Fifty Years a Medium – Chapter 13, 11/13 by Estelle Roberts

“Within one or two days of their passing.”
My visitor nodded. “There was such a knocking,” he agreed. “I live in a flat,” he explained, “and just before the newspaper published the account of their death there was a continuous hammering on my door. I went to see who was there, but there was no one to be seen. Do they say where they were going in the aircraft?”

“To engage in new work; to take up a new appointment overseas. Now there is a message for Lord Dowding. It is to tell him that your father will speak to him soon in the direct voice.”
“I will pass the message on.”

“Here is a message from your mother. She says: ‘Give my love to my little girl. On the anniversary of our passing we will come to talk again.’ ”
When the sitting was over I learned from my visitor who he was. He was Thomas LeighMallory, son of Air Chief Marshal Sir Trafford Leigh-Mallory,

Commander-in-Chief of the Allied Expeditionary Air Forces under General Eisenhower in the Normandy campaign. He was later appointed to direct the Allied Air Forces in South-East Asia Command under Admiral Lord Louise Mountbatten, and was flying to India to take up the appointment when his aircraft crashed into a mountainside in the French Alps.

I was particularly interested in Sir Trafford’s reference to his own experiments in Spiritualism, and was told that twenty years earlier he had been to a medium in order to communicate with his brother who was lost in a snowstorm in an attempt to climb Mount Everest.

Thomas Leigh-Mallory published an account of his sitting with me, which he summed up in the words: “I am convinced that survival after death is an accomplished fact and not a fallacy as so many people believe . . . I had the clearest evidence that they (his parents) still live on the Other Side and are the same today as I knew them then.”

There have been many, many instances in my long mediumistic career of proof that we live after passing through the veil of death. In writing a book of this nature the difficulty is to know which of these instances to include and which to leave out because all are illustrative of this eternal truth.

There is one which I cannot omit, however, because, apart from the undeniable evidence it offers, it describes the sequence of events so much better than any words of mine can do. For permission to use this independent account I am indebted to the well-known authoress, Barbara Cartland, who a short while ago wrote an enchanting biography entitled Polly –

My Wonderful Mother. In this book she describes a visit her mother made to me at Esher during the war. I remember the occasion well, though I did not then know who my visitor was.

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