The Spiritualist

One Sunday afternoon Alec Sutherland entered an old office building in Swanston Street and went up in a slowly rising lift to the fifth floor.

He walked quickly down the long corridor lined with heavy oak doors. At the far end, a sign outside a half open door announced Mrs Findlater's 'Temple of Light'.

Mrs Findlater, a Psychic Medium, was at the moment preparing for the afternoon séance. She was arranging flowers on a table.

Alec being the first to arrive was warmly greeted by the older woman who flashed him a big smile.

'You're a bit early,' the woman said brightly, 'but do sit down.' His eyes roved her body and saw she was top-heavy with a large bust in a bright multi-coloured floral dress.

Alec found himself looking into her eyes. For a long moment he had the strongest feeling that he knew her but couldn't imagine where he could have met her.

She's old but beautiful in an unstated way, he thought to himself. Large dark chestnut hair with streaks of grey. The delicate features of her face were flawless with a kind of pristine purity: her make-up was lightly applied with pink lipstick and pink rouge on her cheeks. Perfectly made up, just the faintest hint of perfume. Her blue eyes held a mischievous sparkle.

It was a smile as if she knew him, had recognised him, had known him for years. Her eyes felt to Alec as if they were going right through him. They were the most outstanding thing about her. Alec was mesmerised. He chanced her another glance. He looked again into her large, luminous eyes, they were such a deep blue, they were almost violet. A flash of blue that stirred something deep within him.

Alec stood immobilised, still looking at her. For a long moment his mind just refused to work.

She watched him eyeing her. She did not say anything, did not turn away. Then the woman appeared to turn her eyes off. It was as if she had thrown a switch. It was an unnerving experience.

Alec sat down in the back row of about twenty wooden chairs which were arranged to face a platform with a table of some dark reddish wood.

The table was spread with masses of flowers of many different kinds and about a dozen candles in pretty glass holders.

The woman was now lighting the candles. Alec watched her movements around the table, which served as a kind of altar.

She turned to face him. Her lips trembled slightly as she spoke. 'We'll be starting soon.' Her voice was cultured and charismatic, her lips were soft and full, Alec observed. Sensual lips, ripe and insolent. He could see a pulse beating in her throat. Her eyes flicked up at him, and then down. Alec was spellbound! Hypnosis? Mind control? he wondered.

A heavyset man wearing a headband of some kind stepped through the doorway and stood behind Mrs Findlater.

Alec could hear voices in the passage outside as five elderly women entered the room. The Spiritualist greeted them warmly as they took their seats.

Another older woman then came into the room and went up to a middle-aged lady in the front row. The two women kissed one another passionately mouth to mouth before sitting down.

Mrss Findlater then stood behind the table and said a few words of welcome and gave a short explanation of what to expect.

Alec was eager to absorb her words and the truth within them. He had been told this woman had a remarkable ability to communicate with people who had passed over to the Other Side.

She was now handing out brown paper bags to everyone present. 'I want you each to take a bag, come to the table, select a flower, hold the flower in both hands for a moment, then place it in your bag.' Alec chose a bright blue delphinium, caressed it and put it in his bag before returning to his seat.

'When everybody is seated,' the woman was saying, 'I will go into a light trance. I want you all to be very quiet during this time as I must have full concentration. I will come to you one at a time. I will then give you a reading from your flower.'

While she was saying this one of the other women was closing the heavy curtain at the window and switching off the lights.

And so the meeting went on by candlelight. And as Mrs Findlater went to each person, took their flower out if their bag and then asked if they had an Yvette or a Margery in the Spirit World, several of the women and the one other man present exclaimed, 'Yes. Yes. She was my

daughter ,' or 'My mother's maiden name was Thompson, as you said.'

When Mrs Findlater took the delphinium out of Alec's bag, he was astonished when she told him that his mother had been deserted by her boyfriend when she told him she was pregnant with Alec. She then went on to say that a young girl named Victoria Gay was in the Spirit World and that she sends Alec her love. Alec was instantly overcome with the deepest sorrow as he recognised the bright vivacious girl.

The Spiritualist lady was saying that Alec was to stop mourning this girl and move on. Alec was stunned, his mind strangely blank. For eight years Alec has obsessively mourned Vicky and has suffered a full-fledged depression. He was broken-hearted when she died.

