he was used to seeing in newspapers and during hastily snatched television interviews outside Parliament.
‘Don’t mind Lord Probert,’ said Golding, ‘he gets twitchy in company. Don’t you, dear?’
‘I’m not accustomed to having my private matters discussed in public,’ he muttered. ‘I thought this was to be a private reading, I’m paying enough.’
‘I don’t do one-to-one readings, dear,’ she replied, glossing over the subject of payment John noticed, ‘I need the energy of a group to achieve the best results. I can assure you everyone here is quite discreet.’
‘They all say that,’ the nervous peer replied, ‘then before you know it you’re all over the bloody tabloids.’
‘I can assure you I wouldn’t discuss anything that goes on here,’ said an elderly man sat opposite Probert. ‘As far as I’m concerned these matters have all the sanctity of the confessional and I would certainly treat them as such.’
‘Our envoy from God,’ said Golding to John. ‘Father Goss has the best interests of our souls in mind this evening.’
‘A relief I’m sure,’ scoffed Probert, ‘and who’s he?’ He pointed at John.
‘I’m a step down the social ladder,’ John replied with a smile, ‘John Pritchard, teacher.’
‘Of psychology, no less!’ laughed Golding, ‘so our brains are to be well-looked after too!’
‘A psychologist?’ said Father Goss, ‘I don’t know about that …’
‘A teacher,’ John repeated, ‘and as we’re all here in a personal capacity rather than a professional one, does it really matter?’
‘The man has a point,’ said Probert. ‘Sit down, will you? The sooner you get your feet under the table the sooner we can get on with this.’
‘We still have a couple more guests to arrive, Lord Probert,’ said Golding. ‘Have some more tea, why don’t you? It’ll help you relax.’
‘Tea?’ the lord scoffed. ‘It takes more than that to help me wind down.’
‘We don’t have any alcohol in the house, I’m afraid. I don’t approve.’
‘Only one kind of spirit in this place!’ joked Father Goss. Nobody laughed.
The doorbell rang.
‘There we are,’ said Golding as Alasdair sidled away to let in the newcomer. ‘We’ll be started in a minute.’
They sat in silence around the table as Alasdair’s footsteps passed down the hall to the front door. There was the sound of the door being opened and then the familiar voice of Henry’s widow rolled in from the wet outdoors.
‘I shouldn’t be out and about in this,’ she said, ‘if Henry were alive he would never have allowed it. Catch my death in this I will.’
At least then she’d find marital conversation a little easier, thought John.
Alasdair showed her in and Golding introduced her as Mrs. Davinia Harris. John realised it was the first time he’d been offered her name; she was a woman who defined herself by her relationship to the dead before anything else.
‘This is lovely,’ she said, taking a seat, ‘very nice. I’m sure Henry will be only too happy to join us here.’
‘I’m sure he will too,’ John announced, his voice sounding more sincere than what he felt.
‘Is that everyone?’ asked Probert.
‘Just one more,’ said Golding. ‘Our group wouldn’t be complete without Sandy.’
John noticed Davinia Harris’s eyes roll. ‘Sandy’s coming is she? Well there’s a surprise …’
‘Sandy’s energy is very much in tune with my own,’ said Golding. ‘I find her presence extremely energising.’
And informative, no doubt, thought John.
‘It’s good to see you here at least,’ Davinia said to John. ‘Finally got a message, didn’t you?’
John wasn’t going to argue that, in the present company at least. ‘I did.’
‘I was so pleased, I told Aida as much didn’t I?’
‘You did, dear, you did.’
‘I’d told her all about you and wouldn’t it be a shame if you weren’t to get a message?’
Well, that solved that mystery, John
‘Don’t mind Lord Probert,’ said Golding, ‘he gets twitchy in company. Don’t you, dear?’
‘I’m not accustomed to having my private matters discussed in public,’ he muttered. ‘I thought this was to be a private reading, I’m paying enough.’
‘I don’t do one-to-one readings, dear,’ she replied, glossing over the subject of payment John noticed, ‘I need the energy of a group to achieve the best results. I can assure you everyone here is quite discreet.’
‘They all say that,’ the nervous peer replied, ‘then before you know it you’re all over the bloody tabloids.’
‘I can assure you I wouldn’t discuss anything that goes on here,’ said an elderly man sat opposite Probert. ‘As far as I’m concerned these matters have all the sanctity of the confessional and I would certainly treat them as such.’
‘Our envoy from God,’ said Golding to John. ‘Father Goss has the best interests of our souls in mind this evening.’
‘A relief I’m sure,’ scoffed Probert, ‘and who’s he?’ He pointed at John.
‘I’m a step down the social ladder,’ John replied with a smile, ‘John Pritchard, teacher.’
‘Of psychology, no less!’ laughed Golding, ‘so our brains are to be well-looked after too!’
‘A psychologist?’ said Father Goss, ‘I don’t know about that …’
‘A teacher,’ John repeated, ‘and as we’re all here in a personal capacity rather than a professional one, does it really matter?’
‘The man has a point,’ said Probert. ‘Sit down, will you? The sooner you get your feet under the table the sooner we can get on with this.’
‘We still have a couple more guests to arrive, Lord Probert,’ said Golding. ‘Have some more tea, why don’t you? It’ll help you relax.’
‘Tea?’ the lord scoffed. ‘It takes more than that to help me wind down.’
‘We don’t have any alcohol in the house, I’m afraid. I don’t approve.’
‘Only one kind of spirit in this place!’ joked Father Goss. Nobody laughed.
The doorbell rang.
‘There we are,’ said Golding as Alasdair sidled away to let in the newcomer. ‘We’ll be started in a minute.’
They sat in silence around the table as Alasdair’s footsteps passed down the hall to the front door. There was the sound of the door being opened and then the familiar voice of Henry’s widow rolled in from the wet outdoors.
‘I shouldn’t be out and about in this,’ she said, ‘if Henry were alive he would never have allowed it. Catch my death in this I will.’
At least then she’d find marital conversation a little easier, thought John.
Alasdair showed her in and Golding introduced her as Mrs. Davinia Harris. John realised it was the first time he’d been offered her name; she was a woman who defined herself by her relationship to the dead before anything else.
‘This is lovely,’ she said, taking a seat, ‘very nice. I’m sure Henry will be only too happy to join us here.’
‘I’m sure he will too,’ John announced, his voice sounding more sincere than what he felt.
‘Is that everyone?’ asked Probert.
‘Just one more,’ said Golding. ‘Our group wouldn’t be complete without Sandy.’
John noticed Davinia Harris’s eyes roll. ‘Sandy’s coming is she? Well there’s a surprise …’
‘Sandy’s energy is very much in tune with my own,’ said Golding. ‘I find her presence extremely energising.’
And informative, no doubt, thought John.
‘It’s good to see you here at least,’ Davinia said to John. ‘Finally got a message, didn’t you?’
John wasn’t going to argue that, in the present company at least. ‘I did.’
‘I was so pleased, I told Aida as much didn’t I?’
‘You did, dear, you did.’
‘I’d told her all about you and wouldn’t it be a shame if you weren’t to get a message?’
Well, that solved that mystery, John
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