SUNDAY IN MEMORY LANE (Episode 30)

1993

Serving my notice to Dr Muller turned out to be a non event.
She was surprisingly disappointed, even edgy towards me when I explained my new career path.
One of her Project Managers complained that I had avoided taking part in an office shuffle by taking one day off due to a back injury. He had taken the opportunity of my absence to rummage through my personal files, kept at the office, and had come to the erroneous conclusion that I had concocted the painful slipped disc story to cover for a court appearance.
He had photocopied one side of a council tax demand which carried the usual threats of court action if I did not pay up immediately.
What he failed to notice, or avoided, was the receipt neatly stamped on the rear of the document.
Dr Muller presented me with the photocopy as evidence of my supposed deception first thing one morning. I told her that the bill had been paid during the previous month and offered to show her the receipt but I was very surprised when she refused to listen and summarily dismissed me on the spot!
The Project Manager was gloating when I left Dr Muller's room, red faced and shocked. I have no idea why he had chosen to poke his nose into my personal paperwork nor why he felt that a victory over me was something to be proud of.
Thankfully the Human Resources Department had already dispatched a sparkling reference to Richard Ashrowan so this little fracas had absolutely no effect upon my career beyond robbing me of a minor farewell party perhaps.
I left the City without so much as a goodbye.

I enjoyed a few weeks rest at home before I needed to begin learning about Traditional Chinese herbal medicine.
My partner, Jay, suddenly expressed his preference that I should give up working completely! This was another shock which rocked my world. We had been together for four years by that point and I had always been the breadwinner.
"Who will pay the mortgage?" I said, incredulously.
"I will!" he declared proudly.
He was unemployed and making considerable profits dealing cannabis. Much more than I had realised. During my long working hours he had turned my home into a mecca. All day long people would call, score and depart. It transpired that he was, indeed, earning far more than me! He had rolls of cash stuffed in hidey holes all over the house! I explained that I was very keen to learn herbal medicine and would not give up my opportunity to do so.
He sulked like a spanked child. I tried not to notice.

The first job I had at Richard Ashrowan's clinic was to organise the stock of herbs which were stored in a brand new wooden shed in the garden. It was just a huge jumble of brown paper sacks with unknown names written on each one.
I had an office with shelves full of badly labelled jars adjacent to the waiting room, there was a couple of tables, chairs and one filing cabinet. From this bare-bones beginning I created my future apothecary.

Richard gave me a copy of The Barefoot Doctor's Manual to study and I took it everywhere with me, using every spare moment to absorb the next few pages. The mysteries of Yin, Yang and Chi began to have meaning in the physical world rather than as purely philosophical concepts. I was absolutely entranced on the one hand and overwhelmed on the other. There were over 6,000 herbs to learn about. Some had pages and pages of information. There were thousands of strategies and suggested formulas.
My brain ached at the thought, "I will never learn all this!"

Evenings at home had become noisy and busy. Jay would be either dealing or playing computer games. The usual bevy of friends would be making a lot of noise and among them, frequently, would be Danny’s dad. He had taken to socialising with us and had enjoyed trying to embarrass us by announcing at one of Dan’s birthday parties that he was gay. It landed on the crowd without impact. They already knew. It was at this point that Tony realised that we were very happy without him constantly messing up our lives. At least he did not arrive drunk. That was one small mercy.

I would be cooking, cleaning or studying in my dining room. The boys tended to use the lounge and the bedrooms. It worked well.

