Suze, an ex-rocker from the 80’s, a kind of a mixture of Suzie Quatro and Chrissie Hynde - is beautiful in a kind of mature rock-chick way, and despite being almost fifty she refuses to leave her black leather trousers at home for fancy-dress parties only. She epitomizes rock and roll, and I’m sure she could easily drink any man under the table.
I feel as though every pore in my body is oozing sweat right now as I wait and wait for Dr John to wind up talking about gross nail fungi.
A young woman with a clipboard and a headset comes in to the not-green-room and smiles at me.
‘Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it looks. I’m Tina by the way, production assistant.’
Tina holds out her slender hand. I wipe my own sweaty paw down my skirt and return the hand-shake.
‘Easier said than done.’ I say with a nervous smile.
‘You’ll be fine. Now, you’re on in ten so if you come with me, I’ll show you to the set.’ Tina instructs in a very production assistant kind of way.
She escorts me to a set that holds a small comfy chair, a matching double sofa, a table with a black silk cloth thrown over it and a huge crystal ball placed slap bang in the centre. The backdrop behind me is another black silk throw, only this time, tiny twinkling stars are dotted all over it – very pretty, despite giving it the feel of a Gypsy Rose Lee’s caravan. Oh God, I think I need the loo again!
‘You’ll be just fine,’ a man’s voice echo’s in my head. It sounds very much like my dad’s.
‘Dad? Is that you?’ I ask out loud.
‘Sorry?’ Tina says, looking at me as if I’ve gone mad.
‘Huh? Oh no, sorry. I was just…’
‘We’re on in five,’ Tina says as someone attaches a small microphone to my top, whilst another fluffs my face with a huge blusher brush.
‘Shut your mouth,’ the same voice in my head tells me and I realise that my jaw has dropped open.
‘Are you OK?’ Tina asks. I shut my mouth.
‘Err me? Yes fine.’ Please, Dad if that was you, please let this go well for me. I think of all the things that can go horribly wrong; I might freeze up, say something I shouldn’t, faint, or even worse, fart – oh no, what if I fart? Now that would be embarrassing. Why, oh why, have I agreed to do this? What if I say the wrong thing? What if I say shit on air again? It will ruin my TV career before it’s even started!
‘On in four, three, two and go!’ I hear in my ear. All my preparation has gone out the window, and I look like a rabbit caught in the headlights.
‘And if we walk over here to our specially designed mystical set, we will find Mystic Crystal and her mystic crystal ball.’ Suze says as she walks from her set and sits next down to me.
‘Crystal, hi,’ She says with easy professionalism.
‘Hello,’ I croak – I wish I had a glass of vodka to hand. Instead I have a glass of genuine BBC tap water and I take a shaky sip of it in a bid to drown the frog in my throat.
‘So,’ Suze says as she places her notes on her lap, ‘tell us how this works then. I mean, do you really hear spirits?’
‘Yes I do – sometimes,’ I add, ‘not always. I have no control over whether anyone will come through to me or not.’ Nice disclaimer, Sam.
‘And these are tarot cards?’
‘Yes, I use these as a tool to help me to connect to spirit,’ I say, trying to sound authoritative on the subject, when in fact I got all my information about why psychics use tarot cards off the web.
‘I see.’ Suze smiles a comforting smile. ‘Viewers may or may not be aware, but Crystal is a highly reputable psychic, who not only dedicates her nights to answering calls for the psychic hot-line that is Mystic Answers, she also has her own radio show on Town FM and her own website which will be coming up at the bottom of your screens shortly. Now, we have lots of callers on the line already, so we won’t waste anymore time. Let’s see Crystal do her stuff,’ Suze says excitedly.
‘Tell Suzanne to make it up with her sister before it’s too late,’ a woman’s voice comes through in my head. Oh, not again! I mentally tell whoever it is that this is not really a good time for me right now and could she possibly come back later?
Mystical music is played over a scene of tarot cards fluttering around the words ‘Ask the All Knowing Mystic Crystal’. I know this not because I am psychic but because to the left of me is a TV monitor showing exactly what the viewers can see. Suddenly I see myself come into shot and yep, I still look like Bugs Bunny with a truck heading straight for him. You know, I’m sure they’re right; TV sure piles the pounds on you.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
‘OK, so let’s not waste any time and go to our first caller. Caller number one, are you there?’ Suze asks.
