Dead Romantic (14 page)

Since what we’re doing is queuing outside the local theatre for
An Audience with Lilac Delaney
then my answer is a resounding no, I cannot believe we’re doing this. I’ve already made several attempts to wiggle my way out of it but there’s no way Susie’s going to let that happen. It doesn’t matter that I’ve spent the whole day out shopping, let her persuade me into buying an entire new wardrobe and put up with my personal kryptonite “One Christmas Kiss” now playing in every shop I step foot inside, because I’ve
promised
that I’ll go with Susie to see Britain’s favourite medium in action. And best friends don’t back out of their promises.

Unfortunately.

“But we’ve had a great day out shopping,” I’d pointed out as Susie had unpacked her purchases. Wasn’t this enough?

“To make up for my birthday, you mean?” Susie had not been prepared to negotiate. Her face had had that determined look, which I’d already seen on several occasions today when she’d homed in on another item she simply couldn’t live without. “Which you missed, remember? And you
promised
to come to this, Cleo. You promised. It’s way too late for me to find somebody else and I really don’t want to go by myself. Please don’t let me down. I’ll be so upset. I’ll probably never get over it, but hey! Up to you.”

When Susie had put it like that, I’d felt terrible. Mostly because I’d known there would be no escaping this latest hare-brained episode. Like it or not, it seemed that I was doomed to spend my evening watching Lilac Delaney ripping off the vulnerable – err, I mean giving comforting messages of a spiritual nature.

“I know this isn’t your bag at all,” Susie had added, “and you think it’s all a load of total and utter nonsense, but can’t you just treat it as a bit of a laugh?”

The problem was that I was beginning to fear that this was
exactly
my bag. And I really, really didn’t want it to be; neither was I laughing. Quite the opposite.

I’d thought back to the conversation Susie and I had had all those weeks ago when I’d been so blissfully certain that I was right that there was no more to life than we can see, and I could have howled. Why did it all have to get so complicated?

“I know you’re an academic; I get that,” she’d continued, totally misreading my stricken expression, “and I know you’re certain that there’s no such thing as ghosts, so what have you got to lose? Why don’t you call it research?”

And right then and there I’d had such a light-bulb moment that I’d felt like hugging Susie on the spot. Of course! Why on earth hadn’t I thought of this myself? What would I do if I came up against a brick wall with my academic research? The answer was that I’d go and consult another expert in the field, maybe Simon or the Professor, bounce ideas around for a bit and get some feedback from them. So why not just treat this whole bizarre experience the same way? If Lilac Delaney was the top medium in the country – and judging by her countless columns in magazines, bestselling books, TV shows and sell-out tours this is
exactly
what she was – then who better to ask for advice? She would know how I could get rid of Alex bloody Thorne!

Susie was a genius! If Alex really was a ghost/spirit/deceased pain in the backside (delete as appropriate), then it stood to reason that going to see Lilac Delaney would be the proof I needed. If she could see him too then maybe she’d give Alex Thorne a big shove back into the light for me. And if she couldn’t see him then at least I would know that I was slowly going mad.

There was, of course, one huge flaw in this plan: I was assuming that there was even the slightest possibility that Lilac Delaney was genuine. A few weeks ago I would have dismissed this notion instantly. It was a sign of my illness that I would even contemplate taking such a crank seriously now, but I was desperate to get my life back to normal. If going to see this woman was the only way to make that happen, then I would just have to swallow my pride and hope that nobody saw me.

If my colleagues do see me, I tell myself now as I stand in the queue, they’ll never recognise me. Not when I’m dressed like a lost member of Little Mix.

They do say that life is full of new experiences – and being grateful for wearing leather trousers and a bright green jumper, teamed with one of Susie’s purple-tasselled scarves, is certainly a first for me. When I looked in the mirror before we set out I hardly recognised myself. And since when has my hair got so long? It’s about time I dug out the scissors again and hacked a bit off.

“I have such a good feeling about tonight,” Susie confides as we shuffle forwards. “I was reading all about Lilac’s live show in
Fate and Destiny
magazine and apparently her spirit guides wander through the audience and choose people they need to give messages to. One’s a Native American Indian and the other’s an Aztec High Priest. Maybe they’ll choose me for a reading? How cool would that be?”

