Page 113 of A Good Heart is Hard to Find
‘A torch.’ Jason exclaimed, looking wildly round as though one might materialize.
‘Absolutely not. It’s all ridiculous nonsense, but if you really want to go out and dig the garden up at dawn tomorrow, feel free.’
Mrs Bream was still twiddlingher pendulum. ‘There’s definitelysomethingthere,’ she murmured with slightly less confidence. ‘I’m not sure … perhaps it isn’t the one you’re searching for? But if there’s a connection … Shall I try again?’
‘No thanks,’ Dante said crisply. ‘And isn’t that the doorbell?’
Rosetta hurried out. Jason ran his hands distractedly through his brown hair and said aggrievedly: ‘It’s all very well foryou, Dante, but I think you ought to let her haveanother shot at it. I’m not going to sleep a wink tonight until—’
He stopped dead and gaped at the apparition in the doorway, his eyes going glazed, as did all the men present except Dante, who merely looked amused. (Though you’d have to know him to realize it.)
Had it been possible, I’d have said Orla’s costume was tighter than before. Certainlythe zip was a perilous inch or two lower, and the name Barbarella, embroidered across the chest, was stretched nearly flat.
‘Where is the Birthday Boy?’ she asked seductively, fluttering her gilded eyelashes. But before Leo Bream could do more than gulp nervously and Mrs Bream utter an outraged hiss, Jason had sprung to his feet, tossed an embroidered Chinese shawl over Orla like someone extinguishinga particularly noisy cage-bird, seized her by the arms, and hustled her out.
You know, I think he had that planned.
‘Happy birthday, Mr Bream,’ I said kindly.
‘Leo,’ he murmured weakly, gazing after them as after a vanished dream.
‘Shall we cut the cake?’ asked Rosetta brightly into the ensuing silence. ‘Mr Bream – Leo – I’m lighting the candles, if you’d like to blow them out?’
He had barelyenough breath but he managed it in the end, and then we all had a slice of cake that had been exhaled all over, and toasted him in something cheap, thin and sparkling. (A bit like his wife’s sari.)
Jason and Orla didn’t return, and I wondered if they’d retired to Jason’s room or if he’d insisted on taking her home. Whichever, I hoped she was managing to take his mind off tomorrow’s excavations.
After the normality of the tea party, if such it could be called with Dante looking as if he was about to be involved in something noxious (which he was), Madame said wemight as well rearrange the room and have what she called her ‘little gathering’ right away.
‘But shouldn’t it be later – after dinner?’ I said, surprised.
‘It’s late enough, and the light’s gone,’ she said in her deep voice.‘Besides, I never partake of food or drink before I call upon the spirits.’
It was true she’d eaten and drunk nothing, but then neither had Mrs Bream, who seemed to be exhausted after her pendulum swinging (and possibly the shock of Orla’s appearance).
Dante shrugged: ‘As well now as later. The sooner we get this nonsense over the better.’
Madame Duval bridled. ‘I hope you are going into thiswith a positive attitude, unlike previous occasions when you have maliciously prevented my poor child from contacting me.Thistime I had hoped—’
‘I’ll do my best,’ Dante promised. ‘I said so, didn’t I? One last time, and that’s it.’
‘We will support you, dear,’ Mrs Bream said. ‘And we three are not unbelievers, but open to all new paranormal experiences.’
‘And I’ll stay, and Eddie,’ Rosettadeclared firmly. ‘I want it finished with, too.’
‘And me,’ I said.
Dante looked at me. ‘No.’
‘I want to, Dante. I want to be here for you,’ I said stubbornly.
‘It could be dangerous. You’ve had enough upsets for one day.’
‘Let her sit with us,’ Madame said. ‘It is clear to me she has some connection with you, and so might provoke my poor abandoned child to speak. To speak!’ she exclaimedon a slightly more rising note that had poor Reg scrabbling for the smelling salts.
But her colour remained steady, and she bossily directedthe repositioning of the chairs around two of the tables, pushed together, and the extinguishing of all but one dim wall light and the flickering log fire.
We all sat around the table holding hands, with Dante next to Madame and me on his left. Reg saton his wife’s right, saying cheerfully: ‘What larks!’
