She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she was someone different. Her voice had become lower, and her accent had changed subtly.
‘Bear with me,’ this voice said. ‘It takes me some time to get comfortable in this body. Greetings to you all. I am Walter, and I bring you salutations from the world of the spirits. I am Natasha’s spirit guide. I lived many years ago. Natasha and I, together, can work to bring you messages from your loved ones.’
I took a step back. I did not like Walter. I pictured him as a little ghost man, collecting messages from all the other ghosts and yelling them into Natasha’s brain. It felt wrong, a crack in the order of things. Everyone else leaned forward, desperate to hear what he had to say.
Out of nowhere I laughed. It was so ridiculous. I pretended it was a sneeze and Natasha came out of character for a micro-second to give me a sharp look.
‘You people, gathered in this room,’ she said, back to Walter, ‘have many loved ones. They wish to speak to you, and they are not being orderly about it.’ She stood up and held her head. ‘No! Stop! One of you, please. Just one of you. Thank you.’
Natasha sat back down. The room was silent.
‘I have a message,’ Walter’s voice said, ‘from a very persistent spirit who begins with J. Does anyone in this room have someone whose name began with J?’
Several hands went up.
‘And they want to speak to someone with a B.’
A woman was on her feet. ‘I think this is me,’ she said. She was Spanish but speaking in English; Walter clearly didn’t speak Spanish. ‘My name is Bonita, and my father … my father was Jorge.’
Natasha was silent. ‘Yes,’ she said, in Walter’s voice. ‘Jorge. I didn’t understand because he was saying he begins with J, but to my silly ears it sounds like the letter H. Exactly that. He loves you so, so much, Bonita. That is what he wishes to say. He says he’s sorry, and he loves you. Does that make sense?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Tell him I miss him every day.’
‘He has regrets about the way he died. He is sorry. So, so sorry.’
‘Yes. I’m sorry.’
‘He died suddenly. He wasn’t ready.’
‘He was ill for a long time, but … I suppose we weren’t ready for him to die on that day.’
‘Yes. He wasn’t ready either. When it came, it came suddenly, and all this time he has been hoping for an opportunity to get a message to you. That he loves you. He’s proud of you. He will be waiting for you.’
‘Is he with Luna?’
‘Yes. Luna sends you love too. She is happy!’
‘Yes! She’s my dog. She died just before he did.’
‘Exactly. They are together all the time. Luna has a new lease of life now. She is bounding around the place.’
They talked like this for a while, and I was amazed. It was a side of Natasha I had never seen properly: in fact, it didn’t seem like Natasha at all. It felt as if Walter was talking through her body, which was exactly how she said it worked. I reminded myself that she was doing this consciously. It was a trick that she had practised. It wasn’t real.
All the same, it did look convincing and I found I couldn’t look away. For the next hour I watched her giving messages from people in the afterlife, and I struggled with the feeling that, despite everything, there was something real happening here.
I knew there wasn’t.
And then I thought there was.
I didn’t know what I thought.
I watched her delivering messages to Kweli and a few other people around the room, and although – if you took away the surroundings and the theatre of it all – the messages were bland and reassuring, they reduced everyone to tears. And because the whole room desperately wanted to believe in them I found that I teetered on the brink of being convinced.
After twenty minutes I decided to slip away; I was halfway through the door when Walter/Natasha shouted: ‘I have a Violet! She is looking for someone beginning with a letter O or L, but really her message is for A. Does that make sense to anyone?’
I froze. I looked back. Natasha locked eyes with me.
I didn’t say anything.
‘Her name begins with O or L, and it’s a message from Violet,’ Natasha said again. ‘O’s spirit guide wanted to tell her, but she was locked out.’
Everyone was looking at me, partly because Natasha was, but also because she was clearly talking about me.
‘I don’t know Violet,’ I said.
‘I know you don’t,’ Walter agreed. ‘She wants to speak to your mother, is that right? She begins with A.’
‘Amy,’ I said. ‘You know that.’ My heart was beating very, very fast. I knew that Natasha was just making this up, but I couldn’t move. I wanted the strength to shake my head and leave the room properly, but instead I took a step back into the room.
‘Yes. Amy. This is what Violet says: Amy – I forgive you. I still love you and I always have done. It wasn’t your fault. Please be safe. Olivia, I wish I had met you, my little sister. Your life would have been different.’
