All that was about to change.
‘Oh, ye of little faith,’ thought Steve.
He watched them frown and humph as they wondered if it was worth their while being here at all. But Steve suspected that their irritation would not last for long.
Another minute or so and two men were shown into the studio; one a tall man with sandy hair and glasses, the other an older man; bald, glasses and a bushy, stark-white beard. The assistant directed the white-haired man to a chair on the stage. The other man was invited to take a chair to one side where, like Steve, he could watch the proceedings but would play no part in them. However, as the two men looked around the studio they caught sight of Psimon and Steve and came across to speak with them.
‘Psimon,’ said the white-haired man, waving Psimon down when he made to stand.
‘Mr Randi,’ said Psimon looking up at the elderly man. ‘Thank you for coming.’
James Randi laughed, his sharp eyes sparkling.
‘Like you could have kept me away,’ he said.
He reached down to shake Psimon’s hand warmly.
‘Thank you for the invitation,’ he said.
‘You’re welcome,’ said Psimon.
Randi looked at Psimon a moment longer. Then he patted his hand and turned to Steve.
‘Mr Brennus,’ he said extending his hand.
‘Mr Randi,’ said Steve. ‘Jeff,’ he added turning to shake the hand of Jeff Wag, the manager from the Randi Foundation.
‘I hear you’re quite the hero,’ said Randi without any hint of cynicism.
Steve blushed and started to object but Randi just smiled. ‘I think they’re nearly ready for us,’ he said as the studio assistants began to look in their direction.
Psimon started to rise from his chair, reaching for the walking stick that lay against it.
‘If you’ll allow me…’ said Randi extending his arm for Psimon to take.
Psimon glanced down at Steve.
‘Go get ’em psyche-boy,’ said Steve with a smile and Psimon limped onto the stage and into the glare of the studio lights.
As Psimon made his way up onto the stage Steve sighed and took out his mobile phone. He could put it off no longer, indeed he could not bear to put it off any longer. He would call Christine and tell her that he would be home tonight.
‘I’m sorry sir.’ The studio assistant leaned across to Steve. ‘We’re about to go on air… You’ll have to go outside if you want to make a call.’
Steve raised his eyes and put away his phone.
‘Something important, Mr Brennus?’
Steve started at the sudden voice.
‘Mr Chatham!’ he said as the civil servant sat down beside him. ‘Err... no,’ he said, referring to the disallowed phone call then… ‘Yes,’ he amended quickly. ‘It can wait another hour,’ he concluded feeling flustered.
Chatham just smiled.
‘Not started yet then?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Steve. ‘They’re just… What are you doing here?’ he interrupted himself, feeling a familiar sense of suspicion at such unexpected events.
‘I’m here to start my new job,’ said Chatham.
Steve looked none the wiser.
‘Psimon asked me if I would consider managing his affairs,’ said Chatham. ‘His life is about to become considerably more complicated.’
‘Psimon offered you a job?’ Steve felt surprised and strangely piqued.
‘He did.’
‘And you said yes?’
‘I did.’
Steve turned to look at Psimon who was being given some direction as to what was about to happen.
‘I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for,’ he said.
‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ said Chatham cheerfully.
Steve was about to speak again when the lights in the studio came up and the shouts rang out that they were ready to go on air.
It did not appear to be going well but Steve was not worried because, whenever he looked across at him, Psimon did not appear to be worried. They had introduced him as ‘the world’s first psychic’ and most of the press agencies had reacted with predictable scepticism. Steve had just smiled. He knew they would be convinced. They just had to ask the right questions.
‘So what makes you different from the thousands of other psychics in the world,’ asked the man from Fox News.
Psimon just smiled and was about to speak when Randi leaned across.
‘If I may,’ he asked and Psimon responded with a nod.
‘What makes Psimon different,’ said Randi. ‘Is that he can do the things he says he can do. He is a genuine psychic.’
The journalists were paying attention now but they were still far from convinced.
‘A few days ago,’ Randi went on. ‘Psimon came to be tested at the James Randi Educational Foundation.’ He paused. ‘There Psimon was able to demonstrate his psychic ability under carefully controlled conditions.’
The journalists had begun to frown. It was starting to dawn on them that this might just be for real.
‘Are we supposed to take your word for it?’ asked one.
‘Do you have any proof?’ asked another.
‘We have video evidence,’ said Randi.
‘What psychic ability did he demonstrate?’
Randi looked at Psimon who gave him another small nod. He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a small glass tube that Steve instantly recognised. ‘This steel rod is sealed inside a glass tube.’ He held it up for all to see. ‘Psimon was able to bend a similar metal rod in a similar glass tube without touching it.’
‘Wouldn’t it break the glass if the rod bent?’ asked one of the journalists.
Randi nodded. ‘Psimon removed the rod from the tube, with his mind, before bending it into shape.’
Eyebrows went up, lips were pursed but still they had no reason to believe.
‘What shape did he bend it into?’
