Velvet (14 page)

‘Claire, I believe.’

‘And her age?’

‘She didn’t say, but she did remark that the child had just learned to sit up unaided.’

‘She was six months or so, then.’ Madame sighed. ‘How tragic. I’ll certainly help the poor woman if I can.’ There was another pause. ‘Apart from Miss Langtry, is there anyone else of especial interest here tonight?’

Velvet shook her head. ‘But there are two young gentlemen who’ve placed themselves in the back row and are being rather boisterous.’

‘Really? In what way?’

‘I believe they must have been imbibing liquor before they arrived. They certainly drank their champagne very quickly and asked for more.’

‘Is George aware of them?’

‘Oh certainly,’ Velvet said. ‘George has been most courteous and efficient in his handling of them. He requested that they remember they are in the house of a great lady and in the presence of distinguished people, so they must act accordingly.’

‘Dear George!’ exclaimed Madame. ‘What it is to have a man about the house. And thank you, too, for your help, as ever.’

The first part of that evening’s session began with a short recital of piano music, then Madame entered on George’s arm and, without using the cabinet, she spoke to the seated audience of thirty in a conversational way, bringing in this and that spirit from the Other Side, delivering messages and making certain observations.

Several times the two young gentlemen made comments – ‘Madame, do you have to take spirits to see spirits?’ and ‘It’s getting mighty crowded with ghosts in this room!’ and other remarks they obviously thought were witticisms – until George reminded them that Madame was a highly respected medium and they were lucky to be able to attend one of her evenings at all.

‘Lucky?’ one of them called back. ‘’Twas not luck which got me here, but a certain amount of guineas!’ There were a few titters from others in response.

Madame kept herself aloof from these interruptions and delivered her messages without acknowledging them. She then went off to rest for fifteen minutes before the main part of the evening, which began with her going into the cabinet and Velvet turning down the lamps as usual.

‘We ask for complete silence at this time,’ George said, with one eye on the young men, ‘for Madame is about to attempt something she has never attempted before.’

‘Will we get our money back if no spirit appears?’ one of the young men replied, and was promptly hushed by those sitting on each side of him.

‘As always, we are never sure what spirits will attend us or what might happen, but we ask you to stay in your seats at all times, please,’ George said. ‘If Madame is interrupted whilst she is in trance, the consequences could be serious.’

A hush duly fell on the audience.

‘If materialisation of a spirit does occur, remember that the shape will emanate from ectoplasm produced from Madame’s body as the spirit appears and takes form. Please be patient whilst this happens. Anyone who attempts to light a match or otherwise illuminate the room will be evicted from the house immediately.’

The ensuing silence was profound. The curtain across the cabinet was drawn open and, by the light of the one candle in the room, Madame could be seen sitting in her chair. She was dressed in a midnight-blue silk gown and looked very elegant and very vulnerable, so much so that Velvet’s heart went out to her; she felt that if either of the rowdy young men started anything she would turn on them herself. But she reminded herself that that was what George was there for, of course. Strong, dependable, gorgeous George. George who had kissed her. She couldn’t wait to get to bed that night and go over and over that kiss in her mind . . .

Madame began by saying, ‘I have a lady here whose name begins with an “E”. She passed on towards the end of last year and left behind a grieving family.’

A woman in the audience called, ‘It may be my mother. Her name was Emily.’

‘Yes, she says her name was Emily!’ Madame announced, and there was a stir of excitement in the audience.

Emily had a multitude of messages for her daughter, some of which were understood by her and some not. Madame explained that Emily had not been on the Other Side for long enough to come back in visible spirit form, but if the daughter was to attend Madame’s séances on a regular basis then she might eventually find her way through.

‘What are we going to see tonight, then?’ someone in the audience called. ‘We were assured there would be a materialisation.’

‘That’s what we’ve paid for!’ came another voice.

‘I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave if you cannot respect the medium,’ George said sternly.

Everyone’s eyes were still on Madame. There was another long silence, then she said, ‘I am having difficulty this evening. Someone towards the back of the room is trying to exercise control, and I’d be glad if they would refrain from doing so.’

Another long silence, and some of the audience began to cough or fidget.

Suddenly, though, a deep voice said, ‘I am here. I am come!’

In an instant, there was a hush.

‘Who are you?’ Madame said. ‘Do you come in truth and love?’

‘I do,’ came the answer. ‘My name is Percy. In my time on earth I was Sir Percy Malincourt.’

Madame gestured towards George, who came forward and asked the audience in a stage whisper, ‘Does anyone claim Sir Percy?’

No one replied.

‘Is there someone here tonight who is a member of his family?’ George continued.

‘No one will claim me,’ Sir Percy’s voice said. ‘I was a black sheep. A liar and a cheat. But I regret my time on earth now, and regret my sins. I wish to ask the forgiveness of my descendants.’

George spoke quietly. ‘Those of Sir Percy’s family – and I believe they are here – will know who he is but perhaps they’re unwilling to own him.’

The audience shifted in their seats.

‘He is with us in spirit . . . and in body, too!’ George said, pointing to the bottom of the cabinet where, around Madame’s feet, a mass of something white was appearing.

A thrill of excitement ran around the room, and those towards the back stood up in order to see better.

George bade them be seated again. ‘Please do not move or alarm Madame in any way. Materialisation is a rare and difficult procedure . . .’

Velvet stared hard at Madame’s feet and, in spite of having seen a similar occurrence at Miss Cook’s, was incredulous as she gazed at the white mass which could be seen very dimly in the cabinet. At one glance it looked like smoke, then something akin to a flimsy white fabric. As it grew more substantial, its shape altered so that it became about the size of a kneeling man. A lady in the audience screamed and George called again for calm. Another moment and it was taller, almost the shape of someone standing. Because of the poor light and the vagueness of the form, however, it was impossible to distinguish any features, or even tell for definite if it was male or female. The grey-white shape wavered and then stilled. The audience – even the two rowdy young men – were completely silent.

