By
Susan Wright
Christopher didn’t choose the best time to tell me he’d lived before. I was dashing around getting the living room ready for an angel party when he came downstairs in his cute doggy pyjamas and blurted out the words.
I stared at him in astonishment as he told me he could remember a woman who had been his mother before, and a tingle ran down my spine as he recalled living in a big red brick house, but there was furniture to move and nibbles to put out in the few minutes before Cassandra and my friends were due to arrive, so unfortunately I just didn’t have the time to ask him any questions or listen any more.
I had to send him back up to his room and promise him faithfully that we’d talk about it some more in the morning.
Actually, I would have happily chatted to him about it again later that night, because I’ve always been fascinated by reincarnation and his words echoed in my mind all the time Cassandra was going on about her archangels and her white feathers, but Christopher was fast asleep by the time all my friends had gone, so I looked at his beautiful chubby face, pushed his dark hair out of his eyes and went to bed feeling impatient and excited.
I woke him up quarter of an hour earlier than usual the next morning so we would have time to talk. I sat down on his bed, called his name to wake him up and broached the subject before he’d even rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
“Do you remember your other mother’s name?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he nodded. “It was Sandra.”
“Oh right,” I said. “The same name as Nana. And what did this Sandra look like?”
“I don’t know,” Christopher shrugged. “Can’t remember. She was tall and thin, I think. I can’t remember her face or her hair or anything but she always used to smell nice…and she used to cuddle me all the time.”
“Did she?” I smiled.
“Yes,” Christopher nodded, his brown eyes looking wistful. “She did, but you don’t cuddle me at all anymore, Mum.”
“Oh, Christopher,” I breathed, as my heart lurched in my chest. “I’m so sorry.”
I felt awful. Because Christopher was right. I had stopped cuddling him. I’d stopped doing a lot of things since Mike had walked out. My world had fallen apart when my marriage had come to an end and I’d been so wrapped up in my own pain that I’d been blind to how much Christopher was hurting, but the look in his eyes and the sorrow in his voice really got to me right then so I moved across the bed, took my six year old son in my arms and held him really, really tight.
I breathed in the scent of his hair, felt his warmth against my face and became overwhelmed with my love for him as tears pricked in my eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” I repeated. “I haven’t been a very good mother just lately, have I? I’ll try and do better, I promise.”
“All right,” Christopher gulped.
“I’ve been so selfish,” I whispered, as I let him go and smiled into his eyes. “But this Sandra was a good mother to you, was she?”
“Yes, she was,” Christopher nodded. “She used to take me down to the seaside. We played on the beach all the time.”
“On the beach? Do you know where this beach was, Christopher? Do you remember?”
“Yes, it was in Brighton,” Christopher replied without hesitation. “I lived in a big red brick house. Right by the sea. My name was Ashley and I had a dog… a big, black, shaggy dog.”
“Did you?” I smiled, as I tried to visualise the dog. “Did he have a name?”
“Yes, it was Benjie,” Christopher informed me.
“Benjie,” I repeated. “That’s nice. And do you know what your surname was when you were Ashley?”
“No, I don’t,” Christopher said, shaking his head, “but my other dad was called James, I think, and the house was right by the sea. It was big and red and…”
“Would you recognise it, Christopher?” I interrupted. “If we went there?”
“I think so.”
“So would you like to go and try and find it? At the weekend?”
“Yes, I think so,” my son said uncertainly, looking at me with his huge brown eyes. “Can Dad come with us, Mum?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I said, doubtfully.
“I want him to come,” Christopher insisted.
“OK,” I said quietly. “I’ll ask him.”
But even as I spoke I felt pretty sure that Mike wouldn’t come. For one thing, he’d hardly been in touch with us since he’d left. He’d called round a couple of times to pick up some things and he’d taken to phoning me once a week to make sure that Christopher was all right, but our conversations always seemed to turn into arguments somehow and the last time we’d spoken I’d slammed down the phone.
