by Jean Ure
“Number one,” I said, “a table and chairs.”
Skye gazed round. “Where d’you think we’re going to put them?”
I had to admit that was a bit of a problem.
“Maybe we should have done it at my place?”
I said, “No, it’s got to be here.” It was just this feeling I had. Skye’s bedroom might be bigger, but it is not what I would call spirit-friendly. It is too clean and tidy. “I’ll ask Mum if we can bring her little table up from the front room. That’ll fit in. Then we can all sit round it on the floor. OK! Number two: food.”
“Food? How long are we going to be here?”
“It’s not for us,” I said. “It’s for the spirits.”
Somewhat surprised, Jem said, “Do spirits get hungry?”
I wasn’t sure about this. I just knew that that’s what it had said. You had to put something out for them, like a bowl of soup or a slice of bread.
“Maybe it depends how long they’ve been dead,” said Jem. “Prob’ly takes a while before they realise they don’t have to keep eating all the time.”
I glanced rather anxiously at Skye. Trust Jem to go talking about dead people!
“I think it’s more just good manners,” I said. “Like when someone calls round you offer them a cup of tea? So you offer the spirits a bit of bread.”
“But how can they eat?” said Jem. “If they’re spirits? They don’t have any mouths!”
“Does it really matter?” said Skye. She sounded like she was growing restive, like she was impatient to get started. “What else do we need?”
I consulted my list. “Three candles.”
“Why three?” said Jem.
“I don’t know! Cos that’s what it said.”
“Why couldn’t we just have the light on?”
“Cos they prefer candles! We have to make them feel welcome. ’Sides, candles are warm. It’s prob’ly cold where they are.”
“What, out in space?”
“Out there.” I waved a hand. “Drifting about. They see a bit of candlelight, they’re going to think, Oh, these people have made an effort, I’ll go down and find out what they want.”
Jem said, “Mm.” She seemed suddenly doubtful. “Do we really expect them to come?”
“Not much point doing it if we don’t,” said Skye. “I mean, it’s all a load of rubbish, but – well!” She gave a little laugh, like she’d embarrassed herself. “We don’t necessarily understand everything that goes on.”
“This is it,” I said. “Life is full of mysteries. Let’s go and get all the stuff!”
I asked Mum if we could borrow her small table, and she not only said yes, but actually got Tom to carry it upstairs for us. I didn’t ask if I could have some of her candles cos I reckoned she’d only get in a flap and think we were going to burn the house down, so I secretly helped myself to three of the little stinky ones from the kitchen cupboard. I also took a slice of bread out of the bread bin. I’d have liked to put some peanut butter on it, cos I mean dry bread is hardly very enticing, but just as I was about to open the fridge, Angel came in.
She screeched, “Omigod, you’re eating again!” in tones of complete hysteria. “You’ve only just had tea!”
I didn’t feel inclined to get into conversation with Angel right at that moment, plus Jem was standing there in full view, clutching candles, so I said grandly that the bread wasn’t for me, it was for the birds, and I was going to scatter it out of my bedroom window. As we scuttled back upstairs Jem hissed, “Bread is bad for birds!”
I said, “Yes, I know. You’re supposed to give them seeds.”
“So why are you—” She stopped. “Oh! That was just an excuse for Angel.”
I looked at her. Rather hard.
“I can’t help it,” whined Jem. “I’m tired! I’ve been up all day.”
“Maybe,” I said kindly, “you should go to bed and we’ll wake you up when we’re ready to start. After all, it’s nearly seven o’clock… way past your little kiddy bedtime!”
“I didn’t hardly sleep last night,” said Jem. “I kept having these nightmares.”
“How d’you have nightmares when you’re not asleep?”
“I said I didn’t hardly sleep. I kept being woken up. It’s scary,” said Jem, “messing with dead people.”
“We’re not messing with them,” I said. “We’re just inviting them – politely – to come and talk to us. They don’t have to if they don’t want to.”
