My Memories of a Future Life by Roz Morris

Author:Roz Morris
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, psychological, healing, music, past lives, london, singing, hypnosis, musicians, medium, trance, talking to the dead, matheson, psychic dreams, hypnotist, healing arts, time alterations, time alteration, pianist, psychic experiences, richard matheson, west country, paulo coehlo, spiritualist, psychic disorientation, psychic experience, psychic healing, trance medium, psychic counselling, trance states, charlatans, psychic adventure, spiritualist medium, psychic and skeptic, psychic lies, iain banks, coehlo, psychic readings future readings divination spiritual readings spiritual spirit, hypnotists, futuristic dome cities, london west end, female narrator, singing teachers, audrey niffenegger, jacqueline du pre, psychic constructs, somewhere in time, spiritual charlatans, the double life of veronique, sj watson
Publisher: Roz Morris

Chapter 41

I pulled up outside Gene’s flat and sounded the horn. I watched his shape move across the upstairs window, fetching keys and adjusting lights.

So, I asked his outline, you don’t exist in a vacuum. You’ve been invited to a party.

Will I meet someone who knows you well? Do you often listen to those tapes of me? What do you think of those things I’m telling you? Why do you have magazines about pain? What do you do to chill out because there’s got to be something.

Most of which I might not get round to in one journey.

Gene shut the front door, jogged down the path and snatched the passenger door open. He looked cold, which wasn’t surprising as he was wearing just a black shirt and black jeans that clung to his slim frame. He pulled the seatbelt on and poked the dials in the dashboard, shivering.

‘God, doesn’t this car have a heater?’

‘It’s already up to maximum,’ I said, and pulled out into the road.

The shiver amused me. How unusual to see him look so vulnerable.

He fiddled with the dial anyway. ‘Look stop here, let’s go in mine.’

I accelerated. ‘It’ll be fine once it warms up.’

Around the roundabout and away to the Ixendon road. He deserved to be cold after the number of chilly, bleak rooms he’d inflicted on me.

‘So who’s having the party?’

‘Sadie at the hospital. She’s an occupational therapist. She’s dating a male oncology nurse and she’s getting bored with him because he’s getting fat. He used to go out with the cardiac rehab nurse but he dumped her because she nagged him about his weight.’

Well that was a more complete answer than I was expecting. Aggressively complete. Was he trying to put me off asking anything else?

Tiny spots of rain stippled the windscreen. I flicked the wiper stalk and my left hand hurt. I bit my lip for just a second.

‘You shouldn’t be driving,’ said Gene, and turned the fan up. It roared like a hippo yawning. He turned it down again. ‘Let’s go back.’

‘I’m fine. It used to hurt a lot more. It’s getting better.’

He stopped fiddling with the heating. ‘Yes, but it’s still hurting, so you shouldn’t do it. I could drive if you like.’

Now suddenly calmer, more persuasive. Strange how he could turn on that gentleness. It seemed to happen as soon as he had the chance to treat me like a patient.

I smiled. ‘You can stop being a doctor now. Or a physio, or whatever it is you do. Is that what you do?’ My audacity amazed me.

‘Is that what I do?’ he repeated.

From his tone I guessed there was an expression that added a twist to the statement. But I didn’t get the benefit of it. I was timing my exit onto the Ixendon road.

‘I’ve been to a few physios in the past few months. And they’re not like you.’

He folded his arms.

Folding your arms won’t help, my dear. I’m in the inquisitor seat.

Ahead, the orange street lamps disappeared and gave way to blackness.

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