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Joe Cassidy

The Diviner

..... put the house on the market. This was at the height of the housing boom, and the estate agents expected it to sell immediately'. But for some reason, it hung around. There was no lack of potential buyers. Lots of people went to view it and they seemed to love the house.

It went to auction and several people were interested in it. It was on a main street and would have made a good commercial property. It sold for a good price there, but then the buyers pulled out. It went on the market again, and one of the buyers who had been outbid at the auction put in a good offer. It was accepted and they put down a deposit. But again, for no apparent reason, they pulled out after a few weeks. This happened several times, and it was frustrating for Anne.

She asked me to check the house for negative energy. I didn't find geopathic stress, and although I did get a sense of the old man who had lived there, I didn't find a reason for the house not selling. I was puzzled.

Then one morning I woke up and I had been dreaming about that house. The dream was telling me that there was money hidden in the house, and that the man who had died wanted Anne to have this money'. This was what I felt was delaying the sale of the house.

I told Anne this, and she asked me where the money was hidden. I told her that it was in the attic.

'That can't be right. She cleared out the attic before the auction,' she said. 'There was a load of junk up there, but now it's completely empty.'

'Could you take me to the house again?' I asked her.

'I could, but I'm telling you, it's empty'

We went up to the house the next morning. She showed me the attic. It was above a back kitchen that the man had built onto the house. I clambered up and had, a good look around, but Anne was right. There was nothing there at all.

'I told you.'

'Do you mind if I have a look round the house again?' I asked.

'Be my guest.'

I went up the stairs and looked around. And over in the corner of one of the bedrooms I saw a little trapdoor going into another attic.

'Can I have a look up here?'

'There isn't even room to get up there,' she said. It's a tiny space.' But she went to fetch a stepladder, put it up and climbed it. It was a tiny trapdoor. I wouldn't have been able to get my shoulders through, but she managed it. She found a painting, and handed that to me.

'Look for a tin now,' I said. Because in my dream there had been a picture and a biscuit tin. And sure enough she found one. She opened the tin and, lo and behold, there were big piles of banknotes inside, secured with rubber bands. She was amazed - especially when she counted the money and found eight thousand euro.

'Wow! Thank you, Joe,' she said. Then she offered me the picture.

In truth, I didn't really want it. It was of a Roman emperor, not really the kind of thing you would want on your wall, but I thanked her. I didn't say it to her, but I thought, That's going into the bin tomorrow.

Later that day I had it propped up in the hall, ready to put out. Jean and I were having our tea, and the next thing there was this almighty crash. We went out to see what had happened. It was very strange: the picture was still leaning against the wall, but there was glass all over the floor.

It was when I was putting the picture in the bin that I noticed there was another picture underneath it. It was a print of Dante and Beatrice on the Santa Trinita Bridge in Florence. It was a print, but probably quite an early one. I love that picture. It's still on my wall today.