“But what happens –” Jem lowered her voice to a whisper as we approached the bedroom, where we had left Skye – “what happens if one of them is Skye’s gran?”
“That’s what we’re hoping for,” I said. “That’s what we want. Then we can ask her questions about the pencil, like ‘Do you remember where you put it?’ kind of thing. There wouldn’t be anything scary about it!”
Jem seemed unconvinced. I did hope she wasn’t going to develop cold feet at the last moment.
Skye and I agreed that although by now it was quite dark we ought to wait until it was really dark dark, so for a couple of hours we listened to music and played games on the computer. By nine o’clock we couldn’t wait any longer.
“If we’re going to do it, let’s do it!” said Skye.
Suddenly, she was really keen. Jem was the one who was dithering. She said she’d been thinking about things and she wasn’t sure it was right to try and speak to dead people, she wasn’t sure the Church would approve.
I said, “Church? What church? You never go to church!” Which pretty well killed that argument.
So then she starts wittering about evil spirits. How did we know evil spirits weren’t going to come swarming down? I couldn’t immediately think of an answer to that one. It was Skye, in her best no-nonsense voice, who briskly informed Jem there were no such things as evil spirits, it was just superstition.
“It’s all rubbish, anyway.”
“So why are we doing it?” wailed Jem.
“Cos it wouldn’t be fair on Frankie if we didn’t. She’s gone to a lot of trouble setting it all up.”
“Just wants to prove she’s psychic,” muttered Jem.
I ignored this. “I’m going downstairs,” I said, “to tell Mum we don’t want to be disturbed. You get the candles lit – and don’t let Rags eat the bread!” He’d been greedily eyeing it for some time. Dad says he’s like a walking dustbin.
“He shouldn’t really be in here,” said Skye. “Not if we’re having a proper seance.”
What did she know? She thought it was all rubbish, anyway.
“He’ll be OK,” I said. “Spirits like animals.”
I wasn’t turning the poor boy out! It was his bedroom as much as mine.
I couldn’t find Mum or Dad. I found Tom instead, watching some dreary documentary sort of thing on the television. I said, “Where’s Mum and Dad?”
Tom said, “Gone to a meeting.”
“When are they coming back?”
“Dunno. Didn’t say. ’Bout ’leven o’clock? I’ve been left here to look after you,” said Tom.
“Well, just to let you know,” I said, “we’re rehearsing something very important for school and we don’t want to be disturbed. OK?”
He raised a hand. “’Kay.”
Jubilantly, I hammered back upstairs.
“Mum and Dad have gone out! There’s only Tom.”
Not even Angel. We were safe!
I switched off the light and we all sat cross-legged on the floor, holding hands, round Mum’s little low table. It was cosy in the flickering glow of the candles.
“OK! So what do we do?” said Skye.
I said, to begin with we all had to chant.
“Like what? What do we chant?”
I put on my chanting voice that I’d been practising. “Alakazam, alakazoo…”
“Which means what?”
“Doesn’t mean anything. They’re just magic words, like abracadabra. It’s what’s called creating an
atmosphere. You have to have an atmosphere. Soon as it seems right, I’ll call on the spirits. What I’ll do, I’ll ask if there’s anyone there, and if there is they’ll rap, like this –” I tapped my fingers on the table – “or make some sort of noise, so that we’ll know. Then we can start asking questions, like ‘Are you Skye’s gran?’ and ‘Are you happy?’ and ‘Can you tell us where your pencil is?’ sort of thing.”
“S’pose it’s not Skye’s gran?”
“Well, then I’ll ask if they can find her for us. They’re bound to all know each other. I’d say, ‘Have you met a lady called Mrs Samuels who arrived just recently?’” I felt Skye’s hand quiver in mine. “If your gran’s there,” I said, “I bet she’d be really pleased to know you’re thinking about her.”
Skye didn’t say anything, just nodded.
“It’s not going to upset you, is it?” said Jem. “I don’t think we ought to do it if it’s going to upset you!”
“Just get on with it,” muttered Skye.
