Brigitte couldn’t have been more impressed if he’d have jumped on top of a piano and done a tap-dance. Jack had stage presence. She was star struck.
Chapter 10
After escaping from the clutches of the over-attentive Anne, Jack shut himself inside the men’s toilet stall of the auditorium. He took a small packet from his pocket and tipped out the contents and bending low over the porcelain cistern, he sniffed hard. The white powder he’d tapped into a neat line with his credit card disappeared. He stood up straight, brushed the tell-tale grains from the edge of his nostril and then wiped the edge of the plastic on a piece of toilet paper. He was slotting the card back in his wallet when a brisk rap of knuckles on the outer door made him jump out of his skin.
“Jack! Jack! Are you in there?” Anne’s voice called.
Bloody woman. He swore under his breath and flushed the loo before he replied. “Give me a moment to wash my hands and I’ll be right with you.” No peace for the wicked. He unlocked the toilet door and walked over to the sink. The antiseptic smell of cheap air-freshener was overpowering. Squirting soap from the chrome dispenser above the rust-stained basin, he rinsed his hands under a thin trickle of water. His reflection made a comic face as he inhaled a strong whiff of the floral scented hand soap. Lovely. Now don’t I smell like a nice boy?
“Jack,” Anne insisted. “We’re ready to start the second half.”
Jack inspected his image in the pock-marked mirror to ensure he’d left no traces behind of what he’d been consuming. “And we wouldn’t want to be keeping the ghosties waiting, now would we?” he said, as the toilet door swung open and he emerged into the corridor.
“Goodness me, what took you so long? Though I suppose I shouldn’t really ask.” She simpered as only Annie could. Jack managed to restrain from cringing and forced himself to smile instead.
“Just garnering my physic powers.” He sniffed and pinched his nostrils between thumb and forefinger.
“And there I was thinking you’d got lost in there.”
God, now she's giggling like a school girl. Where's Brigitte disappeared to? He stared over the paragon’s shoulder. Brigitte was hovering further back and looking a little lost. He waved her over. Anne was prattling on. Jack ignored her and smiled at Brigitte.
“So this is the lady friend you brought with you.” Anne’s head to toe appraisal was to the point of rudeness and Brigitte blushed under the scrutiny. “I’ve just saved our famous medium from being lost in the loo.”
God, the woman was irritating. “Now how would I have been managing that? There’s one way in and one way out. I’m an Irishman. I’m hardly likely to get lost in the bog.”
“Is that true?” Brigitte’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “I seem to recall you losing your way to the conveniences in the Roses.”
“Ah well, we won‘t be mentioning that.” Jack’s eyes locked onto Brigitte’s.
“Did you bring her in from Ireland?”
“What? No, she’s from just down the road. Isn’t that how you say it in these parts?”
“Oh, she’s a local girl. So you’re only recent acquaintances then?” Brigitte’s cheeks were going pink. Anne was doing a very good job of ignoring her. Jack had Anne’s full attention.
“Oh no,” he winked at Brigitte. “We’ve been communicating for quite some time. Isn’t that right, Brigitte?”
“Absolutely,” Brigitte managed a pretty good imitation of Anne’s exaggerated accent. Jack stifled a laugh. Put out by their intimacy, Anne flapped her hands and began to usher them back towards the presentation.
She reminds me of a mother hen shooing her brood. “I’ll see you later.” Was all Jack had time to say to Brigitte before Anne pushed him back stage.
Chapter 11
“You see, Brigitte, none of this is a precise science.” Brigitte listened transfixed as Jack explained. “The after-life is like, well… life. You never really know what’s coming next. If we knew what was going to happen and when, it would all be too easy wouldn’t it?”
“And sometimes I’d do anything for a quiet one.” She answered. I really don't understand what he's trying to get at.
Jack laughed. “I know exactly what you mean. But it doesn’t look as though you’re going to get one for quite a while to come.”
