from all that leaping about. I was seeing an entirely new side of Izzy’s mother tonight!
‘You’ve forgotten the orange juices again,’ said Izzy. ‘And the crisps.’
‘What?’ asked her mum. ‘Oh, yes, right. Must have got distracted. Back in a mo.’
‘Cheese and onion,’ said Izzy
Off went Izzy’s mum again. Uncle Raphael reappeared at the curtains.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, in a deep, serious tone, ‘I am now proud to present to you a man whose ability to see beyond this ordinary world of ours is as unmatched as it is mysterious. A man who has a gift which the rest of us can only dream of. A man who can speak . . . directly! . . . to those who have passed on and to whom the spirits speak in turn. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr Godfrey Frye.’
There was a steady ripple of applause, then the crowd became hushed and nervous.
Suddenly, I realised something. I had to move! At once!
‘I’ll be over on the other side of the room,’ I whispered to Izzy. ‘I can’t let Frye see me sitting here.’
‘Why?’ whispered Izzy.
Can you see what I was trying to avoid?
If Godfrey Frye saw me sitting next to Izzy (who he’d already met the night before, remember), he’d know that Izzy and I were connected. And if he found that out, he might well realise that I wasn’t who I’d said I was. Then he might suspect that I was in the process of investigating him. And then he might twig that I was this Saxby Smart person he’d obviously heard about.
I hurried away from the stage, looking for someone who might pass as . . . what was it I’d said to Godfrey Frye? Three big brothers, wasn’t it? Oh bum, why couldn’t I just have said I’d run away from home or something?
But I was in luck. Three hefty blokes in builder’s overalls were huddled around a table close to the toilets. All three of them looked like sausage skins stuffed with pebbles, and all three of them gave me a ‘get lost’ look as I approached.
‘Do you mind if I sit here?’ I said breezily. ‘You get a much better view from, um, near the toilets, don’t you.’
They stared at me. ‘If you must,’ grunted one of them. They paid no more attention to me.
The stage lights dimmed a little. There was absolute silence. I could have sworn a sudden chill rippled its way outwards across the room.
Godfrey Frye walked into the spotlight, his shoes clacking slowly against the stage. Somehow, he looked even more sinister in bright light. He acknowledged the audience with a wearily raised hand.
‘I hear a message for a woman named Kate, or Katherine,’ he began. Two or three sections of the crowd bristled excitedly. ‘This lady has recently suffered a bereavement. Her dear grandmother has passed over into the spirit world.’
A woman sitting close to the bar raised a trembling hand. Her face was fixed on Godfrey Frye, her eyes almost popping out of her head with surprise.
‘Would you stand?’ said Mr Frye.
The woman stood up and a second spotlight swung around to pick her out of the crowd. Godfrey Frye was silent for a few seconds, standing with his hands raised to his forehead and his eyelids half closed.
‘You grandmother’s name was Edith,’ he said. His words seemed to split the air in the room like a saw carving into wood.
‘Y-yes, that’s right,’ said the woman.
‘She has a message for you,’ said Godfrey Frye. ‘She is telling you . . . not to be sad. She is telling you . . . she is happy in the spirit world . . . and that your family should not worry about her. She says that you must convey this message to your sister Veronica and to your mother Rosalind.’
The woman was almost toppling over with astonishment. ‘I . . . Y-yes, I will,’ she cried. ‘Thank you. Does she say anything else?’
Godfrey Frye paused. His head shifted slightly to one side, as if he was concentrating on a sound that was echoing from far away. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘She sees your future. I am shown . . . is it an office? No, a
‘You’ve forgotten the orange juices again,’ said Izzy. ‘And the crisps.’
‘What?’ asked her mum. ‘Oh, yes, right. Must have got distracted. Back in a mo.’
‘Cheese and onion,’ said Izzy
Off went Izzy’s mum again. Uncle Raphael reappeared at the curtains.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, in a deep, serious tone, ‘I am now proud to present to you a man whose ability to see beyond this ordinary world of ours is as unmatched as it is mysterious. A man who has a gift which the rest of us can only dream of. A man who can speak . . . directly! . . . to those who have passed on and to whom the spirits speak in turn. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr Godfrey Frye.’
There was a steady ripple of applause, then the crowd became hushed and nervous.
Suddenly, I realised something. I had to move! At once!
‘I’ll be over on the other side of the room,’ I whispered to Izzy. ‘I can’t let Frye see me sitting here.’
‘Why?’ whispered Izzy.
Can you see what I was trying to avoid?
If Godfrey Frye saw me sitting next to Izzy (who he’d already met the night before, remember), he’d know that Izzy and I were connected. And if he found that out, he might well realise that I wasn’t who I’d said I was. Then he might suspect that I was in the process of investigating him. And then he might twig that I was this Saxby Smart person he’d obviously heard about.
I hurried away from the stage, looking for someone who might pass as . . . what was it I’d said to Godfrey Frye? Three big brothers, wasn’t it? Oh bum, why couldn’t I just have said I’d run away from home or something?
But I was in luck. Three hefty blokes in builder’s overalls were huddled around a table close to the toilets. All three of them looked like sausage skins stuffed with pebbles, and all three of them gave me a ‘get lost’ look as I approached.
‘Do you mind if I sit here?’ I said breezily. ‘You get a much better view from, um, near the toilets, don’t you.’
They stared at me. ‘If you must,’ grunted one of them. They paid no more attention to me.
The stage lights dimmed a little. There was absolute silence. I could have sworn a sudden chill rippled its way outwards across the room.
Godfrey Frye walked into the spotlight, his shoes clacking slowly against the stage. Somehow, he looked even more sinister in bright light. He acknowledged the audience with a wearily raised hand.
‘I hear a message for a woman named Kate, or Katherine,’ he began. Two or three sections of the crowd bristled excitedly. ‘This lady has recently suffered a bereavement. Her dear grandmother has passed over into the spirit world.’
A woman sitting close to the bar raised a trembling hand. Her face was fixed on Godfrey Frye, her eyes almost popping out of her head with surprise.
‘Would you stand?’ said Mr Frye.
The woman stood up and a second spotlight swung around to pick her out of the crowd. Godfrey Frye was silent for a few seconds, standing with his hands raised to his forehead and his eyelids half closed.
‘You grandmother’s name was Edith,’ he said. His words seemed to split the air in the room like a saw carving into wood.
‘Y-yes, that’s right,’ said the woman.
‘She has a message for you,’ said Godfrey Frye. ‘She is telling you . . . not to be sad. She is telling you . . . she is happy in the spirit world . . . and that your family should not worry about her. She says that you must convey this message to your sister Veronica and to your mother Rosalind.’
The woman was almost toppling over with astonishment. ‘I . . . Y-yes, I will,’ she cried. ‘Thank you. Does she say anything else?’
Godfrey Frye paused. His head shifted slightly to one side, as if he was concentrating on a sound that was echoing from far away. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘She sees your future. I am shown . . . is it an office? No, a
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