‘Yes, hello Suze, hello Crystal. Great first show by the way Suze!’ A mans voice echo’s round the studio.
‘Thanks love and you are?’ Suze asks.
‘Oh sorry, yes I’m Steve.’ The man answers.
‘OK then Steve, how can Crystal help you today?’
‘Hi Crystal.’
‘Hi Steve.’ I say, thankful that this time it isn’t a voice I recognise.
‘Right, well, I wanted to ask you something really, if that’s OK?’ Steve asks.
‘Sure fire away.’ I say.
‘OK, well if, like you say, you can prove that there is life after death then why don’t you tell the spirits or whatever you like to call them that they should only take old people and let young people live their lives to the full?’ Steve asks.
Oh blimey! I just knew I would get one of those impossible-to-answer questions and I have to admit it has thrown me a bit. Why do the young die? I don’t bloody know, do I? I mean a few months ago it never even entered my head. It was only the fact that I didn’t have any money that I even wondered about there being an afterlife.
‘Oh, for fucks sake!’ a male voice comes into my head and I visibly jump. ‘Just tell the idiot that it was my time to go. I’d done everything that was planned for me and nothing would have changed it. It was my time to go.’ The voice says.
Err, who are you? I ask in my head.
‘I’m his best friend, Darren. We had a crash. He survived, I didn’t, end of story, and he’s been beating himself up about it ever since’ The voice says.
‘OK, Steve,’ I begin, ‘I know how upset you are feeling about things right now….’
‘Did your crystal ball tell you that then?’ Steve says with a huge dollop of sarcasm. Don’t you just hate it when people don’t allow you to finish a sentence?
‘No, Steve. Darren has just told me,’ I say somewhat smugly – ha, that told you didn’t it smug-ass!
‘What?’ Steve says, almost aghast.
‘I’m afraid I can’t say on air what Darren’s exact words were, but he told me that there was a car crash and that you survived and he didn’t and that you have felt guilty about it ever since.’ The line goes quiet and Suze looks at me.
‘Steve, are you still there?’ Suze asks.
‘Um, yes, yes, I’m still here,’ Steve says quietly. ‘Um, wow! Um, did he say anything else?’
‘Yes he did. He told me to tell you that nothing you could have done would have prevented it happening and that it was his time to go and nothing could change that.’ I offer.
‘Tell him to stop being a plonker and to get on with his life. All he does is sit in that flat of his and stare at the fucking walls. He’s got to snap out of it,’ Darren says in my ear.
‘He liked to swear a lot, didn’t he?’ I laugh.
‘Oh yeah,’ Steve says.
‘Well, I’ll take out the swearing, but he is telling me to tell you to stop being a bleep bleep, and to get on with your life. You have to stop sitting in your flat staring at the bleeping walls.’ I add.
‘Oh, right,’ Steve says.
‘Does all this make sense to you, Steve?’ Suze asks to camera one.
‘Yeah. God yeah.’
‘Would you like to share with us?�
� Suze encourages Steve like a professional counsellor coaxing a client to open up, ‘Would you like to talk about Darren, Steve?’
‘Daz and me have been best friends since primary school,’ he says. ‘We went everywhere together. We were both involved in a car crash six months ago… I was driving,’ Steve says quietly. ‘I wasn’t drink driving or anything like that,’ he adds. ‘I took a bend too quickly and flipped the car. When I got out Darren wasn’t moving.’ He says.
Suze nods sympathetically to the camera. I feel as though I’m about to burst into tears.
‘Don’t you start fucking crying too!’ Darren says in my head. ‘Tell him I’m always around him, oh, and to clear that shit-hole of a flat up!’ He laughs.
‘Steve?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Darren says he is always around you and, again bleeping out the unsuitable words, he says to clean your bleeping flat up. It’s a right mess.’ I laugh.
‘Yeah, it is a bit.’ Steve agrees.
