A Cry From Beyond (22 page)

I looked
up, startled by the suggestion. “What on earth for?”

“Maybe
she can help,” Jenny said.

“I don’t
see how.”

We were
in the front room at High Bank Cottage drinking coffee, whilst
trying to come up with an idea that might help get me out of the
mess I was in.

“You were
convinced she was keeping something from you the night we visited
the fair,” Jenny reminded me. “Perhaps it’s time to find out if you
were right.”

“You may
have a point,” I said. An idea suddenly sprang into my head. “Why
don’t we hold a séance with Madam Lee at the helm?”

They
looked unsure. I told them about the one in which Des, along with
Pixie and Dixie had participated.

When
Jenny learned of Pixie’s apparent psychic abilities, she said, “You
were lucky you didn’t invite more trouble. Séances can be dangerous
if you don’t know what you’re doing. Your friend may have suffered
psychological damage as a result. It’s one thing to be psychic,
quite another to manage the effect such an ability may
have.”

“Have you
ever taken part in one?” I asked.

“No, but
I’ve read quite a bit about them. In order to be effective and
safe, the process requires someone who possesses extra sensory
powers and personal experience of what is involved, a professional
medium in other words, together with a number of willing and open
minded participants. The joining of hands is a protective gesture
and quite essential.”

“What’s
it protection against?” I asked, suddenly realising I failed to
understand even the basic concept.

“Demonic
forces,” Jenny replied simply. “Not all spirits are friendly. The
joining of hands symbolises the thinking that there is strength in
numbers. It also enables the medium to draw energy from the other
participants of the séance. Their mental energy strengthens her
psychic awareness and her ability to communicate with the other
side. There have been numerous accounts of people being
psychologically disturbed as a result of being involved in a
séance, and of course, there are lots of stories about people
making contact with demonic spirits that cause mischief. But the
evidence of such phenomenon is really inconclusive. If it was,
everyone would be seeing the world through slightly different eyes
I dare say.”

“Do you
really believe the dead can be contacted?” I asked.

“Yes,”
she said unhesitatingly. “I’m also of the opinion that it can be a
dangerous exercise, if one doesn’t know what one’s doing. As I
said, you were lucky.”

“We lost
Des,” I pointed out.

“Not as a
direct consequence of the séance,” Jenny countered. “It would
probably have happened anyway. Mary Louise and Terry didn’t
disappear as a direct result of a séance.”

“I really
don’t know what to do for the best,” I said, voicing my sense of
desperation.

And then,
feeling the need to confide, I told them about Melinda and Kayla
and the mouldering contents of the blanket Kayla carried around
with her. By the time I had finished, David was tense and silent,
reserving judgement no doubt. Jenny however looked genuinely
horrified.

“You must
consult Madam Lee!” she urged. “Something is reaching out to you,
pleading for help. If that help is unforthcoming, God only knows
what else will happen!”

“Okay,
how do we go about it,” I asked, referring to arranging another
séance.

Jenny was
thoughtful for what seemed like a long time. Finally she turned to
me and said; “If we’re to have any hope of success, Madam Lee will
have to hold the séance here at the cottage. I’m doubtful she will
agree.”

“Who’s
going to ask her?” David asked, his gaze alternating between Jenny
and I.

“I think
you should,” Jenny said looking at me.

“But she
knows you better,” I argued.

“That’s
true. However, you’re the one in the thick of things, John. I think
it would be better coming from you.”

I looked
across at David, who stared dispassionately into his coffee
mug.

“Okay,” I
said feeling I had no real choice in the matter.

“We’ll
need a couple more people if we’re to have any chance of success,”
Jenny advised.

David
volunteered Rick and H.

Jenny
rolled her eyes, “Those two idiots!”

“What
about Irish?” I ventured.

“There’s
no way he’d ever agree,” David said, “I get the impression Madam
Lee gives him the creeps.”

“Are you
saying Irish is afraid of an old woman?” I asked.

“She’s
not just any old woman,” Jenny said. “She’s special. And she
doesn’t like clan members who prove to be disloyal. Irish falls
into that category by virtue of the fact he is a maverick. She sees
him as a traitor and a taker.”

“How do
you know this?” I asked.

“Irish
told me as much. As a child he was one of her favourites. But then
he left. That was bad enough, but the fact that he returned and now
comes and goes at the drop of a hat and is allowed to get away with
it irks her. Irish knows this and tends to keep his distance out of
respect.”

“Then it
appears we’re stuck with Rick and H,” I said.

“They’ll
behave themselves,” David assured. “Think about it; they know
almost as much about what’s happened as we do. There’s no way they
would scoff.”

Jenny
remained doubtful.

“Had you
anyone else in mind?” I asked her.

She
thought hard for a moment before finally shaking her head in
defeat.

“You
win,” she said. “But if those two spoil things, I’ll hold you both
personally responsible.”

David was
silent.

“It’s
cool, Jenny,” I said, trying my best to reassure.

2.

Later
that day I drove over to Ashley and the gypsy encampment. As I
passed through the village, light spots of rain speckled the
windscreen, gradually obscuring the outside view. I switched on the
windscreen wipers. Lennon, occupying the passenger seat beside me
seemed mesmerised by them. The Romany troop was holed up in a muddy
field, opposite to where the funfair was erected. Approaching the
site I considered how to play it, deciding in the end to take
things as they came.

As I brought the car to a halt, I noticed an overhead banner
that announced in big bold lettering, ALL THE FUN OF THE FAIR.
Beneath were printed the italicised words,
See the Clowns, the Trapeze, High wire walkers, Acrobats and
Jugglers. Experience the Ride of a Lifetime on the Big Dipper.
Don’t wait, don’t Hesitate, Step Inside!

