The final hymn drew to a close and Amy took her seat. Around her, the bustle of a hundred people ceased and a silence of expectation fell.
She pondered again why she’d agreed to accompany her friend to a spiritualist church on a Sunday morning. She hadn’t been inside a church in years. Any church. She still prayed, that habit had endured. Usually last thing at night, before she dozed off, she said the Lord’s Prayer, more from habit than religion.
The minister had moved to one side and a young man took his place on stage. With his shiny cheeks and open-necked shirt, he reminded Amy of a rather earnest salesman, who’d recently tried to persuade Alan to buy a car he couldn’t afford. She recalled how kind Alan had been to the man, and felt a sudden surge of love for her big student son. Second year at university studying engineering and doing well, even if he was always short of money. He’d turned out all right, despite not having a dad around. She smiled, thinking of Alan’s amused expression when he’d heard where she was going that morning. ‘Don’t ask Aunt Bella to get in touch from beyond the grave. She terrified me when she was alive,’ he’d said.
The medium moved nearer the front and gave them a tentative smile. He looks so young, Amy thought, and gullible. He introduced himself as Patrick Menzies and wished them ‘God Bless’. Then he explained that mediums like himself were able to communicate with those who had passed over. However, he couldn’t summon the departed.
‘They come to me,’ he said, ‘but only when they are ready, willing and able to do so.’
At this, the medium inclined his head as though listening to a silent voice just behind his left shoulder.
A ripple of excitement swept the room.
‘This is it,’ Doreen whispered beside her.
He spoke so quietly that Amy strained to hear. ‘Yes. Welcome. I can hear you. God Bless.’ He nodded a few times. ‘Who do you want to speak to?’ Pause. ‘Yes. I understand.’
A small sob caused Amy to glance along the row to where a young woman was silently mouthing ‘Please’.
The medium gathered himself and, opening his eyes, focussed on the audience. The tension in the room was palpable. It wasn’t only the young woman who was desperate to be singled out.
Amy sat back in her seat. Alan was right. This was all nonsense. Yet she seemed to be the only person in the room who thought so. She checked on Doreen, who appeared as intent as the rest. Who did Doreen think might get in touch? Her mother, dead these past ten years? Amy heard an intake of breath from the young woman on her right as the medium began to speak.
‘Is there anyone here called Amy?’ His eyes swept the audience.
‘I’m Amy.’ Her young neighbour shot to her feet.
The medium looked puzzled, then turned and listened again. ‘God Bless. Yes, I understand.’
The young woman interrupted this exchange in excited anticipation. ‘It’s my Gary, isn’t it? Gary, can you hear me?’
Amy found her own heart pounding as all eyes turned from the other Amy to the medium.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t believe this is Gary coming through.’
‘You asked for Amy. I’m Amy.’
The medium seemed perplexed by this and resumed his conversation with his silent visitor. Eventually, he said, ‘I’m sorry, but this definitely isn’t your Gary.’
The young woman gave a moan and slumped to her seat in despair. Amy felt a rush of sympathy, mixed with anger. How cruel to come here hoping desperately to talk with a loved one and for this to happen.
Meanwhile, the medium was cradling his head as though in pain. The minister hurried to his side and whispered something.
‘No. No. I’m fine,’ the medium insisted, straightening up again.
Amy was shocked at how white his face had become.
He looked upwards for a moment as though in prayer, then inclined his head to the left and listened.
‘Oh no. That’s terrible.’
The disquiet that resonated at his words silenced the murmurs surrounding the stricken younger Amy.
‘I must ask the audience again. Is there an Amy in the hall?’
When Doreen touched her arm, Amy shook her head. ‘It’s nothing to do with me,’ she said under her breath.
‘It might be,’ whispered Doreen, excited by the prospect.
Amy had no intention of raising her hand. She didn’t want to hear some message from Aunt Bella, or anyone else for that matter.
‘Please,’ the medium pleaded, ‘the Amy I seek is in the audience. Will she please reveal herself.’
Amy gripped her hands together and tried to ignore Doreen’s whispered encouragement.
‘Okay, I’ll tell her. God Bless.’ The medium turned to the audience once more. ‘The spirit has asked me to say that it isn’t Aunt Bella.’
Amy’s heart stopped, and fear in all its forms swept over her. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came. Then she heard Doreen’s voice.
‘My friend’s called Amy.’
The medium swung round and locked eyes with her. ‘Are you Amy?’
‘It can’t be me you’re looking for. I don’t know anyone who passed on recently.’
The medium regarded her with concern. ‘You know an Aunt Bella?’
‘She died two years ago. My son Alan said I wasn’t to speak to her,’ she added, not knowing why.
‘Your son’s called Alan?’
‘Yes. When I told him I was coming here this morning, he made a joke about his Aunt Bella. He said he hoped she didn’t try to contact us. He was terrified of her when she was alive.’ Amy’s attempt at laughter died in the heavy silence.
The medium looked taken aback. ‘You last spoke to Alan when?’
‘An hour ago, just before I came here. He always comes over on a Sunday for . . .’ Amy tailed off as she registered the medium’s face. He looks like a ghost, she thought.
The medium, obviously distressed, was speaking to one side again.
‘God Bless. Are you sure?’ He turned his attention back to Amy. ‘I am so sorry, Amy, but this is Alan I’m talking to.’
His announcement was followed by uproar in the hall. Amy shouted through it, ‘That’s nonsense. I spoke to him before I left.’
The noise abated as the audience strove to hear the medium’s reply.
‘Alan has asked me to give you a message.’
Amy rose to her feet, a rushing sound in her ears. She wanted the stupid man to shut up. She wanted him to disappear with his shiny cheeks and his ugly words. She shouted ‘Stop it!’ at the top of her voice, then turned on her heel and made for the door.