Ghost Song

by Rayne, Sarah

  He stepped back, and Hal murmured to Flora, ‘Not at all bad. For once he kept it nicely simple.’

  ‘I hope he finds remembering Richard II simple.’

  But Prospero did remember. And really, thought Flora, for all we make a bit of a laughing-stock of him for his drinking and his mannerisms and his florid way of dressing, he’s a dear amiable old boy and has the most remarkably beautiful voice.

  Prospero’s remarkable voice was easily reaching every corner of the theatre tonight, and the words written by Shakespeare were as relevant in this August of 1914 as they had been three hundred years ago.

  ‘This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,

  This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,

  This other Eden, demi-paradise,

  This fortress built by Nature for herself

  Against infection and the hand of war,

  This happy breed of men, this little world,

  This precious stone set in the silver sea,

  Which serves it in the office of a wall,

  Or as a moat defensive to a house,

  Against the envy of less happier lands,

  This blessèd plot, this earth, this realm, this

  England…’

  Tears were starting to Flora’s eyes, and she reached for Hal’s hand in the dimness. Damn Prospero and his beautiful voice and damn William Shakespeare and his genius for plucking at people’s emotions as if they were violin strings, she thought. This blessèd plot…this England… Yes, that matters so much, she thought. But if I’ve lost Toby nothing in the world will really matter, not ever again.

  Hal suddenly leaned forward and said, ‘Flora. There’s someone standing in the stage box.’

  And then Flora saw, half concealed by the curtain, the shadowy figure in the long concealing cloak watching them.

  It was difficult to make their way from the box because there were so many people who were pleased to see Flora, and who must be listened and talked to. They’re Toby’s people, thought Flora. And once they were my people. I can’t ignore them. Yes, but there’s someone in the stage box, Toby’s box…

  Somehow she smiled and accepted the congratulations on the evening, agreeing it had been one of the best, lively and colourful, a real Tarleton night, the music wonderful, Prospero Garrick’s performance stirring… Yes, a shame Toby had not been part of things, but he would be here next time, oh yes, of course he would…

  At last they were across the foyer and going up the stairs leading to the stage box. As they approached, a beat of apprehension pulsed inside Flora’s head. It would not be him, of course it would not… It was ridiculous to think it, even for a moment. And yet it would be so like Toby to make such an absurd, dramatic, dangerous gesture—to return in the face of the danger.

  Hal opened the door of the box and Flora went in. The figure turned to face her. Even though he was standing well back from the spilling light of the auditorium, and even though a dark beard framed his face, Flora knew him at once. She gasped and flung herself into her son’s arms.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  TOBY SAT ON THE battered couch in the green room and looked about him with deep affection.

  ‘In the last few weeks,’ he said, ‘there were times when I thought I should never see any of this again. Or any of you. You have no idea how it feels to be home.’

  ‘You have no idea how it feels to have you home,’ said Flora, who was seated on the old couch with the broken springs. Sonja Kaplen had curled up on a pile of curtains; she had appeared after the performance with Frank Douglas, and had been introduced. Toby had noticed that both his parents looked at her with interest. Frank was in the far corner with Hal.

  ‘Having acknowledged all the emotions,’ said Hal, ‘we have to decide what on earth we’re going to do with you.’ He regarded his son with a mixture of affection and exasperation. ‘If you had to plunge us all into this mess, did you have to do it quite so dramatically?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Toby. ‘I really am. If I’d known the truth about Anton Petrovnic—I mean Reznik—I wouldn’t have had anything to do with him. And if I’d had the least suspicion he was using me to settle an old score with you, I’d have run a mile in the opposite direction. Although I’d have to say if we’re talking about being dramatic, this business of a thirty-year-old vengeance is more than dramatic, it’s pure melodrama.’ He looked from one to the other of them. ‘And even now I don’t think you’ve told me everything about that,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t think so, either. But I’ve told you the gist. Enough for you to understand the background.’

  ‘Fair enough. Anton is clearly a vain egotist with an obsession,’ said Toby. ‘And I don’t think he’s entirely sane.’

  ‘Probably not,’ said Hal non-committally.

  Toby did not question further. He said, ‘As for Tranz itself—in case you think I’ve been gullible or naive about that, in my defence I’d have to say that they were persuasive and credible. And so far from seeming to be the gang of cut-throats and murderers they were, in the main they were intelligent and articulate.’

  ‘You look a bit like a cut-throat yourself at the moment,’ said Hal. ‘The beard…’

  ‘At first that couldn’t be helped,’ said Toby. ‘But then I thought it might serve as a partial disguise, so I let it grow a bit more.’

  ‘I quite like it,’ said Flora. ‘It’s rather dashing and romantic.’

