The Sibling Séance

The Sibling Séance

By

Ashley Michael Day

'Why do you want to speak to that old sod in the first place?' Jess complained as she clattered through the beaded curtain hanging over Madam Xenia's living room entrance.

'I want to know how he's doing?'

'Not very well I assume - he's dead!' Simone rolled her eyes at her sister's remark.

'I do realise that, I was at the funeral.'

'Don't I know it,' Jess complained, 'I should never have let you arrange the flowers. The hearse looked like it should have been floating down the Ganges.'

'You were no better,' Simone said, waging an accusing finger, causing her silver bangles to clatter. 'You were the one who wasted all that money on the lead lined coffin. Daddy should have been buried in the wicker coffin I picked out.'

'It looked like a giant laundry hamper, Simone,' Jess exclaimed, buttoning up her jacket, 'what do you think the neighbours would have thought, having us going to the cemetery with our father looking like a giant picnic basket.'

Simone sighed:

'You're such a snob, Jessica. You always have to put on these airs and graces. Lead lined coffin. Why would you want that? And all that expense for that new suit of his. What a waste. That could have been better allocated elsewhere. Like getting in another round at his wake. I dunno! A new suit…it wasn't even an open casket.'

'I wanted him to look his best, that was all,' Jessica said, snooping around Madam Xenia's living room. Examining her crystals, dream catchers, and tarot cards. 'I wanted him to be presentable.'

Simone frowned. In the thirty-two years she had known her elder sister, she'd never shown any religious or spiritual inclinations.

She asked:

'You never said you believed in God.'

'I don't - I'm talking about the mortician in case that old git is exhumed.'

'You never loved Daddy,' Simone pouted, fiddling with her necklaces and charms, snagged on her ratty jumper.

Jessica shook her head in despair as she watched her bohemian sister gnaw at an unravelling thread.

'Come here, let me have a go.'

Despite her age, Simone was always the baby in the family, and always did as she was told. Sulking, with her head down, she languidly walked to her sister. Jess patiently examined the chains and the jumper, and used her keen fingers to free them.

'Why didn't you love Daddy?' Simone asked again, but she received no reply. Jess was too busy concentrating on untangling the knot. Also, how could she explain it? Simone was the baby of the family. His favourite. She knew nothing but love.

How could Jess explain something she couldn't understand herself?

'There,' Jess exclaimed, undoing the knot, 'all done.'

Simone muttered a thank you, before collapsing into an armchair. Scratching at the bird's nest that was her hair.

This made Jessica scratch her own hair.

She couldn't help it.

It was part of her OCD behaviour.

She couldn't bear any mess. And looking at her sister's unwashed, dread locked hair do, made her want to scratch her own scalp red raw!

Distracting herself, she cast an eye over the room.

Madam Xenia's living room was doubled up as a sitting room, home environment and reception space. The room was littered with occult paraphernalia. Silk curtains, burning incense, wind chimes (despite being indoors), astrological posters. Yet, nestled amongst them were family photos, a TV, and domestic clutter. Clearly this fraud worked from home. And Jess doubted she declared her finance's to the taxman. Simone had asked to borrow some cash from her before she explained that they were visiting a spiritual medium. Otherwise she'd have told her to forget it. But Simone had known her older sister too well and had orchestrated a deception to trick her into coming.

'How long is this charlatan going to take?'

'She's not a charlatan,' Simone whispered back, 'she's a professional clairvoyant!'

'Oh - my mistake,' Jess said sarcastically.

'You know what your problem is?'

'What?'

'You're so close minded. Why do you find it so hard to believe there's something beyond this world?'

Jess shook her head.

'I'm not close minded Simone, I'm just, you know, sceptical. I'm not an atheist. I'm just - oh, there's a word for people like me…'

'I can think of a few,' muttered Simone.

'Agnostic, I was going to say. I'm open to there being something, but not what's written in the Bible. Nor ghosts, or reincarnation…'

'I knew you were going to bring that all back up again! I'm telling you, that hypnotist told me that I had many exotic past lives. It's not my fault that you're jealous. Just because I've lived better past lives than you probably have.'

