I Am Dust

by Louise Beech

  ‘You never told us that,’ he said.

  SHAKESPEARE ALWAYS HAS A PRICE

  Ryan gulped. ‘And what is it?’

  NEVER SEE THESE TWO AGAIN

  ‘What?’

  YOU THREE

  NEVER BE

  UNDER ONE ROOF

  Chloe knew the words were the beginning of the end. The end of their friendship. The end of this. The end of childhood. She felt it as acutely as she had felt so many other things this summer. She looked at Jess. Her lip was trembling. Chloe longed to calm it with a kiss.

  Remember her, she thought. Drink in her face. Cherish this moment.

  Even though the spelled-out words were not spoken, Chloe heard them as though they had been. She heard Daniel. The letters had transformed into the voice of their creator – calm. In control. Enjoying.

  ‘Never see Jess and Chloe again you mean?’ asked Ryan.

  NEVER

  Ryan looked at them both. Chloe saw a host of emotions pass across his face – fear, sadness, indecision, and finally acceptance. A decision. He stood.

  ‘You can’t,’ cried Jess, taking her finger from the glass.

  He shrugged. ‘You’re going to London anyway. I wouldn’t see you, would I? It was nice. You were a really great fuck, you know.’

  Her mouth dropped open.

  LEAVE NOW

  ‘Have a good life, Chloe,’ said Ryan.

  And he walked down the stage steps and along the aisle between the pews.

  ‘Ryan,’ yelled Jess. ‘Wasn’t I more than a fuck?’

  He reached the door, turned and looked back. For a moment, his eyes looked yellow; like pools of hot lava. One of the candles went out. The other two waved in the draught. Then Ryan was gone. Jess looked at Chloe, absolute shock bright in her eyes. Neither of them said a word. The glass moved again.

  YOU WILL BE DUST

  ‘He’s talking to me, isn’t he?’ whispered Jess.

  Chloe nodded, unable to speak.

  LEAVE NOW OR NO DUST

  ‘How much do you want it?’ asked Chloe, afraid of the answer.

  Jess looked at her lap.

  ‘You never told me that was your dream,’ cried Chloe.

  ‘Did I really need to say? Didn’t I show you with every action and every song? You know me like no one else – you must have known.’

  Chloe, the girl who felt like she often knew, had been blind to this most obvious fact.

  ‘You’re going to go, aren’t you?’ she said.

  Jess stood up.

  ‘Please don’t,’ said Chloe. ‘You don’t need some power to get what you want, Jess. You have that within you, I know it.’

  Jess walked wordlessly away.

  ‘Come back! Please!’

  But she had gone. It was just Chloe. Then the glass moved.

  48

  The Dean Wilson Theatre

  September 2019

  After twenty years, a frenzy of social-media coverage, exaggerated headlines about Morgan Miller’s ghost, and ‘exclusive’ stories about the new casts’ scandals, Dust begins six minutes late due to a torn dress.

  Then that moment comes when the audience is united by a sharp intake of breath; the moment after they have turned off phones and settled comfortably in seats; the moment when darkness falls, and the stage is lit; that moment when they wonder if they even exist anymore; when they forget everything for two hours.

  Chloe has hoped over and over, for years, to experience in that moment the magic she felt when she first saw Dust. Now the familiar music soars just before the lights come up, and goose bumps climb her spine. Despite Ginger ruining the lead-up to this longed-for moment, she sits forwards on her seat in the shadows and anticipates Esme Black’s first appearance.

  Ginger asked for this.

  For this night.

  Back then, when they were kids.

  As Chevalier sings, ‘Money never gave me more than my heart would let it, a lesson in the currency of love, don’t forget it’, Chloe can’t stop thinking about it. Ginger – no Jess – asked for this role all those years ago, that last night on the Ouija board. She agreed not to see Chloe or Ryan again – the price to fulfil her dream of being Esme. Of resurrecting Dust.

  How could Chloe have forgotten?

  Was it seeing Ryan that completed something and freed the memory? If they were all supposed to be apart forever to achieve their dreams, what does tonight mean? What might happen now they are all under one roof again?

  Chloe shakes her head.