What does he mean by that?I've lost the plot since we left the auditorium.
The second part of Jack’s presentation had lasted for almost two hours and most of his ardent fan club had been queuing up to speak to him when he finally left the stage. Brigitte had waited patiently for him at the entrance to the auditorium, not wanting to intrude. They’d finally made their escape over half an hour later. Annie had waved them off as though they were going on a long trip.
“Penny for your thoughts.” He’d said, as they’d driven along the motorway toward the village. She’d been quiet since they’d gotten in the car. Unsure of what to say she’d preferred to remain silent and let him lead the conversation.
“I was just thinking about… things.” she said. Being vague was becoming a well-practised art.
And there was one thing she couldn't get out of her mind. Something silly, but it had her perplexed all the same. When she'd gone back to her seat after the break, it struck her, Jack’s eyes were blue, of that she was one hundred percent certain. When they’d been talking in the corridor, she’d swear her life on it, they’d been brown. I must be cracking up. She tried to sneak a glance, but he was concentrating on driving and it was too dark to see.
“Strange isn’t it, when you see it for the first time. Hard to sink in or not?” He was looking left and seemed distracted as he changed gears to negotiate a roundabout.
“Sorry?”
“All this psychic stuff,”
“Confusing more than anything.” Brigitte wondered if she dare ask the one burning question on the tip of her tongue. She thought briefly and then went for it. “How do you know all that stuff about people you’ve never met?” Oops. He doesn’t look very pleased.
“How do you think, Brigitte?”
Oh, was he cross.
“I invited you tonight because I thought it might open your eyes to the reality of what’s happening to you. Help you to understand and make things easier for you. Never mind, I can see you’re still not convinced, so I’ll go on to plan B.”
“What’s plan B?”
“Bob said you’d be hard work. You’re far too much of a logical woman to be easily induced into the world of myth and mysticism. It does annoy me when he’s always so… bloody right.”
He indicated to turn into the Roses car-park.
“Where are we going?”
“Onto plan B. I pre-booked a table for dinner just on the off-chance you’d need further persuading.”
Sounds like a good idea.
He pulled the car to a stop on the gravel, switched off the engine and unclipped his seat-belt.
“Come on, let’s go and eat. This being a medium plays hell with my appetite. I’m starving.”
“Your man Myrddin obviously chose you for a reason…”
“Do you think so?” Brigitte tried to look as though she’d understood, but she hadn’t got a clue what he was on about.
“Of course! “Spirits like Myrddin don’t pop up every day, you know.”
Well, no Jack, I didn’t know,.
“And why he’s latched onto a novice...” He shook his head and scooped up some tomato soup, held the spoon aloft for a moment, and then let it drop back into the bowl. “You’ll have to learn to channel into him. Listen to what he’s telling you. You listen and then write down what you hear. It's quite an art, but for some unknown reason, he obviously thinks you're capable.”
“Does he? He hasn’t really told me anything. He’s just sort of well… there.” It was hard to adjust to calling, what she thought of as ‘him’, by a real name, though it was reassuring to be sitting opposite someone who didn’t consider her to be a complete mad woman. Jack f
inished his soup and wiped the corner of his mouth with the napkin. A tiny red smear stained the white cloth when he placed it on the table.
“That’s because you’re not listening,” he said and stared across the table at her. Of course, it's all my fault. Like a reprimanded child, she lowered her eyes to avoid his gaze. “I've a feeling you'll probably be good at it. Myrddin was a magus. One of the elite.” He leant toward her across the table. “One of the most powerful. There aren’t many left in today’s world. Well, not that I’ve run across anyway.”
“Oh, have you been looking for them then?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. It’s a little hobby of mine.”
“What did they do?”
“Well, apart from your everyday run of the mill magic...”
“What like abracadabra and the rabbit pops out of the hat?” The look on Jack's face made Brigitte wish she could take the words back.
“It's an ancient art and not to be taken likely.”