Jess was already getting a headache. She loved her sister, but she was a little brat. Everything was a competition with her.

Jessica was staring at the double doors that acted as a partition, willing them to open so she could get on with this charade. She walked over to the doors trying to listen for any movement on the other side. But all she could hear was pan pipes playing off the Amazon Alexa.

'Jealous am I? And what do I have to be jealous about?'

'You're jealous,' Simone said smugly, 'because I had been a personal maid to Marie Antoinette, a high priestess to Boadicea, and an Amazonian warrior. What have you done?'

'Just like you - I've been none of those. Don't you question these things?! Anyone who tells you they've had a past life always turns out to be some famous historical figure?'

'Not always,' Simone said, springing to her feet to confront her sister. 'I told you: I was a maid, a priestess, and a warrior. You see, I was no one famous...'

Jess turned from the door and stared back at Simone with a raised eyebrow.

Simone sighed.

'...Okay, he did say I had been Cleopatra, but that was all.'

Jess smirked at her small victory. With her back to the door, they gently slid open, revealing the dining room within. As Jess turned round, she found herself face to face with a woman in her mid-to late fifties. She was a woman dressed like a Romanian gypsy from a fortune tellers booth at a fayre ground. She had shoulder length brunette curls, tied up in a patterned head scarf. Her dark, glaring eyes were accentuated by heavy eyeliner and dark blue eyeshadow. A sheer black shawl was draped around her shoulders that matched her ebony and crimson dress. Jess jumped at the sudden sight of her.

'I - am Madam Xenia. I have been expecting you.'

'Premonition?' Simone asked.

'No…appointment.'

Jessica's mouth curled into a sly sneer, feeling that the Psychics jibe was aimed directly at her.

'Please, step this way into my inner sanctum.'

Jessica and Simone walked past the mystic into her dining room. It had been prepared with dramatic effect. Lit by candle light on silver candelabras standing upon an old Spanish chest. A large free standing Chinese screen stood in the corner by the heavy velvet curtains. In the middle of the room was a table partially draped in a green felt cloth with a crystal ball in its centre.

'That's a lovely table you've got there, Madam Xenia,' Simone remarked, as she felt the grain, 'Ikea is it?'

'Dunelm.'

'Dunelm is it? Oh it's beautiful isn't it Jess? Just look at that joinery. That would look lovely in my flat, wouldn't it?'

'Mmh, very nice,' Jessica agreed, lifting up one of the green felt corners of the table cloth to get a better view. As she did, she revealed an unusual white designed shape on the other side.

'My son's Subbuteo pitch,' Madam Xenia explained, 'I used to use my husband's Texas Hold'em poker cloth, but when he left me he took it with him.'

'I bet you didn't see that coming,' replied Jessica, instantly regretting the faux pas.

Madam Xenia narrowed her eyes at Jessica before moving on.

'Please, take a seat.'

Both Jessica and Simone sat at the table like two nervous school girls sent to the headmasters office. Madam Xenia navigated around to the opposite end of the table.

'So - which of you wants your fortune told? I can do you both, but it will cost more. But not to worry, I'll give you a discount.'

'Er, I'm sorry Madam Xenia,' interrupted Simone, 'but we're not here to have our fortunes told.'

'You're not?'

'No.'

'But I have my crystal ball out.'

'So we can see, but we're not here to have our fortunes told.'

'You're not?'

'Are you sure she's a psychic?!' Jess asked her sister.

Madam Xenia scowled at her.

'I don't need my fortune told,' Simone explained, 'I had mine done years ago, and I guess you only ever need to have your future told once in your lifetime.'

'Well, at least in this one,' Jess scoffed.

'And there'll be no need to tell my sister's fortune. She has no future.'

'Hey!'

'No husband. No kids. No life. The only thing you could tell her is how many cats she's going to have and if they'll eat her when she croaks.'

'Thanks.'

'We want to make contact with our late father,' Simone clarified.

'Ah!' the Psychic exclaimed, 'Now it's all clear.'

Jess tapped the crystal ball.

'Wasn't much help, was it?'

