The Medium’S Message

By Catherine Harkness

Carrie lives alone with her cat, her painting, and her chickensbut no man. She has good friends, and life is just as she wants it. Then when she takes a friend to see a psychic she gets a message herselfa dire prediction which soon starts coming true. Or is it coincidence? Imagination? Carries life is whirling out of control; when and how is it going to end?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496994127

Catherine Harkness

Catherine lives in the wilds of Southern Scotland. She has spent half her life creating the future narrative of people's lives as a journalist, sociologist, teacher, and counsellor while the other half has been spent documenting the stories of people's pasts as a ghostwriter. The dramas that have surrounded her throughout her life are threaded through her novels. You can visit her website at http://catherineharkness.uk.

Book preview

One

An unexpected peal of Westminster chimes rang out behind the door as Carrie pushed the bell.

‘I’m really nervous about this,’ Viv whispered ‘what if she tells us we’re going to die?’

‘Mediums don’t do that, and it was your idea.’ Carrie reminded her. ‘We don’t have to do this – do you want to call it off?’

‘No, no, it’s just I’m a bit anxious, you know me, what I’m like with my palpitations and everything..’

The door opened slightly and a small child stood in the gap.

‘We’ve come to see Rosemarie, your Mum? The er.. medium…..’

‘Come on, Jade, away from the door, off you go and get ready for bed. Sorry about that.’ The door was opened wider by the most un-medium-like woman Carrie could imagine. She was short, plump and had bleached blonde curls; Carrie reckoned she was about forty going on fifty. She ushered them into her sitting room and switched off the television, cutting off Phil Mitchell in mid-rant. Jade had reappeared and she shooed her out of the room and shut the door.

‘Sorry about this, early evening gets a bit busy in this house. Sit yourselves down.’ She waved them to the huge cream plastic leather sofa which took up most of the room. She herself sat on a small wooden kitchen chair.

‘‘It was good of you to see us at such short notice,’ Carrie said, ‘but as I explained, my friend Viv has some pretty urgent problems she needs some help with and…..’

Viv, who had lowered her bulk on to the sofa with considerable relief, leaned forward and started to explain ’It’s my husband, you see, and…’

‘Rosemarie shook her head, ‘Don’t tell me anything, I’ll just get what I get and I hope it’ll be helpful.’ She closed her eyes and appeared to be meditating.

Viv glanced anxiously at Carrie who gave her an encouraging smile.

Rosemarie suddenly opened her eyes and straightened up in her chair. ‘Have you an aunt that’s passed over?’ She was looking at Viv.

‘Yes, two of my aunts..’

‘And a father? I have a father figure here, he’s talking about a dog, did he have a dog? A big boxer dog?’

‘Yes, he had two, German Shepherds. After one died, he ….’

‘Don’t tell me anything,’ Rosemarie said sharply ‘I’m just saying what I’m getting. He has two dogs with him.’

Carrie sat back, she was starting to enjoy this……performance….or whatever it was.

‘He’s talking about trips out……and blackberries…’

‘We used to go strawberry picking, you know pick-your-own…’

‘That’ll be it.’ Rosemarie closed her eyes again; in the silence the clock on the wall ticked loudly.

‘I have another father-figure energy here’ Rosemarie had opened her eyes again, ‘he’s your Grandfather? Your father has brought him so he can come through, he sends you his love. Your father says you have a decision to make.. Does this mean anything to you?’

‘Oh yes,’ Viv broke in ‘about my husband, whether to leave…’

‘Let me do the talking.’ Rosemarie responded sharply. ‘He’s saying you will be going back to your husband but in a different way. Does this mean anything to you?’

Viv was about to open her mouth but Rosemarie carried on. ‘He says you’ve had a difficult road but everything is settled now, everything clear and finished. You will go back to your husband and be with the ones who love you. This will all happen soon, very soon.’

She fell silent and appeared to be listening, then she looked sharply at Carrie before turning back to Viv.

She then continued to tell Viv about how her father was with her all the time, how he was with various deceased relatives and repeated that her future would be decided soon and all her problems over.

‘How soon?’ Viv asked.

‘There’s a two,’ Rosemarie replied, ‘could be two days, weeks or months – they don’t usually go further than that. Or could be the second day of the month.’ Rosemarie turned to look at Carrie again and asked ‘You didn’t want a reading?’

