Mitch and I locked eyes and it was like I’d touched an electric fence, there was such a bzzzzz of connection. He understood; the only one who did. I saw right through his eyes and all the way down into his bleak abandoned soul and recognized what I saw.

39

People were sitting down and holding hands with the people beside them; I managed to slip in between the car-tire-sandals woman and the pomady guy. I was glad I didn’t have to hold hands with Undead Fred.

I counted only twelve of us, including Leisl, but with the candles flickering in the dark room and groany cello noises in the background, the mood felt right. Definitely a place where the dead might feel comfortable showing up.

Leisl did a little intro, welcoming me, and saying stuff about deep breaths and centering ourselves and hoping that “Spirit” would deliver what everyone needed. Then we were allowed to stop holding hands.

Silence fell. And continued. And continued. And continued. Frustration burgeoned in me. When would this fucking thing start? I opened one eye and snaked a look around the circle, their faces shadowed in the candlelight.

Mitch was watching me; our looks met and collided in midair. Quickly I closed my eye again.

When Leisl finally spoke, I jumped.

“I have a tall man here.” My eyes snapped open and I wanted to put my hand up, like I was at school. It’s for me! It’s for me!

“A very tall, broad, dark-haired man.” My heart sank. Not for me.

“Sounds like my mom,” Undead Fred said, in a slow, gargly voice.

Leisl did a quick recalculation. “Fred, I’m sorry; yes, it is your mom.”

“Built like a brick shithouse,” Fred gargled. “Coulda been a prizefighter.”

“She’s telling me to ask you to be careful getting on the subway. She says that you don’t pay attention, that you could slip.”

After a period of silence, Fred asked, “That it?”

“That’s it.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I’ve got Nicholas’s dad now.” Leisl faced Nicholas. “He’s telling me—I’m sorry, these are his words, not mine—that he’s pissed with you.”

“So what’s new?” Nicholas grinned.

“There’s a situation at work that you have issues with?”

Nicholas nodded.

“Your dad says you’re blaming the other guy, but you’ve got to look at where you’re responsible for what’s happened.”

Nicholas stretched out, extended his arms above his head, scratched his chest thoughtfully. “Maybe, yeah, he’s probably right. Bummer. Thanks, Dad.”

More silence followed, then someone came through for the car-tire-sandals woman—whose name was Barb—and told her to include rapeseed oil in her diet.

“I already do,” Barb said tetchily.

“More rapeseed oil,” Leisl said quickly.

“Okay.”

Another older lady got told by her dead husband to “keep doing the next right thing”; the young frumpy girl’s mother told her that everything was going to work out for the best; Juan, the pomady guy, got told to live in the now; and Mitch’s wife said she was happy to see he’d been smiling a bit more this week.

All meaningless, vaguely spiritual-sounding platitudes. Comforting stuff, but obviously not coming from “the other side.”

It’s all bollocks, I thought bitterly, which was just when Leisl said, “Anna, I’m getting something for you.”

Sensation burned through me; I nearly puked, fainted, ran around the room. Thank you, Aidan, thank you, thank you.

“It’s a woman.” Shite. “An older woman, she’s talking very loudly at me.” Leisl looked a little distressed. “Shouting almost. And she’s banging a stick on the ground for attention.”

Christ! It sounded like Granny Maguire! That was exactly what she used to do when she came to stay with us and needed to go to the bathroom—she’d bang on her bedroom floor with her stick for someone to come up and help her, while downstairs, we’d be drawing straws. I was terrified of her. We all were. Especially if she hadn’t done a number two for a while.

Leisl said, “She says it’s about your dog.”

It took a moment for me to stammer, “I don’t have a dog. I have a toy dog but not a real one.”

“You’re thinking of getting one.”

I am? “I’m not.”

Mackenzie piped up, quite excited, “I have a dog. This must be for me.”

“Okay.” Leisl turned to Mackenzie. “Spirit says he needs more exercise, he’s getting fat.”

“But I walk him every day. Well, I don’t, but my walker walks him. I would never have a fat dog.”

Leisl looked doubtful and cast a glance around the room. Anyone else with a fat dog?

No takers.

This is shit, I thought. This is so fucking shit.

Suddenly the door flew open, the light went on, startling us, and four or five plumpish boys ran into the room, singing, “‘Oaakk-la-homa! Where the…!’ Whoops! I’m sorry.” Strangely, they all looked identical.

The mood was shattered and I, for one, felt a little silly.

“Time’s up,” Leisl said, then people were putting crumpled dollar bills into a bowl, and getting to their feet and blowing out the candles.

40

In the corridor, I was devastated with disappointment and couldn’t hide it.

“Well?” Nicholas asked.

Rigidly, I moved my head from side to side. No.

“No,” he admitted sadly, “I guess it didn’t really happen for you.”

Leisl came racing out and grabbed me. “I’m so sorry, sweetie; I really wanted something good to come through for you, but I’ve no control over these things.”

“What if we tried…” I asked. “I mean, would you be available for an individual reading?” Perhaps if there weren’t the dead relatives of all the other people, clamoring in Leisl’s ear about rapeseed oil and the like, there would be a chance for Aidan to get through.

But sorrowfully, Leisl shook her head. “One-on-ones don’t work for me. I need the energy of the group.” For that alone, I respected her. Almost trusted her.

“But sometimes I get messages at unexpected times, like if I’m at home watching Curb Your Enthusiasm. If anything comes through for you, I’ll be sure to pass it along.”