Kitabı oku: «Mia’s World: An Extraordinary Gift. An Unforgettable Journey», sayfa 2

Chapter 1 Love and Loss
Mia

It took us a year to clear our diaries and find six months free for the training. I decided I didn’t want to teach from my home on the Isle of Sheppey because there was too much going on. I live with my mum and my daughter, Tanya, which makes for lively chaos. There are always members of our extended family gossiping at the kitchen table. And then there are the friends and friends of friends, who turn up at the door asking for advice or readings. There is always something happening, so many people who need my time and care, and the door is open to them. I can’t imagine living any other way, and I miss the bustle and the noise when I’m not there. But I needed a clear head and a place where I could devote myself totally to the business of teaching. I knew I needed to get away from home to find that peace and quiet.

I worked out that I could stay near where Roz lived, in the countryside outside Bath, for a few days every other week. Roz found me two places to choose from: a quiet hotel and an old English pub doing bed and breakfast. It didn’t take me long to decide. I opted for the pub so I could watch TV and smoke in my room at the end of the day.

The drive from Sheppey took five long hours. Just outside Bath, I headed for the B&B. It seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. The building was over 100 years old, and the front was a riot of pansies in pots and baskets.

My room was basic and comfortable, with twin beds, a small bathroom and a dressing table. The window looked out over rolling hills and clumps of trees. It was very peaceful and I felt I’d be able to relax there.

I began the business of unpacking and settling myself in. I always make sure I have a light by my bed so that I can sit in its quiet glow and read before I go to sleep. The first thing I unpacked was my book. I can’t go anywhere without one. I laid it on the bedside cabinet. Then I thought about where I was and it made me laugh: Pete and Shane would have loved this – me staying in a pub. But that could never happen now.

We lost my brother, Pete, when he was 25. He was stabbed in a pub when he was out celebrating his birthday with a group of friends. His loss devastated our family, and was a double blow to me because I had foreseen something happening and could do nothing to prevent it.

Some weeks before he died, Pete had asked me to give him a reading. I saw him with his fiancée, Angela, and his friends, out on a pub crawl. But then I saw a sudden scuffle, people moving very fast, and a flash of metal. I felt that Pete would be going away for a very long time, but when I told him – he just laughed. ‘Ha. Did you hear that? Mia says if I go out for a drink, I’m going to end up in prison.’

Everyone loved Pete. He had a wicked sense of humour and although he’d been in and out of trouble, he was tough and loyal, and the best brother I could have asked for. When he met Angela, he fell head over heels in love. With the arrival of his beautiful daughter, Francesca, his world was complete.

The night he died, he was trying to protect a young friend from a group of seriously unpleasant men. When Pete stepped in to help, he was attacked with a machete. The post mortem revealed that the machete had gone into his liver, lung and spinal cord, but Pete still managed to take himself round the corner to the police station to get help. He collapsed at the desk and died from loss of blood in the ambulance on the way to hospital.

After I’d given Pete that reading, I felt a sense of dread. I tried to impress on him how serious it was – I wanted to stop him going out for a drink so that I could alter what I’d seen. It was so hard. I may be psychic, but I am human and vulnerable like everyone else.

Then, five years ago, my son Shane died. Eighteen years old, he was attacked while waiting for a train one night, and kicked in the head and chest. He survived the beating but, several weeks later, he collapsed. A scan revealed a massive blood clot and he had an operation to remove it. But it was all too late. He died, and no amount of begging and praying could bring him back.

When you lose a child you lose their future. I think about him all the time. I long to touch him, to hear him laugh, to see him loping about the house. I’ll never forget how it felt to run my fingers through his hair, to trace the lines of his face, to hold him and smell him.

After Shane died, I was so angry that for a while I turned away from my gift. In my grief I couldn’t understand the point of my sixth sense if I wasn’t able to use it to help the people I loved. In my despair, I pushed Eric away and turned in on myself.

Then one day a woman came to me needing my help, and when I saw the sadness in her eyes, I knew that I had to try. And in spite of everything – all my pain and rage – the spirit of her daughter came to me very clearly. Afterwards, the woman hugged me and told me that I had no idea how much I had helped. But the truth was that she had no idea how much she had helped me. Through the deepest pain, I had learned the hardest lesson. Shane was safe, just as this woman’s daughter was. Knowing there is life after death connects me to Shane. I know I will see him again, and that keeps my love alive. When I found it again, my faith was stronger than ever. I truly know that my gift is to help others.

Sitting on the bed in the pub bedroom, I began to see my path quite clearly. In publishing my first book, The Gift, I had told the story of my life and how I had learnt to live with and use my sixth sense. My gift was no longer private. Having travelled the country giving talks and appeared on television and radio, people now knew who I was.

Additionally, since the success of my book, I had been increasingly in demand. Each day brought fresh emails and letters, and many of them needed answering desperately. I was inundated with requests for readings from people who had identified with my story and sought comfort over the loss of their own sons, daughters, husbands, wives, brothers and sisters. There was such a need for psychic reassurance. It can be hard sometimes, but I have one important rule: when I’m working I give a hundred percent, and when I stop, my family get a hundred percent. And with each small piece of help I can offer, the path becomes clearer.

The past year had also been emotionally demanding. Dad died peacefully in his sleep and although Mum coped really well, she needed me. I was the family’s problem-solver – the one everyone came to when they needed help, whether it was with filling in an insurance claim or healing a broken heart. There was always something to sort out.

Throughout the busy year, the thing that sustained me most was the thought of training Roz and, eventually, opening a psychic school. I trust in fate, and this felt like the next logical step in the process of bringing psychic awareness to a wider audience. I knew that the six months ahead were vitally important.