‘Carrie shook her head, ‘No, thanks, This is Viv’s session, she really needs some help….well, guidance.’

‘Do you feel you’ve had that?’ Rosemarie turned her attention back to Viv.

‘Oh yes, it’s so comforting,’ tears sparkled in her eyes. ‘To think my father knows what’s happening to me and is up there watching over me. It’s wonderful. I can’t thank you enough, Rosemarie, thank you.’

‘Glad to help.’ She turned to Carrie. ‘I really need to say something to you.’ She looked concerned and serious and Carrie suddenly felt a quivering in her stomach.

‘I didn’t really want a reading………………’

Rosemarie ignored her and continued ‘there’s someone here, a father figure,’ she stopped and closed her eyes for a second, ‘and a mother figure..have both your parents passed?’

Carrie nodded, her heart thumping.

‘It’s just that I can see..…they’re telling me…..’ Rosemarie paused and looked uncomfortable. ‘I need to tell you what I see and they’re telling me that I’ve got to tell you, they’re saying ‘tell her, tell her’.

‘Tell me what?’ Carrie felt fear rising in her.

‘It’s just that, please don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but well, I see……………well, death……….all around you.’

Carrie heart thudded and she felt she was going to black out. ‘Death?’ she said faintly ‘and what do you mean ‘don’t take it the wrong way’?’

‘Oh not your death,’ Rosemarie said, ‘just death in general, lots of it, all around you. They’re saying it’ll benefit you, it’ll be for your good. I can’t see where it’s coming from and they’re not telling me specific like but it’s just all around you.’

Carrie tried to keep hold of her common sense. ‘My parents were not the most conventional of people but it seems a somewhat strange message even for them. It’ll benefit me? And why did they insist you tell me?’

Rosemarie shrugged. ‘There’s no knowing, they just said ‘tell her, tell her’. Maybe because it’ll benefit you and they wanted you to know that.’ She paused and thought for a minute and then asked ‘You don’t have any butchers in your family do you? Your husband’s not a butcher to trade or something?’

‘Certainly not, and I don’t have a husband, I’m divorced. Why?’

‘Well, I did a reading for someone once and I could see blood and killing surrounding her fiancé and her future. Turns out she was about to marry a butcher. Do you want me to do more of a reading for you and find out some more?’

‘No’. All Carrie wanted to do was to get back to the safety and sanity of home.

‘Oh go on, Carrie’, Viv said persuasively, ‘it’ll be fun, and I’ve had such a good reading, you should hear something nice too.’

‘No’, Carrie repeated and in case she sounded ungrateful, she turned to Rosemarie and said ‘Thanks for the offer but I don’t think I’m sort of prepared for one just at the moment.’

‘That’s fine’. Rosemarie said as she showed them out ‘but make sure you come and see me when you feel you’re ready for a full reading. Oh, by the way, ‘she turned to Viv, ‘that’s £25. I really don’t like to charge but these days I have to because it takes up so much of my time.’

‘Oh of course.’ Viv pulled out the notes she had ready.

‘I’m really grateful to you for arranging that,’ Viv said as she opened the door of Carrie’s aged Volkswagen and levered herself into the passenger seat.

‘’No problem.’ Carrie started the engine then turned to Viv ‘Feel better about things now?’

‘Oh yes, I mean I don’t know how things are going to be different, I suppose that’s up to me, but at least it all has a good ending. I am worried about you, though, death and all that.’

‘I think we won’t talk about that’, Carrie put the car into gear and turned in the direction of home, ‘I’m going to do my best to forget about it.’

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Viv sighed and leaned back in her chair, she pulled a hankie out from the sleeve of her jersey and mopped her brow.

‘Pete would have loved that meal. He loves his gravy, a meal isn’t a meal to him without the gravy.’

Carrie collected up the plates. ‘But did you like it?’

‘Oh yes, it was wonderful. You’d think those pies were real mince, wouldn’t you? Linda McCartney, did you say? I’ve seen them in the supermarket but never actually bought them, Pete likes proper mince, steak mince is the best of course, but that’s pretty expensive and once you drain the fat off the ordinary stuff, it’s fine, you wouldn’t know the difference….’

