shop, perhaps? No, something else . . . There are boxes and . . . envelopes . . .’
‘That’s where I work!’ cried the woman. ‘At the sorting depot. I work for the Post Office!’
‘Your future contains a great success,’ said Godfrey Frye. ‘The spirits are showing me . . . a promotion? A change of job?’
The woman gasped. ‘I know what that means! Thank you, yes, I know what that means! I’ve been thinking about applying for a supervisor’s job! Now I know I should go for it!’
‘Then I am glad the spirits have been able to help you,’ said Godfrey Frye. He nodded to the crowd and they clapped wildly
‘Wait,’ he said. The crowd instantly hushed. ‘The spirits are also showing me great success for someone else here in this room. Success with money. For someone who is . . .’ His fingers waivered in front of his forehead and his eyelids fluttered. ‘Who is . . . a member of a large family, someone very popular and . . . I am being shown . . . I believe it is our own Mr Raphael Moustique.’
The audience whispered approvingly. Izzy’s uncle, now standing behind the bar, perked up at the mention of his name. Suddenly, Godfrey Frye breathed deeply and lowered his hand, as if his connection to the undead has just been broken.
‘No, ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid the spirits will allow me no more of that vision. Even I cannot predict what they will reveal.’ The audience chuckled. ‘So, let us move on . . . I am now seeing a faithful, much-loved companion . . . A dog, named . . . is it Keith? Kenneth? . . .’
There was a gasp of joy from a table close to me. ‘That’s Killer!’ cried an old man, waving his hands in the air. ‘Oh, dear little Killer!’
It turned out that Killer was very happy in the afterlife, that he had all the rabbits he could eat and that his ex-owner would soon find happiness with a lady whose name began with T.
For almost an hour, Godfrey Frye ‘talked’ to the dead. He correctly told a woman in a red dress all about the house she’d recently inherited and predicted that next spring would be a good time to sell it. He held a man’s pocket watch and correctly gave us its history, then informed the man that his longgone grandfather wanted to make sure the watch stayed in the family for ever. He found a couple in the audience for whom the number 247 was significant, correctly diagnosed their dead relative’s final illness and let them know that their dead relative was telling them to switch to a low-fat diet.
I still couldn’t quite work out how he was doing it.
However, I was getting angry. Partly at all those in the audience who were taking him seriously and partly at Frye himself. This guy was preying on these people’s most sensitive feelings. He was suckering them into believing everything he said by trapping them in a skilful mish-mash of facts and lies, like a spider trapping bugs.
And he was very, very good at it. Once or twice, I even caught myself wondering what these dead people were going to advise their still-living family members!
After a few more chats from beyond the grave, Godfrey Frye announced that the spirits had exhausted him. Tonight’s contact with the realm of the mysteries was at an end. Thank you for your attention, ladies and gentlemen, blah blah blah.
He left the stage to thunderous applause. As soon as he’d gone, the chill seemed to lift and everyone started behaving normally again. I went back to Izzy’s table. Her mum had finally returned and was sitting next to her.
It was now time to take action and find out what this get-rich-quick scheme of Izzy’s uncle’s actually was. He told Godfrey Frye he’d talk to him after the show. I had to listen in! Somehow . . .
‘He’s really unnerving, that Godfrey Frye, isn’t he?’ said Izzy’s mum. ‘So accurate. I’m still wondering if he’s for real?’
‘Muuuum,’ said Izzy crossly. ‘You’ve forgotten the orange juice again. And the crisps. Again.’
‘Oh.
‘That’s where I work!’ cried the woman. ‘At the sorting depot. I work for the Post Office!’
‘Your future contains a great success,’ said Godfrey Frye. ‘The spirits are showing me . . . a promotion? A change of job?’
The woman gasped. ‘I know what that means! Thank you, yes, I know what that means! I’ve been thinking about applying for a supervisor’s job! Now I know I should go for it!’
‘Then I am glad the spirits have been able to help you,’ said Godfrey Frye. He nodded to the crowd and they clapped wildly
‘Wait,’ he said. The crowd instantly hushed. ‘The spirits are also showing me great success for someone else here in this room. Success with money. For someone who is . . .’ His fingers waivered in front of his forehead and his eyelids fluttered. ‘Who is . . . a member of a large family, someone very popular and . . . I am being shown . . . I believe it is our own Mr Raphael Moustique.’
The audience whispered approvingly. Izzy’s uncle, now standing behind the bar, perked up at the mention of his name. Suddenly, Godfrey Frye breathed deeply and lowered his hand, as if his connection to the undead has just been broken.
‘No, ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid the spirits will allow me no more of that vision. Even I cannot predict what they will reveal.’ The audience chuckled. ‘So, let us move on . . . I am now seeing a faithful, much-loved companion . . . A dog, named . . . is it Keith? Kenneth? . . .’
There was a gasp of joy from a table close to me. ‘That’s Killer!’ cried an old man, waving his hands in the air. ‘Oh, dear little Killer!’
It turned out that Killer was very happy in the afterlife, that he had all the rabbits he could eat and that his ex-owner would soon find happiness with a lady whose name began with T.
For almost an hour, Godfrey Frye ‘talked’ to the dead. He correctly told a woman in a red dress all about the house she’d recently inherited and predicted that next spring would be a good time to sell it. He held a man’s pocket watch and correctly gave us its history, then informed the man that his longgone grandfather wanted to make sure the watch stayed in the family for ever. He found a couple in the audience for whom the number 247 was significant, correctly diagnosed their dead relative’s final illness and let them know that their dead relative was telling them to switch to a low-fat diet.
I still couldn’t quite work out how he was doing it.
However, I was getting angry. Partly at all those in the audience who were taking him seriously and partly at Frye himself. This guy was preying on these people’s most sensitive feelings. He was suckering them into believing everything he said by trapping them in a skilful mish-mash of facts and lies, like a spider trapping bugs.
And he was very, very good at it. Once or twice, I even caught myself wondering what these dead people were going to advise their still-living family members!
After a few more chats from beyond the grave, Godfrey Frye announced that the spirits had exhausted him. Tonight’s contact with the realm of the mysteries was at an end. Thank you for your attention, ladies and gentlemen, blah blah blah.
He left the stage to thunderous applause. As soon as he’d gone, the chill seemed to lift and everyone started behaving normally again. I went back to Izzy’s table. Her mum had finally returned and was sitting next to her.
It was now time to take action and find out what this get-rich-quick scheme of Izzy’s uncle’s actually was. He told Godfrey Frye he’d talk to him after the show. I had to listen in! Somehow . . .
‘He’s really unnerving, that Godfrey Frye, isn’t he?’ said Izzy’s mum. ‘So accurate. I’m still wondering if he’s for real?’
‘Muuuum,’ said Izzy crossly. ‘You’ve forgotten the orange juice again. And the crisps. Again.’
‘Oh.
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