Vicky had been his first girlfriend when he was seventeen. She had been instantly killed in a hit and run accident on the Nepean Highway in Cheltenham when she was sixteen. This was eight years ago. Alec had never forgotten her.

Mrs Findlater, now coming out of her trance, brought the meeting to a close, saying, 'There's tea and coffee available for a small charge. There's no need to rush off.'

Eventually people drifted over to a table by the door where an urn was boiling. They were each immersed in excited conversation telling one another about their readings. 'She's amazing,' said a small grey-haired lady. 'Beatrice gets it right every time, even down to the finest details.'

'She gave an excellent description of my grandmother again today,' said the only other man present. A heavy-set man with a large bandana. 'Old Julie has come through three times this year.'

'It might have been a trick of the light. Maybe hypnosis. But I'm sure my father was in the room,' another woman said.

One of the other women was telling everybody that Beatrice had once told her that a bald-headed man would be of major significance in her life. 'A week later I met Joe. We're now engaged.'

The heavy-set balding man put out a meaty hand and introduced himself to Alec as Bill Faye. Bill was an actor who had recently played the Ghost of Hamlet's father in an amateur production. His fleshy nose was red with open pores. A whisky nose, Alec surmised. 'Ye-es,' Bill was saying, masticating the last crumbs of an Arnott's biscuit. 'Beatrice is spot on. Well, waddyaknow?

Bill's wife Persephone was proudly telling everybody how Bill as a member of the Spiritualist Union had been sent to investigate a poltergeist that has been annoying and frightening a family in Oakleigh. This family had recently moved into a house that had been empty for several years. There had been all sorts of strange knocking noises during the night and something that sounded like a huge chain being dragged across the dining-room floor. And how the Channel Seven News team had made quite a feature of this story and Bill had his moment of celebrity when he was called upon to explain what was going on to the viewers.

'Did you receive a good reading?' Mrs Findlater was asking Alec.

She stared into him sharply and again Alec had the feeling of her seeing through him, as though peering into his skin.

'Yes, I did,' Alec replied. 'How did you know about my mother?' And about my girl, Vicky?'

'I don't know anything about them. They just came through to me while I was in my trance. I don't remember now what they said. All I hope is that their message had meaning for you.'

There was a great sadness in Alec's eyes, she saw, and despite her unease, Beatrice felt for him, for whatever private devils he was struggling with.

'Yes. It certainly was. But what I also wanted was some sort of contact with my Uncle Fred. He was my mother's brother and was like a good step-father to me.'

'I'm afraid I can't just conjure him up like a genie out of a bottle. All you can do is be patient, and hope or pray he will make contact with you. Just relax your mind and open yourself to the Other Side.' Her words hung in the air for some moments,

She was about three times his age. Yet he was attracted to her. He looked her straight in the eye, capturing her complete attention, but not knowing exactly what was going on in her mind. Not a word passed between them. Not a word needed to pass. It was as though it were happening in an isolated pocket of time. Alec looked deep into her face an saw the sincerity there. She then closed her eyes and seemed to be lost in meditation.

People now began to make their way out of the room, their footsteps echoing down the hallway to the lift. Alec followed behind.

Once outside in the street, Alec made his way up Flinders Lane to where his car was parked.

2.

The following Sunday Alec was just entering the lift as Mrs Findlater, coming in from the street, called out to him from the lobby to hold the door open for her. She had rushed in from the florist shop next door and arrived breathless, her large bosom heaving. She was carrying two big baskets of flowers, one on each arm.

She shook her head when Alec offered to carry one basket.

His gaze was fixated on her. He had a smouldering look as if he was sizing her up, checking her out. Imagining what she could look like underneath her clothes.

He tried to act cool and avert his gaze.

Their eyes met and she hastily looked away. She knew what he was thinking.

She was being appraised and she knew it. She could tell by the feel of his eyes on her. In the privacy of Alec's mind Beatrice was being undressed. Her breasts were inspected, then her legs. Her clothes were again removed and her legs spread. His eyes roved her body.

She intended to give as good as she got, and closely examined him. She was so lost in her own thoughts. She took in his dark hair and scruffy beard. He had the most intense dark eyes she had ever seen.