Viv’s voice faded as Carrie walked into the kitchen, clenching her jaw and squeezing her eyes shut as she did so. Putting the plates on the worktop and hearing Viv’s voice still droning on, she felt a bitch. Ever since the last self-improvement book she’d read, she’d made a real effort to think positively and to never say anything nasty about anyone ‘as it always rebounds to produce negativity in your own life’. She was supposed to be Vivienne’s friend but after three weeks of having her as a house guest, every word she said, and every action, grated.

The phone rang as she headed back to the living room, As she picked it up she felt a momentary relief that she didn’t have to go straight back to Viv.

It was Michael. ‘Hi Mum, how’s things?’

‘Michael, lovely to hear from you, I got your email this morning, congratulations, brilliant results.’

‘Yeah, I was rather chuffed myself, definitely CV time, and hopefully a nice juicy contract for the next six months or so.’

‘Well, I hope you get one you deserve, after all that studying and effort.’

‘Yeah, we’ll see. Viv still with you or has she gone back to the drunken old bastard?’

‘Err…yes she is…’

‘and within earshot, I presume.’

‘Yes, that’s right….I’ll email you about things. Any particular reason for the phone call? Not that it’s not lovely to hear from you but you usually email.’

‘Well, just to let you know I was thinking of coming down one weekend, this one or the next and bringing Petra.’

‘Oh lovely, I’m dying to meet her.’

‘Hopefully, you might have a bit more room in the next week or so.’

‘Michael!’ Carrie’s voice was reproving, knowing what he meant, ‘hope to see you soon, anyway.’

‘Yeah, love you Mum’.

‘Love you too.’ Carrie put the phone down.

‘Michael, was it? He’s a lovely lad, you’re lucky there, good-looking too, isn’t he? He might have your Steve’s looks but he’s not a fly-by-night is he?’ Viv reached back and lifted a packet of cigarettes from the sideboard behind her. ‘Don’t mind if I have a ciggie, do you? I love my ciggies, I know it’s naughty of me, I must stop one of these days, all this smoking really gives me gyp in my chest sometimes, but at the moment, with all that’s going on I really don’t think I could stop. Our Scott uses those electronic ciggies, might try those, you get them in all different flavours, you know.’ She lit a cigarette. ‘Now that Michael’s got that exam it’s a shame he can’t get a proper job with a good company rather than that contract work – I mean, just a few months, that’s no security for the lad, is it?’

‘He prefers to do contract work, it’s better paid and he’s not tied down.’

‘Yes, but it can’t be good not having the security, and you get all sorts of other benefits, pensions and things. You should see the benefits my Scott gets, of course working in insurance they get the best of everything, but he gets a pension and life assurance, and he can get his house insured and all sorts. Strange when they really are crying out for computer people that your Michael can’t get a permanent job….’

‘I’ll just get an ashtray,’ Carrie stood up, interrupting the flow as Viv stood up and went to sit at the table by the French doors which she opened a crack.

Viv was right; Michael was ‘a lovely lad’ and he’d inherited Steve’s height and dark good looks, rather than her slim blonde fragility, but he was far more stable and solid than Steve, his father. Michael had also been born with an irrepressible sense of fun and always saw the positive in any situation. Carrie was longing for him to find a partner who deserved him. As a child he had brought home wounded animals, squirrels and birds, and nursed them back to health and Carrie always thought his love life had followed a similar pattern. He tended to have girlfriends with problems, with low self-esteem or troubled pasts. The last one, Tania, was deeply depressed and was nurtured by Michael until she was happy and confident – at which point she dumped Michael and went off with a man in her office. The same thing had happened with previous girlfriends and Carrie was beginning to think he would never have a normal, long-lasting relationship. However, Petra, the new girlfriend, Carrie had hopes for. They’d been together for a few weeks and whenever Michael had spoken to Carrie on the phone he hadn’t mentioned she had problems, or that she was ‘vulnerable’ which was the adjective he used for most of his girlfriends. Whatever the state of his love life though, he regularly emailed or phoned Carrie. He was a rock in her life and she was struggling not to interpret Viv’s remarks as criticism.

She picked up an ashtray from the kitchen worktop and stood for a moment, taking a deep breath before she faced Viv again.

‘You’d think’ she said silently to herself, ‘that at the age of 49 I’d be grown-up enough not to get taken advantage of, to tell someone that I’m used to living on my own, need my space, that I can’t stand having someone here constantly for weeks and weeks and weeks….. God, what a wimp I am. And…’ she added, as Viv started up the conversation from the living room….., ‘the constant stream of trivial conversation.’

