The Ghost Whisperer: A Real-Life Psychic’s Stories

ONE

By Appointment: Ghostly Experiences of My Clients

In this chapter, I describe many experiences I’ve had with spirits during consultations with my clients. Consultations are possibly one of the easiest means of contacting a spirit – I have the client in front of me and, as I tune in to their energies, so the spirits come over. Most of my contact with spirits comes from these consultations. Of course, it doesn’t happen every time. Believe it or not, it’s usually more difficult if the client has arranged the consultation for the sole purpose of contacting their dearly departed. I don’t know about other mediums, but I find it easier just to feel what I feel, see what I see and pass on the ghostly news. I could write 10 books with the experiences I’ve had thus far in my 13-year career. I feel very privileged and also very respectful of the spirit world. To be given an insight into life after death is truly a gift to me as opposed to a gift from me.

The Vase

Jane from Perth had a very interesting story to tell me. Her main reason for arranging the consultation with me was a far more personal one, but when she began to relate the following, I found myself utterly engrossed.

Jane and her husband moved into their first home in the spring of 1997. They had been married only a matter of weeks, and naturally the young couple were busy making their new house a home.

Utterly exhausted one evening, the pair decided to have an early night. They both lay in bed reading when, out of the blue, an enormous thud could be heard from downstairs. At this point, the exact location of the noise wasn’t clear but as they tentatively descended the stairs, they were both drawn to the lounge. This room was the only one they had so far finished decorating.

Jane remembers that, despite the room being in pitch darkness, she did not feel afraid. During a later discussion, her husband was to admit to the same feeling. This was, of course, very strange. By all accounts it sounded as if there was someone in their lounge – and the most likely candidate was a burglar. However, at no time did either one feel afraid. They tell me they simply didn’t think along those lines.

As Frank, Jane’s husband, switched on the light, Jane was devastated to see one of her most loved belongings, an ancient crystal vase, lying on the floor. After an inspection, however, they discovered the vase had escaped the incident without the merest scratch – a miracle in itself as the vase was huge and the thud they heard as it fell had been resounding. Still, counting their blessings, they replaced the undamaged vase and returned to bed.

The following evening, Frank was in his study working and Jane was ironing in their bedroom. And, once again, thud! Both ran to the lounge and were met with the exact same scene from the night before. And, once again, the vase was intact.

Again, they replaced the vase and returned to the jobs they were doing prior to this incident.

The following evening, at the same time, it happened again. Assuming vibrations of some sort were causing the vase to fall to the floor, they decided not to push their luck. The vase couldn’t possibly continue to fall and remain unscathed each time so they moved it to a safer location.

The next day was Jane’s birthday. Frank sent her a beautiful bouquet of flowers, very fitting for such a priceless and sentimental vase. Forgetting about the three falls, Jane arranged the flowers in the vase and replaced it in its new location.

Ten full nights passed without incident.

After this time, the flowers began to die and so Jane threw them out, washed the vase and again replaced it.

That evening, the vase fell to the floor – undamaged once again. At last, the young newlyweds began to think there was something amiss here.

The exact same incident happened night after night. Jane was so afraid the vase would break that she moved it around the room many times, leaving a cushion directly underneath.

A few weeks passed and Jane, as planned, bid farewell to her colleagues as she began a new career elsewhere. She was showered with gifts, cards and flowers.

Arriving home that evening, Jane put the flowers in the vase. That night, nothing happened. In fact, the next 16 nights were quiet – the vase never once fell to the ground.

The next time it happened was the very evening when Jane once again discarded the dead flowers.

Becoming increasingly suspicious, Jane would alternate between having the vase filled with flowers and having the vase completely empty. The vase, she stressed to me, was solid, a good weight, so she had ruled out the possibility that the weightlessness caused by the lack of flowers could be responsible for the vase’s continuous falling.

This is all a few years ago now, but the answer to this query was straightforward.

When Jane related the events to her parents she was told that the vase had belonged to Jane’s grandmother, who in turn had inherited it from her mother – Jane’s great-grandmother. She had never met the old lady but was told that she loved her garden, flowers and plants, and was more often than not seen out in her garden picking the huge variety of blooms she had grown over the years.

It was clear, to me anyway, that Jane and her husband were not alone in their new marital home, but they had a spirit with them – the spirit of Jane’s great-grandmother. And her way of proving she was with them was to cause the vase to fall.

Breaking Jane’s vase wasn’t her intention. She just loved to see the vase filled with flowers, as it was while she was alive. Jane now ensures the vase is never empty.

Could the moral of this story be that heaven does not have a florist’s shop?