‘A bit? It looks like a fucking hand-grenade went off in there!’ Darren says.
‘Well, Darren says it’s a bit more than a mess.’ I laugh.
‘Yeah.’ Steve says.
‘So, does that answer your question, Steve?’ Suze asks with a warm smile.
‘Yeah man! You’re one cool dude Crystal.’ Steve says.
I don’t think I’ve ever been called a dude before and a cool one at that!
‘Well, thank you for sharing with us Steve and do as Crystal…and Darren says and get that flat tidied up and get out there and live your life.’ Suze says.
‘Well done Crystal. So obviously you can prove to us that there is life beyond the one that we currently know, but do you often find that you have to prove this before people will take you seriously?’ Suze asks me.
‘It seems so, doesn’t it?’ I say with a chuckle. I don’t say that I have no idea how all this psychic stuff works or that I only ever got into this because I was so desperate for cash or the fact that I am still getting used to hearing voices in my head.
‘Well, you certainly proved it for Steve!’ Suze laughs. ‘Now shall we go straight to our next caller? Caller number two are you there?’
‘Hello, yes I’m here.’ A female voice says.
‘And you are?’ Suze asks.
‘Michelle.’ The caller says.
‘Right then, Michelle, what can Crystal do for you today?’
‘I’d quite like a reading please.’ Michelle asks.
Michelle sounds as though she is in her thirties and clearly very shy.
‘OK Michelle, I’ll pass you on to Crystal.’ Suze says.
‘Hi Michelle. Is there anything specific you would like me to concentrate on?’
‘Well, um yes. I’m not sure whether I should do something or not.’
‘OK, well don’t tell me anything else and let’s see what I can get.’ I say – Ooh, I’m getting good at this!
I deal out seven cards from my well-worn pack of cards and one by one I turn them over. The gypsy-style top they’ve put me in is made of some sort of itchy material and keeps scratching my skin. I bet I’ll end up with a bloody great big rash the size of Poland by the end of the show. I look puzzled by the cards for a moment. They are all female cards.
‘She’s one of those lesbians.’ a voice says to me. Thankfully I’ve managed to prevent myself from shouting out shit, fuck, or other suitable shock-induced profanities when I hear voices in my head and merely sit there with my gob open.
‘She is you know,’ the woman’s voice in my head insists. ‘That’s why you’ve got all those frilly cards. She hasn’t come out of the wardrobe yet.’ Closet. It’s closet not wardrobe, I say in my head.
‘Crystal?’ Suze says, ‘Are you OK?’
Suze has every reason to question as I have this inane grin on my face.
‘Sorry, yes, I’m fine. Um, right Michelle.’ I add, trying to think of where I left off. ‘OK, this decision you’re not sure about deciding on…’ God, how do I say this? ‘…Well I have an idea of what it is, but I don’t think you want me to state it on air, do you?’ I venture.
‘Um… well, if it’s what it is, then no, I’d rather you didn’t.’
‘OK, well if I just said it’s to do with a woman and a special woman at that, would that be correct?’
‘Yes, that’s correct.’ Michelle says somewhat hesitantly.
‘Right, well the cards are telling me that you should take the chance and go for it…’
‘Tell her she’s a long time dead,’ the woman’s voice giggles and I find it hard not to laugh. ‘Her aunt Lilly was one of those you know. Never told anyone, mind you. Wasn’t done in our day, but everyone knew about it.’
‘I’m also being told you’re a long time dead and that your auntie Lilly had the same…um…situation as you have now. Don’t take any notice of anyone else and follow your dreams, Michelle.’ I add.
Michelle gasps.
‘You’re right. My auntie Lilly was a… Did have the same problem. I know that because I remember my mum and dad talking about it.’
I actually feel very sorry for Michelle. Despite us living in a modern society and for all our claims of freedom of sexuality, it is still a very difficult thing to do to, ‘come out the wardrobe’, as my dead friend so eloquently puts it.
‘Thank you so much, you’ve made my day.’ Michelle says, her voice sounding so much happier than when she first phoned in.
‘You’re very welcome.’ I smile most sincerely into the camera – I can’t believe I just did that!