Randi smiled and again he looked to Psimon for consent. He reached once more into his pocket only this time he pulled out a steel rod that had been formed into a perfect circle.
Some of the journalists seemed impressed but they would not be doing their job if they had left it there.
‘How do we know this isn’t just a setup… a publicity stunt?’
Randi inclined his head. In their position he would suspect the same.
‘What about a demonstration?’
The suggestion came from the back of the room and was quickly taken up by several others.
The person chairing the press conference sat forward.
‘I’m afraid we can’t ask Psimon to…’
‘It’s okay,’ said Psimon in that quiet, arresting tone of his. ‘If I were them I would expect no less.’
The chairman sat back in his seat, the doubt written large across his face.
‘Mr Randi, if I may…’ said Psimon coming out from behind the table.
Randi placed the circle of steel in Psimon’s palm and smiled as if he were thoroughly enjoying this.
Psimon turned to the room full of journalists.
‘Mr Tyler,’ he said to the man from Sky News. ‘If you could please hold this so that everyone can see it.’
The man from Sky News seemed surprised that Psimon should know his name but he was not about to miss the opportunity to raise the profile of his network. He jumped up and took the circle from Psimon.
‘It’s okay,’ said Psimon. ‘You can bring the cameras in.’
It was clear that the floor staff had not expected a close-up demonstration.
‘The boy’s a natural,’ thought Steve with a smile.
Psimon waited until everything was ready and everyone was settled. He smiled slightly at the wall of rapt faces. Then he glanced at the circle of steel.
The room erupted in a collective gasp of astonishment.
The Sky News man had flinched and almost dropped it when the metal began to change its shape. No
w his hand shook as he tried to hold it steady for the cameras to get a good clear look.
What had been a perfect circle was now a perfect square.
‘Smart arse!’ thought Steve at Psimon’s use of the ancient metaphor for the impossible.
‘Mr Brennus.’
Steve turned at the sudden voice beside him. One of the production staff was leaning down over the back of his chair.
‘Your wife and daughter are outside,’ the young woman said over the hubbub of excited voices in the room. ‘Would you like me to show them in or would you rather speak to them outside.’
‘My wife and daughter?’ said Steve as if he did not understand what the woman had just said.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘They’re waiting outside. Would you like me to show them in?’
Steve had never felt so flustered, confused and nervous in his entire life.
‘I… err… yes… show them in please.’
He rose from his seat and Chatham gave him a reassuring smile as he moved to the side of the room, away from the lights and the intense interest that was now focussed on the stage. He waited near the door while the studio assistant popped outside. His heart was hammering in his chest as he tried to think of what he was going to say but then the door opened and Christine and Sally were there.
Steve glanced down at his little girl; her eyes were still ringed with yellow bruising. He put a hand to his mouth as the tears sprang to his eyes. But then his wife came to him and wrapped her arms around him and nothing else mattered. Not the money, not the business, not the pain in his broken ribs. All that mattered was his wife and his little girl.
Steve crouched down and looked at Sally. He held out his hand to her but still she hesitated. Christine reached back and put an encouraging hand on her shoulder and finally Sally moved. She threw herself at her daddy and melted against his chest. Steve held her, enfolded her in his great strong arms. He buried his face against the soft skin of her neck and breathed in the smell of her hair. He did not speak… he could not speak.
Finally Sally pushed away from him.
‘Did someone hurt you, daddy?’ she asked reaching out a slender little finger to trace the cuts and bruises on his face.
‘Yes they did,’ managed Steve through the tightness in his throat.
‘Was that because you were naughty?’
Steve looked puzzled. He glanced up at Christine.
‘She thinks you hit her because she was naughty,’ said Christine, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
‘Oh God,’ said Steve with a shuddering gulp.
‘You shouldn’t sneak about and listen to other people’s conversations,’ said Sally looking down at her shoes.
Steve was lost for words but not for tears. He clasped his daughter to his chest and when he could he whispered to her… ‘You were not naughty darling,’ he said. ‘You did nothing wrong. Daddy was naughty for losing his temper and hitting the door.’ He held Sally gently away from him and looked into her big green eyes. ‘And I am sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m very, very sorry.’
Sally looked at him for a moment. ‘That’s okay, daddy,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t hurt anymore.’
Steve reached out to hold her some more then he stood to kiss his wife. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry for everything.’
‘It’s okay,’ said Christine putting her palm against his bruised face.
‘No it’s not,’ said Steve. ‘I left you with everything, with barely a word.’
Christine seemed puzzled.
‘Steve, it’s okay,’ she said.
‘No,’ he insisted. ‘You had Sally to deal with… and Paul… and the bank… the solicitors…’
Christine looked as if Steve had lost his senses.
‘Have they been giving you a hard time?’ Steve asked her.
‘Ha… no,’ laughed Christine as if nothing could be further from the truth.
Now it was Steve’s turn to look puzzled.
‘The bank phoned me last week to see if we still wanted the loan after making such a large deposit.’
Steve frowned.