Alec’s Exam

Years ago, I had a friend called Alec, whom I still think about with fondness. I remember an amazing story he told me – one of my first experiences of someone relating an encounter to me. We were only teenagers but Alec’s story has remained in my mind all these years.

When he was only 13 or 14, Alec lost his father. He had adored his dad, although I believe their relationship was less than affectionate. I know my friend just wanted to be loved by his dad, or at least to hear the words that his dad loved him. Alec senior wasn’t a demonstrative man – in fact, as a very young child, I was always slightly frightened of him!

A few years after his father’s death, Alec called me and we met, as we often did, for a chat. I immediately noticed there was something different about my friend. He looked happy. He had a glow I’d never really seen before, not before his father’s death and certainly not since.

Alec excitedly began to tell me what had happened. He told me his father had come to him, firstly in a dream. For days he remembered the dream but thought little of its meaning. A dream to him was a dream. However, arriving home from school one day after a particularly difficult exam, Alec flopped onto the sofa with his feet up. Suddenly he sat bolt upright – he just sensed his father was around and knew he’d get a telling off for sprawling. It had become a bit of a private joke between Alec and his siblings. When dad was out, they’d sprawl. When he was home, they would sit upright. As soon as their father left the room, they’d laugh and resume sprawl position.

Alec looked over to where his father usually sat and was dumbfounded to see his father sitting there. He described his dad as ‘looking perfectly alive’. There was no grey mist around him. He was not opaque. He was just normal, just as he had been when he was alive.

Alec senior began to talk. He told Alec how proud he was of him and that, despite feeling nervous about the day’s exam, he had in fact passed with flying colours. He even told him the exact score he would receive.

At this point I was still a little sceptical but Alec continued. He told me his father went on to say he had been with him during the exam. In fact, he had sat right next to him – the only empty seat in the classroom. That seat, his father continued, should have been filled by a fellow pupil, but the pupil had received bad news that day regarding his grandmother. Alec had wondered why his pal hadn’t turned up for the exam.

Alec’s father apologized to him for not showing how much he loved him. He assured him he had always loved him and had, so many times, wanted to say the words but just couldn’t. He knew this had affected Alec but he was hoping that, as a full adult, he might understand his dad’s shortcomings. He leaned over as if to reach out for Alec but then sat back again.

The whole incident apparently lasted only a few minutes. However, Alec was to discover afterwards that these few minutes would change his life forever. He had finally heard the words he had so desperately wanted to hear his father say. He had also learned that his dad was proud of him. Gone was the insecure Alec and in his place was a young man with confidence and an air about him everyone noticed – although very few knew the reason.

Oh, and the empty seat during the exam … Alec discovered the following day that his pal’s grandmother had died and that’s why he was absent from the exam.

The Yellow Bubble Car

Fiona was a client who saw a yellow bubble car. A phantom one, of course, or I wouldn’t be telling her story! And, as you’ll see, it wasn’t just a car that she saw but also someone very close and dear, which gives one hope of an afterlife. We just don’t know if this is the way we’d spend it!

Fiona’s beloved father died very suddenly. Her mum struggled to pick up the pieces after 40 years of marriage. One of the things Fiona’s mum was determined to do was learn to drive. She found it a huge struggle. She wasn’t young, and the average road – even for the most hardened of drivers – can be a ghastly place.

All the time Fiona’s mum was learning, she talked of one thing – the bubble car she was going to buy herself. Fiona didn’t like to tell her such things had gone out with the ark. She just smiled fondly and thought this was a wonderful thing, and she’d have to guide her mum to a Mini when the time came.

The time didn’t come, however. Fiona’s mum died, and Fiona was doubly distressed to lose both parents in so short a time. For a while, Fiona couldn’t bring herself to think or speak of anything. Bubble cars in particular. The more she thought about what her mum was hiding, about how she had pretended that all was well since the sad loss of the man who had shared her life for all those years, the more upsetting it was to be reminded of those efforts to put on a brave face. Because that was all they were.

So about six weeks after her mum’s death, Fiona was greatly surprised to be forced to brake suddenly because of the car that had just swerved into her path. A yellow bubble car, no less. Fiona was intrigued. How very strange to see it there, right in her path, when she and her mum had talked about it so often. Of course, Fiona was a little angry too. After all, she’d had to brake suddenly. And all because of the silly elderly woman driver who didn’t know how to stop in a side street. ‘Wait a moment,’ Fiona now said to herself. ‘That wasn’t just any elderly lady at the wheel.’ It was her mum!

