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The exact same incident happened night after night. Jane was so afraid the vase would break that she moved it around the room many times, leaving a cushion directly underneath.
A few weeks passed and Jane, as planned, bid farewell to her colleagues as she began a new career elsewhere. She was showered with gifts, cards and flowers.
Arriving home that evening, Jane put the flowers in the vase. That night, nothing happened. In fact, the next 16 nights were quiet – the vase never once fell to the ground.
The next time it happened was the very evening when Jane once again discarded the dead flowers.
Becoming increasingly suspicious, Jane would alternate between having the vase filled with flowers and having the vase completely empty. The vase, she stressed to me, was solid, a good weight, so she had ruled out the possibility that the weightlessness caused by the lack of flowers could be responsible for the vase’s continuous falling.
This is all a few years ago now, but the answer to this query was straightforward.
When Jane related the events to her parents she was told that the vase had belonged to Jane’s grandmother, who in turn had inherited it from her mother – Jane’s great-grandmother. She had never met the old lady but was told that she loved her garden, flowers and plants, and was more often than not seen out in her garden picking the huge variety of blooms she had grown over the years.
It was clear, to me anyway, that Jane and her husband were not alone in their new marital home, but they had a spirit with them – the spirit of Jane’s great-grandmother. And her way of proving she was with them was to cause the vase to fall.
Breaking Jane’s vase wasn’t her intention. She just loved to see the vase filled with flowers, as it was while she was alive. Jane now ensures the vase is never empty.
Could the moral of this story be that heaven does not have a florist’s shop?
Alec’s Exam
Years ago, I had a friend called Alec, whom I still think about with fondness. I remember an amazing story he told me – one of my first experiences of someone relating an encounter to me. We were only teenagers but Alec’s story has remained in my mind all these years.
When he was only 13 or 14, Alec lost his father. He had adored his dad, although I believe their relationship was less than affectionate. I know my friend just wanted to be loved by his dad, or at least to hear the words that his dad loved him. Alec senior wasn’t a demonstrative man – in fact, as a very young child, I was always slightly frightened of him!
A few years after his father’s death, Alec called me and we met, as we often did, for a chat. I immediately noticed there was something different about my friend. He looked happy. He had a glow I’d never really seen before, not before his father’s death and certainly not since.
Alec excitedly began to tell me what had happened. He told me his father had come to him, firstly in a dream. For days he remembered the dream but thought little of its meaning. A dream to him was a dream. However, arriving home from school one day after a particularly difficult exam, Alec flopped onto the sofa with his feet up. Suddenly he sat bolt upright – he just sensed his father was around and knew he’d get a telling off for sprawling. It had become a bit of a private joke between Alec and his siblings. When dad was out, they’d sprawl. When he was home, they would sit upright. As soon as their father left the room, they’d laugh and resume sprawl position.
Alec looked over to where his father usually sat and was dumbfounded to see his father sitting there. He described his dad as ‘looking perfectly alive’. There was no grey mist around him. He was not opaque. He was just normal, just as he had been when he was alive.
Alec senior began to talk. He told Alec how proud he was of him and that, despite feeling nervous about the day’s exam, he had in fact passed with flying colours. He even told him the exact score he would receive.
At this point I was still a little sceptical but Alec continued. He told me his father went on to say he had been with him during the exam. In fact, he had sat right next to him – the only empty seat in the classroom. That seat, his father continued, should have been filled by a fellow pupil, but the pupil had received bad news that day regarding his grandmother. Alec had wondered why his pal hadn’t turned up for the exam.
Alec’s father apologized to him for not showing how much he loved him. He assured him he had always loved him and had, so many times, wanted to say the words but just couldn’t. He knew this had affected Alec but he was hoping that, as a full adult, he might understand his dad’s shortcomings. He leaned over as if to reach out for Alec but then sat back again.
