Katie Coutts - The Ghost Whisperer - A Real-Life Psychic’s Stories

My own vibes, incidentally, weren’t bad. I could see many happy occasions for Shona’s family in the future, all with her mum there. This suggested to me that whatever illness her mum had, it was temporary. In this I was proved correct.

The next time Shona contacted me, she was in a state. Her dad had come to her, again in a dream, and explained there was nothing seriously wrong with her mum and she wasn’t to worry. But then he had told her he didn’t know if he would be back, although he would always watch out for her. It was almost as if he’d got himself into bother by attending his own funeral. I had to admit it was quite daring of him really. In all my work with the paranormal, I’d not come across it very often.

When Shona came for another reading, this time there was no sign of John. He’d quite clearly said his goodbyes to her, several times really, if the appearance at the funeral and the dreams were anything to go by. And, in its way, although his actual appearance at the funeral had been unnerving, it was oddly comforting too.

It had said to Shona that her dad was with her always and that death was only a veil between them. Knowing that had helped her through a difficult time and allowed her to help her mum. In many ways John’s appearances were a gift, one she had been grateful to receive.

‘Peter Put the Kettle on’

We’ve all heard of Polly and her little friend Sukey’s antics with the kettle, but this is the lesser-known tale of Peter who much preferred ‘teasmaids’ when it came to boiling up a cup of tea. Peter was the husband of a client of mine. He had been dead for six months when she came to see me. Although grieving she had a secret that made it easier for her to accept Peter’s death. This was the belief that he wasn’t really gone. In fact, he’d never been gone. From the first time she heard him turning over in bed to switch on the machine for their morning cuppa, she knew.

The couple had always had a teasmaid, one of those little machines that makes the morning cup of tea. And they’d liked having one so much, they had one on each side of the bed. First of all, the radio alarm would go off; then Peter would reach over and put on both teasmaids and the teapots would start to churn. Regular as clockwork, every morning, he made this his first duty.

After Peter’s death, both machines stopped working! Obviously, this wasn’t normal and it greatly upset my client. That was why, having shed tears about it, she was so astonished a few days later when she heard the switch click on her own teasmaid and the chug chug of the mechanism as if it was brewing up a cuppa. She sat up but there was no one there. Her teasmaid was on – something she hadn’t done and it couldn’t have done itself.

At first my client thought she was dreaming. The next morning, however, she heard the ping of the switch, then the chug chug of the cuppa brewing itself. Again, she sat up and, as she did, she also heard footsteps going down the stairs. For a moment she froze. Was someone in the house? The sound was very like Peter. Then she heard the hall window being opened and she smiled. Peter had always done that when he was alive. Now she was certain. He hadn’t really gone.

My client has continued from that day to this to hear Peter. There isn’t a morning that goes by without the teasmaid clicking into action. His has still never worked, which makes it all the more strange that hers always switches itself on! After a few moments, she hears him going down the stairs.

On other occasions, too, when she has been unbearably lonely, she says, ‘I have felt him snuggle into my back and put his arms protectively around me. I know some people will say this is wishful thinking, but it’s not. I know he’s there.’

I think it would take a particularly cold-hearted cynic to disagree. I can tell you now I’ve always believed her. Not just because of the business with the teasmaid but because of the amount of letters I’ve received about similar experiences – the presence of a loved one continuing to carry out all the little tasks they did in life.

In my opinion, this is ample evidence that our loved ones are still very near to us indeed.

The Persistent Papa

When Stephanie first came to see me, she brought someone along – her dad. As I’ve said before, there’s nothing unusual in that and, yes, before you ask, he was dead. But what was unusual and causing trouble was that Stephanie had no idea this was her dad. Her mother had been hiding a secret. Stephanie had always believed her dad’s name was George, but the man with her, who wasted no time telling me who he was, was called Charlie.

Stephanie’s mother had never been happily married and had known Charlie only briefly. But Stephanie had no idea of this. To be honest, neither had I. When I told Stephanie about Charlie, she didn’t know who I was talking about. In fact, she even thought I was a fraud! We had a bit of a disagreement, which in many ways wasn’t unnatural. I suppose I put my foot in it to some extent.

However, I could see Charlie so clearly. It was almost as if he was waiting for the opportunity to tell Stephanie how he felt about her. And that was proud. He hadn’t always been able to be with her. He was honest about that much. But never having achieved that much himself, he was glad to know that Stephanie had worked hard and become a teacher. She had been one of the top students in her year and was well respected by her colleagues. Charlie was also proud of Stephanie’s son who was nine. He knew she couldn’t have more children and was therefore devoted to the boy. Like her mum, Stephanie’s marriage wasn’t especially happy or secure but she still put all she had into it, and he admired her for that.

These were all the things Charlie wanted me to tell Stephanie. But, to be truthful, she didn’t want to hear them. Her parents had finally separated when she was 12, and the man she believed to be her dad had died eight months previously. When I first started to talk about ‘her dad’, she was delighted. But the moment I said his name, she lost interest. As things went on, I decided it might be better to stop talking about Charlie. I’m sure you can appreciate why. This was a delicate situation and I wasn’t entirely clear about it myself.

When Stephanie left, I felt an immense sense of relief, but this was followed by a deep feeling of sadness. I could sense that Charlie was still with me and I felt he was saying, ‘You’ve failed me. I thought this was my chance. I’ve waited years for this, watching that girl. She’s mine you know.’ And this upset me. I don’t like to think I’ve let anyone down, especially those spirits who have come along to see me with a special purpose in mind. ‘I’m sorry, Charlie,’ I had to say in this instance, ‘But you only gave me half a story.’

I don’t know whether this reproach had anything to do with it but a week or so later I had a letter from Stephanie. She hadn’t felt able to phone me. It would, she said, have been too traumatic. But she wanted to make another appointment because there were things she had to discuss.

Soon after, Stephanie came back to my office and I was fairly mesmerized. After she’d left me the first time, she had gone to see her mum and asked her outright who Charlie was. At first, her mum was unwilling to tell her, which was hardly surprising as it was still a painful subject for her. But later she told Stephanie everything, about her unhappy marriage and how she had met Charlie. It had been a brief affair. Charlie had wanted Stephanie’s mum to leave her husband, but as she had a son of three – Stephanie’s half-brother – she wouldn’t leave.

It wasn’t until after they parted that Stephanie’s mum found out she was pregnant. There was nothing else she could do, she felt, but stay as she was. In those days, it didn’t do to admit you had been having an affair.