Oh Great, Now I Can See Dead People

by Deborah Durbin

  ‘Danny wants to hook up with me tonight, so I want you to take me shopping. I mean proper shopping. I want to look nice and sophisticated.’

  ‘Okay, but surely you can’t just roll up at Selfridges and try stuff on? I mean, when I poked you, my finger went right through you. How can you try on clothes?’

  ‘Ah, well I can’t, but if I concentrate hard enough on something I can manifest it on me, but I need your advice on what looks sophisticated and what doesn’t.’

  ‘Right, well, OK.’ I feel quite pleased that Ange values my opinion on fashion. No one has ever asked me for fashion advice before. I can’t think why.

  ‘Let me get the show out of the way and we will hit the shops.’

  Ange beams a big smile, clicks her fingers dramatically and disappears, leaving me with a tonne of veg to put back in the kitchen.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  ‘Good morning and welcome to Town FM. I’m Crystal Ball and I’m standing in for Annette today while she recovers in hospital. Thank you for all your good wishes, which we have passed on to her.’

  ‘Get on with it. I want to talk to someone,’ I hear a voice shout inside my head.

  ‘Um… today we are going to have a much longer Sixth Sense show, so get your calls in now and I will do my best to answer as many as I can. First we are going over to the news desk with Jeff.’ I hit the jingle button to activate the news jingle and mentally prepare myself for an hour and a half of chit-chat to the living and the not so.

  ‘Are we on yet?’ The same voice comes into my head.

  ‘No, we’re not and who are you?’ I ask out loud.

  ‘I need you to speak to my mum,’ the young male voice says quite desperately.

  ‘Who is your mum?’

  ‘I need her to ring you,’ the voice says.

  ‘Does she listen to the show, do you know?’

  ‘I don’t know, but you must get her to ring in.’

  The boy is almost hysterical and I don’t know what to do.

  ‘What’s your mum’s name?’

  ‘Jan, and I’m Andy.’

  ‘The thing is, Andy, if your mum doesn’t phone in I can’t pass on a message to her,’ I say. I mean I’m good, but I’m not that good.

  ‘You have to let her know I’m OK, before she does something stupid,’ Andy says.

  Oh blooming heck.

  ‘OK, I’ll see what I can do, but I will need your mother’s full name.’ I try to think of how I’m going to do this. The chance that his mother is listening to this radio station at precisely the same time as I am on is pretty slim, and as much as I’m in awe that real dead people can talk to me, they don’t appear to be so clever that they can avert impending tragedies. Andy doesn’t say any more, so I am left wondering how I am going to sort this out.

  ‘…and that’s the news and weather for the moment. Now get ready for the psychic to the stars, Crystal Ball,’ Jeff says by way of introduction to my Sixth Sense show. Right,

  focus Sam.

  Poor Jeff, he looks so much older today, as if he’s carrying the whole world on his shoulders. He’s really worried about Annette. Despite the pair of them deciding that they are not going to be an ‘item’ as such, I have a funny feeling that they are.

  As the mystical music fades out, Liam gives me the thumbs up that I’m on live. The lights on Annette’s desk are lit up like a Christmas tree with callers all wanting to know where their loved ones are, when they will win the lottery and when they will find the man/woman of their dreams. Let’s just hope that one of them is Andy’s mum Jan, hey?

  ‘Thank you, Jeff. Now it looks like we’re in for a busy time, so I’m going to go straight to caller one. Hello, who am I speaking to?’

  ‘Ha, you should know that, being psychic and all that,’ the voice says.

  ‘Oh another comedian,’ I snap. ‘What can I do for you, sir?’

  Why is it always men who call with the wise cracks, I wonder? I shouldn’t snap at them. It’s just … oh I don’t know, I miss Jack like mad and these comedians drive me mad when I feel like this.

  ‘I want to know if Man U are going to win in the match on Saturday,’ the man says. I sigh.

  ‘Tony wants to know because he’s going to put his life savings on it, the fool. The money he inherited from me,’ Another much older man’s voice says to me.

  ‘Well, Tony …’

  ‘Hey, how do you know my name? I didn’t tell you my name. I didn’t tell anyone my name. I didn’t even tell the geezer who put me through,’ the man protests.