The whole incident apparently lasted only a few minutes. However, Alec was to discover afterwards that these few minutes would change his life forever. He had finally heard the words he had so desperately wanted to hear his father say. He had also learned that his dad was proud of him. Gone was the insecure Alec and in his place was a young man with confidence and an air about him everyone noticed – although very few knew the reason.
Oh, and the empty seat during the exam … Alec discovered the following day that his pal’s grandmother had died and that’s why he was absent from the exam.
The Yellow Bubble Car
Fiona was a client who saw a yellow bubble car. A phantom one, of course, or I wouldn’t be telling her story! And, as you’ll see, it wasn’t just a car that she saw but also someone very close and dear, which gives one hope of an afterlife. We just don’t know if this is the way we’d spend it!
Fiona’s beloved father died very suddenly. Her mum struggled to pick up the pieces after 40 years of marriage. One of the things Fiona’s mum was determined to do was learn to drive. She found it a huge struggle. She wasn’t young, and the average road – even for the most hardened of drivers – can be a ghastly place.
All the time Fiona’s mum was learning, she talked of one thing – the bubble car she was going to buy herself. Fiona didn’t like to tell her such things had gone out with the ark. She just smiled fondly and thought this was a wonderful thing, and she’d have to guide her mum to a Mini when the time came.
The time didn’t come, however. Fiona’s mum died, and Fiona was doubly distressed to lose both parents in so short a time. For a while, Fiona couldn’t bring herself to think or speak of anything. Bubble cars in particular. The more she thought about what her mum was hiding, about how she had pretended that all was well since the sad loss of the man who had shared her life for all those years, the more upsetting it was to be reminded of those efforts to put on a brave face. Because that was all they were.
So about six weeks after her mum’s death, Fiona was greatly surprised to be forced to brake suddenly because of the car that had just swerved into her path. A yellow bubble car, no less. Fiona was intrigued. How very strange to see it there, right in her path, when she and her mum had talked about it so often. Of course, Fiona was a little angry too. After all, she’d had to brake suddenly. And all because of the silly elderly woman driver who didn’t know how to stop in a side street. ‘Wait a moment,’ Fiona now said to herself. ‘That wasn’t just any elderly lady at the wheel.’ It was her mum!
As the car sped off, the woman even gave Fiona a cheeky wave. Fiona, her heart pounding in her ears, sped off after her. For these seconds, her mum had come back to life and she had such a wish to talk to her.
All the way along a straight stretch of road, Fiona could see her mum, always just ahead but not quite near enough to catch. Then, all of a sudden, she was near enough. Fiona knew the moment was coming. Both cars pulled up towards the corner. The yellow bubble car went roaring round. Fiona followed suit. Then there was nothing. The yellow car had gone. Fiona stopped. The road was perfectly straight – no other bends for a good mile ahead, or side roads, or anywhere a car could have pulled off. Yet the little bubble car was gone, as completely, Fiona recounted, as if it had vanished into oblivion, gone up in a puff of smoke. Fiona was aghast. That was perhaps for all of two minutes. Then she realized that this was a sign, a very special sign from her mum to show her all was well. There was no need to be distressed.
At last the dream had been achieved. And not just achieved. Fiona’s mum was driving in a way that would have done credit to Le Mans. She hadn’t just succeeded. She had succeeded with a will. And that was what counted.
‘The Pregnancy’
Very early on in my career, I nearly packed the whole thing in! Why? Because I thought I had got it all wrong. The client in question wishes to keep her identity a secret. However, she has allowed me to use her story as it is such a concrete piece of evidence that life does indeed go on after death. This particular story has been told several times but, even after all these years, I clearly remember the details and the devastating effect it had on my client – not to mention almost on my career!
We’ll call her Fiona and she lives in St Andrews, not far from my home. When Fiona first came to me, probably around 1990, she was aged 46 and was pretty certain she was menopausal. She was experiencing many changes in her body, her menstrual cycle had completely ceased and she didn’t feel well within herself. She didn’t mention any of this to me but I picked up on how she was feeling. She came to see me because she wanted me to confirm what was wrong with her.
