wrong.”
“Him... I mean, Robert Hamilton, the ghost. I don’t know what he is. He is there in my head all the time. Wherever I go he is there. I sleep and he is in my dreams, I come to work and I see his face on the desk, I go to the pub and I see him behind the bar. Then Harry shows me this portrait of him and his wife. Kate, I’m in the portrait, I’m his wife.”
Her boss drew back, her eyes staring fearfully at Grace.
“Oh my God, Grace! Do you know what this means?”
Grace shook her head slowly. As soon as the words had left her mouth she regretted them. She could see it in Kate’s eyes. She had seen it before. The look a person had when they both pitied and feared someone. She had given too much away. Shared too much of herself. Of course her friend thought she was crazy. She thought she was crazy. Was this what schizophrenia felt like? Was that what was wrong with her? Jack had been right all along. She needed help, medication, something to control the delusions and hallucinations.
Grabbing for her handbag she made to leave.
“Kate... I’m sorry. I’ve got to go... I understand if you don’t want me back at work tomorrow.”
“Grace, hold on. What are you doing?”
“I’ve got to go,” Grace said, hurriedly.
“Hold on, please. Don’t go, my friend. We can fix this. I will help you.”
Grace stood, clutching her handbag, staring at Kate.
“I thought you would want me to go.”
“No. Why would I?”
“Because I am insane.”
“That’s a ridiculous notion. What makes you think that?”
“I’m seeing and talking to ghosts.”
Kate smiled and gave a gentle laugh.
“When you put it that way... I guess you do sound a bit touched.”
Grace’s brow curved in a slight frown, her eyes filled with confusion and fear.
“So you do think I’m crazy?”
“No you daft beggar, of course I don’t think you’re crazy. I was joking. Look, Grace, this medium is due any minute. Go upstairs and sort your makeup out. I’ll get us another glass of wine and then you can have a chat with the medium and we’ll see if she can shed any light on all this.”
Grace ran her finger nervously around the rim of the glass. Her friend sat beside her, perched on the edge of the settee, lazily balancing the bowl of the glass between her fingers.
“This is highly irregular. I don’t usually have other people sit in on a reading,” said the thin, wrinkled lady who had seated herself on the only single chair in the room.
“Anything you have to say to Grace you can say to both of us,” said Kate, firmly.
The elderly lady raised her eyebrows at Grace.
“I want her to stay,” Grace said to the medium.
“As you wish, but I can’t be sure of an accurate session. It’s going to throw the vibes right out, you both being here.”
“We’re willing to risk it,” Kate said, irritated with the old lady’s complaints.
The medium pursed her lips and a thin line of disapproval spread over her face. “Highly irregular this is, and don’t you be coming to me later complaining the reading was wrong.”
“We won’t,” both ladies chimed together.
“First grease the palm of an old lady’s hand,” she said, stretching out her hand. Grace reached for her handbag and ferreted clumsily for her purse, but Kate beat her to it, placing two twenty pound notes into the upturned hand.
“There you are old lady, now tell us what you can see,” Kate said, moving back onto the settee beside her friend.
The medium stared at Grace, her eyes shifty and dark. Grace blinked and looked away. The old lady’s searching eyes made her feel uncomfortable. A tension fell over the room as the medium continued to stare at Grace. ‘Enough now,’ she thought to herself as the minutes passed and the woman’s eyes remained fixed on her face.
“Can you see anything,” an impatient Kate asked.
The old woman ignored her.
Irritated, Grace stood up.
“This is nonsense, I’ve had enough.”
“Sit down,” the
“Him... I mean, Robert Hamilton, the ghost. I don’t know what he is. He is there in my head all the time. Wherever I go he is there. I sleep and he is in my dreams, I come to work and I see his face on the desk, I go to the pub and I see him behind the bar. Then Harry shows me this portrait of him and his wife. Kate, I’m in the portrait, I’m his wife.”
Her boss drew back, her eyes staring fearfully at Grace.
“Oh my God, Grace! Do you know what this means?”
Grace shook her head slowly. As soon as the words had left her mouth she regretted them. She could see it in Kate’s eyes. She had seen it before. The look a person had when they both pitied and feared someone. She had given too much away. Shared too much of herself. Of course her friend thought she was crazy. She thought she was crazy. Was this what schizophrenia felt like? Was that what was wrong with her? Jack had been right all along. She needed help, medication, something to control the delusions and hallucinations.
Grabbing for her handbag she made to leave.
“Kate... I’m sorry. I’ve got to go... I understand if you don’t want me back at work tomorrow.”
“Grace, hold on. What are you doing?”
“I’ve got to go,” Grace said, hurriedly.
“Hold on, please. Don’t go, my friend. We can fix this. I will help you.”
Grace stood, clutching her handbag, staring at Kate.
“I thought you would want me to go.”
“No. Why would I?”
“Because I am insane.”
“That’s a ridiculous notion. What makes you think that?”
“I’m seeing and talking to ghosts.”
Kate smiled and gave a gentle laugh.
“When you put it that way... I guess you do sound a bit touched.”
Grace’s brow curved in a slight frown, her eyes filled with confusion and fear.
“So you do think I’m crazy?”
“No you daft beggar, of course I don’t think you’re crazy. I was joking. Look, Grace, this medium is due any minute. Go upstairs and sort your makeup out. I’ll get us another glass of wine and then you can have a chat with the medium and we’ll see if she can shed any light on all this.”
Grace ran her finger nervously around the rim of the glass. Her friend sat beside her, perched on the edge of the settee, lazily balancing the bowl of the glass between her fingers.
“This is highly irregular. I don’t usually have other people sit in on a reading,” said the thin, wrinkled lady who had seated herself on the only single chair in the room.
“Anything you have to say to Grace you can say to both of us,” said Kate, firmly.
The elderly lady raised her eyebrows at Grace.
“I want her to stay,” Grace said to the medium.
“As you wish, but I can’t be sure of an accurate session. It’s going to throw the vibes right out, you both being here.”
“We’re willing to risk it,” Kate said, irritated with the old lady’s complaints.
The medium pursed her lips and a thin line of disapproval spread over her face. “Highly irregular this is, and don’t you be coming to me later complaining the reading was wrong.”
“We won’t,” both ladies chimed together.
“First grease the palm of an old lady’s hand,” she said, stretching out her hand. Grace reached for her handbag and ferreted clumsily for her purse, but Kate beat her to it, placing two twenty pound notes into the upturned hand.
“There you are old lady, now tell us what you can see,” Kate said, moving back onto the settee beside her friend.
The medium stared at Grace, her eyes shifty and dark. Grace blinked and looked away. The old lady’s searching eyes made her feel uncomfortable. A tension fell over the room as the medium continued to stare at Grace. ‘Enough now,’ she thought to herself as the minutes passed and the woman’s eyes remained fixed on her face.
“Can you see anything,” an impatient Kate asked.
The old woman ignored her.
Irritated, Grace stood up.
“This is nonsense, I’ve had enough.”
“Sit down,” the
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