  Enjoy the show, she thinks. You can’t change anything now.

  It’s hard to watch the audience as vigilantly as she should. Quickly, knowing Esme will be onstage in a few minutes, Chloe scans the heads and spots Chester on the far left. As though sensing her gaze, he turns and catches her eye. They smile. His first time seeing the show. Chloe is so happy for him. She wonders where Clive is. If he came. She wouldn’t know him if she saw him.

  She then finds Ryan on the front row. She wishes she could see his face. Is he nervous about what the night might hold, or is he entranced by the show?

  The radio in Chloe’s ear crackles. ‘Never … be … under … one … roof…’

  Is she imagining the words? Did she imagine the vision earlier? Imagine seeing that final Ouija board session as clearly as a film. Seeing Ryan walk away, and then Jess. Seeing one candle burning. The radio crackles again. Chloe tenses.

  ‘Someone’s taking pictures audience right,’ snaps the techie.

  That’s Beth’s side. Chloe watches her go down the steps and tell the patron to stop. Another tries on Chloe’s side, and she rises to warn them. As she returns to her seat, one of her favourite songs begins; ‘Amongst the Ashes’. Esme sings it while cleaning Chevalier’s home and longing for him.

  And Ginger makes her first ever entrance in Dust. The audience applauds; they usually wait for a song to be over but can’t seem to contain themselves, and they clap over her opening lines. Ever the professional, she continues as though she hasn’t heard, but Chloe knows she must be thrilled to hear it.

  ‘I’m as grey as the ash that I clean at his feet, I’m the aftermath of fire, flames he never sees…’

  Ginger is utterly beautiful. There is no denying it. No trying to get over it. Beautiful. Even though the role at this stage demands she be plain, modest, humble, Ginger manages to outshine the simple maid costume, to outglow the shadowy lighting. John Marrs as Chevalier is more ostentatious in a purple top hat and coat, gold pocket watch in hand, but Ginger steals the limelight.

  ‘I’m the aftermath of fire, flames he never sees…’

  Chloe realises that Ginger has never really seen her. Jess might have done, long ago, but she was prepared to turn her back on their friendship for power. Ginger came here for what she wanted. Now she’s prepared to steal Chloe’s script to try and continue her moment of fame.

  ‘I’m the aftermath of fire, flames he never sees…’

  Hot rage consumes Chloe. She read once that when a mother sees her child in pain, she feels it in her Caesarean or vaginal scar. Now, Chloe feels her anger at Ginger in the recent scars on her thighs. She scratches at them and feels dampness beneath her fingertips. She’s bleeding. Shit. She goes out into the foyer where it’s light. It just looks like she spilt coffee. No choice but to let it stain.

  Cynthia emerges from the nearby box office. ‘What are you doing, Chloe? You can’t be out here, even for a minute, tonight. If anything goes wrong…’

  ‘I was just … overwhelmed for a moment.’

  Chloe returns to her seat. On stage, Ginger is about to jump from the balcony and die at Chevalier’s feet. The atmosphere in the auditorium is electric. In Chloe’s ear, the radio crackles. ‘Five minutes until the interval,’ says the techie. She wonders for a moment if she could push. Ginger leaps. The stage spins around and Chevalier is holding her tenderly, amidst white flowers. No. Chloe would never do anything like that.

  Would she?

  The light
s come up. The first half is over. People rush to the bar, raving about the show as they pass Chloe on her door, buying more programmes and asking repeatedly if the actors will be coming out to meet fans afterwards.

  Chester grabs her arm, making her jump. ‘Oh, my fucking God,’ he says. ‘I’m just … speechless. Seriously, I know Ginger’s a bitch, but fuck, she’s good, isn’t she?’

  ‘She is,’ admits Chloe.

  ‘Is she better than Morgan Miller?’ he asks. ‘Come on, dish the dirt.’

  ‘I don’t know. What’s better? She’s different.’

  ‘So Simon Cowell would say she’s made the role her own?’

  Chloe laughs. ‘Look, if I don’t see you later…’ she begins.

  ‘What do you mean? We have to have drinks after this.’

