Harriett (5 page)

“
Turn the lamps off,” Madame instructed briskly. She smoothed
her skirts and tugged her sleeves down almost officiously as she
readied herself for the psychic demonstration.

“
But I cannot see you then,” Harriett protested. She hated to
admit that she was scared.

Madame
flicked an arrogant gesture at Miss Hepplethwaite, who nervously
fluttered off to retrieve several candles out of a large carpet
bag, which she then placed at Madame’s feet.

The
candles were placed on the mantle and lit before the gas lamps were
extinguished. Harriett began to wish that she had never started
this in the first place, and took a tiny sip of her sherry in an
attempt to steady herself. The warmth of the amber liquid as it hit
her stomach did little to soothe her frayed nerves and a heavy
sense of trepidation swept through her at the thought of what might
lie ahead.

At least you are sitting with your back to the wall,
Harriett mused. She gave the darkened doorway
behind Madame Humphries a longing glance. At any other time she
would have relished the possibility of being able to sidle off to
bed and leave them all to it but, after the strange episode of the
stool that had topped all by itself, she wasn’t all that sure she
wanted to go to bed tonight at all.

“
Now then, I demand absolute silence for this part of the
proceedings. Please now all link hands and close your eyes. We will
get the energy flowing again and I will ask spirit to step forward.
Don’t be alarmed if you feel someone move to stand behind you. It
is perfectly normal and only your loved ones coming forward to be
amongst us. Now, before we begin, does anyone have any
questions?”

“
Loved ones?” Mr Bentwhistle queried. He looked a little
concerned. “You mean my wife may come forward?”

“
Your wife, your mother, anyone who was close to you, yes,
why, is that a problem?”

“
Erm, I am not sure, my dear,” he replied hesitantly. “What do
I say to them if they appear?” He glanced uncomfortably around the
room for a moment as though he expected someone to pop out from
behind the curtains.

“
People in the spirit world are essentially the same as they
are on the earth. If people were grumpy on the earth plain, or
didn’t like specific things, they are exactly the same on the other
side. If your wife comes forward, I am sure she will be just the
same as she was when she was with us.”

“
Oh dear,” Mr Bentwhistle whispered.

“
Is that a problem?” Harriett frowned at the man seated to her
left, and wondered if she had missed some essential piece of
gossip. Something that would indicate why Mr Bentwhistle did not
relish a message from his dearly departed wife.

“
Well, it is just that my wife, God bless her,” he glanced
reverently at the ceiling, “was quite critical of, well, everything
really. She liked to nag. Relentlessly and, well, I am afraid that
I had more than enough while she was here.”

Harriett
smothered a laugh and wondered how he would cope if his wife
suddenly manifested behind him and started to chastise him. Mr
Bentwhistle looked a little guilty at his confession and dropped
his eyes to the carpet a little like a naughty school boy waiting
to be told off by the headmaster.

Much to
everyone’s astonishment, Madame Humphries, for the first time that
night, softened her demeanour a little as she studied him from her
seat directly opposite.

“
My dear, it takes a lot of energy for the spirits to come
forward to talk to us. I am sure that anything your wife has to say
to you will be pertinent and to the point. However, should she come
forward with relish, I am sure that we can persuade her to move on
a little. Now,” she glanced around the room almost challengingly,
“if everyone is ready?”

Nobody
moved or spoke. After several moments of silence, Madame sucked in
a noisy breath through her teeth with such suddenness that everyone
jumped in alarm. In true theatrical fashion she threw her head back
and glared at the ceiling.

“
Come forward, my friends,” she called in a voice that was
heavily laced with a foreign accent that was anything but
Hungarian. If anyone knew what a Hungarian accent sounded like, it
was a far cry from that which Madame Humphries was managing to
achieve. Unless Harriett was much mistaken, it still held a hint of
cockney twang hidden in the husky depths and it still made her
smile. She slide a sideways glance at Mr Montague who was squeezing
her hand just a little too tightly for comfort but made no attempt
to break contact. That would earn her the condescension of the
redoubtable Madame Humphries, and in turn would only delay the
closure of the evening. For some reason she felt driven to call a
halt to everything and see her guests out.

