A Certain Age by Lynne Truss Read Free Book Online Page A

his own. It felt like he’d been on his own for about thirty years. Pictures of his wife on the walls, the last dating from around 1970. Framed drawings in pastel of Arabs and Chinese – it all felt quite normal to me, to be honest, cozthere was quite a bit of spiritualism in my dad’s family; my granddad had a spirit guide called Abdul and my Auntie Madge had one called Mister Chin. In fact, Mister Lister had a framed cartoon at the top of the stairs that would have amused that lot. There was this medium gazing into a crystal ball and saying, [
he’s amused by this
] “Well, Mr So-and-so, I’m afraid I can’t contact your late aunt, but there’s a horse here who’d like to say hello.”
    [
The thing is, Mark IS intuitive; he just doesn’t know it
] This bloke Mister Lister could have been my granddad. His house had the same smell, you know, of old lino and hard cheese, and wet wool and calamine lotion. I took a dozen shots or so, and then [
he shivers
] I suddenly thought, “I hope this feature isn’t going to be one of Juliet Frampton’s famous chainsaw massacres, coz he doesn’t deserve that.” So I went back downstairs and knocked lightly on the open door to the living room and found Juliet and Mister Lister both looking a bit – well, uncomfortable. I sensed at once there had not been a meeting of minds.
    “So would you let me say it’s about being OPEN?” she said, with pen poised above notebook. He winced and shook his head. Evidently she was pressing Mister Lister to unlock the secret of his craft, and he wasn’t having any of it.
    I took a couple of discreet shots from the doorway, and Mister Lister looked up. [
Relief
] “Oh, but here’s our friend back at last! Young man, I’ve got a message for you!”
    [
Beat
] I laughed. “Oh, I don’t think so.”
    Juliet was pursing her lips, she was well wound up, so I grabbed a quick couple of shots of her to wind her up even more. It had exactly the desired effect. “Mark!” she said. “Could you please not interrupt?”
    “Oh but this isn’t an interruption, dear,” said MisterLister. “The spirits don’t interrupt us. We interrupt THEM. And there is someone here who would very much like to say something to Mark.”
    [
Laugh
] “Is it a horse wanting to say hello?” I said.
    Mister Lister laughed, and Juliet looked so confused that I snatched another shot of her. It was a classic, actually. I’m going to blow it up and use it as a screensaver. Evidently not only was this assignment foisted on her, you see, but it turns out, if she hadn’t been here, she could have been at the Hyatt Regency in Portman Square gazing into the eyes of Jude Law over a cup of steaming Lapsang.
    But back with this message. “It’s a very practical message,” Mister Lister said. “Your dad is unusually straightforward, isn’t he?”
    [
Cheerful, affectionate memory
] “Yes, he is. I mean, he was.”
    “Well. He says, Marky, Marky, you’ve got a head like a sieve.”
    I shrugged and laughed. It was true. Good old Dad.
    “He says you forgot your dry-cleaning ticket for those combats of yours, didn’t you?”
    I rolled my eyes at Juliet. Tsk!
    “Well, he says luckily your mum will remember it in about ten minutes’ time, just before the shop closes, so you’ll still have your outfit for tonight.”
    They both looked at me for my reaction.
    “Ha!” I said.
    “So that message does mean something to you?” said Mister Lister. He seemed anxious, I don’t know why.
    [
Not overwhelmed at all; as if it’s quite normal
] “Oh yeah. Totally. Good old Dad.”
    Juliet seemed to think this wasn’t an adequate reaction.“Mark, are you saying that sounded like a message from your father WHO IS DEAD?”
    [
A shrug; what of it?
] “Yeah?”
    She looked completely astonished. She also had the rather worrying look of someone whose brain mechanism is suddenly whirring very, very quickly.
    “Any message for your father in return?” said Mister Lister.
    “Oh.