She can tell them things about themselves that they hadn’t realised they knew; things that are hidden deep within them. Things, sometimes, that they have deliberately suppressed. Or maybe she’ll dredge up something from their past that they’d forgotten, and suddenly everything will fall into place and make sense and they’ll say, “Ah! Yes. Now I understand.”
Some people just come to her out of curiosity; others come because they are unhappy or in trouble. It is very satisfying, Mum says, when you can help someone, but it is also very draining. It takes ever such a lot out of her, which is why she tries not to do more than three sessions in a day. Unfortunately, these sessions quite often take place in the evening or at weekends, which is a bit of a drag, but I have grown used to it. I don’t think Dad ever did, only with him it wasn’t just people coming round and spoiling his evenings, it was the whole thing about Mum being psychic. He just couldn’t handle it, is what Mum says.
“He found it a bit creepy; it really used to upset him, poor man! But if you’ve got it, you’ve got it. It’s not something you can just ignore.”
It was quite by chance that we discovered I had it. I mean, Mum didn’t give me tests, or anything like that. It happened unexpectedly, without any warning, when I was nine years old. My nan had just died, and Mum was very sad about it, and so was I, although Nan had been ill for a long time and I had never really known her any other way. I’d gone over to the nursing home with Mum, to collect Nan’s stuff, and when we brought it back Mum said that I could have Nan’s gold propelling pencil to keep, in memory of her.
“Nan loved that pencil! Grandad gave it to her, when they were first married. She’d have liked you to have it.”
I don’t think I’d ever handled a propelling pencil before. While Mum was in the kitchen making tea, I sat playing with it, twiddling the top and making the lead go up and down, and all of a sudden this great surge of joy came over me; I laughed and jumped up, and started dancing all around the room. Mum came in in the middle of it.
“Well, I’m glad to see one of us is happy,” she said. There was just this tiny note of reproach in her voice, and it made me feel guilty because how could I be laughing and dancing when Nan had just died? I said to Mum, “I don’t really feel happy. It was Nan! She’s the one that was happy.”
“How do you mean?” said Mum.
“She was with someone – a man – and they were laughing. And then she kissed him, and they started dancing. And she was just so happy!”
“Jo,” said Mum, “what are you talking about?”
“Nan!” I held out the pencil. “I saw her! When she was young.” And then I stopped, because obviously I hadn’t even been born when Nan was young, so how could I possibly have known that it was her? But I had!
Mum questioned me closely. She made me look at pictures, and I found the man that Nan had been dancing with. It was my grandad, who I’d never met. Doubtfully, Mum said, “Of course, you’ve seen photographs of him. But all the same …”
Mum was really upset, and I couldn’t understand it. “Mum, she was happy!” I cried. “Nan was happy!”
I thought it would make Mum happy, knowing that, but it didn’t seem to. She said, “Oh, this cursed legacy!” I said, “Who’s Kirsty Leggaty?” Well, I mean, I was only nine; what did I know? Mum then told me that I had the gift. She said she’d been hoping and praying that I wouldn’t have, because although it could be a power for good it didn’t make for an easy life.
I said, “But it was nice, seeing Nan!”
I think my face must have crumpled, because Mum hugged me and said, “Oh, darling, I’m sure it was. May all your visions be as happy!”
We didn’t talk any more about it for a while after that. I didn’t have any more visions, either; not that I can remember. Just one or two when I was in Year 6, but nothing to worry about. Nothing upsetting. It got a bit annoying when I changed schools and it started happening more regularly, but I very soon learnt how to recognise the signs and take avoiding action. Nowadays, I can almost always blot it out. You have to blot things out, or life would become intolerable. Mum is lucky that way, she doesn’t have to. This is why she says my gift is more powerful than hers. Mum actually needs someone to be there, in person, before anything can get through. On the other hand she has to concentrate far harder than I do, which is why it tends to wear her out.
On my eleventh birthday, Mum told me that I was old enough, now, to take responsibility for the gift I had been given.
“I nearly said, ‘saddled with’, but that wouldn’t be fair. You can do so much good with it, Jo! But you must treat it with respect. It’s not something to just play around with. It’s not a toy.”
She told me that just as I could do good with it, I could also do harm.
“Do you understand me? I hope you do, because this is serious.”
I said that I understood, but I don’t really think I did. It was hard to see what harm it could do, just amusing my friends now and again. Anyway I didn’t ever boast about being clairvoyant, but when Chloe and Dee asked me one day what my mum did, and I told them, and they wanted to know whether I could do it, too – well, naturally, I said yes. So then they wanted me to show them, which I knew Mum would have said I shouldn’t; I knew she would have said it was treating my gift like a toy. But I just didn’t see what was so wrong about it!
“It’s only a bit of fun.”
That was Chloe. Everything is a bit of fun with Chloe. If things aren’t fun, she can’t see any point in doing them. An attitude which does not go down too well with some of our teachers! Dee, being more serious, said that she could “sort of understand” why Mum was concerned.
“After all, being clairvoyant isn’t exactly the same as being musical, or being able to dance, or … do gymnastics, or something.”
“Whoever said it was?” wondered Chloe.
“What I mean,” said Dee, “is you’re not going to hurt anyone, just playing the piano. But you might hurt someone getting into their mind. Specially if they didn’t want you to, or you discovered something scary.”
“Like what?” said Chloe.
“Like if someone was going to die.” said Dee. At which Chloe gave a delighted screech and clutched herself round the middle. Honestly! She is just so ghoulish. She is totally mad about horror films, or anything with blood. Not me! Urgh.
“That would be so gross!” squealed Chloe.
I said, “Yes, it would. How would you like it if I saw that you were going to die?”
That shut her up. Well, for a little