‘I was just saying….oh, thanks’ Viv continued talking as she swept up the spilt ash from the table into the ashtray. ‘you were a bit late with the ash tray there…I was just saying how although I know it’s awful that I have to be here because I’m having such an emotionally hard time and in such a turmoil… at least it’s an ill wind and all that with me being company for you and helping you get some bits and pieces done. That’s one thing I’m really good at, cleaning. Comes of having so many younger brothers and sisters and by God I was taught well by our Mam. I never swept the stairs without taking a cloth to them first, every inch of them……’

Carrie sighed inwardly. It was such an unbalanced friendship; she was quite pleased to see Viv every year or so and speak to her on the phone every few weeks but while that was sufficient for her it was not for Viv who so often told Carrie that she was her best friend and she wished she could live nearer so they could do things together, without realising, Carrie thought, the great disparity in lifestyles. Viv lived with her husband of 32 years. He had retired a few years ago and they spent every minute of every day together and appeared to enjoy it, even though his occasional abusive behaviour after consuming more than the acceptable quantity of whisky regularly drove Viv to swear she was going to leave him and this time drove her into the arms of Carrie, 100 miles away. Even then, Pete had actually driven Viv across country to Carrie’s house, even though he and Viv weren’t speaking at the time.

True, Viv was right when she continually reminded Carrie that they’d ‘known each other for so much of their lives’ – in years, Carrie thought, yes, but not in content of their lives. They had met at the local Mother and Toddler group when Michael and Scott were babies, and having discovered they lived almost next door to each other, started dropping into each other’s houses. The friendship became a habit. Although Viv insisted repeatedly that they knew all about each other, Carrie thought that she herself might know about Viv’s life but there was no way Viv knew about her. The basic facts, perhaps; Viv knew about her divorcing Steve, the facts, but not the heartache; she knew Carrie painted, but not that the urge to do so would sometimes over-ride every other feeling, ‘And I know with me being here you haven’t had time to be on your computer which I know you like or to do so much of your painting, but it’s not like it’s a job. You’re lucky that way with Steve providing for you so well. I saw his name by the way on that new comedy programme about the farmer, last month, I always look to see if his name’s there as producing or something. He does quite a lot of programmes now, doesn’t he. Lucky for you, he can afford all that money he gives you. I know I shouldn’t, but I’ll just have one last ciggie before bed..’

She walked to the French window and slid one of the doors sufficiently open for her to stand in the gap – the smoke drifted back into the room.

Carrie stood up and went to sit on the sofa, acting the role of someone wanting a more comfortable seat rather than someone avoiding the smoke. She inwardly cursed herself for being such a coward. The cat flap in the kitchen banged and Susie strolled into the living room, took one sniff of the smoke and walked out again. ‘Two of us’, Carrie thought, ‘both suffering and not saying a word.’

‘And anyway,’ Viv continued, ‘I just want to think more about what Rosemarie said yesterday. It’s so comforting, you’ve no idea, to know that everything is going to end happily.’

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The following morning Carrie hurried downstairs. She used to, pre-Viv, have a slow, lazy, enjoyable getting-up and going downstairs process. Now she would try to beat Viv downstairs so she’d have just a few minutes to herself to enjoy her coffee and say hello to the day in peace.

‘I’ve made your coffee.’ Viv said brightly as Carrie walked into the kitchen. ‘Don’t know how you can have coffee first thing, I like my cup of tea, couldn’t start the day without it.’

‘Thanks.’ Carrie took the mug and opened the French windows that led from the living room into the garden. Summer was nearly over but the garden, she thought, was looking particularly beautiful. Carrie liked gardening but the garden needed more time spent on it than Carrie had to spare, so for several parts of it had become ‘wilderness areas’ or a ‘wildlife garden’. It was surrounded by old stone walls, the same vintage as the cottage itself; there was a good-sized shed along one side, an old pond, and a chicken house and chicken run along the bottom length of the garden which was partly obscured at one end by nettles – ‘good for butterflies’ was the excuse for not getting round to clearing those. A couple of apple trees, a tall gangly old pear tree, a few currant bushes and a central lawn with borders full of tall hollyhocks, delphiniums, lupins and weeds made up the rest of the garden. Old roses, gone wild but which blossomed long and profusely