Chapter Four #2
Isadora hurried into the wings. The curtain came down.
By now people were getting up and flooding the aisles.
Joseph strode onto the stage. ‘I’m very sorry, but we’re going to have to take a short break while we sort out a few technical issues,’ he shouted, but no one was listening.
They were making for the doors. There was nothing for it.
He withdrew backstage and reluctantly told Toby to instruct the front of house to refund tickets to those who didn’t want to stay.
No one wanted to stay.
It was an absolute catastrophe.
Behind the curtain the stagehands were clearing up the broken chair in bewilderment.
‘I tell you, something strange is in this theatre,’ Isadora exclaimed tearfully. ‘The letter just flew out of my hand as if someone grabbed it. There was no string attached to it. Nothing.’
‘And the chair,’ said Witch One. ‘That wasn’t special effects.’ Witch Two and Witch Three nodded in agreement.
Nigel, the lighting technician, claimed to have touched nothing. ‘I didn’t turn them off and I didn’t turn them back on,’ he said firmly, scratching his curly head with a pudgy hand. ‘It happened all by itself.’
‘It’s a ghost,’ came a quiet voice. There was something about the soft Irish accent that made them all to go quiet.
They turned to see Madge, diminutive in a pale yellow overall and tortoiseshell-framed spectacles, walking slowly onto the stage.
‘Can you not feel the cold?’ She rubbed her small hands as if to demonstrate.
Joseph put his hands on his hips and shook his head.
‘Now Madge …’ he began. He had heard the old lady speak of the theatre ghost before and had laughed it off.
But it wasn’t funny now. He didn’t want her spooking the cast. ‘Every old building is supposedly full of ghosts,’ he added.
‘But I can assure you there are no such things.’
Madge ignored him. ‘They always drop the temperature when they come,’ she said, her voice low and steady.
‘Did you not see the way the chair moved? That’s not easy for them to do, them being so fine and the chair being so dense.
They find the lights easier to manipulate because they themselves are made of electromagnetic energy.
’ She looked at Isadora and narrowed her pale blue eyes.
‘It’s you they want to scare,’ she said darkly.
Isadora’s face twisted into an indignant knot. ‘What the … ?’
‘Oh yes, they made that very clear, did they not?’ Madge went on.
‘What are you talking about?’ Isadora retorted, looking at Joseph for support.
Madge lifted her chin. ‘Sure, the letter was snatched right out of your hand, was it not? And the chair, well, when the audience clapped for you, the ghost was having none of it. I’m afraid the ghost wants to scare you, and it’s doing a fine job of it.’
Isadora folded her arms defensively. ‘Look, are you getting back at me for complaining about the coffee? Is it you who’s playing tricks on me?’
‘Now, look here, Isadora …’ Edward cut in.
Madge chuckled. ‘You wish it were me, Miss Nash. I’m easily dealt with. But no, I couldn’t perform such feats of superhuman power, even if I wanted to. Only something supernatural could do that.’
‘Come on,’ Joseph interrupted with an uneasy laugh. ‘I don’t think any of us truly believes there to be a ghost.’
‘I do,’ came a voice he recognised from the back. It was Emma. Everyone turned to look at her. She curled a tendril of brown hair behind her ear and smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, darling, but I agree with Madge. It’s the only explanation.’
‘But you don’t think it has anything to do with me?’ said Isadora indignantly.
‘I don’t know,’ Emma replied, shaking her head. ‘But I don’t think anyone here is responsible for lifting a chair off the ground and …’
‘I’ve heard many accounts of people seeing ghosts over the years, but I’ve never seen one myself,’ interrupted Leila, who was standing at the back with Emma.
‘When it comes to the paranormal, I like to keep an open mind. I agree with Madge, however. There is no other explanation, unless the special effects team have pulled off something extraordinary.’
‘We don’t have a special effects team,’ said Joseph flatly, feeling undermined. ‘Just lighting and sound.’
‘It’s not me,’ said Nigel, for the second time. He put up his hands as if in front of a gunman. ‘Not guilty!’
‘Really!’ Joseph exclaimed impatiently. ‘We’ve never had a whiff of a haunting in all the years I’ve worked here, so why would this ghost suddenly come out and sabotage Isadora’s performance now?
Can’t you see how ridiculous that sounds?
People who believe in ghosts are simply using something otherworldly to explain something inexplicable. ’
Madge shrugged. ‘I’ve seen her many times and sensed her presence about the place, but why would I want to scare people? I keep those things to myself. But why she’s chosen to create mischief now is a mystery. However, I can tell you that monkey business on stage was not done with human hands.’