Finally, here I was driving to Roz’s. Nevertheless, I had yet to work out a plan of action. In all the years I had been working as a psychic, I’d rarely thought about how I did it – the mechanics of clairvoyance. Teaching would mean developing a completely new set of skills. It was one thing daydreaming about a curriculum – quite another to break down what I knew instinctively into manageable steps for a novice.

When I thought of a ‘teacher’, I saw someone standing at the front of a classroom providing facts. But clairvoyance is not laid down in a set of rules. So much is based on experiential information. How was I going to communicate all this?

As always in situations like this, I turned to Eric for guidance. He is a constant – always there to help me learn, and to offer strength and reassurance.

‘I think I need some help here, Eric,’ I said aloud. (I only speak to him like this if I am sure I can’t be overheard.) ‘I’ve really tried, but I can’t work out how to break down what I do into basic steps. Now I’m on my way and Roz thinks I’m ready to teach her.’

Eric replied instantly, ‘You had enough faith to get in the car and drive. Trust in yourself a little more.’

Eric’s voice was coming from the passenger seat. I couldn’t see him clearly, just a shadowy outline. I kept my eye on the road. The trees were just beginning to bud.

‘Is it going to be okay? I’ve no idea what I’m going to do.’

‘I wouldn’t be helping you if I mapped it out. You’re going to learn as much from this in your own way as Roz will in hers.’

This was typical of Eric. Once again I felt envious of those mediums who say they get all their information, whatever they ask, from their guides. Eric would have none of that. He would steer me in the right direction – giving me clues with images or feelings, but never the answer. He always taught me that I had to look for myself and use my own mind.

Roz

Waiting for Mia to arrive, I realized I had no idea how we were going to work. Would there be formal classes? Would I have to write things down? Were there books I would have to read? Would she set me homework?

I got out my notebook and went through a checklist of Mia’s predictions. Her vision of me in Wellington boots looking at chickens had never materialized – at least not yet. But my fridge-freezer had broken just as she said. One morning I found a pool of water on the kitchen floor and the door, hanging open, was ‘wonky’ and wouldn’t close.

Then, unexpectedly, my brother offered to help me buy a new computer. Even more strange – for Christmas, my boyfriend, Mark, gave me a pair of stout new top-of-the-range walking boots.

Mia

The first thing I noticed when I stepped inside Roz’s cottage was that it had a good atmosphere. The energy felt light and creative. It also felt homely. I wasn’t expecting to be fed but, after making me a cup of tea, Roz set about cooking pasta for a late lunch. The house was as I had imagined it: cluttered with intriguing things. Chairs piled with papers. Books propped against the skirting boards. I was especially drawn to the Indian hangings on the walls.

After lunch, Roz put cushions on the front step so we could sit down. We looked out over the Mendip Hills. The last of the Spring sun was shining and I felt more relaxed than I had in a long time. The silence was soothing.

‘I’m not sure what you’re expecting, but I haven’t got these lessons set in stone or written down. I’ve never done this before, so I’ve got to learn to teach you just as you’ve got to learn what I’m teaching you.’

‘I’m trusting my instinct here – I’ve got a feeling about some people I want you to meet. An Australian couple have just arrived in England to see me and they are coming to Bath tomorrow. I think it would be a good idea for you to observe the meeting. They lost their daughter in the Bali bombing.’

Roz

I thought back to the newspaper reports of the nightclub bomb – over 200 young people had been killed while they were out partying.

Mia

‘The couple are called Robert and Louise. I’ll ask them if you can sit in. I think it’s important for you to come because so much of being a psychic is about being able to be with other people’s pain. Whatever the way someone dies, the suffering and loss for loved ones is universal. Bereavement is often the reason people seek the counsel of a psychic – or a priest or doctor. I consider these meetings the most important work I do.’

Roz

‘They’re coming all the way from Australia to meet you?’

Mia

‘They read The Gift and the account of my son Shane’s death: how I coped with the loss, it really struck a chord. They first contacted me six months ago. They told me about their daughter and said how much the book had touched them. I know what it’s like to lose a child and feel desperate, so I emailed back my telephone number. Two days later, they called.

‘We were on the phone for half an hour – it was a simple connection from one bereaved parent to another; nothing psychic. Later that day they emailed again saying they wanted to travel to see me. I tried to put them off – I said it was ridiculous to travel half way around the world to speak to me. I explained that I couldn’t guarantee their daughter would come through to me, especially as she had only been dead a year. I wanted to protect them from themselves – from all that expense and huge expectation. But they insisted, they said they were coming to England.’

‘Anyway, after all that driving I’m afraid I’m exhausted now. If it’s okay with Robert and Louise, I’ll pick you up in the morning and we’ll go and meet them.’

Robert and Louise were more than happy for Roz to come along, so the next day we drove to Bath. On the way, I gave myself a pep talk. I still felt anxious at the thought that they had travelled a great distance and I might not be able to give them what they most wanted.

But no matter how much I wanted to help them, I knew I could only give them psychic information if I was absolutely sure of it. When Shane died, many so-called psychics telephoned me saying they had news of him from the other side. Not one of their so-called messages made any sense to me. I would hate to do that to someone else.

The moment I saw Robert and Louise standing at the entrance to the hotel, all my worries disappeared. I was filled with a feeling of love for them. They thanked me again for taking the time to see them – even though they were the ones who had travelled thousands of miles.

Since The Gift was published, a lot of people have started treating me as if I’m something special – as if I’m somehow different from them. But I am an ordinary person who drinks, swears and eats junk food. I’m not a saint. It’s just that I have an ability to feel and see other people’s lives – an ability that is lying dormant in all of us.