  ‘No, I don’t think I’ll be here.’ Chloe doesn’t know what she means; what she’s saying. Then she does. ‘I’m going to confront Ginger.’

  ‘You are?’ He grins.

  ‘I am.’ She realises that she is.

  ‘Oh God, I need to be there.’

  She laughs. ‘No. You don’t.’

  He pauses, and then kisses Chloe’s cheek. ‘Confront her, but don’t let yourself get hurt. That’s usually what happens. You’re the sweet one. The lovely one. And it could be you that ends up the most hurt.’

  Is she sweet? Lovely? She doesn’t feel it right now.

  ‘I won’t, I promise.’

  ‘Hey, I got a job interview. For the duty manager at the New Theatre. Get me!’

  ‘Oh, good luck, Ches.’ She hugs him, hard. Knows somehow that he will get it.

  ‘You have to continue my search for Morgan Miller’s killer now,’ he says seriously. ‘I’m entrusting you with the mission. How can I when I’m not here?’

  ‘If I ever do find out, you’ll be the first one I tell,’ Chloe says affectionately.

  ‘And Twitter will be the first one I tell,’ he grins.

  She feels desperately sad as he disappears into the crowd. She turns, and Ryan is there, programme held tightly to his chest. ‘Now I know why she wanted it,’ he says. ‘The role of Esme. It was made for her.’

  No, it was made for Morgan, thinks Chloe suddenly.

  ‘And did you get what you wanted?’ she asks him.

  ‘You know, I’d sort of forgotten it all,’ he says. ‘Maybe forgotten is the wrong word, because now it’s like I never did. I was a little monster then, wasn’t I?’

  ‘Not really,’ laughs Chloe.

  ‘Well, I got the money. All the money I wanted. I won it.’

  ‘Shit, really?’

  ‘Yep. Twenty million on the lottery. But it made me lazy. Having so much stole my ambition. What are you gonna strive for when you can buy it all? I’ve never been on the stage since we did Macbeth.’ He laughs then and says, ‘God, Jess would kill me for saying that word aloud here.’ He pauses. ‘Can you take me backstage so I can see her? Just for a second.’

  ‘I can’t,’ says Chloe. ‘I’d be sacked.’

  ‘But I was her friend. You were too. Back when we were kids with dreams. I just want to wish her well.’

  Chloe realises she wants to witness Ginger’s face when she sees Ryan. She can’t wait until later to confront her. She has always loved this, being an usher, being here, but fuck it. Fuck being an usher tonight. She’s a writer who has written a script and she won’t have it stolen. She looks at her watch. Only ten minutes of the interval left. She rips the earpiece from her ear, wraps it around the radio, and puts it in a bin. Fuck it if she gets sacked. She’s not here to pick up the glitter tonight. She is the glitter tonight.

  ‘Let’s go,’ she says.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. I just have to get something.’

  Checking Cynthia isn’t inside, Chloe grabs her bag from the box office and leads Ryan along the corridor to the backstage door. She keys in the code and opens the door onto madness; actors rushing around, stage managers swearing, piles of abandoned clothes, and sweat heavy in the air. They push through the throng and stand at Ginger’s dressing room door.

  My dressing room…

  Was that Morgan Miller above the din?

  Ryan touches the gold star, clearly impressed. He looks at Chloe, as though to check, so she nods, and he knocks on the door. She touches the knife in her bag. No, the dagger. It was Ryan’s once upon a time. Now she isn’t even sure why she has it. Can hardly remember putting it in her bag. Did she bring it to give it back to Ryan? Did she know – somehow – that he was coming tonight? She really isn’t sure. She fingers the blade.

  Chloe…

  She smiles. Yes. Morgan is here too.

  I’m the aftermath of fire, flames he never sees…

  Is that Morgan singing the line that was hers first?

  Well, Ginger is going to see Chloe now.

  Chloe is the aftermath of fire.

  Ginger opens the door.

  49

  The Game

  2005

  YOU THREE

  NEVER BE

  UNDER ONE ROOF

  Chloe wanted to get up and chase Jess; to go home with her, stay over at her house, see her in the morning, and the day after that, and the day after that, just to cancel the price of the powers. But she couldn’t move.