  ‘I like it as well,’ said Sonja, who had accepted a bottle of the beer which Frank had produced and was drinking it with perfect composure. ‘Toby’s right about Tranz being persuasive,’ she said. ‘They fooled all of us—they certainly fooled me. They made their aims sound so admirable—worth fighting for. The liberation of a country under the iron sway of a greedy empire… And we really thought it was nothing more sinister than protest marches and public demonstrations.’

  ‘And “The workers have nothing to lose but their chains…and only a world to gain”?’ said Hal, rather drily.

  ‘Of course. Don’t forget the chaining to the railings, either.’

  ‘I wasn’t forgetting it.’

  ‘You think it’s misplaced romanticism, don’t you?’ said Sonja.

  ‘No,’ said Hal. ‘I’m not surprised you were both taken in. Anton Reznik can be extremely attractive when he puts his mind to it.’

  ‘Oh, Toby never had any judgement of people,’ said Frank. ‘Shocking thing, isn’t it, after the excellent company he’s kept all these years.’

  ‘Did you really only reach London today?’ asked Flora.

  ‘We did,’ said Toby. ‘It took longer than it should have because we didn’t know if Reznik’s people were watching for us or if the police were, or even if we were marked as enemies of the state and being hunted by the government. Any government. When we finally reached London we didn’t dare come to Kensington or go to Sonja’s people, because we didn’t know who might be around. For the same reason we didn’t dare send a message either. The only person I could think of who might not be watched—and who I could trust—was Frank.’

  ‘And I was about to eat a blameless lunch in my rooms, with no more thought in my mind beyond tonight’s performance,’ said Frank. ‘When Toby told me what had happened—I mean, what had really happened—I sent out for more food, and then smuggled them into the theatre.’

  Toby looked at his father. ‘Anton and Baroness Ilena made statements saying I helped with the shooting, didn’t they?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s what we heard in Sarajevo. There was a Reuters man there we got to know slightly—a Frenchman—and he said one of the conspirators was believed to be a Mr Toby Chance. Mercifully,’ said Toby, ‘he didn’t know my name and he didn’t seem to have made the connection with Sir Hal Chance of the British Foreign Office, so he didn’t see that there was anything worth reporting. But it meant we knew the statements had been made. It was a safe bet that they would charge me if they found me.’

  �
��I wish,’ said Sonja savagely, ‘that I had managed to make a statement refuting that. But we didn’t dare draw attention to ourselves.’

  ‘Miss Kaplen, even if you had made a statement, Anton Reznik would only have brought in more witnesses to back up his version,’ said Hal. ‘No, Flora, I’m not being gloomy, I’m being realistic. If we break this thing open and Toby is brought to trial, no matter how hard we fight to prove his innocence we might fail.’

  ‘And if that happened?’ said Flora.

  ‘Toby would hang,’ said Hal. And then, ‘My dear love—don’t look like that.’

  ‘I’m perfectly all right,’ said Flora determinedly.

  ‘There’s also the point,’ put in Toby, ‘that in that situation, that old business about the Reznik twins and Mother might come out.’

  ‘I wouldn’t care,’ said Flora at once. ‘Not if it meant you were cleared.’

  ‘I’d care,’ said Toby. ‘One of them died that night, didn’t he?’

  ‘Stefan. Yes.’

  ‘But Toby, if it came to a choice between proving your innocence and reviving an unpleasant incident from the past, there’d be no question as to which we’d choose. Your life and your liberty are worth far more to us than a few weeks of embarrassment.’ Hal made an impatient gesture. ‘Dammit, don’t you know we’d do anything in the world—that we’d suffer anything necessary…’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Toby, after a moment. He frowned, then said, ‘I wasn’t part of the conspiracy, you know. I had absolutely no idea what was going to happen until that morning.’

  ‘We all know that.’ This was Flora again.

  ‘And once Toby did realize what Anton was doing, he tried to think of a way of preventing it,’ put in Sonja eagerly.

  ‘We both tried. But we didn’t manage it,’ said Toby angrily. ‘I wasn’t there when they actually shot the Archduke, although only Sonja can swear to that. But I was there when the bomb was thrown—I was within yards of the man who did it. I’d even met him the previous night—dozens of people had seen us at the same table. I’d met Gavrilo Princip as well—the man who eventually fired the fatal shots.’

  ‘We all sat round a table in a disgusting little café while they talked,’ said Sonja. ‘Neither of us could understand what was being said, although I don’t suppose that would count for much. Ignorance isn’t a defence in the eyes of the law, is it?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ said Hal. ‘How intelligent of you to know about that, Miss Kaplen.’

  ‘I wish you’d stop being so formal,’ said Sonja. ‘I find it very difficult to discuss murder and mayhem with people who call me Miss Kaplen.’

  Hal smiled, then said, ‘Toby, it’s been quietly agreed by my masters that this entire business—your involvement, those statements, even the fact you were in Sarajevo at all-must be kept very secret indeed. That being so, I can’t see how you can stay in England for the foreseeable future.’