“Are you a magus?”
It took him a moment to answer. “No, I’m an adept.” She waited for him to explain. He didn’t.
I wonder what he's adept at. I wish my mind would stop wandering. Adept or not, I think he's magic.
“The magi knew all sorts of things, for example...” He paused before continuing. “The secret of eternal life.”
Wanting to show him she had at least one active brain cell functioning she said, “If they knew the secret of eternal life. How come they’re all dead?”
“Persecuted by the church. They were all hunted down and executed at some time or another...” Brigitte nearly jumped out of her chair when he banged his fist down hard on the table. “...with a stake through the head. Right here.” Jack pointed at the back of his head. “Right through the all-seeing eye.” Brigitte excused herself from the table. She needed the toilet.
It was a good few minutes before she could pull herself together. She couldn’t decide whether or not to mention her dream. She went back to their table and sat down. It was easier to keep it to herself for the moment. It’d had a strange effect on her, knowing Myrddin was the victim in her dream. It was easier to change the subject. “Sorry, Jack. Where did we get to? You were saying something about listening?”
“Yes, you have to learn to be aware. Sometimes they’ll speak to you or maybe it’ll be an image…”
“What do you mean an image?”
“Images are like thoughts that don’t belong to you. They come from somewhere else. You have to learn to recognize them for what they are.”
“It all sounds very complicated.”
“Have you finished your starters?” The waitress butted in, looking at Jack’s empty dish. He nodded. She gave him a sly smirk and lifted his plate away. The cheeky cow. This one's mine, you get Paul. Just be careful or I’ll set my spook on you. Brigitte ignored the tutting noises the woman made when she took her plate away. Eating the pâté she’d ordered had been like swallowing All-Bran flakes dry. She'd left most of it in a mound of ground up toast crumbs piled neatly on one side.
“Even simple things can be difficult to understand if you don’t open your mind to them and learn. Let’s take cooking for an example.”
“Cooking?” Now what's he getting at?
“Recipes you’ve never made before can be tricky to get right and if you don’t give the preparation the right amount of concentration, the final dish doesn’t turn out how you expect. Leave it on the stove too long and it’ll burn.”
“Have you had Bob spying on me in the kitchen?” She asked. Nobody could possibly guess how many times she’d barbecued the dinner in recent weeks. The girls had even started mentioning how they were getting quite used to the taste of her char-grilled, carbonized offerings.
“Well… he does get everywhere…” He's teasing me. I wish I could make my mind up what I thought about him.
While they waited for their main course to be served, he confused her even more with a detailed account of the investigation work he was planning with an American scientist during the week to come. It sounded so complicated most of it went straight over the top of her head. Jack noticed her polite, but vague expression at his explanation. “You know, the best thing would for you would be to come down to Cambridge for the day. We could run through some basic ESP tests with Al, convince you a bit more. What do you say?”
Brigitte thought for a moment before she answered. “Why not, it’ll break the routine. Whereabouts do you do it?”
“On the university campus, we’ve a special Frankenstein-style lab we use for new recruits.’”
Brigitte picked her napkin up, screwed it into a ball and threw it at him. It flew over his left shoulder and landed on the floor. Jack laughed.
“You missed by a mile! Tell you what, let’s make it for the Friday. With a bit of luck we’ll have finished the business Al wants me to check out and we can concentrate on us or would that be rushing?” What' doe's he mean by that?
“Friday will be fine.” Brigitte replied
“Why not write down everything that happens between now and Friday. Just make notes of whatever comes into your head. If it’s a voice write down what it says. If it’s a picture write a description of it. You can manage that, can’t you?”
“I don’t know, Jack, it sounds pretty difficult, but I think I could give it a go.”
His eyebrow rose an inquisitive centimetre and she suppressed a giggle.
“You should watch the rest of the video you were telling me about as well. Don’t be afraid of it. Myrddin means you no harm and it might help you orientate faster, find out what he’s after. I must admit to feeling a certain professional jealou...”
