The Medium (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy #1) by C.J. Archer Page A
Authors: C.J. Archer
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"He, uh, mentioned you
though. Frequently."
Jacob groaned. "Tell
him we were in the same debating team once."
"You were
on the debating team together," I said.
"No, that
was my cousin, another Culvert," Mr. Culvert said.
"Oh."
Jacob shrugged. "I
thought it was him." He frowned, shook his head. "I just can't seem
to recall him. The uncle I spoke to in the Waiting Area was adamant his nephew
George went to Eton in my year level. Why can't I remember him?"
"It must
have been some other team then," I offered. "Cricket?"
"I didn't
play sports unless I had to," Mr. Culvert said. "And Jacob and I were
never on the same team. He was always in the firsts—cricket, rugby et cetera .
I was...not. So you see, I'd be very surprised if he noticed me at all."
Jacob sighed. "He's
right. It's a large school and our paths probably never crossed."
"He was like
that," Mr. Culvert went on.
"Like what?"
I finally had a chance to find out more about my ghost and unfortunately he had
to be listening. Perhaps I should have stopped Mr. Culvert before he said
something Jacob ought not to hear.
Or perhaps not. I
might not get another opportunity to discover more. If Jacob didn't want to
listen he could simply vanish and return later.
Jacob, however, did
not disappear. He'd gone very rigid and that steely glare was back. "Emily,
don't," he said.
He was right. It
wasn't fair. I sighed. "Nevermind," I said.
"I don't
mind," said Mr. Culvert cheerily. He passed me the plate of biscuits and I
took one. "But surely you would know what he was like, being his friend."
"Emily,"
Jacob warned.
"Uh..."
With my mouth full of biscuit I couldn't say anything else without spraying
crumbs in my lap and over the floor. The thick Oriental rug was so lovely and I
really didn't want to embarrass myself in front of my host...
"He was quite
oblivious to those around him, wouldn't you say?" Mr. Culvert said,
somewhat oblivious himself to my plight.
Jacob stepped
between us and I could practically see steam rising from his ears. "Emily,
stop this line of questioning. Now." His fingers curled into fists at his
sides. "Please." The plea, uttered so quietly I barely heard it,
caught me off guard and I inhaled sharply.
It was the wrong
thing to do. A clump of half-chewed biscuit lodged in my throat and a fit of coughs
gripped me. Mr. Culvert handed me my teacup, stretching straight through Jacob
to do so. I dared a glance at the ghost's face as I sipped. It was dark and
threatening but there was something else there, something...vulnerable. I wanted
to reach out to him but I dared not. Instead I held on tightly to the cup as I moved
a little to the left along the sofa to see around him.
"Yes,
oblivious," Mr. Culvert said, not looking at me now. He seemed lost in
memories from his Etonian days. "And self-absorbed."
"Self-absorbed?"
Jacob spun round. "I was not!"
"He had his
circle of friends and anyone who fell outside that circle simply didn't
get...seen." Culvert shrugged and I didn't get the feeling he was bitter,
just observant. I suspect George Culvert was very good at observing people. There
was something quiet and watchful about him. Whereas Jacob was all contained
energy simmering beneath the surface, Culvert seemed gentle to the core. I
could imagine him watching people from a corner of a room through his
spectacles, determining their strengths and faults, seeing how they interacted
with others. Jacob on the other hand, was a man of action.
And the action I
suspected he was about to perform could end in someone getting hurt and himself
being exposed.
"Tell him I
am not self-absorbed," Jacob snapped.
I gulped and
tried not to look at him. "That's a shame," I said quickly. "Because
you're both nice people. I'm sure you would have got along."
"Not
everyone would think that way," Culvert said.
"Oh but you
seem very nice to me."
He blushed again
and bowed his head. "I was referring to Beaufort. He was well liked by most
at school," he said, "adored
though. Frequently."
Jacob groaned. "Tell
him we were in the same debating team once."
"You were
on the debating team together," I said.
"No, that
was my cousin, another Culvert," Mr. Culvert said.
"Oh."
Jacob shrugged. "I
thought it was him." He frowned, shook his head. "I just can't seem
to recall him. The uncle I spoke to in the Waiting Area was adamant his nephew
George went to Eton in my year level. Why can't I remember him?"
"It must
have been some other team then," I offered. "Cricket?"
"I didn't
play sports unless I had to," Mr. Culvert said. "And Jacob and I were
never on the same team. He was always in the firsts—cricket, rugby et cetera .
I was...not. So you see, I'd be very surprised if he noticed me at all."
Jacob sighed. "He's
right. It's a large school and our paths probably never crossed."
"He was like
that," Mr. Culvert went on.
"Like what?"
I finally had a chance to find out more about my ghost and unfortunately he had
to be listening. Perhaps I should have stopped Mr. Culvert before he said
something Jacob ought not to hear.
Or perhaps not. I
might not get another opportunity to discover more. If Jacob didn't want to
listen he could simply vanish and return later.
Jacob, however, did
not disappear. He'd gone very rigid and that steely glare was back. "Emily,
don't," he said.
He was right. It
wasn't fair. I sighed. "Nevermind," I said.
"I don't
mind," said Mr. Culvert cheerily. He passed me the plate of biscuits and I
took one. "But surely you would know what he was like, being his friend."
"Emily,"
Jacob warned.
"Uh..."
With my mouth full of biscuit I couldn't say anything else without spraying
crumbs in my lap and over the floor. The thick Oriental rug was so lovely and I
really didn't want to embarrass myself in front of my host...
"He was quite
oblivious to those around him, wouldn't you say?" Mr. Culvert said,
somewhat oblivious himself to my plight.
Jacob stepped
between us and I could practically see steam rising from his ears. "Emily,
stop this line of questioning. Now." His fingers curled into fists at his
sides. "Please." The plea, uttered so quietly I barely heard it,
caught me off guard and I inhaled sharply.
It was the wrong
thing to do. A clump of half-chewed biscuit lodged in my throat and a fit of coughs
gripped me. Mr. Culvert handed me my teacup, stretching straight through Jacob
to do so. I dared a glance at the ghost's face as I sipped. It was dark and
threatening but there was something else there, something...vulnerable. I wanted
to reach out to him but I dared not. Instead I held on tightly to the cup as I moved
a little to the left along the sofa to see around him.
"Yes,
oblivious," Mr. Culvert said, not looking at me now. He seemed lost in
memories from his Etonian days. "And self-absorbed."
"Self-absorbed?"
Jacob spun round. "I was not!"
"He had his
circle of friends and anyone who fell outside that circle simply didn't
get...seen." Culvert shrugged and I didn't get the feeling he was bitter,
just observant. I suspect George Culvert was very good at observing people. There
was something quiet and watchful about him. Whereas Jacob was all contained
energy simmering beneath the surface, Culvert seemed gentle to the core. I
could imagine him watching people from a corner of a room through his
spectacles, determining their strengths and faults, seeing how they interacted
with others. Jacob on the other hand, was a man of action.
And the action I
suspected he was about to perform could end in someone getting hurt and himself
being exposed.
"Tell him I
am not self-absorbed," Jacob snapped.
I gulped and
tried not to look at him. "That's a shame," I said quickly. "Because
you're both nice people. I'm sure you would have got along."
"Not
everyone would think that way," Culvert said.
"Oh but you
seem very nice to me."
He blushed again
and bowed his head. "I was referring to Beaufort. He was well liked by most
at school," he said, "adored
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