It’s often the case that I actually feel physically the client’s symptoms and pains – not a pleasant experience! When I described these feelings to Fiona, she looked at me a little strangely and agreed that she was feeling exactly that way. She didn’t seem too perturbed and quite blithely told me she was on ‘the change’.
At that point, I became very aware of a spirit. I heard the name Isobel and could feel the presence of a female spirit. It was a male spirit’s voice, however, that spoke to me. The man proceeded to tell me that Fiona was pregnant but that she didn’t know.
Without thinking, I blurted out what I was hearing. I could see Fiona was very agitated by what I was saying – in fact, she was downright annoyed. I passed on several messages from this man, most of which allowed her to identify the spirit as that of her father. She agreed with everything I was saying, except for the bit about the pregnancy.
The spirit clearly told me that he had the child in his arms. I found this interesting because I had always believed that life begins at the moment of conception. In my view, even the earliest of foetus is a human being. So I was confused as to what I was being told. If Fiona was pregnant, then surely the foetus was inside her – it couldn’t be in two places, so how could it also be in heaven? I’ve since seen many scenarios in which the spirit of the baby, if it’s not to be born whether that be due to miscarriage or abortion – remains in heaven. I should point out here that I have never had any sign that this is the case with stillbirths.
After talking some more, the consultation ended. I knew Fiona was not one bit happy with me. As I didn’t have much confidence in myself or my work at that early stage of my career, I took Fiona’s annoyance personally. I was deeply upset that perhaps I had got it wrong. Days went by and I still couldn’t shake this dreadful mistake from my mind. However, I had to keep to my diary so I followed my normal routine. Although my confidence had been knocked, I didn’t cancel one single appointment.
It was almost three months before I heard from Fiona again. She asked for another appointment as soon as possible. Of course I agreed, and we arranged to meet again two days later. Those two days were a living hell for me. I was so afraid that this was it for my career – the end had come before it had even properly started.
Very nervously, I answered the door to Fiona and we walked, without conversation, to my office. We sat down. I took a deep breath.
‘You were right, Katie – I was pregnant! Forty-six years old and pregnant. I genuinely thought I was beginning the change of life.’
Fiona then apologized and admitted that she hadn’t been terribly flattering about me and my work (and that’s putting it mildly), and had told a number of people what I had told her and how wrong I was. To this day I can still see her face and how genuinely sorry she was.
Fiona explained that she’d had a termination as she was just too overwhelmed by the fact that she was pregnant. Her children were almost grown and the last thing she wanted was another baby. She also told me that she had always been so against abortion but that she felt it wouldn’t have been fair to bring an unwanted baby into the world. I knew from her eyes how sad she was about her decision, but I also knew she felt she had done the right thing.
And it is for that reason that Fiona wishes her identity to be protected.
We spoke more about the spirit of her father, who was there that day too. This time I couldn’t only hear him, I could also see his face vividly, as if he were alive. I remember thinking how large his nose was! Again, he had the baby in his arms, so I was able to reassure Fiona that her baby was in capable hands. At that point in time, this was something I merely surmised and hoped was true. I didn’t have the experience or the knowledge I do now to know that this was very much the case.
The most amazing thing for me that day was when Fiona’s father began to leave. I swear he winked at me – a sort of ‘knowing’ wink, as if telling me something with his eyes.
I now firmly believe what he was trying to say was that the baby was safe and that she was in good hands.
The Piper Alpha
As a nation, we will never forget the dreadful tragedy on the oil rig, Piper Alpha. So many lives were lost and so many lives were changed forever by the enormity of the tragedy.
I was carrying out consultations for a group of three women. The first two were completed with relative ease and without complication. When the third girl came in, however, I immediately saw a heart-shaped pendant around her neck. Like a rabbit in the headlights of a car, I almost froze as I watched the pendant grow larger and larger. I know it was only increasing in size in my mind, but it was quite a harrowing experience. I knew instantly that the pendant had some significance on my client, and that the significance was enormous.