As the car sped off, the woman even gave Fiona a cheeky wave. Fiona, her heart pounding in her ears, sped off after her. For these seconds, her mum had come back to life and she had such a wish to talk to her.

All the way along a straight stretch of road, Fiona could see her mum, always just ahead but not quite near enough to catch. Then, all of a sudden, she was near enough. Fiona knew the moment was coming. Both cars pulled up towards the corner. The yellow bubble car went roaring round. Fiona followed suit. Then there was nothing. The yellow car had gone. Fiona stopped. The road was perfectly straight – no other bends for a good mile ahead, or side roads, or anywhere a car could have pulled off. Yet the little bubble car was gone, as completely, Fiona recounted, as if it had vanished into oblivion, gone up in a puff of smoke. Fiona was aghast. That was perhaps for all of two minutes. Then she realized that this was a sign, a very special sign from her mum to show her all was well. There was no need to be distressed.

At last the dream had been achieved. And not just achieved. Fiona’s mum was driving in a way that would have done credit to Le Mans. She hadn’t just succeeded. She had succeeded with a will. And that was what counted.

‘The Pregnancy’

Very early on in my career, I nearly packed the whole thing in! Why? Because I thought I had got it all wrong. The client in question wishes to keep her identity a secret. However, she has allowed me to use her story as it is such a concrete piece of evidence that life does indeed go on after death. This particular story has been told several times but, even after all these years, I clearly remember the details and the devastating effect it had on my client – not to mention almost on my career!

We’ll call her Fiona and she lives in St Andrews, not far from my home. When Fiona first came to me, probably around 1990, she was aged 46 and was pretty certain she was menopausal. She was experiencing many changes in her body, her menstrual cycle had completely ceased and she didn’t feel well within herself. She didn’t mention any of this to me but I picked up on how she was feeling. She came to see me because she wanted me to confirm what was wrong with her.

It’s often the case that I actually feel physically the client’s symptoms and pains – not a pleasant experience! When I described these feelings to Fiona, she looked at me a little strangely and agreed that she was feeling exactly that way. She didn’t seem too perturbed and quite blithely told me she was on ‘the change’.

At that point, I became very aware of a spirit. I heard the name Isobel and could feel the presence of a female spirit. It was a male spirit’s voice, however, that spoke to me. The man proceeded to tell me that Fiona was pregnant but that she didn’t know.

Without thinking, I blurted out what I was hearing. I could see Fiona was very agitated by what I was saying – in fact, she was downright annoyed. I passed on several messages from this man, most of which allowed her to identify the spirit as that of her father. She agreed with everything I was saying, except for the bit about the pregnancy.

The spirit clearly told me that he had the child in his arms. I found this interesting because I had always believed that life begins at the moment of conception. In my view, even the earliest of foetus is a human being. So I was confused as to what I was being told. If Fiona was pregnant, then surely the foetus was inside her – it couldn’t be in two places, so how could it also be in heaven? I’ve since seen many scenarios in which the spirit of the baby, if it’s not to be born whether that be due to miscarriage or abortion – remains in heaven. I should point out here that I have never had any sign that this is the case with stillbirths.

After talking some more, the consultation ended. I knew Fiona was not one bit happy with me. As I didn’t have much confidence in myself or my work at that early stage of my career, I took Fiona’s annoyance personally. I was deeply upset that perhaps I had got it wrong. Days went by and I still couldn’t shake this dreadful mistake from my mind. However, I had to keep to my diary so I followed my normal routine. Although my confidence had been knocked, I didn’t cancel one single appointment.

It was almost three months before I heard from Fiona again. She asked for another appointment as soon as possible. Of course I agreed, and we arranged to meet again two days later. Those two days were a living hell for me. I was so afraid that this was it for my career – the end had come before it had even properly started.

Very nervously, I answered the door to Fiona and we walked, without conversation, to my office. We sat down. I took a deep breath.

‘You were right, Katie – I was pregnant! Forty-six years old and pregnant. I genuinely thought I was beginning the change of life.’

Fiona then apologized and admitted that she hadn’t been terribly flattering about me and my work (and that’s putting it mildly), and had told a number of people what I had told her and how wrong I was. To this day I can still see her face and how genuinely sorry she was.

Fiona explained that she’d had a termination as she was just too overwhelmed by the fact that she was pregnant. Her children were almost grown and the last thing she wanted was another baby. She also told me that she had always been so against abortion but that she felt it wouldn’t have been fair to bring an unwanted baby into the world. I knew from her eyes how sad she was about her decision, but I also knew she felt she had done the right thing.