So that’s
what I did. Having left Lennon in the car, I chose to ignore the
“CLOSED” sign on the five bar gate which said, Next Open at 5pm,
and trudged across ground made boggy from a night of heavy rain,
whilst wishing I’d worn footwear more befitting the conditions.
Eventually I came to a second gate, just beyond which was the
Romany encampment. Stepping through, I immediately felt like an
unwelcome intruder. At that point I very nearly turned back, for
suspicious glances met me wherever I looked. I suddenly felt very
edgy and very alone. Leaving Lennon in the car had been a wise move
I realised. Dogs roamed the area freely. Some of them looked pretty
mean.

Two
brawny men, one with his sleeves rolled up revealing heavily
tattooed arms, broke off from carrying out maintenance work on the
horse carousal to observe my progress. One was rugged faced and
bore a striking resemblance to that great champeen of the ring,
Rocky Marciana. His friend, although shorter, was no less
intimidating. Nearby an old man with straggly grey hair stopped
changing a wheel on a pony trap to frown pointedly in my direction.
Trying to ignore the off putting looks I continued walking, pausing
once or twice to get my bearings.

An array
of fairground equipment surrounded me, much of which was covered by
protective tarpaulin sheeting. In the near distance, Piebald horses
were tethered to a fence near the Merry-go-round. They fed
contentedly from nosebags. Two young children groomed them, while
in the background an older boy threw sticks for a couple of
Lurchers to chase. More curious looks came my way, this time from a
group of men carrying out mechanical work on an old
truck.

Walking
between two tents, mindful of the guide ropes, the first of the
gypsy caravans came into view. The smell of wood smoke and cooking
meat drifted through the air. A moment later, I had entered the
heart of the Romany settlement.

Vans in
pristine condition were grouped closely together, taking up perhaps
half an acre of pastureland. They comprised of both old and modern
designs, many being the traditional bowed variety. I needed
directions to Madam Lee’s van and looked around for a friendly
face, but friendly faces seemed to be out of season here. Quite
suddenly, someone shouted me from behind and I turned to see a man
approaching, looking none too friendly. Tall and lean with curly
black hair and olive skin, he was dressed in tweed trousers, a
waistcoat and jacket. He carried a heavy looking monkey wrench. I
was looking at one of the men who had dealt so efficiently with the
troublesome youths the last time I’d visited the fair, the same man
who’d been forced to defend himself at The Ship on Halloween
night.

Two old
hags stopped peeling potatoes and watched avidly as the scene
unfolded. The man kicked up clods of mud as he approached, as well
as a bantam hen that made the mistake of crossing his path. Quite
suddenly, he was standing right in front of me, demanding to know
what my business was there. Across the way, two teenage girls
stopped grooming a skewbald horse in order to watch, with the
prettier one of the two goading him to do his worst.

“Bust him
up Coogan,” she yelled. “Show him who’s boss!” She and her friend
burst out laughing.

Somewhere
behind me a dog barked. I gave Coogan my name and explained the
reason for my visit. He looked unimpressed. “This is private land
and you’re trespassing,” he warned. “Give me one good reason why I
shouldn’t throw you off?”

By now a
small crowd encircled us, pinning me in, denying me a means of
escape. And then the crowd parted, creating an aisle through which
an old woman walked with the aid of a stick. She spoke harshly to
Coogan in a foreign tongue. At first he seemed resentful at having
his authority openly challenged, but quickly calmed down. When he
spoke he was respectful. It appeared the old woman ranked highly in
the community. She issued instructions. He nodded his head to say
he understood and then walked off through the mud towards a caravan
in the far corner of the field. The crowd lost interest and
disbanded, leaving me to reflect on my lucky escape. An elderly
gent with hair the colour of fresh fallen snow was suddenly at my
shoulder, telling me I was a fool for coming here and that I would
be wise to leave before Coogan returned.

“Where
has he gone?” I asked.

“To talk
to Kiomi,” the old man replied. I assumed he was referring to Madam
Lee and decided to take my chances and stay, feeling rather like a
courtier waiting to be summoned before Royalty. Something ran
across my foot. I jumped back in surprise. It was a rabbit no less.
I looked across the way, as another figure approached. Relief
flooded through me. It was Irish. But my relief was short lived. He
looked furious.

“What the
fuck are you doing here?” he demanded to know.

I told
him. He shook his head scornfully.

“Fucking
eejit!” he snapped. “Don’t expect me to come to your aid when
Coogan busts your head open.”

I
couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Are you serious?”

“Of
course I’m fucking serious. Gorgios are not welcome on Romany turf.
You’re a fool for coming here. You’ll be lucky if you don’t get
your arse kicked my friend.”

And off
he marched leaving me to my own devices.

I pulled
out my cigarettes and lit one. My hands trembled. I debated whether
or not to leave. In the end the decision was made for me, as Coogan
re-emerged from the caravan and waved me over. Here goes I thought,
as I started off with Irish’s harsh words ringing in my ears. This
is where Coogan produces the shotgun that blows my stupid head
off!

But when
I reached the van, he simply jumped down off the steps leading up
to the brightly painted door and jerked a thumb, inviting me to
enter. Feeling numb with fear I climbed the three wooden steps,
opened the door, which creaked loudly on its hinges, and climbed
aboard.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Inside
the caravan, Madam Lee sat reading a paperback novel with her
terrier dog curled up contentedly by her side. The animal paid me
scant attention, merely casting a disinterested look before
returning to sleep. As for Madam Lee, having acknowledged me with a
fleeting glance, she stood and walked over to a bookcase and placed
the book she’d been reading onto a shelf. While she did this, I
took in my surroundings.