Chapter Seven
In order for Pixie to timeslide with any accuracy she knew that she would need to link into something of Nessa’s.
It could be anything; a photograph, an object, something that had belonged to her, even something she might have borrowed.
Pixie thought of the letter in the play that Nessa had snatched out of Isadora’s hand, on two occasions.
It hadn’t belonged to her exactly, but she had affected it with her energy.
Might there be a strong enough connection there for it to work?
As Pixie moved into the stream of people making their way up the aisle towards the exits, Emma tapped her lightly on the shoulder.
‘Well, nothing strange happened tonight,’ she said hopefully when Pixie turned round.
However, an uneasy feeling was building in her gut.
What if there wasn’t a ghost, after all?
What if the culprit had been Rebecca all along?
It seemed too obvious to be true, but the evidence seemed to be pointing at her.
What was the saying? If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, then it very likely is a duck.
She hoped Pixie would give her a convincing explanation to believe otherwise.
‘I’m afraid your earthbound spirit was on stage throughout the entire performance, playing Lady Macbeth alongside Rebecca,’ Pixie told her gravely.
It sounded so outlandish that Emma wasn’t sure whether to believe her.
But the temperature had certainly dropped again.
That, she couldn’t deny. And she didn’t think Pixie had the face of a fraudster.
She fought against the doubts rising within her.
‘Really?’ she replied, longing for Pixie to give her some evidence to prove it.
‘I just don’t know why she sabotaged Isadora’s performance and not Rebecca’s,’ Pixie mused ponderously. ‘Maybe she didn’t feel like ruining it tonight. Perhaps she just wanted to act. It could be that simple.’
‘It’s very odd,’ said Emma, mulling over the same arguments whirring around her head. ‘I mean, why has she decided to haunt the place now after having been quiet for decades?’
‘I don’t know,’ Pixie replied. ‘That’s a very good question. I’m going to have to find that out. Might there be something of hers tucked away in an attic somewhere that I can use to connect to her? A photograph. Something she owned or borrowed. Something she touched.’
Emma wracked her brain. ‘Gosh, I don’t know. I can’t imagine. Wasn’t everything destroyed in the fire that killed her?’
‘Probably,’ said Pixie. She was about to suggest she borrow the letter, when Emma’s face lit up with an idea.
‘How about I put you in touch with Leila Frost?’
‘The actress?’ Pixie said. Leila Frost was one of those famous names from the past like Natalie Wood and Catherine Deneuve.
‘Yes. She owns the theatre. She might have some relics put away somewhere. We can ask her.’
‘That would be brilliant,’ said Pixie.
Emma smiled, happy to be of help. ‘I’ll call her and let you know as soon as I hear back.’
They parted in the foyer and Pixie and Ulysses walked the short distance back to the hotel.
Stars shone crisply in the navy sky and in the midst of them glowed the full moon, like a dazzling silver ball, illuminating the streets of Seacombe almost to the brightness of day.
‘It’s the Hunter’s Moon tonight,’ said Pixie, noticing how its round face was reflected in the water that collected in puddles along the side of the road. ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’
‘Trust you to know your moons,’ said Ulysses with a chuckle. ‘I don’t know one from the other.’
‘Well, let me educate you then. It’s called the Hunter’s Moon because it’s so bright and lasts so long, giving hunters time and light to go after their prey.’
‘Fascinating,’ he replied.
‘Are you being sarcastic, Ulysses?’
‘Absolutely not. I take you very seriously, as you know.’
Pixie laughed with him. ‘Nessa Blunt was on stage tonight, acting the part of Lady Macbeth.’
‘Now that is fascinating,’ he said. ‘But why didn’t she ruin Rebecca’s scenes?’
‘My question exactly. Either she couldn’t be bothered, or she likes Rebecca.’
‘Do you think she’s taken a dislike to Isadora?’
‘Maybe, but this theatre has been going for years. There must have been many Isadoras treading those boards. Why hasn’t she appeared before?’
‘That’s where you come in, Pixie, with your extraordinary superpower of being able to slide through time. I wish you’d let me write the article.’
‘No one would believe you. Or me.’ She smiled at him and slipped her hand round his arm. ‘And what would be the point? What would it achieve?’
‘Fame,’ he replied simply.
‘For you?’
‘For us both.’
‘I can’t think of anything worse.’
‘Money?’
‘When has money ever made anyone happy?’
‘Unhappy rich people just don’t know how to spend it.’
‘So what would you do with your riches?’
‘Travel the world in first class,’ he replied without a moment’s hesitation. ‘And I’d stay in five-star hotels like the Aldershoff.’
Pixie grinned and squeezed his arm playfully. ‘I’m sure Henry Stirling would put you up for free.’
