Blast from the Past. Cathy Hopkins

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      I laughed and shook my head. ‘Not exactly, no.’

      ‘So what did she say?’ asked Marcia.

      ‘I’m still processing it,’ I said. ‘It was … weird.’ Despite my cynicism, I felt shaken by my session with Saranya Ji. She had not been what I expected at all and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. ‘You tell me what she said to you first.’

      ‘She talked about my soul’s purpose and journey,’ said Marcia. ‘She talked about how God is within all of us and the importance of recognizing that.’

      ‘Yes, she said that to me too,’ said Pete. ‘And that we are not all born equal but eventually will reach a point where we are all equal.’

      ‘And how’s that supposed to happen?’ I asked.

      ‘Through knowledge and learning, through cultivating charity, hope, faith and love,’ said Pete. ‘And in my case, the importance of balance.’

      ‘Good. You need that,’ said Marcia. ‘All or nothing, that’s you.’

      I smiled. It was true. Pete never did things by halves. One week, it was red wine and fine food, other weeks green tea and brown rice.

      ‘And she spoke about making time to meditate,’ said Marcia. ‘Time to stop and tune into the peace inside.’

      ‘No prophecies?’ I asked.

      ‘Not exactly. She spoke about my father, though, said he is with me in spirit and he was fine and that he said to tell me that I worry too much.’

      Pete laughed. ‘He was always telling you that.’

      ‘And you believed her?’ I asked.

      ‘I did.’

      ‘But I’m sure a thousand fathers would pass that message on to their daughters.’

      Marcia shrugged. ‘I found it comforting,’ she said, and I realized that I should shut up with my doubts. I knew that Marcia had loved her father dearly and was still grieving, five years after his death. If what Saranya Ji had said had lifted some of that pain in some way, I didn’t want to pour cold water on it.

      ‘I’m sorry, Marcia, I didn’t mean to be cynical. You know what I’m like. I guess we know so little about what happens after death. Why shouldn’t your father speak through a medium?’

      ‘Indeed,’ said Marcia. She smiled. Like Pete, she was easy-going, not one to pick an argument, nor was I, although privately I thought the chances of her father’s spirit turning up to speak through a small Indian woman in Rajastan was about as likely as one of us winning the lottery.

      ‘It’s true,’ said Pete. ‘We know nothing about life after death, or if a spirit lives on.’

      ‘Oh yes we do,’ said Marcia, ‘there are loads of books about reincarnation and accounts of people who have had experiences. So, what else did Saranya Ji say to you?’

      I laughed. ‘She spoke to me about a past life.’

      ‘Really? Did you ask her about them?’ asked Marcia.

      ‘No, of course not. Why would I? Didn’t she talk about past lives to you? I would have thought she would tell you two that you are soulmates and have been together life after life.’

      ‘We already know that,’ said Marcia, ‘but no, Saranya Ji didn’t mention anything like that. Why did she to you?’

      ‘Because she said she sensed sadness in me and that I hadn’t found true love. Did either of you say something to her?’

      ‘Not me,’ said Marcia.

      ‘Nor me,’ said Pete.

      ‘Did she talk about you meeting the love of your life?’ Marcia asked.

      ‘Not exactly meeting him. She said I’d already met him.’

      ‘Already? Great. So, someone you already know?’ asked Marcia.

      ‘Yes and no. I’m not sure I do know him.’

      ‘Stop being evasive,’ Marcia persisted. ‘What did she say exactly?’

      ‘She said I’d met him already—’

      ‘Yes, you said, you’ve already met him. Michael. I bet it was Michael O’Connor. I always thought you two were meant for each other.’

      ‘No. Not in this life.’

      ‘What? So … ah, right, in a past life?’ Marcia persisted.

      ‘Yes, she said I’d met him before, in a previous life, when I was called Grace Harris; in many previous lives, in fact. She said we’d been together time after time.’

      ‘A soulmate,’ said Pete.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Lovely, how romantic,’ said Marcia.

      ‘And she said that as I am back now in this life, so is he, and that I must find him.’ I filled them in on the rest of what Saranya Ji had said, because I knew that Marcia wouldn’t let it go until I’d told her everything.

      ‘Wow,’ said Marcia when I’d finished. ‘That’s quite a story.’

      ‘Exactly, a story, a big load of tosh, though it would be just my luck that my soulmate is dead … but I don’t believe any of it for a second. OK, I’ll acknowledge that Saranya Ji has some sort of spooky antenna for tuning into people, and she did pick up on a few aspects about my life that are true, but a past life as a Grace Harris? I don’t think so.’

      ‘I wouldn’t dismiss it,’ said Marcia. ‘I’ve met a few people I believe I’ve known before. Pete, and you. I bet we’ve known each other before.’

      ‘You were probably her mother,’ said Pete. ‘You’re always bossing her around.’

      ‘Yes, that’s a very likely possibility,’ said Marcia.

      I put my fingers in my ears. ‘Not listening. You really are bonkers sometimes, away with the fairies.’

      Marcia laughed. ‘That’s no way to talk to your mother.’

      I sighed. ‘Honestly, I’ve never heard such nonsense.’

      ‘I’d take on board what she told you if I were you.’

      ‘Marcia, you know I love you dearly, and I am quite prepared to believe that Saranya Ji passed on a message from your father, but what she told me, I think not. I bet she gives loads of people the same spiel. I reckon she clocked that I was single because I don’t wear a wedding ring then she made it all up from there. I can’t be the only woman of my age who hasn’t known lasting joy, as she put it, in my relationships.’

      ‘But what if she didn’t make it up? She said nothing to either of us СКАЧАТЬ