The Call

The Call

Miss Jill Oaks had just taken her second call of the day, and was about to start on her fourth cigarette when the telephone rang. She smiled to herself as she reached for it. Little Whinging was not really into telephone psychics, and business was normally very slow. Obviously, the ads in the Gazette were finally paying off. Soon she might even be able to cut down on the part time work at the local Tesco's, although that was highly unlikely.

'Is this Madame Celeste, "noted psychic and medium"?' Whoever it was sounded male and rather sceptical. Quite young, too. Probably a teenager, which was quite unusual, because most of Jill's callers were middle-aged women.

'Madame Celeste at your service, sir.' It was a daft name, she knew, but it had to be better then Jill Oaks. 'May I ask your name?' It was a question she felt uncomfortable asking - as a 'noted psychic', she was sometimes expected to know these things.

'Harry.'

'A lovely name,' Jill gushed. 'And would you like the Tarot or the Runes?' A long pause. Miss Oaks fumbled with the grubby pack of Tarot cards next to the phone.

'Well, actually I was wondering, erm, about the other bit. You know, the medium thing.'

Jill swore under her breath. She didn't really like doing this over the phone. She pulled the Gazette towards her and flicked to the 'Births, Marriages, and Deaths' page. There wasn't much to go on there, especially when she didn't know his surname.

'And who might you be trying to contact, sir?' she asked, eyes skimming the 'Deaths' column.

'A...friend.' Wonderful. She tossed the paper on the table beside her. Why couldn't people be specific? She gritted her teeth and stared out the window for inspiration.

'Very well.' She continued to glare out the window at the Saturday morning traffic. 'I...I am...I am getting a picture. It seems to be your friend's, erm, animal, the animal spirit that was in life your friend's...guide and protector.' That was good. She'd have to remember it for another time. She waited for a reaction, and got nothing. Outside she could see a small girl trying (and failing) to control a large black Labrador. 'I can see a...a black shape, a four-legged beast.' The Labrador was very big. 'It looks like a...dog. A very large black dog.' She heard a small gasp at the other end of the line. She was getting good at this. 'And...' she decided to push her luck, 'I'm getting a letter.' She glanced at the paper on the table. Today was the twentieth of July. A Saturday. 'The letter...S. Do you know anyone who has Passed On whose name contains an S?'

'Yes,' the voice said faintly. Jill smiled to herself. She was quite fond of the letter, and it was amazing how many times she'd 'sensed' it.

'And might I ask whose name?' Just please, tell me a bit about this friend of yours, she prayed silently. She hated having nothing to go on.

'Just a friend's.' Damn.

'Of course.' She stared out the window again. The call was costing him three pounds a minute; she might as well drag it out for as long as possible.

This Harry sounded like a young man. His friend must have been quite young too. Probably got himself killed doing something stupid, but she wasn't being paid to judge. 'I sense a great deal of...of youthful energy coming from this dog. A young man, perhaps.' She flicked at the paper. 'And I think...I think I'm getting a message from the dog-spirit.'

'Oh. Really.' Jill racked her brains for something suitable. She put on her mystical messages-from-the-Other-Side voice.

'He says...he says you are...not to grieve too much, and that he is very happy and is waiting for you to join him.'

Another long pause. Miss Oaks bit her lip. Perhaps she'd gone a bit over the top. Finally he spoke again, but he sounded brusque, almost angry. 'Thanks.'

'Will there be anything else, sir?'

'No.'

'Just remember, whenever you wish to know what lies beyond, call on Madame Celeste!'

'Yeah, sure.'

The line went dead. Miss Oaks picked up her cigarettes, lit one, and took a deep drag. She felt a sense of great satisfaction with her latest call, a sense of achievement.

She really was getting better at this all the time.