An Angel By My Side: Amazing True Stories of the Afterlife. Jacky Newcomb

and picked up one of the glasses from the mantel and I suddenly realized what the painted glasses were for! They hadn’t just been left in the room. When I looked closer they were quite pretty. Maybe someone had made them for her as a gift? The glasses were to be our pointers, to move around the table to spell out words – messages from the other side?

      Momentarily, I was nervous. Weren’t these things dangerous? I had a flashback, memories of one day as a teenager. Sitting in my parents’ old house, my sisters and a couple of friends and I had laid out our own felt-tip letters in a variation of what kids all over the world call ‘ask the glass’. We taped the letters onto the back of an old drinks tray and ceremoniously selected one of the best sherry glasses out of the cabinet before placing our fingers on the glass to ask our first question.

      As someone called out, ‘Is anybody there?’ the glass began to move at once and we all ran in different directions.

      ‘Did you push that?’

      ‘No! Of course not, you know I wouldn’t do that. Swear it wasn’t you! Go on, swear.’

      ‘I didn’t move it, it wasn’t me. Oh my God, oh my God, do you think it was a spirit?’

      ‘It wasn’t me, really it wasn’t. Swear it wasn’t you!’

      Someone was crying. We were all so scared that we never really got started. I remember someone suggesting that we burned the letters so that the spirits wouldn’t get us. I think we probably flushed them down the toilet or something but that was the first and the last time I had done anything like that … until now.

      The medium was explaining what to do and had already muttered some words of protection before placing her finger on the glass and indicating that we do the same. The four of us sat around the table and the medium began to ask questions.

      What on earth were we doing? I felt like a naughty schoolgirl but of course we were not naughty – we were adults and we were doing this on purpose. I tried to calm myself down; after all, ‘the medium is in charge and she must know what she is doing’, I rationalized!

      The glass spun over to the letter ‘V’and then the letter ‘I’. What was that? I felt disappointed. The medium began chatting in a very normal tone as if a neighbour had popped in to say hello.

      ‘Is that you, Vi?’

      The glass moved over to the word ‘yes’.

      I felt annoyed again. ‘We are paying for this and she is chatting to her friends’, I thought crossly, but unreasonably. I felt like a real cow. A spirit friend had crossed the dimensions to communicate and I was quibbling about who it was. Maybe this Vi would be able to hear my thoughts? She would know what I was thinking, she would know that I was a cow.

      ‘Sorry, Vi love, I’m with clients tonight. It’s lovely of you to pop in for a visit. Could you come again another night?’

      The glass went back to the word ‘yes’ again and the medium explained about her old friend and then apologized. I figured it was not really her fault, after all. Did it even matter? What was wrong with me? Why was I thinking like this tonight? I immediately felt guilty again. Perhaps it was nerves.

      ‘Would anyone else like to come for a chat?’ she asked randomly.

      The glass went to the letter ‘E’, then ‘R’, ‘I’and ‘C’. Debbie and I looked at each other and I noticed the tears prick her eyes.

      ‘Eric?’

      ‘Who’s Eric, love?’

      ‘My Dad’s brother.’

      Debbie was sobbing quietly now.

      ‘Is everything okay? Are you happy to talk to Eric?’

      ‘Yes, we’re fine. Yes, yes everything is okay, she’s just very happy. We both are.’

      A single tear was rolling down my cheek and I brushed it away. I was the calm one. I was fine with all of this, wasn’t I? I shouldn’t have been crying.

      Oh my God. Was this Uncle Eric? This was the first communication since he’d died and we hardly dared believe it was true. Excitement hit the pit of my stomach and I felt both sick and slightly dizzy at the same time. We were convinced it was him but disappointingly, Sandra was not.

      ‘Well, you must test them, love. Always check that they are who they say they are. Go on, ask a question. Ask him something like, “What did he do for a living?” Find out if it’s really him.’

      I didn’t want to. What if it was some fake spirit trying to trick us? I wanted to believe it was my uncle. We didn’t ask the question because the glass was already moving. It was spelling out a reply. SEW.

      ‘Sew? No, that can’t be right, can it?’ The medium exchanged confused glances with her friend. ‘Surely he means something else, he didn’t sew for a living did he?’

      Debbie and I both nodded before explaining that Uncle Eric did sew for a living; he was an upholsterer. I’d been trying to think of a short word which might suggest the answer, and the word which sprung to mind was upholstery. Not short exactly. Debbie was thinking of the word SOFA, but SEW was just fine too. We both started laughing in a hysterical sort of way. Sew was a good word. It gave us what we needed. He’d passed the test. It really was Eric.

      We asked a lot more questions. At one point both Sandra and Janice lifted their fingers off the glass. Debbie and I were aware that the glass continued to move even after they had done so, although it moved a little slower. We were working the glass with the spirits, Debbie and I. Maybe, just maybe, we could do this at home? Perhaps we didn’t need the medium after all – can we talk to the spirits, just the two of us, any time we wanted to?

      I honestly don’t remember much else. We chatted some more. I think I’d reached saturation point. We’d already received so much proof and I couldn’t wait to go home and tell everyone about it.

      Again, I know that other relatives came through. We still have the notes somewhere. After the medium ‘closed down’ the communication on the table I was ready to go home, but she was ready for more. I looked at my watch and we’d now been at her house for over three hours. We’d certainly had our money’s worth, and I was tired. She was so kind, wanting to make sure we were happy with our evening.

      ‘We didn’t have time to do the spirit in the mirror,’ the medium said, almost disappointed.

      We knew what ‘spirit in the mirror meant’, as our friend had told us about this after her own visit. Sandra turned out all but a small red light and we squinted at the mirror.

      ‘Soften your eyes. Can you see anything? Is there anyone in the mirror?’

      The idea was that in the half light you could often see spirit images overlay your own. It wasn’t that they distorted your face so much as the spirit face seemed to float over your own. I was only half listening. This was a fascinating exercise but there was nothing left in me to give. I’d already put on my coat and my mind was ‘on the way home’. We decided to call it a day … or a night.

      We walked down the stairs, both of us in a slight daze. What an extraordinary night! It was one I don’t think I will ever forget. I’d had paranormal experiences all of my life. I always believed there must be something else going on in the world – another world, another life, an afterlife. There was no longer any doubt. I knew there was something else, something out there, something in there.

      As for Eric, this was the first of many visits. We handed over our very small fee to the medium on our way out. It seemed way too little for the time she’d spent on us. I pressed another five pound note into her hands but she refused the money. I insisted. I felt the evening was worth a lot more and eventually she took the money, but handed it over to her friend Janice.

      ‘Thank you both. It’s been a great evening.’

      As we drove home we talked about the night. Was it too late to