After taking twelve more calls and being asked everything from careers advice to ‘is there life on Mars?’ my debut is over. I slump lifeless into the comfy chair whilst Suze waltzes over to another set to introduce a woman who is an expert in big butts and is describing what style skirt a big butt can, and can’t, get away with without looking as though she has a big butt.
I’m still slumped in the chair when Billy introduces a band I’ve never heard of. They play as the credits for Morning Latte roll up the screen – poor buggers I bet everyone has switched over for the news now.
‘How do you feel?’ Suze asks and I open one eye to respond.
‘Bloody knackered,’ I say honestly and I do feel bloody knackered as it happens. I never knew TV work could be so exhausting! Suze hands me a cup of coffee and sits down opposite me, kicking off her biker boots to reveal a pair of purple and black stripey socks underneath.
‘I’ve heard that it can be hard work… you know connecting to spirits.’
‘It is.’ I agree. ‘Oh, before I forget. You know when you were introducing me?’
Suze nods.
‘I had a message for you, but we were about to go on air.’ I’m still a little hesitant about telling complete strangers that dead people have given me a message for them.
‘For me?’ Suze says excitedly. Good, a positive response.
‘It wasn’t much. A woman told me to tell you to make it up with your sister before it’s too late,’ I say and hold my breath. I may have opened up a can of worms here.
‘Oh,’ is all Suze says.
‘I take it you do have a sister?’
She nods.
‘We fell out when my mum died. It was over something really stupid like what sort of flowers she liked best, or something. We haven’t spoken to each other for four years now.’ She looks sad and melancholic.
‘Well, why don’t you call her, or write her a letter? Someone’s got to make the first move.’
Suze looks down at the cup in her hands.
‘Maybe I will. Thanks.’ She smiles at me. My work here is done!
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I’m well and truly knackered and my very first client, Clive, is due to come round in twenty minutes. After my first successful show, the producers have said that they want me back next Wednesday and also want to talk about the possibility of having me on five days a week. One day of travelling up to London and back I can ha
ndle, but five! I think if I agree to this then me and Missy are going to have to think about relocating, and soon.
Having done my end of month accounts, I am happy to say that I owe nothing to anyone and, believe it or not, for the first time in my life I have no credit card debts. My bank manager has probably had to cancel his holiday due to relying on the huge amount of interest he’s been raking in from all the overdrafts and credit card charges that I’ve been paying.
I am in credit with my rent to Ms. Morris. Now she just avoids me rather than threatening me with eviction, and thanks to my TV contract, which is paid in advance, I am well on my way to actually being able to save some money, rather than spending it all. Matt informs me that my website has had a hundred thousand hits in two days since I appeared on Morning Latte and he has had to transfer it to its own server to cope with all the new members signing up to join the Mystic Crystal Psychic Club. He’s had to recruit a member of staff solely to man the website and keep up with all the traffic it’s generating and they have people wanting to advertise on it coming out of their ears.
No sooner had I returned home from London than I have several messages of congratulations from family and friends all saying how professional I was – Jack wasn’t one of them, I hasten to add. He must have seen the programme, but besides me neither my mum nor Amy has heard from him for two days.
Added to this a reporter from The Daily Mirror has phoned to ask if I will do a piece on psychic attack, whatever that might be – memo to self, must ask Miracle that one – and three celebrity agents all want to represent me, one being Larry something or other who represents some of the biggest stars in show business. An agent indeed! What do I need an agent for? I wonder as I tidy the flat by fluffing cushions and chucking everything that’s on the floor into the cupboard.
My mum no longer thinks I’m working for Satan and despite some pointed remarks about too much eye-liner, I think she is actually rather proud of me being on the telly, although she still can’t understand, or doesn’t want to understand, how I have gone from being a psychology graduate to someone who talks to the dead. She didn’t say as much, but the fact that she held a ‘Samantha’s TV Debut’ Coffee Morning for some of her friends, including the influential Marjorie, who also just happens to be the Chair of the WI, speaks volumes.
Oh Great, Now I Can Hear Dead People: What Would You Do if You Could Suddenly Hear Real Dead People? Page 15
