Mum?”

“Which one of you is that?”

“Anna.”

A gasp. “Any news on Jacqui and Joey?”

“Yes, actually! That’s why I’m ringing.”

“Go on! Tell us!”

“She thinks he looks like Jon Bon Jovi.”

“That’s it, then. Game over.”

“Not at all. Jacqui is made of sterner stuff.”

“He gives love a bad name.”

“I suppose he does.”

“It’s a song,” she hissed. “A Real Men song. By Guns and Leopards, or whatever they’re called. I was making a joke.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Sorry.”

“Did she get that dog yet? That Labradoodle dandy?”

“No.” Buying a nuclear warhead would be easier, she’d said. And how did Mum know about the dog?

“Just as well, the poor creature wouldn’t be getting much attention from her now that she fancies Joey.”

“She doesn’t.”

“She does, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

58

A couple of nights later, by accident—but an accident that was obviously meant to happen, especially since I spent more and more time watching the spiritual channel—I saw Neris Hemming on telly! This wasn’t just a televising of one of her shows, it was a profile, a half-hour special. On cable, but so what?

Probably in her late thirties, with shoulder-length bubble curls and wearing a blue pinafore dress, she was curled in an armchair, talking to an invisible interviewer.

“I was always able to see and hear ‘other’ people,” she said in a soft voice. “I always had friends that no one else could see. And I knew that stuff was going to happen before it did, you know? My mom used to get so mad with me.”

“But something happened to change your mom’s mind,” the invisible interviewer prompted. “Can you tell us about it?”

Neris closed her eyes in order to remember. “It was an ordinary morning. I’d just gotten out of the shower and was drying myself off with my towel when…it’s kinda hard to describe, but everything went sort of misty and I wasn’t in my bathroom anymore. I was in a different place. I was in the open air, on a highway. I could see and feel the hot tar under my feet. About thirty feet away from me, a huge truck was on fire and the heat was intense. I could smell gasoline, and something else, something really bad. Lots of cars were on fire, too, and the worst bit was that bodies were scattered on the highway. I didn’t know what kind of shape they were in. It was horrible. And suddenly I was back in my bathroom again, still holding my towel.

“I didn’t know what was happening to me. I thought I was losing my mind. I was so scared. I called up my mom and told her what I’d experienced and she was real worried.”

“She didn’t believe you?”

“No way! She thought I was cracking up. She wanted to get me to the hospital. I didn’t go to work that day. I felt sick to my stomach and went back to bed. Later, that evening, I turned on the TV. CNN had a report on a horrible accident that had just happened on the interstate and it was totally what I’d seen. A big truck carrying chemicals had exploded, other cars had caught on fire, a bunch of people were dead…I couldn’t believe it. I really did wonder if I’d gone crazy.”

“But you hadn’t?”

Neris shook her head. “No. Next thing the phone rings. It was my mom, and she said, ‘Neris, we’ve got to talk.’”

I knew all of this, I’d read it in her books, but it was fascinating to hear it from her own mouth.

I also knew what happened next. Her mom decided to stop telling her she was a nut job and instead started booking gigs for her. All her family worked for her now. Her dad was her driver, her little sister was in the booking office, and although her ex-husband didn’t work for her, he was suing her for millions, so that was nearly as good.

“People tell me that they’d love to be psychic,” Neris said. “But, you know what, it’s a tough road. I call it a blessed curse.”

Then the screen cut to coverage of one of her live shows. Neris was standing on a huge stage, just her, looking very little. “I have a…I’m getting something for…do we have someone here tonight called Vanessa?”

A camera panned over rows and rows of audience, and somewhere near the back, a heavyset lady put her hand up and got to her feet. She mouthed something and Neris said, “Wait a minute, honey, until the mike gets to you.”

A runner was pushing her way between the seats. When the heavyset woman was holding the mike, Neris said, “Can you tell us your name? You’re Vanessa?”

“I’m Vanessa.”

“Vanessa, Scottie just wants to say hi to you. Does that mean anything?”

Tears started to pour down Vanessa’s face and she mumbled something.

“Say again, honey.”

“He was my son.”

“That’s right, honey, and he wants you to know he didn’t suffer.” Neris put her hand to her ear and said, “He’s telling me to tell you you were right about the bike. Mean anything?”

“Yeah.” Vanessa’s head was bowed. “I told him he drove that thing too fast.”

“Well, he knows that now. He’s telling me to say, ‘Mom, you were right.’ So, Mom, you get the last word here.”

Somehow Vanessa was smiling through her tears.

“Okay, honey?” Neris asked.

“Yes, thank you, thank you.” Vanessa sat back down.

“No, thank you for sharing your story. If you could just give the mike back to the—”

Vanessa was still holding on to the microphone with a clawlike grip. She relinquished it with reluctance.

Back to Neris on the armchair, who was saying, “The people who come to my shows, nearly all of them are looking to hear from their loved ones who have passed over. These folks are in bad pyschic pain and I have a responsibility to them. But sometimes,” and she gave a little laugh here, “if lots of spirit voices are all trying to get through at the same time, I have to say, ‘Calm down, guys, take a ticket, get in line!’”

I was mesmerized. She made it all sound so ordinary, so possible. And I was touched by her humility. If anyone could put me in contact with Aidan, it was this woman.