‘I cannot rest until my family forgives me for my sins,’ came the deep voice.

Madame spoke up then. ‘The family of Sir Percy are here tonight and know well who he is,’ she said, ‘but their shame at his conduct when on earth prevents them from speaking out. They should be assured that the sins of the fathers do not fall upon the heads of those still living, and should forgive Sir Percy in their hearts so that he can rest in peace.’

Just after she’d spoken, the form of Sir Percy vanished. To Velvet, who’d been close to the cabinet and watching intently, it seemed to waver, fall to the ground and then disappear. The audience gasped and sighed in turn, murmuring to each other that they’d never before seen anything like it.

Amidst this stir and muttering, there came something like the sound of a child’s voice, far away, saying, ‘
Mama!
’

Mrs Fortesque, the lady in the front row wearing the child’s shawl around her, suddenly jumped to her feet. ‘I heard a baby! Is it Claire? Will you do more, Madame? Will you materialise my child?’

George nodded to Velvet, who immediately went to urge Mrs Fortesque to sit down again. ‘It may not be possible tonight,’ she whispered. ‘Please be seated, Mrs Fortesque. Madame knows you’re here and I am sure she’ll do her best.’

‘Claire!’ Mrs Fortesque burst into tears. ‘Claire, I must see you!’ She wriggled from Velvet’s grasp and ran towards Madame’s cabinet, but George stopped her just before she reached the chair.

‘Please! You mustn’t go near the medium. It could be dangerous.’

‘But my child! I heard her, I tell you. I want to see her . . .’

Between them, George and Velvet escorted Mrs Fortesque back to her seat, where she was comforted by the woman accompanying her. During this time, Madame gave a groan and her head fell forward, then after a moment or two she sat up. She pressed her hand to her forehead, then looked out to the audience as if waking from a deep sleep.

‘My child . . . I heard my child . . .’ Mrs Fortesque said brokenly.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Madame, fully herself now. ‘Your child wanted to come through, but I didn’t have the strength left to communicate with her at this point in the evening.’ Madame motioned to Velvet to light the lamps. ‘Perhaps another time . . .’

Whilst Mrs Fortesque sat crying, the rest of the audience stayed in their seats, stunned and speechless. Neither those members of the audience who were famous nor the two boisterous young gentlemen had anything to say for themselves.

‘What a success it was,’ George said to Velvet later. Sissy had been walked home and both Mrs Lawson and Madame had retired for the night, leaving the two of them in the kitchen finishing off the last few inches of a bottle of champagne. ‘I was captivated by Madame’s performance. Wasn’t she wonderful?’

‘She was,’ Velvet agreed.

George swilled the liquid around his glass, holding it up to the light in order to see the bubbles. ‘Indeed! But then we believe – do we not? – that Madame is wonderful in whatever she does.’

‘We do!’ Certainly she did believe that, Velvet thought, but there were so many things she didn’t understand. ‘Do you think she will always be able to materialise spirits now, at every séance?’

‘Perhaps not,’ George said. ‘It’s too demanding. Too exhausting! Madame would find her energies so depleted that she wouldn’t be able to do her normal work.’

Velvet nodded. ‘I see.’

‘She may do a smaller materialisation next time. A child. I think that would be easier.’

‘You mean Mrs Fortesque’s child?’ Velvet asked.

George winked. ‘Most likely.’

Velvet hesitated. ‘What a shame no one owned up to having Sir Percy as one of their ancestors.’

‘A shame,’ George said, ‘but perhaps safer that way.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean it’s safer to materialise someone whom no one knows.’

Velvet looked at him, puzzled. ‘I don’t understand what you mean. Why is that?’

‘Well, because a few weeks ago one of the other big-name mediums materialised a sitter’s father only to find that, although in real life the gentleman had only had one leg, she had materialised him with two!’

Velvet gasped, then laughed. ‘What happened?’

‘Oh, I believe the medium got away with it. She said that in the spirit world, diseases are cured and those with missing limbs become whole again.’

Velvet frowned a little.
The medium got away with it
, he’d said. She found it all very difficult to understand. She didn’t like to ask such a question, but was he saying that the whole materialisation process was fraudulent?

George lifted his glass. ‘To mediums everywhere!’ he said, draining it.

Velvet forgot her concerns. ‘And especially to Madame,’ she added.

Then they just sat there for some comfortable moments, each contemplating the coals glowing within the open door of the kitchen range and busy with their own thoughts.

‘This morning . . . I was asking you about your early life,’ George said after a while.

Velvet held her breath, remembering the kiss and trying hard to maintain her composure. ‘Yes, about when I was at the laundry.’

‘I didn’t really mean about then. I was interested in your life as a child, way back. Were they happy days for you?’

Velvet thought for a moment before answering. She hadn’t wanted to speak about her father – not to anyone, not ever – but if she was going to have a special relationship with George then perhaps everything should be open between them. Madame obviously trusted George implicitly, so surely
she
should, too. She should not tell lies to the person she hoped (dare she think it?) might become closer to her than anyone else in the world. Resolved, she took a deep breath.

‘Before my mother died my life was also hard, but I remember some happy days. Mother and I had outings to the park on Sundays, and sometimes went on an omnibus to see her sisters – just for the day, you understand, as my father wouldn’t allow her to stay away longer.’

‘Her sisters. You had two aunts, then. Are they in spirit now?’