Madam Xenia scowled again at the business woman. She lifted up the heavy ornament off the table and headed to a sideboard.

'In that case,' the Psychic announced, 'we will need to make contact through the spirit of the glass!'

The two sisters exchanged a glance. Simone was wide eyed with anticipation, whilst Jessica's eyes rolled theatrically.

Madam Xenia returned to the table, laying down a ouija board. She rested a single shot glass with a shamrock on it, amongst the jumble of letters.

'Before we begin,' the mystic said in a sultry voice, 'on this journey beyond the veil. I must warn you that I have no power to control the forces we will be unleashing tonight. There is never any guarantee who we will make contact with. The spirit world is filled with many mysteries and it is up to them to make themselves heard…And for that reason it's cash in advance and I'm no longer accepting Groupon.'

Simone eagerly handed over the wad of cash across the table. Madam Xenia swiftly snatched up the money and quickly counted it.

'How much was that?!' Jess murmured under her breath to her sister.

'What does it matter, it's my money.'

'I think you'll find it was my money,' Jess snapped.

'I'm paying you back aren't I?'

'That's not the--'

The sisters stopped squabbling as Madam Xenia stuffed the folded banknotes down her cleavage and took her seat.

'At this point,' the Psychic whispered, 'I will require your full cooperation. We are dealing with the dead. Now let us join hands.'

They all joined hands over the table, in a circle. Madame Xenia closed her eyes and started to slowly sway in her chair as she hummed and chanted to the room at large. She sounded like a pigeon.

Jess tried to ignore how sweaty the older woman's palms were. Alarm bells were going off inside her head. She wanted to let go of the moist hand and wipe her own onto her trouser leg. Simone had followed the spiritualists example and had shut her own eyes. But Simone could sense her sister fidgeting. She peeked across to Jess who was gawking at the medium's hand in hers. Simone, watching her sister squirm, squeezed her hand to draw her attention. Jess winced as she turned to Simone. The two women started to conduct a mimed conversation whilst Madam Xenia went into a trance.

What's the matter? Simone asked.

How long do we have to hold hands?

How should I know?

Why do you always drag me into these situations? I should have my head examined.

Keep quiet!

'I am! -' Jess said.

'Ssh!' hushed Simone.

Madam Xenia was still in her trance, rolling her head backwards and forwards. Her chanting had become deeper and guttural.

'This is pointless,' whispered Jess, 'I can't sit around here all night, I've got paperwork to do. I have a new client tomorrow.'

'Maybe you should have had your fortune read after all,' teased Simone, 'might have told you how it went?'

'This is a waste of-'

Madam Xenia gripped the two sisters' hands as she jerked backwards, releasing a raspy gasp, as if she were drowning and had suddenly made it to the surface. Both sisters jumped.

Jess muttered:

'Jesus!'

The mystic tilted her head and addressed the artex ceiling:

'Is anybody there?...Is anybody there?'

The three women waited silently for some reply. In the gloom of the dining room, they glared at each other as if to ask, what's next?

Crash!

They all turned to see that a cheap porcelain figurine had fallen and smashed on to the floor.

'Do you think they're offended because you asked if any-body was there? Instead of any-one?' Simone asked, 'They might be sensitive on the subject? You know, no longer having bodies of their own?'

'Look!'

Jess gasped, pointing over to the sideboard. A metallic statue with a crystal was slowly shuffling across the shelf.

'Brilliant,' Simone remarked.

'We've made contact,' purred Madam Xenia, 'we can now communicate with the otherside. Please place the index finger of your right hand on the top of the glass. When talking with the dead they will guide the glass and write their answer.'

'What if we get a dyslexic ghost?' Simone asked.

'I've never been asked that before,' the Psychic confessed massaging her temple.

Jess tried to conceal her smile at the Psychics discomfort. But couldn't resist rubbing salt into the wound:

'From what I gather, when it comes to séances, apparently when you die you are able to communicate no matter what. Whether that person was dyslexic, illiterate, or even from a different nationality in life. They're always able to communicate and spell in English. I've seen it on TV and in films. When you die, you immediately become bilingual. It's part of the whole phenomenon, isn't that right Madam?'

