Chapter Twenty-Three #3
Pixie had failed her. Not only had she failed Nessa, but she had failed Cavill and Eddie too.
With a sick heart, she pushed herself off the chair and made her way to the door.
She didn’t know how she was going to explain to Emma that she hadn’t managed to move Nessa on.
She didn’t care about the money, because of course she wouldn’t charge them for her failure.
She cared about Nessa’s soul. And she cared about Cavill and Eddie, who, had it not been for Pixie’s intervention, might have found happiness together.
It was dreadful, and she felt guilty right to the marrow of her bones.
She found Ulysses in the foyer talking to Isadora, Leila, Lezli and Emma. They stopped what they were saying and looked at her with eager anticipation. ‘Did you do it?’ Emma asked.
Pixie shook her head. ‘I’m afraid she doesn’t want to leave.’
Emma was crestfallen. ‘She’s still here?’
Pixie looked at Isadora. ‘You’re Gilda Garrett’s great-granddaughter, aren’t you?’ she said.
Isadora’s beautiful mouth fell open. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Nessa told me. It makes sense. Gilda was the lead in Macbeth back in 1923, plus she was having an affair with Taran Bentley, the man Nessa loved. I think Gilda was pregnant with his child, your grandmother Judy. Nessa believes Gilda not only stole Bentley from her and the part she wanted to play, but Gilda also locked her in the dressing room which then caught fire when Nessa threw an oil lamp at the door. Technically, Nessa started the fire herself, but she couldn’t escape the room because Gilda had locked the door.
Nessa is taking out her anger on you, Isadora. ’
Leila shook her head. ‘Well, I never. You’ve got me now, Pixie. You’re an extraordinary medium.’
‘But what do we do about the ghost?’ Isadora demanded. ‘Is she going to ruin my performance again?’
‘She’s going to ruin every performance, as long as you’re here,’ said Pixie. ‘I’m sorry, Isadora. This is the first time I haven’t been able to rescue a lost soul.’
Ulysses, sensing her disappointment, put a comforting hand on her upper arm.
Isadora glared at her. ‘You make it sound so romantic. Really, she’s not a lost soul. She’s a bitch! A ghost-bitch! Well, I’m not going to let her ruin my career. I’m going to continue regardless. She can go to hell!’
Their attention was diverted by the sound of someone tactfully clearing their throat.
They turned to see a tall, handsome young man of about thirty, with light brown hair and very blue eyes, standing a few feet away.
Pixie’s breath caught in her throat and her heart lurched. For a second she thought it was Cavill.
‘Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt.’ He had an American accent, and a deep, masculine voice. ‘I’m looking for Pixie Tate.’
Pixie knew she had seen him before, and she knew where. ‘I know you,’ she said, a moment in her memory lighting up bright and clear. ‘You were at the pond in Central Park. Back in October last year. I was on the Bethesda steps. I thought you were someone I knew – or used to know.’
‘Pink hair!’ he exclaimed and smiled with recollection. Pixie’s heart lurched again at the uncanny resemblance.
‘Are you Pixie Tate?’
‘I am.’
‘Okay, here goes.’ He looked embarrassed. ‘I’m just the messenger, right?’ He pulled an envelope out of the inside pocket of his black cashmere coat. The paper looked old, as if it belonged to another age. He handed it to Pixie. She looked at the writing and knew instantly who it was from.
Deliver to Pixie Tate. Aphrodite Theatre, Seacombe, Cornwall, on 26th October 2014. By hand.
Pixie stared at the young man in amazement. ‘Who are you?’
‘Felix Fairhaven. This letter was written by my great-grandfather, Cavill Pengower, in 1924, and left in his will, with instructions to deliver it here, on this day. He used to own this place, but it was destroyed by fire in 1923. The letter has been kept safely by my family for all these years, but as you can imagine, we are all eager to know what it says. It’s not normal to write a letter for someone ninety-one years into the future.
’ He looked steadily at Pixie and grinned.
‘I should really be asking who you are.’
Pixie’s mouth was dry suddenly. She felt her heartbeat pounding in her throat. She took a breath. ‘Your grandmother was Josephine, Cavill’s daughter?’
‘Yes,’ he replied.
Pixie nodded and looked down at the letter then back at him. ‘I need to be alone to read it.’
‘Of course. I’m staying at The Regency hotel tonight and then heading to London for a week, before flying back to New York.
I’ll be staying at Claridge’s. I’ll give you my card, should you wish to speak to me.
Like I said, my family and I are really curious to know what this is about.
’ He pulled out an enamel case and handed Pixie a white card with his name and details embossed in gold lettering.
He fixed her with his sapphire blue eyes.
‘Anytime. I look forward to hearing from you.’
Pixie watched him leave. She felt light-headed. He had his great-grandfather’s walk, too.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Ulysses asked.
‘No,’ Pixie replied. She didn’t feel she was present anymore. She was somewhere between the past and the now, and it was discombobulating. ‘I need to be alone.’
‘Who is it from?’ Leila asked as Pixie left the foyer to return to the VIP room.
‘An old friend,’ Ulysses said. ‘A very old friend.’