She
jumped when the clock on the mantle behind her chimed ten solemn
rings into the silence. If she was apt to allow her wayward
imagination to run away with her, they almost sounded like death
chimes. She gave herself a mental shake and watched Madame
Humphries suck in breath after breath, but for the life of her
couldn’t feel anything different in the atmosphere within the room.
There was certainly nobody behind her. After several long moments
of watching Madame Humphries deep breathe, boredom began to sink in
and she struggled not to fidget.

Several
seats to her left, she caught sight of the yawn Tuppence tried, and
failed, to smother, and the physical shake Beatrice gave herself in
an attempt to stay awake. She began to turn her thoughts toward how
long they should leave Madame Humphries to her heavy breathing
before calling a halt when the lady in question suddenly sat bolt
upright in her chair. Her eyes widened and she stared almost
transfixed at a spot just above Harriett’s right shoulder. Harriett
daren’t look behind her. Given that Madame was staring almost
straight at her, Harriett daren’t roll her eyes at the theatrics
but struggled to keep her face impassive at the woman’s continued
dramatics.

“
I come forward to give you a message,” Madame intoned in a
voice that was as high-pitched as she could make it without being
an unintelligible squeak.

“
Who are you, my friend?” Miss Hepplethwaite asked in an
encouraging voice.

“
My name is Doreen, and I give Minerva my deepest regards,”
Madame gasped several times and began to shake. Harriett shared a
worried look with Babette, who merely shrugged as though to say
‘let it carry on for now’. Harriett turned back to Madame with a
frown and listened. She couldn’t remember much about Mrs
Bobbington’s mother, but was aware that her name was
Doreen.

“
Oh, mother, it is so good to hear your voice again,” Minerva
trembled. “Do you have a message for me?”

“
Yes, I do Minerva, dearest. You must feed the cat
well.”

“
Cat? But I don’t have a cat,” Minerva wailed and stared at
Madame Humphries in consternation.

“
Death comes to Tipton Hollow,” Madame boomed in a voice that
had suddenly changed to a deep boom. She threw her head back and,
despite the coolness within the room, began to sweat profusely.
“Into the darkness beware!”

“
What?” Minerva quivered in fear. “I am afraid of the
darkness, you know I am,” she quivered and turned fear-filled eyes
on the rest of the group in mute search of support.

“
No, not you,” Madame snapped in a husky growl. “Into the
darkness beware!”

“
Beware of what?” Harriett snapped impatiently. She was fairly
certain that this was nothing but reasonable acting, and had no
intention of allowing anyone as kindly and harmless as Minerva
Bobbington, to be upset so unduly. “I demand you stop this nonsense
at once. If you are going to give us messages then do so but make
sense, otherwise we shall move on.”

“
Harriett, dear, you must not talk to them so,” Miss
Hepplethwaite remonstrated. Now that Madame was in her ‘trance’,
the bird-like woman had seemingly lost her nervous persona and had
replaced it with protective arrogance.

“
Well, I ask you,” Harriett scoffed. “Into the darkness
beware? It could mean anything.”

“
Be afraid of the darkness. Don’t find comfort in shadows,
take solace in light. Murder. Death. Darkness and light. Death
comes to Tipton Hollow tonight,” Madame Humphries chanted. Her
voice see-sawed sinisterly between high pitched and husky as though
she couldn’t be certain which voice she wanted to use.

Despite
her doubts, Harriett felt panic rise at the almost ethereal glow
that began to emanate from behind the Madame Humphries. It was
slightly greenish in colour, and cast an eerie shadow over the
clairvoyant’s face that made everyone gasp.

“
Good Lord, would you look at that?” Mr Montague gasped and
clutched at Harriett’s fingers tightly.

“
What is it?” Tuppence gasped, her voice fuelled with
curiosity and horror.

