Chapter Six #3
Rebecca finished her soliloquy without any disturbance.
The Messenger strode onto the stage and the scene continued.
Emma breathed a sigh of relief and stopped fidgeting.
She realised then that the theatre was warm, hot in fact, and it struck her as significant.
Hadn’t Madge said that spirits lower the temperature when they come into our world?
It had certainly been very cold the two times the ghost was supposed to have made mischief on stage.
She watched Rebecca with interest. She seemed to grow an inch as her confidence swelled.
She was showing what she could do. That she was just as accomplished as Isadora.
A doubt slithered into Emma’s mind then.
Was Rebecca the culprit? Could her poise be attributed to the fact that it was she who had somehow caused those crazy things to happen?
Certainly, that was the way Isadora would see it.
Or had Pixie Tate managed to move the spirit on already?
Emma glanced at Pixie, having noticed her coming and sitting beside Ulysses.
Pixie turned and caught her eye. Emma gave her a thumbs-up sign and a hopeful smile.
Pixie responded with a thumbs-down and a hopeless smile.
Emma was baffled. She couldn’t understand it.
Unless the ghost had gone on its own – if there was a ghost. Emma now began to doubt.
Joseph stood in the wings with his arms crossed, watching the performance closely.
His entire body was rigid with anxiety. He was aching all over.
But so far, so good. He didn’t imagine for one moment that the pink-haired medium had removed the ghost. It just meant that whoever had interrupted the play the two previous evenings had decided not to do it tonight.
His suspicion fell on Rebecca. She was the only person with a real motive to be rid of Isadora.
And here she was, playing the lead, which was every understudy’s dream.
Though, how she had managed to whip the letter out of Isadora’s hand and lift the chair right off the ground, when she had been in her dressing room all along, mystified him.
Certainly, she could not have carried out those things on her own.
She needed an accomplice. But who? He thought of Nigel the lighting technician but swiftly dismissed the idea as ludicrous.
There was nothing in it for Nigel. Joseph tried to think of who else might have aided her, but no one seemed likely.
And he didn’t believe in magic. Yet, as the play carried on and the cast and crew began to relax, he found himself wondering if Pixie Tate had actually managed to rid the theatre of whatever strange phenomenon had plagued it.
Was it possible that some supernatural being existed?
Whichever was the case Pixie and Ulysses would leave in the morning. Job done.
Isadora could return to the stage tomorrow, although the fact that she hadn’t performed tonight hadn’t affected turnout.
No one had cancelled their booking. If anything, more people had flooded to the theatre out of curiosity, in the hope of seeing otherworldly things happening on stage.
The place was full to bursting. It was standing room only.
The papers and internet had been full of the strange technical faults, which had fuelled people’s curiosity.
There had even been a queue at the theatre doors for last-minute tickets. He wouldn’t tell Isadora that!
During the interval Emma, Pixie and Ulysses found Joseph backstage. He smiled with relief when he saw them. ‘Well, you got rid of it,’ he said with convincing enthusiasm, rubbing his hands together. ‘You’ve done a fine job. I’ll drive you to the station first thing tomorrow morning.’
‘Not so fast, darling,’ said Emma, scrunching her face as she anticipated his reaction to the bad news she was about to deliver. ‘Pixie says the ghost doesn’t want to leave.’
Joseph looked startled. ‘Well, nothing untoward has happened so far, so perhaps it’s gone of its own accord.’
‘Apparently not,’ said Emma.
‘Oh, well. That’s a shame.’ Joseph looked from his wife to Pixie and wondered whether he’d manage to put them on the morning train all the same.
‘Pixie is going to have a go at removing the spirit tomorrow morning,’ said Emma.
Joseph’s heart sank. He hoped they wouldn’t require another night in the hotel. Two bedrooms at Brambling House did not come cheap. ‘Ah, okay.’ He hated having to go along with this farce. ‘Right, well, I’ll drive you to the station after that, then.’
‘Thank you,’ said Pixie.
Joseph turned to his wife. ‘Can I have a quick word, darling?’
‘We’ll go to the bar and have a drink,’ said Ulysses. He could do with a glass of wine.
Pixie could too. ‘See you back in our seats,’ she said, and followed Ulysses towards the bar.
Joseph lowered his voice. ‘You know there is no ghost,’ he said. ‘It’s no coincidence that nothing untoward happens when Rebecca’s on stage.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Emma. ‘How could she have done it? She’s not a magician – or a witch,’ she added with a chuckle. ‘And wouldn’t it be too obvious? Isadora’s scenes are sabotaged, but not Rebecca’s. If she wanted to incriminate herself, that’s a fine way to do it!’
‘She did it somehow.’
‘Do you really think she’s that stupid?’
‘Well, it would be a bit foolish, I agree with you. She could be double bluffing, of course.’
‘Give Pixie a chance. She says she hasn’t got time to do it tonight. It might take a few hours and it’s late.’
He sighed loudly to show his reluctance, but his wife was looking at him with those big, pleading eyes and he knew he couldn’t say no. ‘Okay, whatever you want. But Isadora can return tomorrow as Lady Macbeth. No buts about it. Perhaps the game’s over now and whoever was responsible has given up.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ she replied. She was about to tell him about Madge and Nessa Blunt, and the vision Pixie had seen on the stair, but she stopped herself. It would be a waste of breath, and she didn’t fancy arguing.
‘I think it’ll be fine now. I feel it in my bones,’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘Right, better get on.’
‘Good luck,’ she said and went to the bar to join Ulysses and Pixie.
No sooner had the second act started than Pixie noticed the temperature drop in the auditorium.
The place was full of warm bodies, but the air grew suddenly chilly.
She narrowed her eyes and linked into the vibration on stage.
It was like reading between lines on a page or being alert to the silence between words.
It wasn’t long before she perceived Nessa Blunt, between worlds.
She was mirroring Rebecca’s Lady Macbeth.
Whatever Rebecca did, Nessa did it too. Of course, no one else could see her.
Only Pixie. Pixie turned to see Emma wrap her shawl about her, so she too had noticed the cold.
Pixie ran her eyes about the auditorium and noticed members of the audience putting on sweaters or folding their arms to keep warm.
No doubt they would put the chill down to a problem with the heating, but Pixie knew better than that.
She was fascinated by Nessa’s invisible performance.
It was clear that she had wanted to be the leading lady during her life and was now acting vicariously through Rebecca.
But what Pixie couldn’t understand was why she had made a menace of herself on stage while Isadora played Lady Macbeth, but not while Rebecca played her.
It didn’t make sense. What was it about Isadora that incited her wrath?
Sure, Isadora wasn’t very nice to work with, but could she be punishing her simply for that?
Or was there something else? Pixie didn’t think that Nessa was going to be forthcoming with that information.
But if Pixie could slide back and discover what secret she was hiding, perhaps she’d be able to persuade her to move on into the light.
She had done it before many times. She didn’t doubt that she could do it again.
When the play ended and Rebecca came on stage to take her bow, Pixie watched Nessa stride out in front of her and take an extravagant bow of her own.
The spirit stood before the audience, believing perhaps that they were clapping for her, and kissed her fingers, throwing her hands wide as if tossing those kisses into the adoring crowd.