She saw that his hands were strong and sturdy. He was obviously a man who knew how to use tools.

Beatrice still couldn't keep her eyes off him. Why was she looking at him like that? He had the impression she was also checking him out. He could certainly be just fooling himself though thinking that she was coming on to him.

Alec's hands were tanned and masculine. She could feel those hands exploring her body.

Beatrice felt genuinely connected to Alec and she was fully aware of how symbiotic such a bond is capable of becoming. Her face was as red as a schoolgirl's blush.

Again her eyes searched into him. Her smile filtering through her thoughts.

She looked into his face hoping to catch emotion but at first found none. But as she looked deeper into him, something about the sadness in his eyes made her desperate to comfort him.

'You were here last week, weren't you?'

He nodded.

She rather shyly introduced herself in her slightly Irish accent as Beatrice.

He also told her his name, Alec Sutherland.

Even with the age gap between them he was attracted to her. Almost conspicuously not looking at her cleavage.

She then asked how long he had been interested in Spiritualism.

'Not long,' he answered briefly, not knowing what else to say.

They exited the lift and walked to the room that Beatrice called her Temple.

She moved over to a table by the window and unloaded the bunches of flowers from her baskets. She studied Alec from this distance.

Alec had never expected to connect with a much older woman in this way. Last week she had looked up and caught him staring at her, and she seemed to hold his eyes a lot longer than necessary. There might have been a slight smile on her lips or he might have imagined it.

She had immediately recognised him as an Affinity, a Soul-Mate, and that he had at some time gone through a big emotional crisis in his life.

She must have loved Alec once, she thought, most likely in a previous life. Only that could explain it. Why else would his body seem so familiar to her?

She couldn't keep here eyes off him. She looked at him, looked right through him into the hidden parts of his mind. And she had known. That he like her had had significant tragedy in his past. She had been where he was now.

She knew it would be too great a shock to discover there was someone who could read your thoughts, so she switched off her probing of the inside of Alec's mind, but she was very aware of how Alec kept catching himself glancing at her chest, clearly visible underneath her dress. She saw how he was holding his breath to control his wild thoughts.

At first Alec felt that he had to get away from her too knowing gaze, then he realised he couldn't leave as she was his one and only contact with Vicki.

At the moment Alec was unable to see beyond his own pain. And Beatrice's look of pure empathy had unnerved him, even though he was desperate for someone or something to fill the void within him.

She had looked into him and had seen the love and pain, the loneliness and passion.

'Alec!' The word hung between them. She had been reading his thoughts, it would seem. 'Have you got a girlfriend at the moment?' she asked, sitting down next to him.

'No.'

'I assume you're not married?'

'No. I've had to concentrate on my studies.'

'Do you work during the day?' she asked trying to keep the conversation going.

'I'm in an insurance office. The claims department for motor vehicle accidents.'

'You will have no trouble finding a nice girl. You're attractive and eligible.'

'I'm falling into a monotonous routine,' he replied. 'Just going through the motions. It's just life, I suppose.'

She knew that he was still obsessed over his girl's death and that it kept going round and round in his mind.

'You need to move on,' Beatrice said.

He wondered how she had guessed his thoughts. 'I don't know if I can move on.'

'You can ... and you will. Just give it time.'

The feeling of emptiness, she knew, it seems like it will never go away, but it will. 'Give it time.'

She took in the haunted brown eyes. The distant look on his face. His bloodless cheeks. Her own eyes were transfixed on him. She felt she would need to touch him to comfort him.

'I know what it's like to lose someone,' she was saying. 'Sometimes all it takes is for someone to tell you that the world hasn't ended.' Her voice was almost breaking with a weak sob. How fragile and fleeting life is, she thought.

She came to Alec.

At that moment a large woman came into the room and sat on the other side of Alex. Beatrice introduced her as Madame Renee Loftus.

Madame Loftus, a French woman who had a bad cold. She moved restlessly on her chair and turned to Alec and started talking at him. 'I have eighty-eight years,' the woman sniffed, holding a damp handkerchief to her inflamed nose and looking at him through thick glasses.

