‘I suppose,’ I shrug.
‘So you promise me you will close the door on them when you get off the phone. Watch some TV, take the phone off the hook and just relax,’ she advises.
‘Yes boss. I’ll call you tomorrow. And Miracle?’
‘Yes, my love.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re very welcome.’
I do as I’m told. Miracle’s right. I can’t keep worrying about people who are not in the real world. I apologise to Amy and Ange and explain that I have to close the door on the spirit world just for the night, but promise to be back in the morning. I put another selection of fresh vegetables on the window sills, just in case Clive decides to pay another impromptu visit, and then I snuggle up on the sofa with all the kittens to watch the telly. As I flick through the channels something catches my eye. MTV are showing the Vibe Awards. The Vibe Awards? Wasn’t Jack … oh my God, I completely forgot that tonight Jack is playing at the awards. That’s what he must have been phoning about. Bloody hell! And there was I babbling on and on to him about my own worries. I completely forgot that tonight was his night. I turn the volume up.
After a few tracks from a band called Little Green Cells, the camera pans round to the crowd. There are numerous banners held up with different band names on them, several with Otherwise written in huge letters, but the one that catches my eye is the one that shouts, ‘I Love You, Jack!’ and my heart does a flip. I should be the one in the crowd holding that sign. I shouldn’t be here, worrying about people who are pulse-less and therefore technically not here. I should be with Jack, doing normal things like standing in a crowd full of adoring fans, screaming his name and feeling very smug that he’s all mine.
‘And now, let’s welcome the new, up and coming band to the stage. It’s Otherwise!’ the presenter, clad from head to toe in black leathers, shouts out to the crowd. And the crowd goes wild, screaming and shouting.
And there his is. My man. Dressed in his favourite, ‘If you were a shoe, what shoe would you be?’ t-shirt and ripped jeans, guitar slung casually around his waist and embracing the atmosphere. He’s loving it, and as he plays the first chord to the band’s first hit he knows he has the audience eating out of his hand.
I was right. He doesn’t need me. This is where he belongs: on stage with millions of adoring fans worshipping him. Not with a neurotic fiancée who spends her days talking to dead peeps.
Tears roll down my cheeks as his voice belts out track after track. The audience go wild for more and the band love it. Even Dillon, who, it has to be said, could turn milk sour just by looking at it is enjoying the adoration – between you and me, if he was a Spice Girl he’d be Moody Spice.
As they come to the end of the next track, Jack looks right into the camera, as if he’s a pro.
‘Thank you, you’re too kind!’ He winks his cheeky wink. ‘Right, our last song tonight is for one very special lady out there. This lady has been the best thing that has ever happened to me and I’m sorry to say, girls, I don’t care what our management company says, I’m getting married to her in a few weeks’ time. This is our new single, ‘Loves Me Too’. Sam, this is for you, kid.’
Jack strikes a long chord on his guitar, then he sings.
‘You’re the woman of my dreams, you’re my wish upon a star, you’re my rock, my soul mate rolled into one, from my thoughts you’re never far …’
I’m a mess. Snot is pouring from my nose in great long dribbles and I can barely focus on the screen due to the copious tears that have clouded my vision. I’m a blubbering wreck as I watch my fiancé not only dedicate his song to me, but sing it with so much passion and announce to the world that we are getting married. Am I one lucky girl, or what?
In the background I can hear Ange and Amy sobbing their socks off too.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
‘So, you’re telling me that with your wedding just two weeks away, you’re going on an all-night, celebrity ghost hunt?’ Annette says between mouthfuls of Death by Chocolate cake. ‘Are you mad?’
It’s my turn to visit Annette who is bored out of her mind, on bed rest. She’s been advised by the doctor not to go back to work until the baby is born, so is reliant on me to keep her up to date with all that is going on at Town FM. Between me, Jeff and Liam the Sixth Sense show has continued to be on air. And talking of Jeff: since Annette’s scare, he has been the perfect father-to-be. He’s insisting on doing everything for her and while this is very endearing (including the proposal of marriage), it’s doing nothing but drive Annette round the bend. As Annette says, while it’s all very romantic to be waited upon hand and foot, the chemistry just isn’t there between them. It’s a bit like pairing Mr Bean up with Lady Gaga, and I have a funny feeling that Jeff is going to be disappointed before long.
