John went to work the next day in the former church for his first full day. He had a busy schedule of recordings and was keen to make a start. After each recording John would play it back to ensure he only captured the noise he wanted. Off to the side of the nave of the church at the front was the former vestry the priest and altar boys used to change into their liturgical clothes. John initially set up a large urn in there so he had cups of tea or coffee on demand as required. He decided to upgrade his water service and organised for a plumber and electrician to install an instant boiling water device mounted on the wall. John had finished his first three hours of recording and then decided to have a break. He had an executive style reclining leather chair and footstool. He placed the chair and footstool near the entrance to his ‘tea room’, sat down and began enjoying a cup of tea. A cool change enveloped him like someone standing in front of the afternoon sun casting a shadow over him and he rubbed his hands. He suddenly became aware of a spiritual presence standing in front of him. “Will you help us?” a teenage boy said quite clearly. John arched his back and looked around to ensure no one had entered the building while he was organising his tea. “Blake is that you?” John steeled himself and asked the voice. He wanted to confirm it was the boy he had first heard in the church and on the recording. “Yes.” “Thank you for the beautiful song you left me on the CD last week. Father Kirby loved it too,” John said as he tried to reassure himself. “Father Brendan was our best friend here. I’m glad you gave him the recording you made.” John was a bit perplexed. He had hadn’t spoken to spirits since he was a little boy and to him they were imaginary friends. “Why are you still here Blake? Are the other boys with you?” “Yes - we want to say goodbye to our parents. The bus crash happened so quickly none of us could say goodbye.” “How come I can hear you and no one else can? Surely there must be local people you could have spoken to? What about Father Kirby?” “Your mind is open to us so Mr Worth wanted me to talk with you.” “What is it you and Mr Worth want me to do?” “We want you to organise one last concert for our parents.” John was rocked by what Blake said. He wants a farewell concert for a boys’ choir that died ten years ago? It couldn’t be done. Anyway, all he had was one new song recorded by accident – not by design – by the boys. “Blake, wasn’t a special farewell concert held in this church after you all … well, after the accident? Why do you want another one? What happens if I organise the concert?” “No. There was a special service, not a concert. We sang here but no one knew. If you hold the concert for us our mission here is then over.” “Does that mean you can all move on to the light?” “Yes we think so. You have to help us, please.” John shook his head. “You managed to slip The Lion Sleeps Tonight on a recording I did last week. Father Kirby said it was one of your choir’s favourite songs.” “Yes, we all loved it. It was our way of letting you know we’re here.” “If any concert could be organised I would need new material other than just one song. Also, I would need some sort of message all your parents could hear so they knew I hadn’t just made the whole thing up.” “We can do that.” “Blake you have given me a lot to think about. I’ll need to discuss this with my wife and see what can be done.” “Thank you and please thank Melanie.” The voice of the teenage boy trailed off and John then felt the warmth return to him. Wow, what a mind blowing experience, John thought. The boys were stuck in a temporal plane and couldn’t move on. He had too many things to consider. Firstly, John felt he needed to find out why ‘his mind was open’ to hearing the boys and not others. John was not a medium nor was his parents. He couldn’t remember ever playing with Ouija boards and summoning spirits to answer questions with groups of friends or spirits visiting him. No, he was an ordinary person. Sometimes when he was a young boy he would play and speak with imaginary friends. It was only later as an adult that he believed those ‘friends’ could have been spirits. John’s afternoon of work had just been put on hold while he thought about what just happened. A concert for the dead? A concert with the dead? Neither thought excited him; however, he had been given a challenge of monumental proportions by a group of dead boys and teenagers he never even knew. Just for the moment John thought, if such a concert could be held, how would it play out? He stood up and got himself another cup of tea before resuming his seat.
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