I began my chant: “Alakazam, alakazoo…”
The others joined in. We all swayed slightly to the rhythm.
“Alakazam, alakazoo…”
It was all going fine until Jem had to cry out and break the spell.
“I don’t like this!” she wailed. “It’s spooky!”
Skye told her somewhat sharply to be quiet. I was more than a little annoyed with her myself. I’d been starting to have these excited tinglings all up and down my spine, which made me think there must be spirits somewhere close by. Now Jem had probably gone and frightened them off.
“Start again,” said Skye. “And, you!” She thumped Jem’s hand on the table. “Don’t interrupt!”
We resumed our chanting. “Alakazam, alakazoo…”
The tingles went trickling again down my spine. It felt like little ghost fingers tapping on my bones. I definitely had this feeling that we were not alone. Something was out there!
A wave of psychic power washed over me.
“Spirits, speak! We’re looking for Skye’s gran. Her name is Mrs Samuels. She’s out there somewhere. Please, if you know her, ask her to come down!”
There was a silence. And then I heard it… a faint whiffle, like the breathing of a ghostly creature. Skye’s fingers dug hard into mine. Jem made a little choking sound.
“Spirits,” I cried, “answer!”
We held our breath. The whiffling came again, followed by a long, mournful moaning. Jem screeched and tore her hand out of mine. I felt Skye tremble. She pointed, with quivering finger. I turned to look. A dark and hideous shape was slowly rising out of the gloom.
Jem screeched again. She sprang to her feet and tore across the room, screaming as she went. We heard her feet thudding down the stairs. Me and Skye clung to each other, paralysed with fear as the shape came towards us.
“What is it?” whispered Skye.
We watched in frozen horror as the dark shape moved towards us. Suddenly, with a bound, it was on the table. Skye gave a terrified “Eek!” and fell backwards. I tried to scream, but nothing happened. And then I felt it. Something rough and prickly brushing against me. With a strangulated yelp, I tore across the room and switched on the light.
“Rags!”
He stood there on the table, sheepishly wagging, the slice of bread clamped between his jaws. I hadn’t the heart to take it off him. I was just so relieved he wasn’t an evil spirit!
Skye, rather crossly, picked herself up. “I told you he shouldn’t be in here!”
To be honest, I’d forgotten all about him. He had obviously been curled up under the duvet. He would probably have stayed there quite happily if it hadn’t been for the lure of the bread. I said this to Skye, but she just harrumphed and said again that she had told me so.
“He should have been shut out. You can’t have a proper seance with a dog in the room! Not one like him, anyway.”
We both looked across at Rags, chomping on his bread.
“We can always get some more,” I said.
“Yes, and next time maybe you’ll listen to me!”
I do so hate it when people keep on. I mean, what is the point? It’s hardly very helpful.
“We’d better go and find Jem,” I said, “before she screams the place down.”
Jem was in the sitting room with Tom and – omigod! Angel. Jem was burbling and flapping her arms about.
“What’s going on?” said Angel. “What have you been up to?”
“Nothing,” I said. It is my standard reply. Whenever Angel wants to know what I’ve been up to, I always say “Nothing”. Sometimes I get away with it; sometimes I don’t. I knew today I wouldn’t. Not with Jem gibbering and carrying on.
“So why is she in this state?” said Angel. Her eyes narrowed. “I hope you haven’t been doing anything stupid? I’m responsible for you when Mum and Dad are out!”
Really? First I’d heard of it.
“I thought he was,” I said, pointing at Tom.
“Only if I’m not here.”
“Which you weren’t,” I said.
“Well, I am now.”
Unfortunately.
“Look! You.” Angel poked a finger at Jem. “Just stop thrashing around!” Angel was starting to sound exasperated. Jem can get to you like that. “I demand to know what you’ve been up to!”
“It’s all right.” Skye stepped in, very calm and collected. “We thought we saw a ghost, that’s all.”
“Dude!” Tom sprang up, excited. “What sort of ghost? Headless?”
