Resonance (9 page)

‘Harry, are you even speaking English?'

‘They're
amateurs
. It's obvious they've no idea how to set up a show.'

‘It's not a
show
, Harry. It's a
séance
.'

Harry groaned.
Oy
gevalt
. She was a
believer
.

Onstage, the old woman was exhorting everyone to hold hands and open their hearts to positive thoughts and energies. ‘I shouldn't be here,' Tina insisted, sounding panicked. ‘I shouldn't be anywhere near a spirit board.'

‘Aw, come on. It's all just entertainment. You're
theatre
, kid! You should know this.'

She was shaking her head, trying to push past him towards the ladder. ‘I shouldn't be here.'

Harry gripped her arm. ‘Look, there's nothing you'll see or hear that I can't explain for you, okay? I've done it all: messages from the dead, apparitions, spirit boards … You wouldn't
believe
the things I could convince you of, given the right set-up.' He pulled Tina back to his side. ‘Look,'
he urged again. ‘Keep watching! I'll explain it all as it unfolds.'

Miss Ursula's voice rose up; the usual tremulous warble of a spiritualist, calling her spirit guide to come forth. ‘Dora? Are there any eternal beings present? Any roaming spirits who require our aid?'

Harry froze as, deep below, in the pit of the backstage stairwell, a pair of pinprick lights sparked to life. At the same time, the old lady hesitated, as if aware of a sudden charge in the air. ‘Dora?' she asked uncertainly. ‘Are … are you there?'

The twin lights moved, bobbing in the darkness as they drifted up from the black. They blinked off and then on again, coming closer, and Harry gripped a handful of Tina's blouse as he realised that they were eyes. Eyes! Glowing and moving in the darkness,
ascending
in the darkness, as if their owner were staring upwards while climbing the stairs below.

‘Tina,' he whispered. ‘What's that? Down there. Look!'

But Tina was not listening to him. Her attention was fixed on Lord Wolcroft, who had sat forward at the séance table, his face sharp with concentration. He was staring up at Tina and Harry as if he could see them crouched there in the shadows.

Miss Ursula was now positively effervescent with excitement. ‘Oh! Oh my!' she cried. ‘Oh my, we have contact! Everyone, place your fingers on the spirit glass! Gently now! Gently!'

The assembled dilettantes did not do as they were told. Instead, they watched, rapt, as the small crystal glass began making its own way around the table. The
click, click, clickity
of its progress on the inlaid wood of the spirit board was very clear in the stunned silence.

The pinpricks of light reached the top of the stairs. Their owner stepped from the darkness, and Harry found himself staring down into the eyes of Lord Wolcroft's carriage driver. The tall man was looking up at the catwalk, his face transfixed with wonder. Heedless of the drop, Tina was leaning far out over the edge of the catwalk, her own eyes huge, her fingers gouged into the gritty fabric of the sandbags, and Harry realised with a jolt that the carriage driver was not, in fact, staring at him, but at her.

Lord Wolcroft rose to his feet at the séance table, his eyes also riveted on Tina.

On the spirit board, the little glass revolved faster and faster, its faceted surface glittering in the wavering light of the candles. It spiralled to the centre of the board, where it spun on its own axis like a top. Then, without warning, it rose straight into the air. Miss Ursula shrieked, and the hitherto awed spiritualists leapt back in fear. Undeterred, the glass continued its glittering ascent until it was spinning at their eye level, small and sparkling and beautiful, shooting arrows of light and rainbows into the faces of the watchers.

Lord Wolcroft stared through the darkness into the eyes of the girl above, his lips parted, his face, like that of the carriage driver, infused with joy. ‘At last,' he whispered. ‘We have found another.'

And, as if in agreement, the dark-skinned man in the shadows whispered, ‘Yes.'

Tina made the strangest noise in the back of her throat: a choking sort of gurgle. Harry was dimly alarmed by it, but he couldn't seem to take his eyes from the carriage driver, who had crossed the backstage to stand directly below them.

Still gazing up at Tina, the man lifted his hand, as if to catch a thrown coin. Harry heard a distant pat, pat, pat as something dropped into his upraised palm.

The flock of dilettantes were frozen, apparently mesmerised by the glitter of the airborne crystal. For a brief moment, Lord Wolcroft looked from face to
terror-struck
face. Then he sighed, reached across, and plucked the spinning glass from the air.

‘None of this is important,' he said.

There was an instant surge of relief. People smiled sheepishly, as if to say,
Well, of course not
.