‘Well, it’s part of my contract with Living Today TV. I’ve already refused to do an investigation into a missing little girl because I didn’t think I could cope with it, so I kind of felt obliged to do the celebrity ghost hunt thing this weekend, despite still having to chase up guests who haven’t RSVPd to their invites.’ I huff. Once upon a time I was a reasonable woman. These days I’m turning into an obsessive bridezilla thanks to this wedding.
‘Besides, it could be fun. I have a right mixed bunch. The line up’s better than any celebrity Big Brother – I have a glamour model, a children’s TV presenter from the eighties, a disgraced MP, and someone called Wilmore Pentlebrair, whoever he might be.’
‘Oh, that’s that TV chef who had an affair with that guy that played cricket for England, oh, what’s his name? It’ll come to me. I think this baby has already taken half of my brain cells.’ Annette sighs. ‘Anyway, let me know how you get on. How’s your mother now?’
‘As mad as ever, but we seem to have contained the Bob Marley impersonations. She’s fine so long as we keep her away from a set of bongos. I’m just hoping that once the spirits have been to the wedding, they will quietly go home, like the rest of the guests, and let me get on with my life.’
‘We are going to have so much fun tonight, Amy,’ I hear Ange whisper as I get out of my car at the ‘secret location’, which is in fact an old mental hospital situated in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t know this place even existed, but according to my research notes, it was a nineteenth century asylum where if you went in, you never came back out again. Rumour has it that no one will buy it due to the paranormal activity going on in there, so it’s an ideal location for a selection of wimpy celebs then. Having accepted that I can hear and see dead people and do so on a daily basis, the biggest thing that scares me these days is a spider in the bath. It’s the living you have to worry about, not the dead.
‘Now you two, I want you to behave yourselves, is that clear?’ I whisper to Ange and Amy. I have to say, Amy is taking this coma business very well. After spending a day crying about how she looks back in the hospital – they had to take her false nails off along with all her make-up and hair extensions – and realising that there really is very little that she can do at the moment until her body repairs itself, she’s adjusting remarkably well to being in what she calls ‘no-woman’s land’, and despite their spats, Ange has kindly taken her under her wing and by all accounts is showing her the ropes of what it’s like ‘up there’. That’s not to say that Amy doesn’t freak out from time to time; I mean, wouldn’t you, if you didn’t know whether you were dead or alive?
‘Don’t know what you mean, do we, Amy?’ Ange laughs.
Hum, I don’t know what Ange has up her batwing sleeves, but whatever it is, it sounds mischievous.
‘OK, hello and thank you for braving the elements tonight and welcome to Oaklands hospital,’ I say to the freezing celebs, who are wrapped up against the bitter wind; well, aside from Suki, the glamour model, who I have to say has the most amazing breasts I have ever seen, which peep suggestively over the top of a tiny yellow crop top. Benny, the ex-children’s TV presenter, already looks white and I have a feeling it’
s not because it’s just three degrees out here. The disgraced MP, Kenneth Bowerman, is already so bored he’s busy texting on his iPhone, and Wilmore Pentlebrair – do you think that’s his real name? Nah, me neither – is checking his reflection in one of the many windows that grace Oaklands, brushing his bushy eyebrows down and checking for nose hair.
‘Holy crap!’ he suddenly shouts, ‘did you see that?’ The TV chef points to the window and takes a step back, bumping into Suki’s breasts.
‘Ow! Watch where yer going, will ya!’ Suki shouts.
‘Did you see that? Did you get that on camera?’ Wilmore shouts at the crew, who already look fed up at the prospect of following four Z-list celebrities around all night with a camera and a cardioid microphone. The crew shake their heads in unison, as they adjust the settings on their equipment.
‘Hee, hee!’ I hear Ange giggle.