There’s a rude snort from by my elbow. It’s Alex, lolling against the wall and practically wetting himself with laughter.

“And one’s a builder, and one’s a cop and the other’s a cowboy?” he scoffs. “Oh purlease!” And then, right under the oblivious Susie’s nose, he starts singing “YMCA” by the Village People and dancing. I try to give him my best stern look, but it’s really quite funny and my lips start twitching upwards.

“You don’t have to laugh at me,” says Susie, looking hurt. “I was just saying.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you; it was something I was thinking about,” I say quickly.
Stop it!
I mouth at Alex when she isn’t looking.

Alex carries on regardless. He has a great voice, all gravelly and sexy, and his actions are hilarious. The groin thrusting I could do without, though.

Honestly, I knew that having him tag along was going to be a liability. It wasn’t as though he was invited either, but somehow he got wind of what I was up to and appeared just as we were setting off for the theatre, and nothing I hissed out of the corner of my mouth could put him off.

“This is actually my area of expertise, Cleo – and, anyway, since you don’t believe in me I’m not sure what your problem is. I’m not here, according to you, so what is there to be annoyed about?” he’d said.

I couldn’t think of an answer, so I’ve been trying to ignore him ever since – which hasn’t been easy. Alex has spent most of the journey here trying to distract me by pulling faces and making droll comments; I’m almost at my wits’ end. I can’t wait for Lilac Delaney to send him packing.

“I know this is just a big joke to you,” Susie says, totally oblivious to Alex still doing the YMCA dance next to me, “but for most of us here it’s something we take very seriously. I mean, look around you. There must be over three hundred of us waiting to see Lilac. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“Yes, it tells me that there are a lot of deluded people in this city,” I quip, but it’s hard to sound like my old disbelieving self with a dead pop star singing and dancing next to me. Anyway, Susie’s right: there are an awful lot of people here and they all have an air of hope about them, as though they’ve been holding out for tonight as the answer to something. Quite how Lilac Delaney is going to meet all their expectations is anyone’s guess. She’s only one woman and she’ll only have two hours. The Native American Indian and the Aztec Priest are going to have their work cut out, that’s for sure.

“You wait, Cleo. You’ll be totally impressed. My friend from work saw Lilac last year and she said it was amazing. Lilac knew things about her that nobody could possibly have known. It was incredible.”

“Amazing, my arse; she’s a total fake,” Alex says bluntly, grinding to a halt. “Come on, Cleo! You know this is a crock of shit! What on earth are you doing here?”

“Maybe she’ll give me some proof,” I say. I’m going to address any comments to both Alex and Susie from now on. That should work. There’s no need to look crazier than I already feel, after all.

“
I’m
here talking to you! What more proof do you need? That charlatan cold reads: it’s all lucky guesswork – whereas I really do know things about you and Rafe that you haven’t told anyone else, ever.” Alex is slapping his hand against his head in exaggerated despair. “Jesus, why did he have to fall for you? You’re bloody hard work.”

“I’m sure she will!” Susie’s eyes are sparkling with excitement. “Cleo, I know you think this is all rubbish and that I’m barking mad but,” she lowers her voice conspiratorially, “I’ve been told several times that I have psychic abilities myself. I’ve got the strongest feeling that something’s going to happen this evening. In fact, I can sense that there are spirits nearby. Maybe even right next to us!”

“Wow, she’s good, your mate,” says Alex, waving at Susie, who of course hasn’t a clue. “Yep, she’s got the gift all right!”

“Stop it,” I snap, annoyed with him for taking the mickey. Of course, Susie thinks I’m talking to her, and her crestfallen expression makes me feel terrible.

“Sorry, you’re just making me nervous,” I say lamely. I turn my back on Alex. With any luck he’ll soon be exorcised and I’ll never have to see his annoying face again.

“Oh babes, don’t be worried. This is going to be fun!” Susie promises, giving me a hug. “Oh look! We’re going in!”

Sure enough the queue is surging forward now. Susie fishes our tickets from her bag. “Nearly there!”

“It wasn’t even this busy at our concerts,” I hear Alex say, awed. “Bloody hell! Thirty quid a ticket? This woman is making a fortune! Hey, Cleo, maybe you could give up being an academic and make a killing doing this instead? You could probably buy yourself a pyramid!”