And it is for that reason that Fiona wishes her identity to be protected.

We spoke more about the spirit of her father, who was there that day too. This time I couldn’t only hear him, I could also see his face vividly, as if he were alive. I remember thinking how large his nose was! Again, he had the baby in his arms, so I was able to reassure Fiona that her baby was in capable hands. At that point in time, this was something I merely surmised and hoped was true. I didn’t have the experience or the knowledge I do now to know that this was very much the case.

The most amazing thing for me that day was when Fiona’s father began to leave. I swear he winked at me – a sort of ‘knowing’ wink, as if telling me something with his eyes.

I now firmly believe what he was trying to say was that the baby was safe and that she was in good hands.

The Piper Alpha

As a nation, we will never forget the dreadful tragedy on the oil rig, Piper Alpha. So many lives were lost and so many lives were changed forever by the enormity of the tragedy.

I was carrying out consultations for a group of three women. The first two were completed with relative ease and without complication. When the third girl came in, however, I immediately saw a heart-shaped pendant around her neck. Like a rabbit in the headlights of a car, I almost froze as I watched the pendant grow larger and larger. I know it was only increasing in size in my mind, but it was quite a harrowing experience. I knew instantly that the pendant had some significance on my client, and that the significance was enormous.

I didn’t hesitate in telling my client what I had seen but her reaction wasn’t that unusual. I did, however, notice that she became very sad-looking. Her eyes took on a faraway look – hard to describe, but they just looked so terribly sad.

As I began tuning into my client, making small talk as is often the case at this stage in the consultation, I became aware of the smell of smoke. I was frightened when I then began to see flames – huge flames – all blowing in different directions. The flames grew larger and, as they did so, I also became aware of the sound of waves. The sound grew in intensity, as did the flames. I was thoroughly confused. How could I see fire and yet also hear water? I began to feel a sense of overwhelming fear and panic. I knew my face was breaking out in a sweat as I sat in front of my client.

I knew I couldn’t go on. Something dreadful was happening. I could hear screams, and terror was building up inside me. The entire scenario in front of me was one I’ll never forget. The only word to describe it was horrifying, quite, quite horrifying.

It was then that I began to hear a voice, ‘Peter … is … in … a … safe … place!’ The voice was, in my mind, very staggered and difficult to understand, but I realized this was due to the other noises I was hearing. It wasn’t that the spirit was speaking oddly, more that I was hearing so many other things at the same time.

I was so taken up with what was going on that I never noticed the tears pouring down my client’s face. I was talking quickly, my fear evident. The whole scene vanished very suddenly, despite appearing in a much more progressive manner.

‘Peter is in a safe place,’ I told my client. I asked her if she knew what I was talking about. The poor girl cried harder at that point. Clearly she was devastated over something.

As it transpired, Peter was my client’s husband. She was widowed some two years earlier when her husband was one of the many victims on board the Piper Alpha platform. Peter’s body was never found (to my knowledge it still hasn’t been found), and my client’s biggest fear, she told me, was that if her husband’s body hadn’t been found, would that mean he wasn’t at peace – wasn’t in heaven?

I was able to reassure her (and myself) that Peter must surely be in heaven. The spirit clearly gave me Peter’s name and the message that he was in a safe place.

And the locket? The locket contained a photograph of my client and Peter on their wedding day.

The Brooch

Is it possible for items to attract a spiritual presence? I’d say it was, given the amount of stories that come my way about messages being passed on through them. I can even think of one where someone picked up a violin and proceeded, out the blue, to play the owner’s favourite tune – the deceased owner that is! But the following story is quite unusual in that the item concerned had such a strong presence attached to it.

Mrs Gair came to me for a reading. I could instantly see she was a very sad lady. Her husband had been working overseas, in Germany, and she had been expecting him home. But he didn’t come. Instead, the day before he was due to return home, he suffered a fatal heart attack in the street. This happened outside a jeweller’s shop. Earlier he had gone on a shopping trip, hoping to buy something for his wife – a special present to make up for having been away so long.

Almost as soon as Mrs Gair came into the room, I could sense there was a powerful male presence with her. There was no doubt from the way I described him to her that this was her husband, and she was pleased – as pleased as she could be under the circumstances. She seemed comforted to know he was with her still, and in many ways was still seeing to her welfare. But an even stronger feeling enveloped me as I began to see a brooch.

To see spirits is one thing, but the ‘ghost’ of a brooch didn’t seem quite right. It was, however, a beautiful piece of jewellery, quite highly detailed, in an unusual shape and set with a variety of stones. To be honest, it wasn’t