‘It is time to go home,' murmured Wolcroft, and they immediately began a merry chattering and gathering of overcoats. Only Miss Ursula seemed aware of the situation, her fingers pressed to her mouth, her eyes on the glass that glittered in Wolcroft's hand.

‘I … I've never …' she whispered. ‘I don't …'

Wolcroft took her by the arm. He smiled down into her anxious face. ‘There is nothing to worry about, dear.' She relaxed. Wolcroft began to lead her from the stage. ‘About the Christmas show, Miss Lyndon. I think you shall travel with me ahead of the other performers, to act as my advisor.'

‘Advisor,' she breathed.

‘Indeed. I am no expert in setting up a production, I'm afraid. You shall be a fount of usefulness in advance of your associates' arrival.'

‘Oh, I can be very useful.'

‘Of course, you shall bring your staff,' he said, guiding her down the steps to the auditorium.

‘My … my staff?' said Miss Ursula.

‘Indeed – your maid, your girl-servant. You would be shocked, Miss Lyndon, at the number of people these days who find it acceptable to travel without staff. A woman of your breeding, of course, shall wish to travel properly, with your companion in tow, as a lady should.'

‘Oh yes,' said Miss Ursula dreamily. ‘Oh yes, my companion …'

‘And you shall bring only your finest clothes, dear. No doubt you have some lovely dresses. Tell me about them …'

They strolled off, arm in arm, apparently forgotten by the others, who, one by one, began to drift away.

Soon only the carriage driver remained, standing in the wings, gazing down at his palm. Harry, leaning far out across the sandbags, was aware of Tina's arm pressed hot and trembling against his own, and that she was still making a strange and gurgling sound. He wanted to turn to her, to ask what the matter was, but he couldn't seem to move his head or tear his eyes from the tall, dark-skinned man below. Somewhere far off, he could hear water running – a thin, distant sound, as if someone had left a tap dribbling into a sink.

The carriage driver looked up. Harry flinched as a rich, deep voice sounded in his head.

Don't just sit there, boy. Help her
.

His words seemed to release some iron-tight grip, and Harry collapsed against the sandbags. The sound of running water was much closer than he'd thought: a light, steady fall, pattering against canvas. The roof must be leaking.

Harry turned his swimming head to check on Tina. She was staring at the stage, her eyes huge, her teeth clenched tight. Her nose was pouring blood. It ran in impossible gouts
from each nostril, streaming onto her clawed hands and down into the darkness below. Her lower face was drenched in it.

As Harry clutched her shoulders and dragged her back from the edge he thought, very clearly:
He caught her blood
.
The carriage driver. He reached out his hand and caught her blood
. And then, with a sharp sense of panic he thought,
How am I going to get her down the ladder
?

Safe and Warm

J
OE DREAMT THAT
Mickey the Wrench was chasing him. As Joe scrabbled featureless walls, weak and hot and desperate for breath, Mickey ambled along behind, carrying the big staff he used to beat the fighting dogs, swinging it from side to side, from side to side. Eventually there was nowhere left to run, and Joe waited like a child, his face pressed to the corner of a blind alley, unable to turn, unable to hide as Mickey advanced, taking his time, swinging the staff, his grin a living presence in the dark.

A
DEEP VOICE
called him from his desperation. ‘Sit up.’

Strong hands gripped his shoulders and dragged him upwards, propping him against something soft. The change in position loosened something in Joe’s chest and he took a breath.

He was too hot; too hot and there was no air.

He opened his eyes to find two green points of light floating over him. He reached for them. They drew back, and his fingers brushed skin: a face.

‘Your eyes,’ he whispered. ‘They glow in the dark.’

Something lay briefly against his forehead, hot and dry – a hand? The deep voice said, ‘You are ablaze, Matthew. Tell me you have not succumbed to my disease.’

Joe just stared up into the green lights, fascinated by the fans and whorls and patterns he saw within them. ‘I know you,’ he said.

The hand withdrew. ‘Yes. You know me. What are you doing, huddled like a vagrant in this corner?’

‘Not doing any harm. I’ll leave when I’ve had me rest.’

There came a sigh of impatience. ‘I’ve had enough of this. I am taking you home.’

‘Miss Price won’t let me stay. I’m a boy.’

A moment of silence was followed by a smooth upwards movement, and the green points of light were suddenly far above, looking down on him. The voice, when it came again, was cold and firm: ‘I shall be taking you home, Matthew. Reconcile yourself to it. Cornelius or no, I shall not be denied.’