‘I think he probably would,’ Ulysses agreed. ‘But when I visit him in New York, I’ll be staying in his apartment.’
‘I hope the room service is good.’
‘Oh, I think the room service will be more than adequate. I like a personal touch! So, what would you do?’
‘If I had an endless supply of money?’ She considered it a moment. ‘I’d buy a big farm and rescue dogs.’
Ulysses scrunched up his nose. ‘Really?’
‘And donkeys. I’d rescue donkeys too. And pigs.’
‘Pigs?’
‘In fact, I’d have a great big farm with loads of rescued animals. Animals are much nicer than people.’
‘Than most people. I think you’re right about that.’
‘Good. You can help me muck out, then!’
‘With that sort of money, you can have a whole army of mucker-outers!’
When they arrived at the hotel, they went straight to Ulysses’ bedroom and ordered room service. Then Ulysses put on Mamma Mia!, and they snuggled up in the big bed to watch it.
‘All that money and you’d buy a farm!’ Ulysses said, drawing her close. ‘Really, Pix, you never cease to surprise me!’
Joseph met Isadora in the hotel bar. He knew he had to keep her sweet if he wanted her to honour the terms of her contract. He was aware that she wouldn’t hesitate to break it if she felt she had been badly treated, and she’d have a very good case; there was nothing about ghosts in the small print!
They sat at a round table in the corner.
The lights had been turned down low. Piano music played softly through a speaker.
Clusters of guests chatted quietly at other tables and a young couple perched on stools at the bar, drinking champagne.
Isadora had not aroused interest. She had tied her hair back, and without dark glasses, lashings of make-up and lavish clothes, she didn’t stand out.
‘So what happened, Joey?’ she asked once the waiter had brought her a Manhattan cocktail and Joseph a glass of Argentine Merlot.
Joseph plunged his fingers into the bowl of peanuts and held the wine glass to his lips. ‘Nothing happened,’ he said, and took a gulp, wincing in anticipation of a rant.
‘You see!’ she hissed, eyes widening with outrage. ‘Rebecca is so obviously the culprit. You’d have to be an idiot not to see it.’
‘You have a point,’ Joseph agreed.
‘All that talk of ghosts is ridiculous. I don’t know how she pulled it off, but she did. And now she’s playing my part.’ She pursed her lips crossly. ‘Did she get a standing ovation?’
‘No, nothing like what the audience gave you,’ he said, which was true. ‘You’re an A list star, Isadora. There’s no comparison. Rebecca can’t compete with that.’
‘She’s giving it her best shot!’ she replied with a sniff.
‘Listen, you come back tomorrow, and I’ll give Rebecca the night off. She can go and make herself scarce somewhere on the other side of town.’
Isadora took a sip of her cocktail. ‘Okay,’ she replied, appeased. ‘I don’t want her anywhere near the theatre.’
‘I promise.’
Satisfied that she had triumphed, she changed the subject. ‘That Ulysses is hot,’ she said, her scarlet lips curling into a smile.
Joseph frowned. ‘Listen, Isadora, I’m not into this ghost stuff, but I’m covering all bases, for you. I take this very seriously. You are my priority right now and I’ll do everything it takes, even if it means summoning ghost hunters all the way from London.’
She laughed and Joseph relaxed and took another handful of nuts.
‘I appreciate it, Joey. I do.’ Her voice was little girl lost. ‘It’s not that I don’t believe in ghosts.
I once stayed in a really old house in Virginia, and I swear a ghost tried to get into my bed.
Imagine, Joey. It actually tried to get into bed with me! ’
Joseph chuckled and gave her a cynical look. ‘Are you sure it wasn’t another guest?’
‘I know what it sounds like, and believe me, I’ve had a few of them too.
But no, I turned on the light and there was no one there.
But I had felt the mattress sink and the covers move, and I got the real feeling that a big, burly man was trying to get in.
’ She shrugged. ‘You see, I’ve had the odd encounter with the paranormal, so I don’t doubt the existence of poltergeists and the like.
I just doubt this one.’ She took another sip. ‘Are they a couple?’
‘Who?’
‘Ulysses and … what’s she called? The plain girl with pink hair.’
Joseph was stung by her rudeness, so casually delivered. He was going to disagree with her, for in his opinion Pixie Tate was pretty, but he let it go. There was no point in arguing with Isadora. ‘I think you’ll find Ulysses is gay,’ he said.
Isadora’s face crumpled with disbelief. ‘No, he can’t be. He was flirting with me.’
‘Well, if anyone can turn a gay man straight, it’s you, Isadora.’
She gave a shallow laugh. She was clearly disappointed. ‘Gay! God, why are all the best-looking men gay? It’s so unfair.’