‘Large deposit?’ he said. Thinking that fifteen thousand pounds did not seem that large.
‘Yes,’ said Christine. ‘From America... some educational foundation or something.’
Steve just looked at her as the penny dropped.
‘A million dollars,’ said Christine excitedly. ‘Steve, that’s over half a million pounds.’
Steve’s voice seemed to have deserted him once more.
‘However did you wangle that one?’ asked Christine. ‘What’s the interest like? When do we need to pay it back?’
Steve did not answer at first. He just turned to look across the studio to the young man fielding the barrage of questions from overexcited journalists. And as he did so Psimon glanced up. Just for a second he looked at Steve with his stone grey eyes then he nodded and smiled as if to say ‘you’re welcome’.
‘I don’t think we need to pay it back,’ said Steve turning back to his wife.
‘What?’ said Christine ‘I don’t understand.’
‘It’s a long story,’ said Steve. ‘I should have called to tell you what was going on… I shouldn’t have just walked out like that.’
‘But you didn’t,’ said Christine. ‘There were the flowers…’
‘Flowers?’
‘Yes,’ said Christine, fishing inside her pocket for the note that she had kept. ‘And the Nemo toy for Sally.’
Steve took the note and read it…
Hi darling.
So very sorry for what happened. Please tell Sally that it wasn’t her fault and that daddy was very naughty for losing his temper. Just had a call from someone who could get us out of the mess we’re in but I need to go away for a few days. Don’t try me on the mobile, the network doesn’t cover this region. Will be in touch when I can.
See you a week on Tuesday.
Love Steve
PS Give Nemo a kiss for me
Even his signature was exactly right.
‘I was desperate to speak to you,’ Christine went on. ‘But there were your texts and your colleague called us to let us know you were okay.’
‘My colleague?’ said Steve.
‘Psimon,’ said Christine. ‘He called us several times.’
Steve put a hand to his forehead.
‘He sounds like such a nice young man.’
Steve turned once again to look at Psimon on the stage. The press conference was being brought to a close. Psimon was being ushered from the stage; Chatham stood beside him. Then the chairman addressed the room.
‘Thank you… thank you…’ he said as he struggled to quieten the excitement in the room. ‘That’s all we have time for just now.’
There was a collective groan of disappointment from the world’s press.
‘You will have the chance for more questions in just over a week’s time.’
The journalists simmered down a little at this.
‘From here Psimon will be going to the research facility at Portland Down, where an international symposium has been convened to begin the study of his remarkable abilities…’
Steve felt a sudden wrench as he realised that Psimon was moving out of his life.
‘Who is that?’ asked Christine as she stood with her arm around her husband.
Steve lifted Sally so that she could also see.
‘That…’ he said, ‘is Psimon.’
‘Your colleague?’ said Christine in surprise. ‘The guy that’s been calling us?’
‘That’s right,’ said Steve. ‘He’s the one who arranged the money.’
‘But where are they taking him?’ asked Christine as Psimon was bustled from the room.’
‘He’s off to meet some of the top minds in the world,’ said Steve. ‘But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get a chance to thank him.’
‘Well I can thank him a week on Friday,’ said Christine.
‘What?’ said Steve
.
‘I invited him to dinner,’ said Christine. ‘I was going to do lamb.’
Steve just stared after Psimon as he disappeared through the door at the far side of the studio.
‘Who is he?’ asked Christine, for it was clear that Psimon was more than just a colleague of Steve’s.
‘He’s a psychic,’ said Steve.
‘What?’ said Christine. ‘A real psychic?’
‘Yep,’ said Steve. ‘The first and only.’
Epilogue
Friday March 18th
‘Stop fretting,’ said Steve as he stood with Sally and Christine at the foot of their drive.
‘But I’m nervous,’ said Christine. ‘He can read people’s minds… what if I fancy him?’
Steve just laughed as the car pulled up beside them.
‘How’s it going freak?’ he said as Psimon emerged from the back seat of the car. He crossed the pavement to greet his friend. ‘The men in white coats figured out what’s wrong with you yet?’
Psimon smiled as he took Steve’s hand.
‘Terminal case, I’m afraid,’ he said.
Steve laughed and after a brief appraising look the two men embraced and held each other tight.
‘It’s good to see you looking well,’ said Steve as two young boys ran up to them.
‘Are you the psychic man?’ one of them asked.
Psimon and Steve exchanged a look of amusement.
‘Yes I am,’ said Psimon.
‘Told you,’ said one of the boys.
‘Can we have your autograph?’ said the other.
Psimon looked embarrassed but Steve just laughed.
‘You’ve only yourself to blame,’ he said.
Psimon looked round for something to write with then turned to the car as the driver’s window car slid down.
‘Thanks Ben,’ said Psimon as the driver held out a pen and a piece of paper.
Psimon leaned on the car to sign the piece of paper.
‘And yours too,’ said one of the boys, looking up at Steve. ‘You’re the one who caught that killer, the SAS man.’
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