The green lights disappeared. There was a large movement in the cramped room – a heavy swish of cloth – and Joe realised it was Ursula Lyndon’s costumes being taken from their hangers.

Joe sighed. ‘Don’t be robbing stuff, mister. The auld wan hasn’t a farthing – it’ll ruin her if you take them dresses.’

The door opened, then closed. Dusty silence settled once again on the room.

Too tired to care, Joe shut his eyes, waiting for the next dream. There was a scuffling in the corridor outside, and the click of the latch as someone opened the dressing-room door.
Oh, what now?
he thought wearily.
Can’t a fella get some kip?

A match flared and warm light filled the room. He opened
his eyes to see Harry lighting the lamp. Joe was just about to whisper hello when Tina turned from shutting the door and her blood-smeared face sent him struggling to his feet.

Tina lifted a hand to halt him. ‘It wasn’t Harry’s fault.’

‘Wasn’t his…’ Joe rounded on Harry. ‘What the
hell
did you do to her?’

‘I didn’t do anything. It was the spirit board. Tina got scared and—’

‘A spirit board!’ cried Joe. ‘Tina shouldn’t be anywhere
near
a spirit board!’ This shout seemed to rob his legs of their power. Harry reached for him as he staggered, but Joe shoved him aside. ‘What were you doing making Tina use a spirit board, Harry?’

‘What was
I
doing? Now
listen here
, Tina was—’

‘I’m right here!’ cried Tina. ‘Stop fighting over me like two dogs with a rag.’

The two of them drew back, ashamed, and Tina shoved between them, stumbling to the sofa, where she sat and cradled her head in her hands.

‘You shouldn’t be using the board,’ murmured Joe. ‘You know that.’

‘It wasn’t her,’ said Harry. ‘It was the actress. She put on quite a show. Tina got scared and—’

‘Harry,’ mumbled Tina without lifting her head from her hands, ‘if you say I was scared again, I’ll kick you right in your arse.’

Joe sat beside her. Tentatively, he put his hand on her back. ‘Did you see something, Tina? Was there a voice?’

She squeezed her eyes tight. ‘The door opened again, Joe. I could see again – a kind of light, this time, all tangled up in those men.’

Harry crouched in front of them, his face vivid with curiosity. ‘What’s going on?’

Joe glared.
Never you mind, Harry Weiss
.

‘There’s something wrong with me,’ mumbled Tina.

‘There’s nothing wrong with you!’ insisted Joe.

‘Ah, Joe,’ she said softly. ‘You know there is.’ She looked up at Harry. ‘There’s something wrong with me. Up here.’ She tapped her temple. ‘I got a fever when I was small; it gave me fits. I heard voices. I saw things. I saw things for a long time after. People thought I was funny in the head.’

Joe turned his face away, not wanting to remember little Tina, thin as a twig, wrapped in a blanket on the front steps, smiling at nothing and following things with her eyes.

‘What kinds of things?’ asked Harry.

‘Threads of light …’ she whispered. ‘Animals that tumble. Big floaty things with arms like eels. They talk to me in feelings …’ To Joe’s horror she reached as if to touch something. He grabbed her.

‘Tina! Come back!’

She flinched and deflated, cradling her head again. ‘I’m only remembering, Joe. Don’t shout.’

‘Sorry.’ He lifted his hand, wanting to stroke her hair, not daring to. ‘I’m sorry.’

She moaned. ‘My mind hurts, Joe. I feel sick.’

Harry met his eyes.
What do we do
?

Joe shook his head, not knowing. Without looking up, Tina took his hand.

A soft noise out in the hall dragged Joe’s attention to the door. To his horror, he realised Harry had left the lamp sitting on the floor. The light would be seeping out through the cracks, making it obvious to anyone in the corridor that
someone was in here. Joe cursed under his breath as the door swung quietly open.

You could have blown him over when Daniel Barrett stepped into the room.

The big man looked pained, his shoulders hunched with embarrassment. He opened his mouth to speak; then he caught sight of Tina’s bloodstained face, and his eyes went hard.

‘Miss Kelly!’ he said.

‘She’s there?’ whispered a voice from the hall.

Joe’s heart dropped. Oh God. Fran the Apples.

The little woman shoved her way past Daniel Barrett. Her face dropped when she saw Tina. ‘Oh,
acushla
!’

‘It wasn’t Joe’s fault,’ mumbled Tina.

