The Medium

Jacob Beaufort wasn't dangerous.

Mr. Wiggam gave me a short bow. "Good bye, Miss Chambers."

"Wait!" I sprang up from the chair. Mrs. Wiggam and Celia watched me, curiosity printed on their faces, but neither interrupted. "There's a spirit in the Waiting Area...I want you to give him a message from me if you see him."

"But you're a medium, you can summon any ghost you wish at any time. You just called my name and I came."

"You came when I called because you wanted to. Jacob...probably doesn't want to."

"Very well. How will I recognize your ghost? There are many souls up there."

"He's more solid than others. You can't see through him and-."

"What do you mean, more solid?" He held up his hands, twisting and turning them as he studied them. "I'm as solid as I ever was when I was alive." He patted his bulging stomach and laughed.

"Not to me you're not. But Jacob was."

Mr. Wiggam dismissed my description of Jacob's presence with a shrug. "What's his name?"

"Jacob Beaufort. Tell him I said he was wrong. Then tell him what you just told me."

"Very well. I'll see what I can do." He bowed again and winked out of existence.

I turned to Mrs. Wiggam. "He's gone."

Her eyes narrowed and her gaze flitted around the drawing room. "Is he coming back?"

"No. Celia?"

My sister rose. We said our farewells to Mrs. Wiggam and she promised to employ our services again when the house was set to rights.

"That would be delightful," Celia said with an ingratiating smile. It wasn't until we were out of the street altogether that she said, "I sincerely hope we never return there." I couldn't agree more.

We walked for a while without speaking until we turned into Druids Way. We held onto our bonnets and bent our heads into the breeze.

"You asked Mr. Wiggam's ghost to tell Jacob something up there." She nodded at the sky-it was cloudless for once, the constant haze turning it a faded blue-but neither of us knew where the Waiting Area was actually located. It was as good a place as any I suppose. "What was it?"

I told her about taking our good and bad characteristics with us when we die. We'd arrived at the steps to our house by the time I finished. I looked up, half hoping to see Jacob lounging against the door as he had been on our first meeting. He wasn't.

Celia did something entirely unexpected then. She sat on the top step and patted the spot next to her. "Tell me how he died."