I ignore him and, following Susie into the crowded auditorium, prepare to say goodbye to several hours of my life that I’ll never see again. The theatre is absolutely packed! The sensible side of me can’t believe just how many people are fooled by all this. It’s quite worrying actually, especially if Lilac Delaney really is a fake.

“It’s very busy,” I whisper to Susie, glancing around. “Is it legal to have several people sharing seats?”

Susie frowns. “Who’s sharing? I can’t see anyone sharing a seat. Brr, it’s flipping cold in here; that I do know. Maybe the dead are already among us?”

“Susie can’t see us,” Alex whispers in my ear. He’s settled into the seat next to me and has put his biker-booted feet up on the back of the chair in front. “Look around more carefully, Cleo. It’s not quite as full as you think, is it? Lilac Delaney, psychic to the stars, doesn’t just attract attention from the living. Lots of us have turned up hoping she might notice we’re here.”

“There are ghosts here?” I whisper.

“I’m sure there are!” Susie whispers back, her eyes big circles of excitement.

Alex nods. “Hippy chick’s right. They’re everywhere – and they’re all hoping this woman’s genuine, every bit as much as your mate hopes she is. Possibly even more. They all have messages they need to pass on, you see.”

The lights are going down now and the audience is falling silent. Then a purple spotlight swoops onto the stage, mystical angel-harp music builds to a crescendo and, in a cloud of importance and dry ice, none other than Lilac Delaney steps forward to applause.

“Thank you, thank you, dear ones!” she says in her famous breathy tones, a bit like Marilyn Monroe with asthma, as she clasps her hands over her ample chest. Wind machines off stage make her lilac robes drift in an unearthly fashion. At least I assume it’s the fans doing this and not the famous spirit guides. There’s no sign of the Village People on the stage. To be honest I’m a bit disappointed. I’d been looking forward to them.

“Now, my dearest friends, it is time to be still and think about our dear departed,” Lilac says, and the music and lighting drop as though in sympathy. “I am just a channel for their messages, a mouthpiece for spirits, if you will, and my beloved guides, Great Brown Bear and K’uc Mo, are joining with me today to make the link between the planes. They are either side of me now, sending love and blessings out to you all.”

They are? I can’t see them. Lilac seems to be able to, though, and is having quite an involved conversation with thin air. I’m confused. If I can see Alex and Aamon and all the others, you think I’d be able to spot a Native American Indian and an Aztec Priest in full garb. They’re not exactly subtle guises, are they?

Still, even though I can’t see them, Lilac’s guides must be hard at work: within minutes she’s delivering messages to people in the audience. Call me a cynic but these communications seem terribly vague. I mean, it’s quite probable that a woman in her fifties will have a grandparent who’s “passed over”,
isn’t it? And Betty is quite a likely name for a grandmother…

“And your grandmother had a pet, didn’t she, my love?” Lilac is saying, warmth and sincerity oozing from every pore.

There’s a nod from the woman she’s talking to, who was chosen by Great Brown Bear, apparently. I still haven’t spotted him, even though I can see Alex as clearly as anything and also the gathering crowd of ghosts who’ve made their way up to Lilac and are asking her to pass on their messages. One even waves his hands in front of her face, but the world-famous medium doesn’t turn a hair. They’re literally queuing up to talk to her, which will render her spirit guides redundant – if they ever turn up, that is. Somebody needs to have a word with them about their timekeeping.

Then the penny drops.

“Oh my God,” I murmur to Alex. “She really can’t see them, can she?”

“Told you,” he says smugly. “You’re the real deal, Cleo, whereas she’s just a con artist. Now watch the spirits. They’re going to get really pissed off because she’s a fake and has let them down big time. Just wait!”

“And this dog went everywhere with her, didn’t it, my love?” continues Lilac, eyes brimming with emotion. “You gran is telling me she loved her dog.”

The woman is nodding. “Oh yes! She adored Goldie! He meant the world to her!”

“I know, she’s telling me that right now, my love. He’s right here, too. Goldie – a beautiful… retriever!”

Her subject’s face drops. “Oh no, no. Goldie was a cocker spaniel. Maybe it isn’t him at all? Perhaps this is somebody else’s dog?”