‘OK,’ I whispered, and when Natasha moved on I left the room.
My little sister.
I was pulled out of myself by a woman who grabbed me and screamed into my face. I could tell by her breath that she had been drinking.
‘What the hell did you tell him!’ she shouted. ‘Robbie. It was you, wasn’t it? You told him to leave me! You fucking bitch! He’s done it! Thanks for that.’
I stared at her. ‘I didn’t. I told him to follow his heart.’
She burst into tears and collapsed in on herself, and I walked away. I felt terrible. I went to our bedroom and lay down and cried into the pillow. I was glad we were leaving tomorrow: I certainly didn’t want to run into Robbie or his wife again.
‘Natasha,’ I whispered later.
It was two in the morning and neither of us was sleeping.
‘Yes?’
‘Robbie’s wife shouted at me.’
‘Yeah. I heard. Don’t worry. You didn’t make him do anything. You just told him to follow his heart. It’s not your fault that following his heart will lead him to spend the rest of his time going after Spanish women.’
‘I feel bad.’
‘Don’t. Not your circus.’
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see. That had only been my preamble anyway.
‘Is Violet really my sister? Did I have a sister who died?’
Her face appeared, upside down. She was looking at me from her top bunk. Her hair was falling down.
‘Yes. Sorry, Libs. You did,’ she whispered. ‘That’s what Walter and Dad say, and I believe them.’
I nodded, even though it was dark. ‘I shouldn’t know that. Mum isn’t ready to tell me.’ I thought about it. Now Mum’s collapse made a kind of sense. ‘Does she have the same dad?’
‘No. Your mom was young.’ One of the other girls turned over in bed, and I didn’t know what to say. I knew that Natasha had decided to tell me, and had used ‘Walter’ to do it dramatically in public, and I tried to push the knowledge away. ‘Violet is from her past,’ Natasha continued, ‘and, as you know, she wants to speak to Amy. She’s insistent.’
I imagined a big sister called Violet. I pictured my mother going through something horrific when she was young. No wonder she had fallen apart when Natasha said the name.
Natasha’s breathing changed, and she slowly fell asleep. I just lay there, on top of my sheets in the hot night. I could hear four sets of breathing, and the odd creak as someone turned over in bed. I felt wider awake than I ever had in my entire life. I thought I would stay awake until the end of time. I cried for the big sister I had never had.
I wrote a text to my mother, but deleted it without sending it. I needed to do this in person, not by text. I needed to look into her eyes. I needed her to be ready. I would see her in a week, and I would tell her, then, that I knew.
I longed to talk to someone who didn’t know Natasha. I wanted a break from being her other half, her twin. I’d had two messages from Max and hadn’t replied to them (Natasha’s instructions to me to ditch him had, somehow, been effective). Instead I wrote to Zoe. I didn’t write about Violet. I hadn’t sent her a short, breezy message for weeks, so I just wrote a few of the things that I wanted to say.
Hi Zoe – how is August going? I’m still in Madrid and it’s amazing. I feel very different from the way I used to be. I’ve learned to do magic and to read palms and tarot cards, and that’s just the start of it. Tomorrow I’m off to Paris.
I know we haven’t talked about it since it happened, but I just wanted to say sorry to you if I made anything feel awkward at Vikram’s party. Performing as Juliet with you was incredible, and, whatever happens next month, I want to say thank you for that. It was one of the best experiences of my life, and you are very talented and brilliant.
I’m writing this in a bunk bed in a Madrid hostel. It’s too hot to sleep, but everyone else in the room has managed it. My cousin Natasha is on the top bunk above me. I’m travelling with her for the moment. We’re going to go to Paris tomorrow and then I think we’ll go our separate ways from there. She’s taught me all the tricks. Where are you?
See you next month. I’m planning to be home on September the first. Can we meet up?
Love,
Libby xxx
I looked over it, and then, in an extreme break with my own protocol, I sent it.
It was almost light by the time I fell asleep, and then I only tossed and turned for an hour or so, dreaming of Violet, before I was up again.
Natasha leaped down from her top bunk in one elegant move.
‘Libby!’ she said. ‘Guess what? It’s time to go to Paris! And something absolutely amazing is going to happen when we get there. I’ve got us on the guest list for a huge party. On the twenty-eighth of August. You know the parties I was talking about? It’s the best one out of all of them.’