The Psychic massaged her temples even more rigorously.

'Is that right Madam Xenia?' Simone asked.

'Yes, that is so.'

Simone shook her head slowly in awe.

'Unbelievable…'

'You said it,' Jess quipped.

Madam Xenia regained control of the séance. She took a deep breath and exhaled.

'Put your index finger upon the glass.' All three did as they were instructed. 'Now, I will ask the spirits to come forth and be recognised.'

Simone nodded eagerly whilst Jess went through the motions.

The medium addressed the ceiling again:

'Is anybody there?'

Suddenly the flames on the candles seemed to die down to near extinguish, casting the room almost into darkness. The room went chilly for a moment making Jessica's spine tingle. The musky smell of incense gave the room a sinister atmosphere.

Madam Xenia gasped:

'A spirit is with us.'

Both sisters glanced at each other expectantly.

'Who is it?' Simone enquired.

'It is a man. An elderly man. He has deep set wrinkles, grey hair, and walks with a stoop.'

'That narrows it down, doesn't it?' Jess muttered sarcastically.

'Daddy!'

'How do you know that's him?'

'Who else could it be?'

'Any old man who's kicked the bucket! Be realistic Simone.'

'This man,' Madam Xenia interrupted, 'tells me that he has two daughters…'

'See!' Simone said triumphantly.

'I guess that's proof enough,' replied Jessica, heavy with irony.

The Psychics right eye opened briefly to shoot daggers at her. She closed them again and continued.

'By all means. Ask the spirit who he was in life.'

Jess bit her tongue.

Great! We've got Jacob Marley with us.

Simone leaned forward, clearing her throat:

'Were you our father?'

In answer, the glass began to slide along the ouija board. The glass scraped, making a whirring noise. The three women never removed their fingers from the top of the glass. The shot glass slid to the word, Yes, printed on the board.

'There is your proof,' the Psychic declared triumphantly.

'See, Jess, I told you it was Daddy.'

'Yeah, yeah, just get on with it. It's getting late.'

'What do you wish to ask him?' the spiritualist asked.

Simone cleared her throat nervously. She collected herself, then looked up at the ceiling.

'Daddy?...D'you know where Mummy's emerald ring is? I've looked all over and I couldn't find it.'

Jessica was aghast.

'Is that it?! The reason you dragged me all the way down here to participate in this circus is to find mum's ring!!?'

'Yeah - she promised it to me Jess. I've looked high and low for it. Even down the sides of the sofa. I broke a nail doing it.'

'Oh for God's sake! I thought you were going to ask him something important.'

Simone shook her head in shock.

'That ring is very important to me Jess, it goes lovely with that new green handbag I got. If I can't find the ring, none of my other jewellery will colour coordinate with it. I'd have to get a new set. I'm not made of money.'

'I thought you were going to tell him you loved him.'

'I do tell him,' Simone protested, 'I tell him every morning when I come down for breakfast. I look at the wee Urn on top of my fridge, and I say, "Morning Daddy," just like that.'

'Alright,' Jess conceded, 'then you wanted him to tell you he loved you.'

'But I know he loved me, Jess. Why would I ask that?…I think you're transferring some of your own emotional insecurities here. Why don't you ask Daddy if he loved you?'

'Eh?'

'Ask Daddy if he loved you.'

Jess pulled a face as if the whole suggestion was absurd. But as she looked from Simone to Madam Xenia, both believers stared back as if the notion was the most normal thing in the world.

'Don't be preposterous.'

'Go on Jessica,' Simone encouraged her, 'finally get it off your chest. Once and for all. I'll ask about the ring afterwards.'

Simone was serious. She only ever called her Jessica when she wanted to make a point. Madam Xenia looked annoyed. Jessica hung her head and sighed.

'Okay,' Jess surrendered, 'so be it.' She raised her head and looked up at the ceiling. 'Dad - erm, I er, I always regretted the distance between us. I never knew what it was that prevented us from having a - normal father daughter relationship? I didn't expect you to attend any tea parties with me and my dolls, or for you to buy me a pony…It would have been nice, but I never had those expectations. It just - it just felt like I was forgotten, or got lost in the loop. Especially when, er, when,' Jess looked awkwardly at Simone,' when a certain someone came along.'

