miracle is here to oversee things and more importantly close the circle properly this time.
As we all settle down and hold hands and Miracle opens the circle I can see all the spirits milling about in the hall. There’s Marjorie’s little urchin, Tom, who is busy playing tag with Mrs Jackson’s daughter, Alice. There’s Mum’s Jamaican friend swaying his head in time to the music coming from his Walkman. The Viking is standing behind Mrs Samuels, stroking her hair. They’re all here and quite a few new faces too.
‘We are here this evening to send you home,’ Miracle says, her eyes closed and in deep concentration. I wonder if I’m the only one who can see all these dead people. No one else seems to have a clue that that are here, aside from Mrs Samuels occasionally looking behind her and touching the back of her head.
‘Send who home? Is Mrs Horsham not feeling well again?’ my mum says, looking bewildered out of one eye.
‘Just close your eyes, Mum,’ I hiss.
‘Before I ask you to all walk back into the light, is there anybody here who would like to talk to our guests?’
The spirits all start shuffling around.
‘I wanna stay wiv her,’ Tom the urchin shouts as he stops playing tag with Alice and runs over to Marjorie’s side.
‘Marjorie, the little boy, Tom, who took a shine to you is back,’ I say, smiling as Marjorie’s head swivels from side to side, looking for him.
‘He’s to your left,’ I instruct.
Marjorie looks down and to her left.
‘Hello, my dear. How are you?’ she says, looking at me to confirm she’s facing him.
‘I like her,’ Tom says to me.
‘She likes you too, Tom, but Marjorie has her own son,’
‘Not that you’d know. Does he ever visit? He doesn’t, does he, Cathy? How many times have I invited him and Fleur over for dinner?’
My mum opens her eyes.
‘Many times, Marjorie, many times,’ My mum sighs.
‘I was only saying the other day, wasn’t I Cathy, that Jonathon never comes over now he’s got himself married,’ Marjorie continues.
‘Um … hello? Mum?’ I interrupt the two women’s chat.
‘Excuse me a moment, Marjorie. Yes dear?’
‘We are not here to have a good old chat about Jonathon’s reluctance to visit Marjorie.’
‘Are we not? What are we here for then?’
I give up!
‘Mum, just close your eyes and concentrate. We are trying to persuade Tom and his friends to go back to where they came from.’ I sigh – deeply.
‘Uh-huh,’ Alistair/Elvis agrees with me.
‘Right, unless there is anyone here who has an urgent message for a loved one, could you all please leave,’ I snap.
Mrs Horsham shuffles her chair backwards.
‘No, not you, Mrs Horsham. I meant the spirits.’
‘Oh, right you are, dear. I thought the meeting was a bit short.’ She chuckles and sits back down again.
Oh, give me strength.
‘I have a message for a loved one.’
I look to where the voice is coming from and see Simon standing behind Gem. Gem looks at me.
‘He’s here, isn’t he?’
I nod.
‘Hello Simon. What is it
you want to say to Gem?’
The mindless chatter that is my mother ceases as all eyes are on Gem. Even the spirits have been good enough to shut up for five minutes.
‘I am so sorry, Gemma. I love you and our unborn baby so very much and I’m sorry I had to go. You have to stop worrying about what to do with my things. They’re only things, Gem. Let someone else enjoy them. I certainly don’t need an iPad here. I can be with you whenever you need me now, just call my name.’
As I relay the words Simon says, tears are streaming down all our faces, even stony-faced Mrs Landsbury; you know, the one with the poodle.
Gem puts her head in her hands to hide her own tears.
‘I … I wasn’t sure what to do with …. you know, with Si’s stuff. All his CDs, his iPad, the …’
‘Tell her to give the photo of me and my brother to Andy, if she wants. He’d like that.’
‘… photo of him and his brother, Andy.’ Gem laughs through her tears.
‘I’ll be back soon. I promise,’ Simon whispers as he disappears and I am looking at the bare wall.
‘He will be back soon, Gem,’ I assure her. She nods and holds her hands to her eyes.
‘OK, it looks as though that is the only message we have tonight.’ Miracle takes over. She can see I’m not really up to the job this evening.
‘Can we all close our eyes again and remain holding hands? Spirits, thank you for joining us. Could you please make your way back to your own world now?’
I peek out of one eye and see that they are all still here with us. I look at Miracle.
‘Spirits,’ she asks, ‘please go back to your own world so that we can close the circle behind us.’
Again they are still here.
‘Spirits, you must go back now, please,’ Miracle instructs.
Nope, they are not going anywhere.
‘Ange,’ I whisper, ‘what’s going on?’
‘Sorry, Sam, I was looking in that woman’s handbag. She’s got one of those new lip tint sticks I told you about. You should get one. She’s got one in coral pearl.’
‘Right, will do, but at the moment I’m a little busy. I need to know why the spirits aren’t moving on.’
‘No clue,’ Ange mutters.
Oh Great, Now I Can See Dead People Page 14