I couldn’t see that he’d want to spend any time with me and I didn’t think he’d want to drag himself away from his girlfriend... especially once he found out the reason for our trip to Brighton, but Christopher was adamant that he wanted his father to come so once I’d taken him to school and done a bit of the housework, I looked at my watch and picked up the phone, feeling pretty certain that Mike wouldn’t mind a quick call at work. I had no idea our conversation would take so long.
“Jenny,” Mike said. “What’s wrong? Is Christopher OK?”
“Yes, he’s fine,” I assured him. “But he wants to see you, Mike. He wants you to come with us to Brighton at the weekend.”
“To Brighton? Why? What’s at Brighton?”
“A big red brick house,” I explained before taking a deep breath. “Christopher reckons he lived there in a previous life. He’s been on this earth before, Mike!”
“Oh Jenny,” Mike scoffed. “You’ve been filling his head with nonsense!”
“No, I haven’t,” I said. “I’ve never talked to him about reincarnation… or anything like that.”
“Maybe not,” Mike growled. “But you’ve talked about plenty of other weird things in front of him. Ghosts and aliens and such like! I told you before I left that you were going to upset him. Now he thinks he’s been reincarnated, poor kid. He’s not old enough to cope with these things, Jenny. I’ve told you that before. I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with all this weird stuff anyway. You’re crazy! You’re…”
“At least I’m here,” I snapped. “Here for Christopher.”
“Yeah, but you’ve gone really weird, Jenny,” Mike said sadly. “Even before I went you were having crystal parties and mediums round and poor Christopher was being sent to his room. That’s not still going on, is it?”
“No,” I lied, the anger rising up inside me. “Anyway, I had to do something to fill the long, lonely evenings when you were supposedly working late!”
“You could have read,” Mike suggested. “You could have played with…”
“Anyway,” I interrupted, “we’re getting off the subject. Are you going to come with us or not?”
“No, I don’t think so…not for such a ridiculous thing.”
“But it’s not ridiculous, Mike,” I said. “Christopher really remembers a past life.”
“Yeah right,” Mike said.
“And I’ve honestly never talked to him about reincarnation,” I continued. “I don’t even know much about it myself. I recorded a programme about it a few weeks ago but I haven’t got round to watching it yet.”
“Yeah, but I bet you’ve mentioned the subject in front of him. I bet you’ve talked about it with your friends.”
“I haven’t,” I insisted. “He just came out with it, Mike. He reckons he lived in a big red house and he remembers his other mother and father. They were called Sandra and…”
“And what?” Mike asked.
“And James,” I finished weakly.
“Oh, Sandra and James,” Mike said, and I could imagine the look on his face. “Funny your parents are called exactly the same thing, isn’t it? You don’t think Christopher is making all this up, do you? Just to get a bit of attention?”
“No, I don’t,” I said firmly, pushing any doubts to the back of my mind. “He says he was called Ashley and there’s nobody in our family called that.”
“No, but there’s probably an Ashley at school and he’s just weaving all these names into a story, Jenny. He knew you’d fall for it.”
“He isn’t,” I snapped. “He said he had a big, black shaggy dog, Mike, and he says he’ll recognise the house. We might be able to work out who he was! I know you don’t want to come with us because you can’t bear to be apart from your precious Anna for five minutes at a time but Christopher and I are going to Brighton on Saturday and he’ll be really upset if you don’t come.”
“It’s nothing to do with Anna,” Mike muttered. “She and I are finished.”
“Finished!” I cried as something lurched inside me. “But you’ve only known her a few months.”
“Yes.” Mike agreed sadly, “but she wasn’t quite what I thought she was, Jenny, and… well, it’s over, that’s all. I made a mistake. I haven’t phoned you to tell you because we only split up last night but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since then and I shouldn’t have walked out on you like I did. I’m sorry. I was wrong.”
“Yeah, you were,” I spat out, bitterness overwhelming me, “but you’re only apologising because she’s dumped you.”