  ‘Well, I should know, me being a psychic and all that.’

  ‘Just tell him to invest in premium bonds instead. He will win on those. Oh, and this is his uncle Charles, by the way.’

  ‘Charles told me – your uncle.’ I sigh again.

  ‘My uncle? How do you know his name?’

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake! Because I’m a psychic, that’s why, Tony! Now your uncle has told me that you want to spend all your inheritance on a football match. He said he didn’t give you that money to be foolish. Now, if you’re wise you will listen to him and get some premium bonds instead,’ I snap again.

  ‘So how do I do that then?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Get some premier whatsits?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know!’

  ‘Well, you’re the psychic, you should know,’ Tony counterattacks.

  ‘Precisely! I’m a psychic not a financial advisor.’

  ‘Tell him to go online, type in premium bonds and Charlie’s your uncle,’ Tony’s uncle advises.

  How do you know? I ask in my head.

  ‘Ha, I used to be an accountant,’ Charles says.

  ‘Your uncle says to go online and type in premium bonds,’ I tell Tony.

  ‘Oh right. OK then. Cheers.’

  ‘You’re very welcome. Now is there anything else?’

  ‘Yeah, so what are Man U’s chances on Saturday then?’

  I hang up.

  A familiar voice comes through again.

  ‘Please get my mum to call in,’ Andy’s voice says.

  ‘I can’t make your mum call me, Andy. I’m sorry, but you will have to give me more information.’ He’s gone again.

  The next few calls consist of a woman wanting to know where her mother put her will, two women wanting to know when their prince will come and a man wanting me to put him through to Jasper – his deceased ferret.

  ‘And now I’m taking a break so that we can go over to Jeff on the news desk.’ I click a series of lights off on the switchboard and slump back in my seat. It’s quite exhausting all this psychic stuff, I don’t mind telling you.

  My mobile rings. It’s Jack.

  ‘Good timing! I just stopped for the news break. Are you OK?’ It’s so good to hear Jack’s voice again and it only serves to remind me just how much I love him. We talk for a moment about when he’s coming home and what’s happening here and in London, and then I have to end the call because Jeff is finishing his news slot.

  ‘…and now to the travel news. There are traffic delays on the Almondsbury interchange due to a broken down vehicle. And news just in, the B3129 is temporarily closed due to an incident on the Clifton Suspension Bridge and will remain closed for some time. That is all your Town FM news for now.’

  ‘That’s my mum! My mum’s on the bridge! She’s going to kill herself!’ I hear Andy say in my head.

  I hit the button that puts me directly through to Jeff and Liam.

  ‘Jeff, that last bit about the Suspension Bridge?’

  ‘Uh-huh?’

  ‘Why is it shut?’

  They never shut that bridge. It would cause all sorts of chaos to people trying to get to and from work.

  ‘I dunno. Something about someone trying to jump off it again,’ Jeff mutters back to me as he shuffles his news reports into some sort of order.

  ‘Oh no! Jeff, I’ve got to go.’ I grab my car keys and run out of the studio.

  As I
drive through the traffic heading towards Bristol I hear the news bulletin on the radio.

  ‘…police liaison officers are at the scene now, trying to talk to the woman who is in her mid forties.’

  I quickly dial Valerie on hands-free.

  ‘Valerie, it’s me. I don’t suppose Donald’s with you, is he?’

  ‘Um - why?’

  ‘Valerie, I don’t have much time to explain, can you just get him for me?’

  I know from talking to Donald many times while he checked my ID that he used to work for the Avon and Somerset Constabulary, up until a few years ago when he retired to become a security guard for the retirement homes where Valerie now lives.

  ‘Oh, just a minute. Donald, it’s Samantha for you.’

  ‘Hello Samantha, how may I help you?’

  ‘Donald, look, there’s a woman attempting to jump from the Suspension Bridge and I think I know who she might be. I need to talk to her urgently.’

  ‘You won’t get past the police there, my dear,’ Donald says.

  ‘Donald, it’s really important that I speak with her.’

  Donald must hear the desperation in my voice.

  ‘Leave it with me. I’ll try and get you clearance,’ he says in a very authoritative manner.