On my way home from work one summer evening I decided to call in to see my 'Stop The City' activist friend. I had not seen her for several months and her phone number was now discontinued.
This struck me as very odd, but I presumed it was the result of an unpaid bill - Lynn had never been financially stable in all the years I had known her.
When I parked outside her run down home in Colchester it looked empty and neglected. Peering through the lounge window I could see a jumble of rubbish strewn about, but no sign of life. "She's gone!" yelled a neighbour from across the street.
"Oh?" I queried as I approached her.
The neighbour was keen to gossip.
"She was a drug dealer, you know!" She said somewhat disparagingly. "She upset a lot of people round here!" and went on to give me a blow by blow account of fights and wild parties.
Apparently there came a day when Lynn had hired a van to move on to pastures new.
However, when she had almost filled the rear of the van with her furniture and effects, someone had set it on fire.
"It went up like a rocket!" declared the nosy parker. "Never seen anything burn so quickly!"
"Do you know where Lynn went after that?" I asked somewhat shocked, but there was no further news beyond a satisfied account of the distress Lynn had suffered and how many fire engines and police cars had blocked the road.
Lynn had 2 young children under her care and an ex husband who lived somewhere in London. Other than that I had no leads whatsoever.
I drove home with a very uneasy feeling. So many of the Stop The City activists had disappeared, I remembered Lynn telling me that some had been arrested, sectioned and chemically coshed in mental hospitals or prisons. I could only hope that Lynn had escaped the authorities who had swarmed her after the fire. I hoped she would think to phone me.

At forty-one years of age I noticed that every couple I knew was splitting up and divorcing. Most of the women were now bitter and single, living on pittance social security benefits, lonely and quite miserable. I suggested that we form a Women's Group and get together every Wednesday evening. "To do what?" I was asked.
"Well, we could each choose an activity that we want to try and take turns in arranging it." I offered vaguely. This idea was enthusiastically expanded upon and we set about learning tarot cards, ecstatic dance, circle dancing and tai chi.

Patsy, who lived just around the corner from me, suggested we visit a clairvoyant she had heard about. She set us up with an appointment and we were told to bring with us a personal item that we treasured.

Most of us were in our late 30s or early 40s and none of us had ever visited a clairvoyant before. We filed into a quiet solemn house with very old fashioned furnishings and we were greeted by a serene older lady who led us into her lounge. You could hear a pin drop at first. I think we were all a bit un-nerved.
One by one the clairvoyant called us into the dining room at the rear of the house. I was last to be called.

She sat gazing around and beyond me when I entered the room.
"Ah" she breathed softly. "You have a huge number of spirits attached to you! There are so many that I can see no end to the crowd. The animals and insects are in front of you. People from many ethnicities make up the rear." I felt a cold shiver race up and down my spine.
"Do you have an object which you cherish?" She asked and I removed a gold band from my finger.
"My mum gave me this when I was 12 years old" I said, handing it to her. "She had it restyled from her wedding ring after she divorced my father."
The clairvoyant took the ring and folded her fingers over it in her palm. She was silent for a few minutes but was still gazing around and beyond me, smiling and occasionally nodding as if she was hearing comments from somewhere outside this reality.
"You are a much loved being!" She announced. "You have had many, many lives. Not an easy journey." And she smiled sympathetically. "I hear that your grandmother and mother need your help. You must make contact as soon as possible. Your gift is known to them."
I was a little confused by this.
"What gift?" I asked tentatively.
"Why, your psychic abilities, dear!" She exclaimed as if I should have known that this was my principle attribute.
The clairvoyant laughed. "You will know how to help them and succeed. I foresee much study, you must take care of your eyes. I see travel to foreign countries, oh goodness me! A lot of travel. You do not suffer from fear. You will soon discover why. The spirits are finding ways to guide you. They are extremely clever...... especially this lovely black and white collie dog by your right!" and she smiled down at my invisible companion. "Dylan!" I exclaimed and she nodded. "Yes, he is with you always."

A pang of unresolved emotional pain shot through me.
Year before, Dylan had been sunbathing outside my brother-in-law's garage.
It seems that Pete had many enemies.
Someone drove by and shot Dylan dead.
I had never got over losing that wonderful dog.

I went back to join my friends in the clairvoyant's lounge.
They were ready to leave.
My head was awash with what had been said but I was able to keep quiet about it because I was the driver on that occasion.

I resolved to contact my mother as soon as I could.
It was never easy to deal with her.
She was a fiercely independent lady, so I was particularly curious.
Why did she need my help?