To test my new skills, I volunteered to be a clairvoyant at the spiritualist church. Congregants would place a flower on the table, and the clairvoyants would choose one and “read” it at the microphone. Nervous, the first thing I grabbed was a packet of silver foil. The rose inside had been packed so tightly, its petals were crushed. I didn’t get a single vibe from it, so I just described the symbolism. “You are feeling battered and bruised,” I said. Afterwards, a woman approached and said she was a victim of domestic violence, and what should she do? I was only 15 and had no idea, but my psychic reputation soared.