Hence her good idea, about writing a book. How hard could it be? Al made tape recordings for her clients, so wasn’t it logical, in the larger world, to tape-record Al? Then all she would need to do would be transcribe, edit, tighten up here and there, make some chapter headings … . Her mind moved ahead, to costings, to a layout, to a photographer. Fleetingly, she thought of the boy in the bookshop, who’d sold her the tarot pack. If I’d been self-employed then, she thought, I could have set those cards against tax. Those days seemed distant now: leaving the boy’s bed-sit at 5 A.M. in the rain. Her life with Gavin had receded; she remembered things he had, like his calculator, and his diver’s watch, but not necessarily the evil things he had done. She remembered her kitchen—the scales, the knives—but not anything she cooked there. She remembered her bed, and her bed linen; but not sex. I can’t keep on losing it, she thought, losing chunks of my life, years at a time. Or who will I be when I’m old? I should write a book for me too. I need a proof of some sort, a record of what goes down.
The tape recorder worked well on the whole, though sometimes it sounded as if Alison had a bag over her head; Colette’s questions, always, were piercingly clear. But when they played the tapes back, they found that, just as Al had foreseen, other items had intruded. Someone speaking, fast and urgent, in what might be Polish. A twittering, like small birds in a wood: nightingales, Alison said unexpectedly.
Once, a woman’s irate voice cut through Alison’s mutter: “Well, you’re in for it now. You’ve started so you may as well finish. It’s no use asking for your money back, sunshine. The trade doesn’t work that way.”
COLETTE: When you were a child, did you ever suffer a severe blow to the skull?
ALISON: Several … Why, didn’t you?
four
COLETTE: It’s Tuesday and I’m just—it’s ten-thirty in the evening and—Al, can you come a bit closer to the mike? I’m just resuming where we left off last night—now, Alison, we’ve sort of addressed the point about the trivia, haven’t we? Still, you might like to put your answer on the tape.
ALISON: I have already explained to you that the reason we get such trivial information from Spirit is—
COLETTE: All right, there’s no need to sound like a metronome. Monotone. Can’t you sound a bit more natural?
ALISON: If the people who’ve passed—is that okay now?
COLETTE: Go on.
ALISON: If the people who’ve passed were to give you messages about angels and, you know, spiritual matters, you’d think it was a bit vague. We wouldn’t have any way of checking on them. But if they give you messages about your kitchen units, you can say if they’re right or wrong.
COLETTE: So what you’re mainly worried about is convincing people?
ALISON: No.
COLETTE: What then?
ALISON: I don’t feel I have to convince anybody, personally. It’s up to them whether they come to see me. Their choice. There’s no compulsion to believe anything they don’t want … . Oh, Colette, what’s that? Can you hear it?
COLETTE: Just carry on.
ALISON: It’s snarling. Somebody’s let the dogs out?
COLETTE: What?
ALISON: I can’t carry on over this racket.
(
COLETTE: Okay, trying again. It’s eleven o’clock and we’ve had a cup of tea—
ALISON:—and a chocolate chip cookie—
COLETTE:—and we’re resuming. We were talking about the whole issue of proof, and I want to ask you, Alison, have you ever been scientifically tested?
ALISON: I’ve always kept away from that. You see, if you were in a laboratory wired up, it’s as good as saying, we think you’re some sort of confidence trick. Why should people come through from Spirit for other people who don’t believe in them? You see, most people, once they’ve passed, they’re not really interested in talking to this side. The effort’s too much for them. Even if they wanted to do it, they haven’t got the concentration span. You say they give trivial messages, but that’s because they’re trivial people. You don’t get a personality transplant when you’re dead. You don’t suddenly get a degree in philosophy. They’re not interested in helping me out with proof.
COLETTE: On the platform you always say, you’ve had your gift since you were very small.
ALISON: Yes.
COLETTE: (
ALISON: I don’t generally lie on the platform. Well, only to spare people.
COLETTE: Spare them what? (
ALISON: Can you move on?
COLETTE: Okay, so you’ve had this gift—
ALISON: If you call it that.
COLETTE: You’ve had this ability since you were small. Can you tell us about your childhood?
ALISON: I could. When you were little, did you have a front garden? COLETTE: Yes.
ALISON: What did you have in it?