I didn’t hesitate in telling my client what I had seen but her reaction wasn’t that unusual. I did, however, notice that she became very sad-looking. Her eyes took on a faraway look – hard to describe, but they just looked so terribly sad.
As I began tuning into my client, making small talk as is often the case at this stage in the consultation, I became aware of the smell of smoke. I was frightened when I then began to see flames – huge flames – all blowing in different directions. The flames grew larger and, as they did so, I also became aware of the sound of waves. The sound grew in intensity, as did the flames. I was thoroughly confused. How could I see fire and yet also hear water? I began to feel a sense of overwhelming fear and panic. I knew my face was breaking out in a sweat as I sat in front of my client.
I knew I couldn’t go on. Something dreadful was happening. I could hear screams, and terror was building up inside me. The entire scenario in front of me was one I’ll never forget. The only word to describe it was horrifying, quite, quite horrifying.
It was then that I began to hear a voice, ‘Peter … is … in … a … safe … place!’ The voice was, in my mind, very staggered and difficult to understand, but I realized this was due to the other noises I was hearing. It wasn’t that the spirit was speaking oddly, more that I was hearing so many other things at the same time.
I was so taken up with what was going on that I never noticed the tears pouring down my client’s face. I was talking quickly, my fear evident. The whole scene vanished very suddenly, despite appearing in a much more progressive manner.
‘Peter is in a safe place,’ I told my client. I asked her if she knew what I was talking about. The poor girl cried harder at that point. Clearly she was devastated over something.
As it transpired, Peter was my client’s husband. She was widowed some two years earlier when her husband was one of the many victims on board the Piper Alpha platform. Peter’s body was never found (to my knowledge it still hasn’t been found), and my client’s biggest fear, she told me, was that if her husband’s body hadn’t been found, would that mean he wasn’t at peace – wasn’t in heaven?
I was able to reassure her (and myself) that Peter must surely be in heaven. The spirit clearly gave me Peter’s name and the message that he was in a safe place.
And the locket? The locket contained a photograph of my client and Peter on their wedding day.
The Brooch
Is it possible for items to attract a spiritual presence? I’d say it was, given the amount of stories that come my way about messages being passed on through them. I can even think of one where someone picked up a violin and proceeded, out the blue, to play the owner’s favourite tune – the deceased owner that is! But the following story is quite unusual in that the item concerned had such a strong presence attached to it.
Mrs Gair came to me for a reading. I could instantly see she was a very sad lady. Her husband had been working overseas, in Germany, and she had been expecting him home. But he didn’t come. Instead, the day before he was due to return home, he suffered a fatal heart attack in the street. This happened outside a jeweller’s shop. Earlier he had gone on a shopping trip, hoping to buy something for his wife – a special present to make up for having been away so long.
Almost as soon as Mrs Gair came into the room, I could sense there was a powerful male presence with her. There was no doubt from the way I described him to her that this was her husband, and she was pleased – as pleased as she could be under the circumstances. She seemed comforted to know he was with her still, and in many ways was still seeing to her welfare. But an even stronger feeling enveloped me as I began to see a brooch.
To see spirits is one thing, but the ‘ghost’ of a brooch didn’t seem quite right. It was, however, a beautiful piece of jewellery, quite highly detailed, in an unusual shape and set with a variety of stones. To be honest, it wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen before, and I told her so. I sensed Mrs Gair had been given the brooch quite recently. Her husband was showing it to me very clearly and it was obvious he was the one who had given her the brooch. What I couldn’t understand was how she was in possession of the brooch and yet her husband was able to show it to me. So I asked her.
The answer to this was simple. Mr Gair had bought the brooch especially for her. He had gone shopping with a colleague but they had split up. Mr Gair went into the jeweller’s and his colleague went into an adjacent shop. When his colleague came out of the shop, he was shocked to see Mr Gair lying on the ground. He was alive, but only just. He died minutes later.