“
I don’t know, but I think we have to stop this now,” Babette
replied firmly.

“
Murder. Death. Darkness and light. Death comes to Tipton
Hollow tonight.”

“
Stop it!” Miss Smethwick snapped. She yanked her hands away
from those seated beside her and jumped to her feet. “Stop this
nonsense at once.”

“
Oh, sit down, woman,” Miss Haversham snapped. “Can’t you see
this is getting interesting?” Despite her bravado, Miss Haversham
looked a little shaken and began to grope around under her chair
for her sherry glass.

For the
first time that evening Miss Smethwick didn’t seem able to decide
whether she wanted to leave or not. She stared hesitantly at the
strange glow that surrounded the clairvoyant, and clearly couldn’t
decide whether it was poppycock and she should go home, or she
should stay and see if anything happened that she could gossip
about in the morning. In the end, curiosity won through and, with
an indignant huff, she resumed her seat.

“
What do we do now?” Beatrice whispered to Miss Hepplethwaite
when Madame Humphries had lapsed into silence and began to hum a
nonsensical tune.

“
Wait, dear. She hasn’t finished yet.” Miss Hepplethwaite had
clearly experienced this before and had yet to take her eyes off
her associate.

“
What is that glow?” Constance whispered, more out of
curiosity than fear.

“
It is evidence that spirit is coming through. Keep
quiet.”

Duly
chastised, Harriett sat back in her chair and watched the
spectacle. She was only vaguely aware of Mrs Bobbington groping
around under her chair in search of the drink she had left their
earlier, but couldn’t seem to tear her gaze aware from the strange
vision of Madame Humphries, who was bathed in a green
glow.

How
could it be possible? What was it? She was fairly certain that
spirit didn’t show themselves as green people. After all, the
pictures of the good Lord and the angels in church depicted them
all bathed in a white or yellow angelic glow. Where did green fit
into it?

Suddenly, Mrs Bobbington began to make choking noises. A
gurgled cough escaped her and she began to flail her arms around
wildly.

“
What’s the matter with her?” Babette gasped and tried to
stand only to be yanked back down by Miss Hepplethwaite’s hold. She
pulled her hands free with a glare and rose to her feet.

“
What is it, Minerva? What’s wrong?” Mr Bentwhistle demanded.
His voice was laced with panic when he moved to stand beside
Minerva Bobbington, only for her to clutch wildly at his jacket
with desperate fingers.

“
Get the lights on somebody, I cannot see a blessed thing,”
Miss Haversham boomed.

“
What’s wrong with her? What is she doing?” Miss Smethwick
snapped. She glanced around the room as though in search of divine
inspiration but nobody bothered to answer her.

Madame
Humphries made no attempt to move. With the gas lamps lit she
didn’t glow any more, but nobody paid that much attention to her as
she began to suck in huge gulps of air. Ever the faithful
assistant, Miss Hepplethwaite rushed to her side and began to make
soothing noises that were as nonsensical as the last few
minutes.

Everyone’s attention was firmly fixed on Minerva Bobbington’s
florid face. Harriett could see desperation in the older woman’s
gaze and she stared around the room wide eyed. Her hands began to
claw at her throat and she gurgled, coughed and tried to gasp as
her puce face turned a deep purple.

Within
seconds her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell
face-forward onto the floor. Silence settled over the
room.

“
Someone go and get a doctor,” Mr Bentwhistle snapped as he
dropped to his knees to study Minerva’s now mottled face. Her eyes
were fixed wide and stared blankly at the fireplace in a way that
told everyone that death had indeed come to Tipton Hollow
tonight.

“
Oh God, is she dead?” Harriett whispered. She didn’t need Mr
Bentwhistle to confirm it; the horrified look on his face said it
all.

“
The spirits said,” Madame Humphries wailed. “They told
us.”

“
Oh, shut up woman,” Miss Haversham snapped. She removed the
knee rug from the back of one of the wing chairs beside the fire
and draped it carefully over Minerva’s body once Mr Bentwhistle had
closed her eyes.