Fran’s expression closed like a trap. Joe opened his mouth to say,
It’s true! I didn’t do it
. But Fran was already elbowing him aside and grabbing Tina. ‘I told you, Joe Gosling. I
told
you! I
gave
you your chances!’

Tina gasped as Fran pulled her to her feet.

‘No, Fran!’ cried Joe. ‘Don’t!’

Before he knew what he was doing, he had grabbed Tina’s other arm and tried to pull her from Fran’s grip. His only thought was,
Don’t take her from me!
but Fran wouldn’t let go, and Tina ended up caught between the two of them, her face screwed up in pain.

‘Say,’ cried Harry, ‘you’re hurting her.’

Tina’s nose began to bleed again.

Daniel Barrett filled Joe’s vision. He put a huge hand on Joe’s chest and bent to look into his face. ‘Stop,’ he said. ‘
Now
.’

‘It wasn’t me, Daniel,’ whispered Joe. ‘I didn’t do it.’

‘You let Miss Tina go, now, and we can discuss this in the morning.’

The soft fabric of Tina’s sleeve slipped from Joe’s fingers. He heard her moan as Fran hustled her to the door. ‘It wasn’t Joe, Fran. It wasn’t him.’ And then, just before her voice faded from hearing, she gasped, ‘Oh, Fran! I’m going to be sick!’

Daniel Barrett backed to the door, his hand up, his eyes on Joe. His expression was a conflict of pity and disapproval. ‘Miss Fran would never have let her stay out all night, Joe. Miss Tina should have known that.’

Joe, overwhelmed with the knowledge that everything was slipping away, lifted his empty hands.

‘I didn’t
do
anything.’

Daniel Barrett nodded, as if to say,
Sure, sure
. ‘Don’t be worrying, now,’ he said. ‘We’ll go out the way we came in. We won’t tell anyone you’re here.’

He shut the door. The click of the latch was as final as goodbye.

‘Say …’ said Harry uncertainly. ‘Say … it’ll be okay, Joe.’

Joe shook his head.

‘Why don’t you sit down, huh? You look like you’re going to fall. Sit down and I’ll … I’ll make us some tea!’

All false enthusiasm, Harry went to Ursula’s dressing table, where he filled the kettle and lit the stove, trying to kill the silence with bustle. Joe just returned to the sofa and put his head in his hands. After a while, Harry stopped pretending everything would be all right and came and sat by his side.

‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ he whispered. ‘Tina. The blood. It just
poured
out of her.’

Joe groaned. ‘I know. I’ve seen it before. Fran will blame me.’

‘Don’t be dumb! How could she possibly—’

‘Because I bought Tina a spirit board, Harry. First time it happened, it was because I bought her a spirit board.’

‘In America we bring our girls
flowers
, Joe. You should try it.’

‘Would you just listen?’

Harry lifted his hands. ‘Sorry. Go on …’

‘When Tina and me were small, she and the Lady Nana and Fran lived across the street from me. If Tina stood in her window and I stood in mine we could see each other, and we used to play a kind of game …’ Joe paused, remembering his hand on the filthy glass, Tina’s tiny figure in the window opposite, suspended above the street. ‘It must’ve started when we were really tiny,’ he said softly, ‘because it was always just something me and Tina did … our own little thing.’

He glanced quickly at Harry. ‘Anyway, the game was that Tina would think of a word. She’d concentrate real hard on it, then I’d breathe on the window and draw a picture of what she’d thought.’

Harry’s doubt showed in his face, and Joe tutted.

‘Tina would think a
word
, Harry. I’d hear it in my head, then I’d draw it on the window.’

‘Joe,’ said Harry gently. ‘That’s impossible.’

‘When we were eleven, she wanted to see what would happen if we used a spirit board: if maybe she’d be able to hear
my
thoughts, or if she could put her words into someone else’s head. Fran was raging at the idea – everyone already thought Tina was peculiar, on account of, you know, the fits she’d had. Fran didn’t want them saying she was a witch, too. But Tina just kept begging me to bring a spirit board, and eventually I did, and …’ Joe shook his head.

‘She had another fit, Harry. We were on our own. She fell down. Her nose poured blood. I thought she was going to die.’ He met Harry’s eye, the horror of that moment still raw. ‘Fran wouldn’t let me back for three months.
Three months
. Tina persuaded her, in the end. But I swore to Fran – I swore, Harry – that I’d never do it again. She
warned
me … I won’t get her back, Harry. I’ve lost her.’

‘No, you haven’t.’