At the hospital, the staff gave Mr Gair’s colleague the brooch, along with his other possessions. And upon his arrival home, explaining what had happened, he gave the brooch to Mrs Gair. It was a gift from her husband but he, of course, was unable to give it to her himself.
Mrs Gair had not felt able to wear the brooch. Numb with shock, she had put it in a drawer. After leaving my office, having received the message from her husband and realizing how near he was to her, she went home, took the brooch out of its box, unhooked the clasp and pinned it on.
The Wheelchair
A client came to see me for a reading and had only stepped in the door when it became obvious to me that she had brought along a friend’. It was a spirit who in turn was dragging an empty wheelchair. This seemed quite unusual – ridiculous in fact – even for my line of work. So I asked her, ‘Who’s the person with the wheelchair?’ She didn’t know. She couldn’t think of anyone – family member or friend – who even pushed a wheelchair, let alone sat in one.
The only connection she could make with my outrageous remark was that her mother used a wheelchair but she was very much alive. Not in the best of health, it was true, but alive and in a nursing home.
‘Well, that’s very strange,’ I said. ‘This person is quite impatient. They’re obviously waiting for someone.’
This still wasn’t much help to the client, so we moved on. We talked about a number of things to do with her life, and as we did the spirit vanished. I no longer had the sense of anyone there with the chair or otherwise, which was a bit of a relief. I didn’t want spirits cluttering up the place with wheelchairs!
The consultation itself was a productive one and my client left feeling fairly certain where her life was heading. I couldn’t, however, shake this overwhelming feeling of terrible sadness. My client knew this but as neither of us could explain it, I guess we pushed it to the side. I said goodbye to the client, presuming that the emotions I continued to feel would leave me before long.
In the meantime, the client went home. She’d been home only a few minutes when the phone rang. It was the nursing home. As I’ve already said, her mother wasn’t in the best of health, but when the client last saw her, she was fine. Now the nurse in charge was ringing to say there was bad news. Her mother had taken a turn for the worse. Could my client just pop round?
When she arrived, it turned out that the charge nurse had wanted to spare her. Her mother had, in fact, died earlier, before the phone call was made. It was all very sudden but the old lady had gone peacefully, sitting up tranquilly and almost happily, in the chair she had asked to be wheeled to the bed.
The Hero Ghost
Are people who commit suicide allowed to meet with their loved ones? I used to believe this wasn’t the case, that these poor, tormented souls were to stay in outer darkness, being denied this vital joy. I don’t know where I got that belief from – it stems back many years. However, I no longer hold that view. I have had too much evidence that the spirit can communicate and be reunited with loved ones, no matter what the cause of death – natural, after great ill health or suicide. I am certain, too, that one particular spirit didn’t want his beloved wife to join him until the time was absolutely right. Selflessly, he realized that the time wasn’t right for them to be together and that he would have to wait.
Mrs Greville had been devastated by the death of her husband. He had died suddenly at the age of 60, having been perfectly fit and healthy. When she first visited me, she was in a state of deep shock. How could this have happened? How could he have been fine one moment and gone the next? Sadly, these were questions I felt ill-equipped to answer. His death was so recent – only six weeks had passed – it was no wonder she was in such a state. So much so, I found it impossible to tune in to her. I was being blocked by the sheer, overwhelming grief she was suffering. I suggested she come back to see me in a few months, allowing time for both spirit and bereaved to come to terms with their separation.
Mrs Greville did come back. Only by that time she was even more distressed. Nothing in her life had any meaning. Her thoughts were consumed with what she had lost. The only difference between now and six months previously and a very worrying difference it was too – was that on this occasion I could see her husband. In his hand was a calendar, a large one, with the dates displayed in prominent black. November 16th was the one he wanted me to see. Then he pointed to his wife’s hands. In one hand she held a glass of water – her other hand was cupped but I could clearly see she was holding a pill bottle! It was obvious he was warning me. She intended taking her own life and there was nothing anyone could do to prevent it. No one, that is, except him.