  Another candle died. The final flame valiantly danced on. Should she stay here? She knew you should never use the Ouija board alone, but she looked down at the glass, put her finger upon it, and she waited, afraid. Then it moved again. Slowly. Seductively. Was it her? Morgan. Had she spelled out the phrase about never being under one roof or had that been Daniel?

  It occurred suddenly to Chloe that word spelled had double meaning – a magical spell and a spelling of words. That’s what this game had been – both.

  ‘Is this still you Daniel?’ she asked softly.

  I AM DUST

  ‘Morgan.’ She smiled, not afraid now. ‘I shouldn’t be doing this alone. It’s one of the rules.’

  TWO OF US

  ‘Yes. I guess there are.’ Chloe paused, thought. ‘Can you see other spirits who speak on here? Did you see Daniel Locke?’

  I PASS THEM

  ‘Are you always here? Where do you go when you’re not here?’

  HERE IS NOT HERE

  ‘Do you sleep or anything?’ asked Chloe. ‘Do you ever get hungry?’

  NEVER

  ‘Do you miss the stage?’

  The glass stilled. Chloe waited. Eventually it moved again.

  I WAIT FOR MY CUE AND SING SING SING

  ‘At the Dean Wilson Theatre?’ asked Chloe.

  YES

  Chloe felt sadness but it wasn’t her own; she felt it like it was mist in the air, damp, heavy, suffocating. It was Morgan’s, she was sure. She wondered if any of the people at the Dean Wilson Theatre ever heard her singing. She had read about the place being haunted and now she imagined it was true. She saw Morgan dressed as Esme, waiting backstage, hair like a wedding veil around her glowing face.

  ‘And you miss your boyfriend, Clive?’ she asked.

  Stillness again. The sole candle flickering bravely on.

  ALWAYS

  ‘And he never hurt you? Only loved you?’

  ALWAYS

  Chloe took a breath. ‘Please, can’t you tell me who killed you, Morgan?’

  NOT YET

  ‘Why not yet?’ Chloe tried to control the impatience in her voice.

  YOU ARE NOT READY

  ‘I am.’

  THERE WILL BE A DAY

  With other spirits, the glass had sped across the boards, hot beneath their fingers, from letter to letter; messages from some place beyond here. With Morgan it was gentle. Now even more so.

  ‘So you will tell me?’ said Chloe. ‘One day?’

  YES

  Chloe realised she believed her, and that she must accept it. ‘OK. I won’t ask you anymore. I guess you’ll find a way to tell me.’ She took her finger from the glass. Just to see. ‘I should sa
y goodbye now, shouldn’t I?’

  NEVER BE UNDER ONE ROOF

  The glass moved faster now, as though free from the limitations of her finger, as though Morgan felt this was urgent.

  ‘You mean me, Ryan and Jess?’ she asked, dread clawing at her heart. ‘I doubt we ever will be now. They’re obsessed with these powers. I’m not.’

  YOU HAVE THEM ALREADY

  ‘I do?’

  YOU DO

  ‘Were they right? Jess and Ryan. Did they need me? To do this.’

  THEY DID

  ‘But I’m not … bad in some way, am I?’

  ONLY DO GOOD

  Like Grandma Rosa had said.

  BAD COMES BACK ON YOU

  ‘OK. I only wanted to find out about you, you know.’ Chloe said sadly. She paused, then asked, ‘Tell me why we should never be under the same roof, Morgan?’

  MURDER

  ‘Murder?’ Chloe whispered. She felt sick.

  Then she blacked out for the first time.

  50

  The Dean Wilson Theatre

  September 2019

  Ginger clearly expects someone else to be on the other side of her dressing-room door. The radiant, painted smile dissolves like a watercolour in a rainstorm. She is dressed now as ghost Esme; her hair a golden waterfall beneath the veil, robes virginal and flowing, face made-up with gold. She looks from Chloe to Ryan and back to Chloe again. Emotions race across her face, white clouds chased by black. But this is not the actress, Ginger – this is young Jess, seeing Ryan. Her eyes briefly light up, but realisation of something darker quickly dims them.