Quickly, before Jem could start wailing, I said, “It wasn’t a ghost, it was Rags. He was under the duvet and we didn’t know he was there.”
“He rose up,” said Skye, “in the darkness.”
Angel pounced. “What darkness?” Her nostrils flared, like she sensed she was on to something. “You’ve been doing things!” she said. “All that weird stuff you were asking about… you’ve been doing it!”
Tom cried, “Whoa!”
“You be quiet,” snapped Angel. “You were supposed to be keeping an eye on them!”
“He was,” I said, “until you came in.”
“Just as well I did come in. People practising black magic all over the place!”
Jem gave a howl.
“Now see what you’ve done!” screamed Angel.
I said, “Me? I haven’t done anything!”
“You’ve gone and set her off again!”
“That was you,” I said, “going on about black magic. I don’t know why you’re making all this fuss. All it was, was just an ordinary little seance, same as anybody might have. Nothing black about it! We just wanted to talk to S—”
“Oh, SHUT UP!” roared Angel. “Wittering on! Can’t you see she’s in shock?”
We all turned to stare at Jem. She’d quietened down for a few seconds, but on hearing that she was in shock, she immediately started up again.
“This is cool,” said Tom.
I thought for a minute that Angel was going to have some kind of fit. Like her head was going to burst open and her brains come spilling out.
“Just stop it, stop it!” she shouted. “Stop making all this noise! You.” She gave me a shove. “Get her into the kitchen!”
“What for?”
“Just do it!” bawled Angel. She was making more noise than anyone, but it seemed unwise to cross her. Between us, me and Skye hauled Jem to her feet.
“What’s in the kitchen?” said Skye.
“Tea,” said Angel.
Jem gave a smothered shriek.
“She doesn’t drink tea,” I said. “She doesn’t like it.”
“You’d rather she died of shock?”
Jem stared, her eyes like satellite dishes. “I’m going to die?”
Honestly! She is such a drama queen.
I said, “This is stupid! It was only Rags.”
“Rising up,” said Tom, “in the darkness… whoo hah!” He waggled his hands above his head. Jem gave a short sharp sc
ream.
“Will everybody just stop PANICKING!” roared Angel. “Get her out there!”
We practically had to drag Jem through to the kitchen. She was now convinced that her last hour had come, and Tom didn’t help, making his stupid hooting noises. We watched as Angel viciously smashed a tea bag in a mug of boiling water and dumped about half a kilo of sugar on top of it.
“There!” She thrust the mug at Jem, who shrank back piteously, moaning that sugar wasn’t good for you.
“Just drink it!” snarled Angel. “I’m not going to be held responsible for you collapsing.”
I was sort of impressed in spite of myself. I mean, it was totally ridiculous, but who would have thought Angel could be so ruthlessly efficient in a crisis? Not that it was a crisis, except in her own mind, and now, probably, in Jem’s. Left to ourselves, me and Skye would have snapped Jem out of it in no time. Angel claimed later that she had “risen to the occasion”.
“Just as well one of us managed to keep her head.”
We all watched with interest as Jem, blubbering to herself, noisily slurped down the tea. I wondered if she would be sick. That is her normal trick when forced to swallow something she doesn’t want. She used to throw up regularly at primary school, but Angel had obviously scared her, cos the tea stayed down.
“I don’t want to die!” she whimpered.
I said, “You weren’t ever going to die. Nothing happened!”
“Will you please keep quiet?” said Angel. “I’m doing my best to administer a bit of first aid!”
“So now you’ve administered it,” I said, “we could go back upstairs.”
Angel seemed reluctant to let us leave. It was like she’d got herself into a position of power and was determined to hang on to it as long as possible.
“It’d probably be safer if you stayed down here for a bit.”
“We don’t want to stay down here!” Apart from anything else, Mum and Dad could come back at any minute. I had this feeling Mum might not be too pleased if she discovered about the seance. But then she might not be too pleased with Angel, either. After all, she was the one that had told me about seances. I hadn’t even known what they were called until I asked her.
