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Jacquie Parton: Tap Once for Yes

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I remained inclined on my pillows, gazing round the room despondently. My subconscious, obviously working away industriously in the far recesses of my mind, allowed an interesting thought to surface. I seized on it, along with my mobile `phone. I gripped it fiercely, silently shouting into the void, “Please, just tell me you’re here! Show me you are here and end this misery of not knowing.”

          I was aware of EVP (the electronic voice phenomenon). Television had touched on it and I had read about it in various books. Most of the sometimes questionable evidence was quite obscure, bordering in many cases on unintelligible. It was apparent from the remaining voices or sounds caught on recordings that it obviously took a lot of energy, as a word or a small phrase was all that was to be had despite ghost hunters’ best efforts. I concluded that to ask Andrew to speak or say anything would be a tall order and would probably end in disappointment. Reflecting on the literature I had read, I supposed that if it was true that spirit energy was electromagnetically based then maybe - just maybe - an interference of an intelligent nature could be creatively forced.

          I had also learned that when EVP is attempted and questions asked, the response is not heard at the time but immediately on retrieval, at playback. This is the most curious aspect of EVP as any answers are not within our normal hearing range.

          Here goes, I thought. Before I activated the `phone voice recorder, I addressed Andrew as if he were in the room. I asked if he could by some kind of energetic interchange try and communicate with me. I demonstrated, by placing my fingertip on the `phone and tapping twice. “Andrew, if you are there, tap twice like this.”

I opened the recorder and said, “Sweetheart, are you there?” I had to assume he was responding, so I continued. There was no set script, I wanted to know if he continued to exist or survive in some way. By the same token, if he was responding as I proceeded, I didn’t want answers that may destroy me or have any possibility of doing so. I consciously stayed away from questions such as “Are you happy?” Limited as we would be by ‘yes’ and ‘no’ responses, if he had said ‘no’ I would not be able to bear it. I would then have been more inclined to go to him, whatever that entailed, and to be with him. All I sought to do really was just illuminate the shadows.

          Having run out of what I considered to be fairly benign questions, I bade him goodnight and sent him my love and my wishes for him to stay within the love and the light. Having received any response to my communication was secondary; his happiness had always been vicariously mine, united uniquely as only a mother and her child can be.

          With trepidation, I started the playback. Oh my God! Almost tearful and euphoric, I heard the solid tap–tap of Andrew’s response followed closely by the next one. I could barely breathe, the excitement in the pit of my stomach rising at the enormity of what was occurring. I jumped out of bed, flying through the doors into Clive’s room, startling him awake. With a high-pitched barely recognisable voice, scarcely containing myself I cried out, “He’s here, Andrew is here! My God.” My voice now reduced to little more than an audible whisper, “I can’t believe it.” I had purposefully placed the `phone out of my reach during the recording, so I knew it wasn’t me - it was not me!

Clive, his lamp now on, sat beside me on the bed. I had yet to hear the rest; I wanted him to be in on it. It was too fantastic not to share. The following is an exact transcript of the recording which I have retained and diarised from that time.

“Sweetheart, are you there?”


Assuming that Andrew was responding, I said, “Andrew, is that you?”


I decided at this point that it would be better to suggest, “Tap once for ‘yes’.”


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