GHOST STORY 3 July 1984
For New Currents 3 July 1984
GHOST STORY
By Trevor Leggett
NARRATOR: The young Sir Robert Hassett, prospective Conservative candidate for Parliament, did not believe in fortune-telling. At his wife’s insistence, he went along with her to visit KAM RAJ, a great Indian fortune-teller and magician, who had recently set up a consulting room in a fashionable part of London. But he went, as he said, in order to expose the fortune-teller, and to break his wife’s interest in it. They waited in the expensively furnished ante-room.
WIFE: Now do behave politely, Robert. Remember he’s a famous man in India, where he comes from. And he told Betty all sorts of wonderful things about her past. All true. And he’s given her hope for the future, when everything looked so black for her.
ROBERT: You remember the things he said which happened to be true; you forget all the misses which he had. This sort of thing isn’t good. And it’s not good for me, either; Sir Robert Hassett, a prospective candidate for Parliament, visiting a fortune-teller! The newspapers would make a joke out of that. He must be a swindler look at this expensive furniture; and he must pay an enormous rent for this place in this part of London.
WIFE: If he was poor and had a tiny little room in a poor area, you’d say that proved he couldn’t tell the future, wouldn’t you?!
NARRATOR: An attendant, expensively dressed in silk, ushered them into the main consulting room. Kam Raj, wearing a huge black turban, welcomed them.
KAM RAJ: Why, good morning Lady Hassett, and Sir Robert, good morning.
WIFE: surprised) How did you know my husband has a title? I booked the appointment as Mrs. Hassett.
KAM RAJ: Oh, we have our methods – spiritual methods.
SIR ROBERT: You mean that you’ve got a microphone in your waiting room. I suppose – yes, I remember now, I did say my name. ‘Sir Robert Hassett, a prospective candidate for Parliament. That’s how you knew, you fraud!
KAM RAJ: Thank you for calling me a fraud, Sir Robert. I think in view of the unfavourable atmosphere created by that remark, we will abandon the consultation for your wife. But I will give you a consultation…. (Robert makes a sound of dissent)… No, it’s all right. The old fraud will ask for no fee.
ROBERT: I don’t need such consultations. Your ‘spiritual methods’ – I know them. You have many misses, just occasional flukes. But we here have our own methods, scientific methods of getting information. Shortwave radio actuality.
KAM RAJ: And yet, sometimes if the operator is unskilled, or the set is damaged, or not a good one, or there is a disturbance in the ionosphere, then your boasted short-wave radio fails, does it not? Now, what would convince you? Ah yes, The Times. You believe everything that’s The Times.
SIR ROBERT: Yes, I do. It’s the truth, not a lot of lies.
KAM RAJ: Yes, you do… I’m going to look at a future edition of The Times – it’s just over a year from today, and it’s about you. Give me a few seconds, (Indian temple chanting small bell rings again and again)
SIR ROBERT: Mumbo-jumbo!
KAM RAJ: Please don’t interrupt. This makes the communication. Here is The Times the day after Christmas, 1983. (Sing-song voice) Sir Robert Hassett, son of Sir Trismegistus Hassett…
SIR ROBERT:(surprised) How did you know my father’s name? He never used it; he was embarrassed by it…
KAM RAJ: Please keep silent. (Resumes sing song) Elected Tory MP for Renfrew, and made a brilliant maiden speech. His brilliant prospects cut short tragically by death in an air crash on New Year’s Day, 1983.
SIR ROBERT: (shouting) Rubbish! Come along Betty. Here – here’s twenty pounds towards the rent. Pah!
NARRATOR: We come to a year later. Sir Robert, looking terribly ill, is crouched over the fire in his Scottish home.
WIFE: Darling, Dr. Peters says there’s nothing at all wrong with your heart. He says it’s some psychological symptom, like auto-suggestion. But there’s a marvellous neurologist in a London hospital, and he’s going to make an appointment for you…
DR.PETERS: There’s nothing wrong we can find with your heart. But there’s something preying on your mind that you haven’t told me. Anyway, with the new machines for diagnosis in the National Hospital in London they’ll be able to find out. I’ve decided you must go there immediately, and I’ve booked a seat for you both on a plane to London tomorrow. It was difficult to get one on New Year’s Day, but I managed it – I know the airline manager here. The hospital will see you at once.
SIR ROBERT: Not on New Year’s Day! I won’t fly on New Year’s Day!
DR.PETERS: Why not? I’ve booked the seat. It’s waiting for you. Your name’s on the seat; you’re on the passenger list, to have a special seat on your own.
SIR ROBERT: I won’t, I won’t! Not on New Year’s Day.
DR.PETERS: It’s your own decision. There’s something you haven’t told me.
NARRATOR: So, Sir Robert stayed at home in Scotland on New Year’s Day. But he felt more and more ill.
SIR ROBERT: I tried to see that Kam Raj again, but he’s gone back to India. He told the truth: I was elected, and the papers said I made a brilliant maiden speech. But he’s not going to be right about the air crash. I won’t fly, I won’t fly on New Year’s Day. But my heart’s so bad. I think he may have been right about dying on New Year’s Day….
WIFE: screams
NARRATOR: The TIMES obituary on Sir Robert Hassett reported that he had died in an air crash on New Year’s Day. Next day, The Times published an apology. The passengers on the flight to London, which had been cancelled, were all transferred to the flight the next day. Sir Robert had cancelled his seat, but by some error this was not noticed by the Air Line, and the list of passengers still had Sir Robert’s name on it. Sir Robert in fact died at his home.
SOUND OF TINKLING BELL and whisper of the voice of KAM RAJ: Don’t believe everything you read in The Times, Sir Robert!
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© Trevor Leggett