“Lamb chops?”
“They’re for me, thank you.” The waitress stood at the side of the table with two steaming plates. “Nice bit of rump, for you then sir?” Brigitte crossed her fingers under the table cloth and hoped the girl tripped over the carpet on the way back to the kitchen. “So we’ll do that then, shall we?”
As she speared the succulent cutlet with her fork and cut into the soft, pink meat, Brigitte nodded her agreement to his suggestion. Jack’s confident, organised manner soothed her nerves. She found, that instead of worrying about the state of her mental health, she was beginning to look forward to the next few days as more of an interesting challenge rather than a living nightmare.
“Don’t worry if things don’t make sense.” he told her. “We’ll sit and go over everything with a fine tooth comb later on. We’ll take things nice and slowly, see where it leads us. Is that okay?” Brigitte nodded her head in agreement, not one hundred percent sure to just what he was referring.
“Shall we talk about it now?”
Jack picked up the bottle of wine and topped up her glass. His lips didn't move. I must be hearing things.“What’s that?”
“You know very well what I mean.”
With the seriousness of his tone, Brigitte’s appetite disappeared. She propped her knife and fork against the side of the plate and took a deep breath. It was difficult to meet Jack’s eyes across the table.“Well ... I think I do.” The question which followed came out as a whisper. “Does it really happen?”
“You know it does.”
“That’s alright then. I think I can live with that.” And that, as far she was concerned, was the end of the subject for now. They ate the remainder of their dinner in a strange silence.
“Would you like to finish off with a coffee, Brigitte?”
“No, I’ll give it a miss, thanks. Stan’s coffee is an acquired taste.”
“That bad is it?”
“Diabolical.”
“Come on then.” He said, getting ready to leave the table. “I’ll give you a lift home.”
“That would be nice.”
It's only a five minute walk, but what the heck?
Jack pulled the car to a stand-still outside her house.
“Well that didn’t take long did, did it? “
&nbs
p; And I directed him the long way. She smiled a perfect picture of angelic innocence.
“So this is your humble abode?”
“Afraid so.”
Brigitte didn’t really want the evening to end. It'd been a fascinating and enlightening experience. But it still felt too early in their acquaintance to invite him in for a nightcap.
“Goodnight, Brigitte.” He said her name and Brigitte turned to look at him. When he bent over to kiss her on the cheek, she stared into the crystal blue of his eyes. He held her gaze for an eternity. A gentle, cool breeze tickled through the tendrils of hair hanging down around her face. The night dimmed to a deep blue and she floated in a sea of stars, lost in a universe she’d never seen before and hadn’t known existed. “Brigitte,” He brought her back to earth slowly. His fingers brushed, soft, against her face. “I’ll call you, okay?” Brigitte opened the car door, stepped out and stood on the doorstep to watch him drive away. “Oh, I forgot to mention, the earrings suit you beautifully.” His voice was nothing more than an elusive whisper in her head.
Chapter 12
On the following Monday morning, Brigitte sat behind the counter of the shop with a pencil clutched in her hand. She let it hover over a sheet of blank paper quite expecting it to start moving on its own. Nothing happened. Perhaps it’s like tuning into a radio station. I'll go and stand over by the door to see if I get a better reception. Still nothing happened. She gave up and went to the alcove to switch on the kettle and make a cup of tea. The door-bell sounded its brassy tinkle as someone entered the shop. Brigitte set the teaspoon down next to the mug she’d taken from the cupboard and went through to see if she was lucky enough to have a customer. “Oh! Hello, Paul, it’s you. To what do I owe the honour of this visit?”
“Shall I go out and come back in again later? I thought you’d be pleased to see me.”
“I am, but I was really hoping it was someone with a gold-plated credit card wanting to buy me out of stock, that’s all.”
“On that score you’ve no chance.”