I told Mrs Greville exactly what I was seeing. I felt so strongly, and for reasons I didn’t fully understand, that no matter what she was contemplating, this was something he didn’t want her to do. I told her if she did end her life, she might not see her husband again. I said that, unsure if it was true or not. It just seemed that he so wanted her to live. He had left her suddenly. Her death would only increase his sense of misery and that of their family.
I did not mention dates, simply that I believed her to be in danger. I knew that a great deal of what I said went in one ear and out the other. However, in December of that year, Mrs Greville telephoned me. My immediate feeling was one of relief. I thought, ‘At least she’s still alive.’
She told me she had been very low, so low she had seriously considered taking her own life. She had it all worked out. She met with her lawyer, putting all her affairs in order. She wrote individual letters for each of the family, and had even left a letter detailing her funeral wishes. She then filled a glass with water and poured out a handful of pills.
Thankfully, right at the last minute, she had remembered my words, ‘If you do this, you will not see your husband again.’
As she continued to speak, I could sense she had turned a corner. She would never stop missing him and the pain she felt after he died would be with her always. However, I could tell that she seemed to know her life had to go on. Maybe she knew there was some reason she had to wait, something else perhaps, that was still to happen in her life.
These next words are ones I shall never forget.
I asked her, ‘Out of curiosity, when was this exactly? Can you remember?’ Her reply was, ‘It was a few weeks ago. In November. November 16th to be precise.’
The Tidy Ghost
I’m actually quite fond of this story. In fact, I only wish there were more spirits like this one about. Even as I write it, I see shades of old fairy tales, where certain castles had a friendly brownie or elf and we all know what we can sometimes win Brownie points for, don’t we? Yes, tidying up. Only in this instance the lady concerned didn’t have a brownie in her house. She had her husband. In spirit form of course.
Long after her appointment time, Mrs Ball finally arrived – in a state of utter harrassment. She reminded me a bit of myself in that it was clear she never had a minute to herself. ‘Bustle bustle’ was all around her, and almost as soon as she sat down I could sense two things. One, she had been busy doing housework right up until she left home to attend her appointment. And two, she had not arrived entirely alone. I sensed she had brought someone with her, someone who couldn’t be seen.
I felt quite sure she was a widow and the spirit she had brought with her was that of her deceased husband. It seemed to me he was the most likely candidate, although I had no idea of the circumstances of his death, or indeed, at this stage, if he was in fact deceased. I knew only that this presence was male. However, the more I described him, the clearer it seemed to me that this was her husband.
My client seemed a little sceptical, perhaps afraid to believe he was there. She clearly required proof – a fairly common reaction in some readings. So I tried to delve a little deeper to see if he could give me something so concrete that his poor, bereft wife would know for sure her beloved husband was near to her.
‘Were you ironing before you came out today?’ I asked, finding my question comical.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That’s why I was late.’
‘Were you ironing a white duvet cover?’ I asked, amused at what I was hearing.
‘Goodness, how do you know that?’ By now she was becoming quite astonished. In all honesty, I was a little astonished myself.
When you’re dealing with the spirit world you think the messages that come over will be earth-shattering. In fact, that is very seldom the case. And there was such ‘ordinary domesticity’ about this one.
I explained to her that I was hearing everything from her husband. Her face went several shades of pale as I continued. ‘You didn’t finish what you were doing,’ I said, quite clearly seeing, in my mind’s eye, a pile of neatly folded ironing lying atop the ironing board.
I then told her that when she got home she would find the white duvet cover in her bedroom. I laughed as I told her not to expect the cover to be on the duvet, but that she would find it lying on her bed.
‘That’s impossible,’ she told me. To be honest, I also felt a little unsure of what I was saying.
‘Your husband’s going to put it there,’ I told her, feeling less confident than I sounded. ‘It’s his way of letting you know he is with you.’