Isadora turned on Joseph. ‘What are you going to do about it, Joseph?’ He noticed he was no longer Joey. ‘You gotta sort it out, and fast, or I’m walking.’ She glared at the witches and shook her head. ‘I know it has something to do with you three. I can feel it in my gut.’
Witch One glared back at her. ‘You know what, Isadora, every one of us here has reason to be pissed off with you, but none of us has the capability to lift a chair off the stage, cut the lights and snatch a letter right out of your hand while we’re nowhere near you.
It’s not possible. So keep your stupid accusations to yourself.
We had nothing to do with any of it.’ She turned to Madge who was standing quietly with her hands in the big pocket of her overall.
‘Madge is right. There’s a ghost in here and it’s pissed off with you, too, and I don’t blame it! ’
Joseph put up his hands. ‘Now everyone calm down,’ he said, sensing the situation spinning out of control.
Isadora pursed her lips and inhaled sharply through her nostrils. ‘I’m not going to stand here being insulted!’ she snapped. ‘Sort it out, Joseph, or I’m not coming back.’ With that she stalked off the stage.
Leila walked up to Joseph and patted him on the arm in a motherly fashion.
‘She’ll come back,’ she said reassuringly.
‘She’s behaving exactly as one would expect an actor of her kind to behave.
But something needs to be done.’ She turned to Madge.
‘You seem to know a lot about ghosts. What should we do?’
Madge nodded knowingly. ‘Sure, I know a fair bit. I grew up with ghosts and the like. There are plenty of them around if you have the ability to see them. Poor lost souls, they are. You need to get a medium to come and move it on.’
Joseph sighed in exasperation. This was farcical.
There simply wasn’t a ghost in the theatre.
Ghosts didn’t exist. But he realised by the fearful faces of the company that doing nothing wasn’t an option.
At least, he had to appear willing to do whatever was necessary.
‘A medium?’ he repeated in a weary but resigned tone of voice.
‘And where do I find such a person? Google?’
Madge laughed, not unkindly. ‘Oh, no, Joseph. You need the real McCoy, not some charlatan out to make a quick buck. I have a friend in St Sidwell who told me of a haunting at the big house there a short while ago. They sorted it out good enough. A young woman with pink hair came down from London. They found her through the College of Psychic Studies. You know the place. Arthur Conan Doyle himself was president of the college in the twenties, so I’m told. ’
‘The author?’ said Emma. Madge nodded.
‘I think I’d rather call in Sherlock Holmes,’ said Joseph wryly.
‘No, no, this is a case for a spiritualist, not a detective,’ said Madge seriously. ‘You need someone who knows about the paranormal. This is no criminal, Joseph. This is a ghost.’ She rolled her eyes about the stage. ‘And it’s still here. Can you not feel it in the chill?’
All eyes followed hers, but besides the unusually cold temperature, no one sensed anything out of the ordinary.
‘Very well. I’ll get on to it,’ said Joseph grudgingly. ‘I’ll call the college first thing in the morning.’
‘What do we do about tomorrow night?’ asked Witch One. She grinned raffishly. ‘If Isadora’s gone off in a huff, well …’
‘The show goes on,’ said Joseph abruptly. ‘If she doesn’t come back tomorrow, you’re on, Rebecca, and you, Samantha,’ he said, turning to one of the other actors, ‘will be Witch One, so be prepared.’
Rebecca nodded eagerly. ‘Let’s hope the ghost doesn’t have a problem with me, then,’ she said, and shivered not with cold, but excitement. As Isadora’s understudy, her moment had come.
‘What a bloody nightmare,’ said Joseph once he was home alone with Emma. ‘Do you really believe it’s a ghost?’ He poured two large glasses of wine and then went and plonked himself down at the kitchen table
‘Well, you’re right about every old building having a story of a resident ghost,’ she replied.
‘People love tales of hauntings. But if it’s not a ghost, how do you explain it all?
The chair, the letter, the lights?’ She leaned back against the sideboard and took a sip.
‘I’ve heard Madge mention the theatre ghost, we all have, but beyond the occasional sightings, there’s never been anything physical.
I’m not sure why the ghost would choose to make mischief now.
I mean, to actually disturb a scene is quite radical. ’
‘Which is why it’s not a haunting,’ said Joseph, hoping his wife was beginning to see sense.
‘Even if there was a ghost lurking about in the shadows, it wouldn’t suddenly, after decades of lying low, come out of the shadows and throw a chair into the air.
Come on, darling, surely you can see the logic of that! ’