  Thirty minutes later and I am at Bridge Road, which is coned off. There are several uniformed officers barricading the entrance to the Suspension Bridge and as I look past them I can see a tiny figure standing in the middle of the bridge that spans the Avon Gorge. It’s a popular suicide spot and despite putting anti-climb rails up, people determined enough will still get over them. The drop is over two hundred feet down and I’m suddenly feeling terrified as I look at the woman. Another woman, who I assume to be a Police Liaison Officer, is several feet away, her arms stretching out as if to help the woman.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mam, this road is closed.’ An officer approaches my car.

  I get out.

  ‘I need to speak to that woman,’ I say, not taking my eyes off her for a second.

  ‘Do you know her?’

  ‘No, yes, well, kind of.’

  The policeman is having none of it.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mam. You will have to turn round and go back and up to the junction and through the city centre.’

  ‘No, you don’t understand. I must speak to her. I think I know her dead son.’

  ‘Yes, Mam, now if you could just do as you’re told and … Oi!’

  Too late, I’ve dodged under the yellow tape and am away. Damn these bloody shoes! I throw them behind me and run as fast as I possibly can towards the bridge. The policeman I was talking to is in hot pursuit and I look over my shoulder to see how quickly he’s gaining on me. I do hope he doesn’t have a Taser gun on him. As he runs he’s shouting into his radio. Oh god, I am going to be in so much trouble!

  Another officer runs towards me and I duck under his arms as he goes to grab me.

  ‘Miss! Do not approach the bridge!’ he shouts.

  ‘Please get to her, Sam,’ I hear Andy say. ‘Please!’

  ‘I have to talk to that woman!’ I shout back.

  The commotion has made the liaison officer look round and she holds her hand up to me.

  ‘Please! I have to speak to that woman. I have a message for her from her son,’ I beg.

  ‘My son? You cruel bastard! My son is dead!’ the woman on the bridge shouts at me.

  ‘I know he is, Jan. It is Jan, isn’t it?’ My god, that would be embarrassing wouldn’t it, if I got the wrong woman!

  ‘He’s dead.’ The woman slumps to her knees and sobs. You can hear an intake of breath from me and all the officers, all praying that she doesn’t let go of the bridge.

  ‘Please, let me get nearer to her. You can arrest me later, but I really have to speak to her,’ I beg the female officer.

  ‘You’re what’s her name, off the telly,’ she says, keeping one eye on the woman on the bridge.

  ‘Crystal Ball, yes, which is why I must speak with Jan. Please!’

  ‘Jan? Jan? This is Crystal Ball, the psychic. She needs to talk to you. Can she come closer?’ the woman officer asks kindly.

  ‘She can’t make anything better!’ Jan shouts back. ‘No one can!’

  ‘I can’t make him come back, Jan, but I can let you know what he’s saying. He doesn’t want you to do this. He’s been begging me to get a message to you,’ I shout as I move slowly forward.

  ‘He’s dead, you stupid woman! How can you possibly tell me anything?’ Jan shouts back between sobs.

  ‘Tell her I know about the pills she took this morning. I also know about the note she left. What’s going to happen to Mollie if she’s gone? Who’s going to pick her up from school? Is she that selfish that she would let her come home to an empty house and a dead mum?’

  I relay the message to Andy’s mum who continues to cry very loudly.

  ‘Who’s Mollie, Jan?’

  ‘She’s my daughter,’ Jan confirms through huge sobs.

  ‘How old is she?’

  ‘She’s fourteen.’

  ‘And how do you think she will feel about this, Jan? Andy is very concerned about her.’

  Jan just cries again. I think of how Jan’s daughter will feel if her mother decides to jump. The poor kid. Imagine coming home expecting your tea to be on the table and being greeted with grim-faced neighbours at the door waiting to tell you that your mother has taken her own life.

  ‘Jan, don’t you see, he’s here with us, with you! Talk to him, Jan, through me. Tell him how you’re feeling,’ I urge. Bugger, my feet hurt.

  ‘I … I miss him so, so much. It hurts, like a real physical pain. It’s not fair; he tried so hard to keep positive and was so brave.’