“No, I’m apologising because I want to come home. I miss you, Jen, and I miss Christopher too.”
“Prove it then,” I yelled down the phone. “Come with us to Brighton!”
“OK,” Mike said.
So Mike picked us up on the Saturday morning. He smiled weakly at me and gave Christopher a hug. He strapped our son in the car, sat in the driver’s seat being very careful not to touch me and set off straightaway for Brighton. He didn’t speak as we went along. He just concentrated on his driving. Christopher sat in the back looking out of the window for his big red brick house and I sat in the front gazing out of the windscreen and seeing nothing.
In some ways, it felt so right to have Mike beside me again. It reminded me of all the good times. It reminded me how much we’d been in love in the past. I glanced at his familiar profile, thought back over the early years of our relationship and wondered sadly how it all could have gone so wrong. I wondered too if I could ever forgive him. I blinked back the tears and thought about the lonely weeks we’d been apart, remembering with a pang of guilt how many times poor Christopher had been sent to his room, and then as I focused on the world outside and realised we were driving along the seafront, I turned round in my seat and smiled at my son.
“Have you seen your house yet?” I asked him.
“No,” he replied shortly.
“Oh well,” I said, “we’ve got a bit further to go yet.”
“Not much further,” Mike pointed out. “We’re…”
“It might have been pulled down,” I suggested. “The red house might not be here anymore. You don’t know how long ago it was when you were Ashley, do you, Christopher? Was it a long time ago?”
“I don’t know,” Christopher mumbled.
He looked so sad. So worried. I smiled at him again and turned back to look at Mike.
“It might have been pulled down,” I repeated. “Or…”
“Or it might have been a figment of Christopher’s imagination,” Mike said quietly.
“No, I don’t think so,” I replied. “He…”
“Oh OK,” Christopher yelled. “So I made it up!”
It turned out that Christopher had watched my programme about reincarnation. The little boy in the programme had remembered living in a big white house. He’d talked about his other family from the time he’d lived before and his mother in this life had been captivated by his every word so my little Christopher had made up a whole past life of his own so I would sit up and take notice.
He just wanted me to care.
There was no big red brick house. There had never been a black shaggy dog. Christopher didn’t remember being anybody else. But he remembered how good it had been being him before his father had walked out and I guess he just wanted to feel loved and secure again, so Mike pulled over at the side of the road and I took Christopher in my arms and hugged him. For a long, long time. Then Mike cuddled him too. I looked at my husband as he held our son, our eyes met and all of a sudden there was that old familiar buzz between us. I couldn’t help smiling. I couldn’t help feeling a lot more positive about the future.
I could forgive him, I realised. I could learn to love him again – in time.
“I’m sorry,” Christopher whispered, breaking into my thoughts.
“No, we’re sorry,” Mike said gently. “Your mother and I haven’t been very good parents lately, have we? I’m not surprised you dreamed up another mother and father.”
“And a big black shaggy dog called Benjie,” I added, with a grin.
“Benjie?” Mike frowned.
“Yes, Benjie,” Christopher nodded. “I saw a dog called Benjie on telly when I was sent to my room one night. He was lovely.”
“Was he?” Mike asked, winking at me. “And would you like a dog of your own, Christopher?”
“Yes, I would,” Christopher nodded enthusiastically, his eyes lighting up.
“Well, we’ll have to see,” Mike smiled. “I’m not making any promises, Christopher, because your mum and I need to talk about a lot of things but you might be able to have a dog. You’ve always wanted a dog too, haven’t you, Jenny?”
“Yes, I have,” I agreed. “Dogs are a lot of work though. You have to look after them all the time and you have to take them for walks. Long walks if they’re big and black and shaggy.”
“I can do that,” Christopher shouted, his eyes sparkling.
“We can all do that,” I said, looking at Mike.
Because if we were going to become a family again, it would be something we could all do together in the evenings.