'Beatrice is to me like my own daughter. Ma fille. But she is not my daughter. I love her. She is so young-looking. And pretty. My real daughter was killed crossing Punt Road in South Yarra eleven year ago.' Her thick lips were munching on the words. 'If an accident has been arranged there's nothing you can do about it.'

'I'm afraid that's too fatalistic for me, ' said Alec. 'I don't think car accidents are arranged.'

They sat looking at each other a while. She looking at Alec over moon-shaped glasses and lowering beige eyelids.

Alec took in her full, white goitrous throat above the grey jumper of her twin-set. Madame said after a pause, 'Beatrice often bring Yvette to me in séance. I am devoted to Beatrice.'

Beatrice had stopped thinking of men sexually many years ago. Sexual thoughts were now coming at her with a vengeance. It was like a cancer that had been in remission for a long time and had now come back in a fury.

She felt that strange feeling again, a tightness in her stomach and breasts, and a looseness between her legs. She couldn't get Alec off her mind all day. Something about him was different.

Her eyes fell on Alec's hands, strong and clean, capable. She has always been attracted to a man's hands, and he had beautiful, masculine hands. And she wondered how those hands would feel caressing her body.

She felt her nipples tighten, and for a moment she was ashamed of her lewd thoughts. She pulled her eyes away from the young man.

Alec continued to attend the séances each Sunday afternoon for the next few weeks. He got on well with the people there and listened carefully to the various people tell of the readings they got from the clairvoyant.

3.

The following week when Alec entered the Temple, he saw Bill Faye hovering over an elderly lady sitting on a solitary chair at the far end of the room.

Bill had his hands above the woman's head and was moving them in small circles. He then lowered his hands to just above her shoulders and did the same circular motions.

'Bill's giving Miss Virgo spiritual healing,' Persephone Faye, Bill's wife was explaining to Alec. 'You're not allowed to touch the person but just to direct your hands around and about them. Miss Virgoe says she's had relief with her asthma, her liver, and her gout due to Bill's ministrations.'

Alec could again feel Beatrice's eyes on him and that she was watching him intently. She was taking in his dark hair and scruffy beard. He had the most intense brown eyes she had ever seen.

'Hello Alec,' Beatrice said, pointing to a chair for him to sit. 'How are you tonight?'

'Well enough, Mrs Findlater.'

'Call me Beatrice.'

'Beatrice,' he corrected.

Her smile was disarming as well as her forthrightness. Alec found her blue eyes sparkling at him even more. He was very conscious of her eyes.

'You've met Lydia Jeffries, Kitty Virgoe, Bill and Persephone Faye, Madame Loftus, haven't you?' she asked pointing to the other persons present.

Alec acknowledged Persephone Faye and noted her milky marble eyes. And her matching polka dot dress.

Bill Faye smiled and held out his hand and Alec had no choice but to take it. Bill was a distinguished looking man. His voice was rich and velvety.

Kitty Virgoe was a pigeon-coloured woman with a seamed, yellow face. She had screwed up her mouth and the thin lips tended to disappear.

Alec looked right at Beatrice in a way that completely unsettled her. Her brain realised she was being watched.

'Why are you looking at me like that?'

'I like looking at you,' he told her.

Beatrice was being appraised, she knew it. She could tell by the feel of his eyes on her. It felt as if he was not only assessing her body, but her soul, her very being.

4.

A week later there was a train strike in Melbourne. It had been going on for seven days and there was no sign that it would end.

After the séance had finished Alec was standing just inside the lobby door of the building next to the florist's shop. He stood looking out at the traffic streaming past in Swanston Street. It was raining heavily.

Beatrice joined him in the lobby.

'Looks a bit wet, doesn't it?' he said lamely.

Her blue eyes bored into him. 'It seems we're stuck here.'

We? He thought. 'How are you getting home?'

'I'm looking out for a taxi,' she said.

'I don't think you'll get a taxi easily today. It's a football final afternoon and there's no trains.'

'Well, I'll just have to wait, I suppose.'

'No you won't. Where do you live?'

'Hawthorn. But ...'

I'll drive you home. My car's just round in Flinders Lane. We've both got umbrellas and the rain's eased off a bit.'

'It's very kind of you, Alec. But I can't impose on you.'

'Yes you can. Let's walk to the corner. Where did you say you lived?'