  ‘Maybe I just didn’t try hard enough, Mum. You always said I was a lazy so and so.’ Andy laughs. ‘Tell her my body just couldn’t keep going through the treatment. It’s no big deal, I’m fine here. In fact it’s pretty awesome!’

  Again I pass on the message to Jan. She smiles slightly.

  ‘That was his favourite saying, it’s no big deal.’ She says, ‘It didn’t matter what obstacles he was up against, or how much he went through at the hospital, he would always say, it’s no big deal, Mum.’

  ‘Tell her she’s got to stop this. It won’t solve anything. I will always be around her, every day of her life. It’s not the first time, you know, Sam. She’s tried this three times now and I’m getting a bit sick and tired of it, if I’m honest.’

  ‘Jan, this isn’t fair on Andy or Mollie,’ I say. ‘Andy said this isn’t the first time either, is it?’

  I can see Andy, a good-looking young man, standing beside his mother. Tears roll down his cheeks.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Jan sobs and looks down at the vast expanse of mud, two hundred feet below her. Oh no, please don’t jump. Please don’t jump.

  ‘Please Jan. Don’t do this to them. You can talk to me any time if you want to talk to Andy. He knew you were here. He was the one who contacted me and told me you were here, Jan. You know how it feels to lose someone so special to you. Think about how Mollie will feel if it happens to her again.’

  Jan looks at me, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She looks desperate.

  ‘Jan, please! I’m in enough trouble as it is for breaking through the police barrier, now will you get the fuck off this bridge before I get arrested!’

  I know, but the gentle approach doesn’t seem to be working and I’m getting mightily pissed off now, and I think I’ve cut my foot running up to this stupid bridge!

  Jan turns towards the liaison officer and reaches out for her hand. She looks as though she’s aged twenty years in the time I’ve been speaking to her. The officer gently guides her back over the railings.

  I rush towards Jan and hold her in my arms. I rock her and she cries and cries, until she can cry no more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  It’s early afternoon and the shops in Bath are heaving. Having saved Jan from
an untimely death and then rushed back to the studio to explain to my listeners why I had suddenly gone AWOL and was unable to take their calls, I left Jeff and Liam in charge to man the rest of the show.

  So here I am in the changing room, in the shopping mall, standing in my undies and looking like I am talking to myself, when I’m actually on my shopping expedition with Ange. So that I don’t look as though I’m a mad woman, talking to herself, in her undies, I have attached one of those Bluetooth gadgets to my ear, so that when I’m talking to her in my role as fashion stylist, it actually looks as though I’m having a conversation with the living, rather than a dead person.

  We’re in H&M now, trying on outfits – well, I say we, but actually all the sales girls have seen is me going into the changing rooms with armfuls of clothes that are a) too big for me and b) nothing that I would be seen dead in, but then I’m not the dead one, am I?

  ‘What about this?’ Ange says, as she twirls around the all too small communal changing room in a pair of black and pink polka-dot leggings, a turquoise vest top and an orange tutu.

  ‘Lovely – if you’re five years old.’

  ‘I think I look gorgeous!’ Ange admires herself in front of the mirror, which incidentally doesn’t show her reflection to anyone else. I thought it was only vampires that happened to – you learn something new every day, don’t you.

  ‘Try this.’ I hand Ange an outfit of a just above the knee skirt, a white t-shirt with gold buttons on the shoulders and a pair of blue and white polka-dot shoes. Ange holds the items up against her.

  ‘I’ll look like a friggin sailor! All I need is a bloody sailor’s hat to complete the look!’

  ‘Well, it’s a darn sight better than what you chose,’ I retort, just as three teenage girls enter the changing room. I wish I’d put on better undies than the off-white bra and knickers I’m standing in.

  I must look and sound like a right nut job, holding up garments for Ange to try on. She has a nifty little trick where I only have to show her the clothes I’ve chosen and she can transfer the images of them on to herself. How handy is that? Just imagine, you could just look at something and ‘poof’, you’re all dressed, although we have discovered that I have to have the items next to her in order for her to duplicate them and they have to be in the same size as her body. We found this out when Ange tried to magic herself into a size eight, lemon crop top, which covered just one of her ample boobs.