Lost at sea

I was surprised to find how widespread the belief in ghosts was among the aristocracy. One hundred percent of the people I contacted responded instantly to say their houses were definitely haunted and Robbie was more than welcome to spend the night. Then Robbie e-mailed to say he didn’t really have time to spend the night in a haunted house after all.

“I’ve put a week into this,” I crossly thought. “Now I see why Robbie Williams gets on so well with ghosts. They both only manifest themselves when it suits them.”

But we kept in touch. For a while we pla

•   •   •

LAUGHLIN, NEVADA, looks from the sky like a tiny Las Vegas, a cluster of crumbling themed casinos poking strangely out of an expanse of desert. We are traveling here in a private plane that Robbie has rented for the day. He’s brought along Ayda and a friend, Brandon. The flight attendant was there to meet us on the airstrip.

“Welcome to your plane,” she said to us. “I just want to tell you that Snoop Dogg uses this plane a lot. What I’m saying is,” she added in a lower voice, “you can do anything.”

We all looked at each other. We’re middle-aged now. None of us could really imagine what “anything” might mean anymore.

“Are we allowed to stand up as the plane lands?” asked Brandon.

•   •   •

WE LAND. A car is waiting on the tarmac to take us to the nearby Aquarius Casino Resort. We take the escalator to the second floor, walk past the stalls selling DVDs with titles like Secret Space: What Is NASA Hiding? and into the cavernous conference room where British speaker A

I have to say, after all the anticipation, she seems a bit boring to me. She’s recounting various tales of alien visitations in quite a dull voice. I half switch off and glance over at Robbie. He is engrossed. He is leaning forward, taking in every word. I decide to pay more attention so I can try to understand why.

A

“That’s Jason,” she says.

One day, when Jason was a toddler, A

“We took him to a psychiatrist,” A

And then one day, when Jason was twelve, A

I lean over to Robbie.

“She believes Jason!” I whisper. “She believes it all!”

“What’s the other side of that, though?” Robbie whispers back. “It’s either believe everything the boy is saying or remain steadfast to earthly beliefs and have a black sheep in the family. ‘Oh, it’s him again.’ For her own sanity she has had to believe him.” He pauses. “But for me, right now,” he says, “everything she’s saying is true.”

A

It’s time for the Q & A. Robbie’s friend Brandon stands up and walks to the front. Brandon is a record producer and cowrote some of the songs on Robbie’s last album, Rudebox.

“I just wanted to ask: Why don’t you buy a better camera?” he says. A slight gasp reverberates around the hall. People don’t usually ask cynical questions at UFO conferences.

“I’m absolutely useless at anything technological,” A

“Have you ever had any psychiatric evaluation or presented yourself for that?” Brandon asks. Robbie flinches.

“No, I haven’t,” A

“Thank you very much,” Brandon says.

Robbie goes outside for a cigarette. I tell Brandon I’m surprised Robbie brought him along after what he’d said about not wanting to hear any debunking.

“There’s two sides to Rob in that respect, though, aren’t there?” Brandon says. “There’s the side that wants to go along with it, but there’s also a very sarcastic, skeptical side.” He pauses. “Which I’d like to think is the real side.”

Robbie comes back.

“My toes curled up the moment you walked toward the stage,” he tells Brandon. “But I think questioning somebody’s sanity when this is happening to them is perfectly acceptable. I question my own.”

We’re standing near the table where A

“She reminds me of my mother,” Robbie says, glancing at her. “Mum was a tarot card reader. She’d have people round and read their palms. She’d talk about spirits and ghosts. On the shelf of books just outside her room, there’d be the books about the world’s mysteries, elves, demons, witchcraft. I was so scared. I’d never talk to her about it. Instead, I just lived in fear of all of this stuff. Maybe that’s why I want to investigate UFOs and ghosts and everything. So I can work out why I get scared at night.” He pauses. “I’ll go and say hello to her.”

He approaches the table. “Hi, darling,” he says, “I’m Rob. Can I buy a book from you? Will you sign it for me? How is Jason these days? Is he happy? Has he got many friends?”

“No,” A

“When did this social shu

“I suppose it was when my first book about him came out,” A

“Jason, My Indigo Child?” I ask.

“He lost all his friends at school,” A

“I can completely relate to that,” Robbie says. “What is it he encounters from people?”

“In England, in particular, people are really spiteful,” A

Robbie puts his hand on A

“Even if this was all made up—which I don’t believe, by the way—even if it was,” Robbie says, “compassion should be shown anyway. Well, thank you.”

Robbie pays for the book and goes to leave.