Looking Good Dead

reedy, far too small for such a large man, but very earnest. ‘I’m not using my memory tonight,’ he said. ‘I want to do my best for all of you. I will have a message for each of you tonight; that’s a promise.’
    Grace glanced around; just a sea of silent, rapt faces, waiting.

    ‘My first message is for a lady in here called Brenda.’ Now the clairvoyant turned and scanned the room. The pudding-faced mother put her hand up.
    ‘Ah, Brenda, love, there you are! If I said there was a move imminent in your life, would that be right?’
    The woman thought for a moment, then nodded enthusiastically.
    ‘Yeah, that’s what the spirits are telling me. It’s a big move, isn’t it?’
    She looked at each of her daughters in turn, as if for confirmation. Both of them frowned. Then she looked at the medium. ‘No,’ she said.
    There was an awkward silence. After a few moments the medium said, ‘I’m being told it is a bigger move than you realize at the moment. But you are not to worry about it; you are doing the right thing.’ He nodded reassuringly at her, then closed his eyes and took a pace back.
    Grace watched him, feeling uncomfortable about the man. This was a typical ploy of a medium – to manipulate what he said when it did not resonate.
    ‘I’ve got a message for a Margaret,’ Brent Mackenzie said, opening his eyes and scanning the room. A rather mousy little woman in her late thirties who Grace had not previously noticed put up her hand.
    ‘Does the name Ivy mean anything to you, darling?’
    The woman shook her head.
    ‘OK. What about Ireland. Does Ireland mean anything?’
    Again she shook her head.
    ‘The spirits are very definite about Ireland. I think you will be going there soon even if you don’t realize it at the moment. They say you will go to Cork. There’s someone who will change your life who is in Cork.’
    She looked blank.
    ‘I’ll come back to you, Margaret,’ the clairvoyant said. ‘I’m being interrupted – they are very rude sometimes in the spirit world; they get very impatient when they have a message for someone. I’m getting a message here for Roy.’
    Grace felt a jolt as if he had plunged his finger into an electrical socket. Brent Mackenzie was stepping towards him, staring hard at him. He felt his face burn and all his composure went; he stared back at the medium now towering over him, feeling confused, helpless.
    ‘I’ve got a gentleman with me, I think he might be your father. He’s showing me a badge he used to wear. Does that mean something?’

    Maybe , Grace thought, but I’m not giving you any clues. I’m paying you to tell ME things .
    Grace stared at him blankly.
    ‘He’s showing me his helmet. I think he was a police officer before he passed. He has passed?’
    Grace gave him a reluctant nod.
    ‘He tells me he’s very proud of you, but you are having a difficult time at the moment. Someone is blocking your career. He is showing me a woman – with short blonde hair? Is her name Vespa, like the motor scooter?’
    Now Grace was mesmerized. Alison Vosper? He desperately wanted to speak to the man, to tell him the name Sandy. But his courage had deserted him. And he did not want to lead him. Was Brent Mackenzie going to tell him something about Sandy? Some message from his father about her?
    ‘Your dad’s showing me something, Roy. It’s a small insect. Looks like a beetle. He is quite agitated about this beetle. He’s not very clear—’ The clairvoyant cupped his head in his hands, turned round once, then again. ‘I’m sorry, I’m losing him. He said it could save something.’
    Grace, staring up at him, suddenly found the courage to speak. ‘What exactly did he say it could save?’
    ‘I’m sorry, Roy, I’ve lost him.’ The medium looked at someone else. ‘I’ve got a message for Bernie.’
    Grace barely noticed. He was thinking. The man had got two hits. His father and the beetle. He said it could save something.
    He would grab the clairvoyant at the end of the session, no matter how tired he was, and pump him for more.
    What did the man mean? What the hell could it save? His career? Another life?
    But he did not have to worry about getting hold of Brent Mackenzie when the evening ended. The clairvoyant, wearing a long anorak over his T-shirt, was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.
    ‘Roy, isn’t it?’ he said.
    Grace nodded.
    ‘I don’t normally do this, but could we have a word in private?’
    ‘Yes,