There were seven of us in the Development Circle.

Nurse Olay said this was special number for contacting the spirits as it was a mystical one and it was easier for spirits to pass backwards and forwards through the vibration of this number. Because I was the youngest, everyone made a fuss of me and brought me lots of sweets and gifts. These gifts consisted of funny old fashioned pieces of jewellery to yellowing dresses that ‘had never been worn’ and china ornaments that I didn’t know what to do with and cakes which I certainly knew what to do with! The Circle wasn’t like school where there were endless rules and you weren’t allowed to fidget, rustle papers or eat sweets. In the Circle, the curtains would be drawn and a candle left burning in the centre of the room on a makeshift altar which was usually a chair or table. And the rules were: you kept quiet, closed your eyes and concentrated on sending out energy and light into the room.

Nurse Olay would open the circle up with a prayer about a ‘Great and Omnipotent Spirit of the Universe.’ We would all sit there, our hands on our knees, palms uppermost so that we could give energy and power to whatever was going to materialise in the room. At first nothing would happen, people would scrape their throats cough, shuffle about and sigh. But then someone’s breathing would alter and become more and more laboured as if they were finding it an effort to breathe. There was a growing tension in the room which could have either been the spirit guide or our own anticipation.

Peeping out of the corner of my eye, I could see Nurse Olay leaning forwards, hands outstretched to the heavy breather who, in this case was Barry, a young blind man in his twenties who had long artistic sensitive fingers and a face that would have been very handsome if he had less acne.

“It’s all right, Dearie,” Nurse Olay soothed and placated the spirit which was obviously hovering near Barry. “You’re quite safe here… You’re very welcome… Don’t be afraid!”

My heart was drumming away with a mixture of excitement and fear as the tension in the room became palpable. Barry’s features became distorted as if his face had become too small for him and he continued to breathe loudly. And then he turned to me, his sightless eyes eerily picking up the candle flame. “I want to – to come to this child,” his voice had changed to an older more effeminate one which both fascinated and spooked me.

My heart thudded as I realised that this was me.

Mum elbowed me. “Say something,” she whispered. “The energy goes if you don’t respond … The spirits need our response.”

“Hello,” I ventured timidly.

Barry’s face was beaming across at me. “Ah Stephanie,” the old female voice spoke through him with a slight West Country accent :“Do you remember me? We used to meet by the river……And I used to get you to feel for my wings? Well – I must have grown them because here I am!” the spirit giggled.

My mouth dropped open as I stared at Barry who wasn’t Barry any more. Everyone laughed and I felt my mother nudge me in the ribs again. “Answer her!” she hissed. “And speak up.”

“Hello,”I began nervously, but then the words rushed out, “What do you do in heaven all day? Do you ever get bored?”

“Well – I’m not exactly in heaven yet… I’m still … learning…” her voice trailed off .

“The power’s going,’ someone muttered… “She’s slipping away.”

“Say ‘thank you’,” Mum prompted.

But it was too late. The ‘river’ lady had gone and Barry was back in the room with us looking a little shaken and confused as if he’d just woken from an afternoon nap.