Simone smirked at Jessica's discomfort.

Jess sighed before continuing:

'I didn't want a mountain of toys. But you never even gave me flowers, Dad! I loved you, but you left me without even telling me you…'

Jessica stopped herself from teetering on the edge of bursting into tears. She took a deep breath and harnessed her emotions. Jess always tried to keep in control.

'So my question is,' Jess sniffed, 'did you love me?'

The question hung in the air as the silence built.

Madam Xenia waited with her eyes firmly closed, allowing the tension to mount like a reality TV host about to reveal the winner. She took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly before opening her eyes. Both Jess and Simone were on the edge of their seats waiting for an answer. Madam Xenia looked at Jessica with her dark, hypnotic eyes and broke the silence:

'He says…'

Bang-Bang-Bang

The front door was broken open with the heavy swings from a sledge hammer. The door burst in with the lock exploding from the impact.

Boosh!

The door was forced open and a group of police officers stormed into the confined house.

'Police! Nobody move!'

Jess and Simone sat dumbfounded as a swarm of police officers circled the table in their police windbreakers and immaculate white shirts.

'Doreen Nolan,' one of the plain clothes officers said, holding up a search warrant, addressing Madam Xenia, 'you are under arrest for defrauding members of the general public.'

'Oh, leave off, filth,' snarled Madam Xenia, dropping all pretence as two female officers placed her in handcuffs and escorted her from the room. 'You can't prove nuffin!'

'Madam Xenia?' Simone called after the imposter, 'what did Daddy say?'

The charlatan rolled her eyes one last time as she was taken into custody.

'Jess,' Simone confided to her sister, 'I think Madam Xenia might not be a Psychic after all…'

'Either that, or her crystal ball is faulty.'

Jess and Simone sat silently as they witnessed the police taking apart the elaborate set around them. Officers opened up the Spanish chest where they found one of Madam Xenia's young sons working a gas tank rigged to the bunsen burner candelabras. Operating the flame levels at a pivotal point. Another young boy was found behind the Chinese screen operating an air conditioning unit and a heavy duty magnet that pulled the crystal statue across the sideboard.

'These confident tricksters know every trick in the book,' the Sergeant explained to the two sisters, 'preying upon the gullible-' He stopped himself as he saw them scowling at him through the rear view mirror. The rest of the journey was in silence as he escorted them to the station to make their statement.

It was after one o'clock in the morning when Jess finally got back to her flat. She was bone tired. She had been made to wait for hours in that Police station. They had to double check all the details before the statement could be signed. The money paid to the con artist was being held as evidence and wouldn't be released till the trial.

She shook her head, annoyed that all she would get for all her troubles was an anecdote. Her cat, Gingerbread, greeted her at the door, arching her back against Jessica's leg. She picked up her pet and nuzzled the top of her head.

"No husband. No kids. No life. The only thing you could tell her is how many cats she's going to have and if they'll eat her when she croaks."

Bring-Bring! Bring-Bring!

Jess stepped into the sitting room and answered the landline.

'Hello?'

'You're back then?'

'Simone - why are you calling? I only left you fifteen minutes ago.'

'Just making sure you got back safely. I thought it would be a nice change for me looking out for you.'

'Uh-huh.'

'So, er,' Simone struggled, 'what are you doing now?'

Jess sighed.

'Going to my bed, so should you. I'll speak to you in the morning.'

She moved the receiver away from her ear, but caught a faint cry of, 'wait,' from the ear piece.

'What is it Simone?'

There was a brief pause from the other end of the line as the younger sister considered what she was about to say.

'He did love you. You do know that, right?'

'Sure,' Jess replied, before hanging up the phone, 'if only he'd shown it.'

No sooner had the words left her lips, the room suddenly filled with the aroma of perfume. The scent didn't came from any potpourri in bowls. No air freshner. No magazine samples. Nothing. This overwhelming fragrance shrouded and enveloped her, before suddenly vanishing without a trace, leaving her alone with the scent of flowers…