‘I thought we were here to ghost hunt?’ Wilmore-angry-chef rants. I think he believes he’s Gordon Ramsey.
‘Did you see something then, Wilma?’ Suki laughs, her ample bosoms jiggling as she does so.
‘I saw a horrible face in the window, staring back at me!’
‘Sure it wasn’t your reflection?’ Kenneth laughs.
‘No, it was not my reflection, you moron. I saw it with my own eyes and if this bloody crew got their act together …’
‘Okay, right, let’s stop the name calling and act like grown-ups, shall we?’ I say, clapping my hands together like a primary school teacher trying to control a group of nine-year-olds.
‘Right, as I was saying, we are here tonight at this wonderful building to see if there is any paranormal activity …’
‘Err, hello? What does that count as then if it’s not paranormal activity?’ Angry chef rants again. This guy is really peeing me off now.
‘Mr Pentlebrair, I’m sorry we missed your ghostly encounter, but I’m sure there will be many more to experience this evening. Now, if I may continue?’
The director goes for another take and I carry on with my introduction to the celebs, doing my best to create a suitably spooky atmosphere by emphasising the history of the building and the reported hauntings that have happened over the years. There’s a lot of waiting around for it to get really dark and eventually we’re allowed into the building, where they have set up infrared cameras all over the place. We make our way to a room on the first floor, which was originally the solitary room where disturbed patients were kept in isolation for days on end, with no food or water – it’s no wonder they went mad. Tonight this room is to become our séance room and a round table with five chairs is the only furniture in the sparse room.
‘This is so exciting!’ Benny, the kids’ TV presenter, whispers excitedly to Kenneth, who just sighs as though wishing he was back at his desk fiddling his expenses, rather than standing in a freezing mental hospital, waiting for ghosts to show. But hey, beggars can’t be choosers, can they? If you’re going to screw the public out of their money and get caught, you have to accept that your future source of income is going to consist of appearing on reality shows like this. I bet you anything his agent is in talks with the producers of I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here as we speak.
I eventually get the part participants to sit down in a circle and hold hands.
‘Ow! Your bloody nails are digging into me!’ Angry chef complains about Suki’s long talons.
‘Oh, sorry, love,’ Suki says with a gleaming white smile, and jiggles her breasts by way of an apology. You’re wasting your time doing that, love, I think.
‘I love the colour of her nails, don’t you, Amy? Sam? Ask her what colour that is,’ I hear Ange say. Not right now, Ange. I need to get on with the séance, I say in my head.
‘Right, if you can all keep the link and close your eyes,’ I say, as I close my own eyes. I’m praying this doesn’t go like the WI séance and I end up with a whole bunch of mental spirits roaming around the earth plane.
‘Then perhaps it would be a good idea to close the circle properly this time, eh?’ Ange says. ‘You’ll never guess what she did, or to put it correctly, didn’t do, the last time she held a séance, Amy …’
Yeah, OK, thanks for your support, Ange! I ask any spirits to come forward and we wait.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
I can hear Suki and Benny giggling and I open one eye and stare at them both with it.
‘Watch this,’ Ange suddenly says.
‘Waaa! What was that?’ Wilmore Pentlebrair shouts, looking around him, his moustache twitching as if it has a life of its own.
‘Someone blew in my ear! Was that you?’ he asks Kenneth, who is seated next to him.
I stifle a laugh, knowing full well just who is responsible for blowing in the chef’s ear.
Ange, stop that, I think.
‘What?’ Ange replies, innocently.
I tut to myself. Right, let’s get on with the show then. In my limited experience of working on TV, I don’t think viewers are going to be enthralled with blowing in someone’s ear, do you? They want to see these celebs jump out of their skins at the very least.
I have to admit that I’m a little petrified as to just who might come through, seeing as we’re in a disused mental asylum. Mind you, I am a trained psychologist, which is always a bonus, I guess.
‘Is there anyone there?’ I say as spookily as I can.
The temperature in the room drops suddenly and the table starts to shake slightly – and no one human is moving it.
‘Uh-oh!’ Ange and Amy say in unison.
Uh-oh indeed. I open my eyes to see the room full of ghostly figures – and mental ones at that. I know this from the insane grins they are displaying to me. Talk about the lunatics taking over the asylum! Within seconds they’ve gone again. Disappeared into thin air.
‘Uh-oh!’ Ange says.
It’s like that film, Casper the Friendly Ghost. The hospital patient spirits have all whizzed off in different directions. Oh heck, I hope this isn’t going to turn into a mammoth ghost chase. When I first came to look around the old hospital, I asked the spirits if it was OK to visit. I mean, how would you like it if your home was suddenly taken over by a film crew? I think they were all cool about it, but we will see. You never can tell. What I do know is that more often than not, spirits are more than happy to have a bit of company and provide a bit of light-hearted entertainment for us mere earth mortals, but as with any good party, there’s always one that takes things a bit too far at times, which is why I’m feeling a wee bit nervous.
‘Right, ladies and gentlemen, I think we have some paranormal activity here at Oaklands, so we are going to divide up into pairs.’
‘Ooo missus!’ Benny says. ‘Suki, you’ve already got a lovely pair, haven’t you!’ he titters. You’ve got to love him, haven’t you? He’s like a ten-year-old boy trapped in the body of a forty-five-year-old.
‘Come on, Benny, I’ll keep you warm; we’ll pair up together.’ Suki giggles, linking arms with Benny.
‘Huh, I supposed that means I’m with him then, does it?’ Wilmore huffs.
‘What do you mean by that?’ MP Kenneth snaps in a rather, bitchy kind of way.
‘Nothing. I didn’t mean anything by it.’
‘So why did you say it then?’
‘OK, can we just move out of this room?’ I shout above the argument. I feel sick and tired and wish they would just shut up. ‘Suki, if you and Benny can follow Scot our camera tech, he will get you rigged up with some infrared equipment and you two will be going into the surgery room. Kenneth and Wilmore, you two will be sent to the chambers downstairs. You will all have cameras and microphones attached to you, so if you do experience anything, it will get picked up.’ I smile, wondering what the spirits have up their sleeves tonight.
I do my best impression of Yvette Fielding to the camera and explain the history of Oaklands and the reasons why the old asylum has never been sold.
‘Um, hello? Excuse me? Can we start now?’ A voice c
omes into my head.
‘Who are you?’ I ask quietly.
‘Oh, sorry, dear, I’m Elsie. Elsie Colleridge. I’m a ghost, dear,’ the well-spoken woman says. ‘I don’t like to ask, it’s just that the rest of them are getting a bit restless over here and we wondered when you would like us to start … you know, the hauntings?’
‘Oh, err, yes, carry on, but can I just make one thing clear?’
‘Yes, dear?’
‘No one is to get hurt or scared to death, and once we finish filming, you all go back into the realm,’ I insist.
‘Of course, dear’ Elsie replies. ‘I was like you once, you know,’ she muses. ‘I was a medium. I told them I could hear voices, I knew things they didn’t. They didn’t believe me, of course. They locked me up in here because they thought I was mad. I never got released.’
‘Aww!’ I hear Ange and Amy chorus,
‘That’s awful,’ I whisper, just in case the crew wonder who I’m having a little chat with.
‘Ah, but I had the last laugh, didn’t I?’ Elsie says. ‘I was right. They couldn’t beat it out of me. I was right,’ she says defiantly. ‘Right, let’s get this party started!’
‘Oohh, this is going to be good,’ I hear Ange say.
‘This is bloody weird,’ Amy replies. Ain’t that the truth?
I follow the camera crew outside to the portable studio and look at the monitors that have been set up, covering every angle of the surgery room where Benny and Suki sit huddled together in the dark on a metal bench. They look like two little demon gargoyles sitting there, due to the infrared lighting.
‘So, I was thinking of going one size bigger, what do you think?’ Suki asks Benny, pushing her bosoms up for him to see in the dark. There’s already so much silicon in them, I’m surprised they’re not luminous.
Oh Great, Now I Can See Dead People Page 20