  ‘I’d already seen that for myself.’

  ‘The Bosnian authorities have already put a request through our own embassy that we hold you on a charge of conspiracy if we find you,’ said Hal. ‘The minute Anton Reznik—or his people—knew you were here, they’d have made the whole thing public. They may still do so.’

  ‘If I thought I could prove my innocence against Reznik’s statement I’d stay and fight,’ said Toby.

  ‘The cards are too heavily stacked; you’d be damned from the outset. Later on it might be possible to bring everything out into the open and clear you. But in the meantime we have to think what we’re going to do with you.’

  ‘And Sonja?’ said Flora. ‘Have you family who would help you?’

  ‘None to speak of,’ said Sonja rather curtly. ‘Just guardians.’

  ‘Ah. No parents?’

  ‘They died when I was small.’ Her voice had a hard, frozen sound, and Hal said, ‘I see. I’m very sorry.’

  ‘Toby, how did you get out of Sarajevo?’ said Flora.

  ‘For about a week we didn’t,’ said Toby, grinning at her. ‘We reasoned that if we were being looked for, they wouldn’t expect to find us still on their doorstep. So we found an hotel on the outskirts and booked ourselves in as Mr and Mrs Kaplen.’

  ‘It was perfectly proper,’ said Sonja quickly. ‘A large room with two beds. Not that I actually approve of observing those outmoded conventions.’

  ‘Good. Nor do I,’ said Flora, promptly. ‘It’s Toby who’s unexpectedly traditional under the flippancy.’

  ‘No, I am not,’ said Toby. ‘Show me a convention and I’ll instantly flout it. But as a matter of fact we were too worried about what might happen to us to be anything other than extremely proper. We spent most of the time at the windows, watching to see if a detachment of the military came marching up the street to arrest me. Sarajevo was still seething with all kinds of authorities.’

  ‘What then?’ asked Hal.

  ‘Very simple. After about a week, we managed to hire a motor car from a little place near the railway station. We drove west until we reached the coast—the Adriatic. Then we went north and into Italy.’

  ‘But you can’t drive a motor car,’ said Flora.

  ‘I can now,’ said Toby, grinning. ‘So can Sonja. You should have seen us bouncing all the way up the coast until we reached Trieste. It’s great fun, driving. People come out to cheer you on. And we hired one of those new ones with a windscreen—it shields you from insects and stones and you can go at the most amazing speeds. The motor gave out at Trieste, unfortunately, and from there we simply got on trains. Once we reached Calais, we got the ferry and trusted to the gods of travel that no one would realize who we were.’

  ‘What we think now,’ said Frank, ‘is that Toby will have to hide out in the theatre until we can decide what to do with him.’

  ‘You’ll stay in here, Toby?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What about Sonja?’ said Flora. ‘She could stay with us, couldn’t she, Hal?’

  ‘Indeed she could.’

  ‘No, I couldn’t,’ said Sonja. ‘It’s too much of a risk for you. I’m going to book into some quiet and anonymous hotel, and lie low until we’ve made a plan.’

  ‘My dear girl—’

  ‘Sir Hal, you know it’s too dangerous for me to be seen at your house,’ she said. ‘And it’s only likely to be for a few days—a week at most. I’ll be a whole lot more comfortable than Toby will in here.’

  ‘I’ll be in luxury,’ said Toby.

  ‘Not next Thursday night you won’t,’ said Flora. ‘There’s an evening of music booked.’

  ‘Oh Lord, is there? But I can hide somewhere while that’s on,’ said Toby.

  ‘We’d have to bring Rinaldi in on that,’ said Flora slowly. ‘But I think that would be all right. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s shared a secret about this place, and he’s utterly loyal.’

  ‘We thought Rinaldi could probably be recruited as an ally,’ agreed Frank.

  ‘But there’s Bob Shilling as well,’ said Hal, suddenly. ‘Did you allow for him? Does he still make his midnight round?’

  ‘He does, but that’s about all he does these days,’ said Toby. ‘He lives quite nearby—just off Candle Square—and when there isn’t a performance, he just walks along to the stage door around midnight, takes a look everywhere to make sure it’s all in order, and goes back home. All I’d have to do would be to keep out of his way for that short time.’

  ‘What about food?’ asked Flora.

  ‘We brought milk and bread with us,’ said Sonja. ‘Oh, and some tins of sardines.’

  ‘Toby can’t live on bread and sardines.’

  ‘I could. It wouldn’t be for long.’

  ‘And milk goes off very quickly in this heat,’ said Flora. ‘We’ll have to bring food in to him. And some sort of bedding. Would that be noticed, though? People coming and going when the theatre’s more or less closed?’

  Toby, Sonja and Frank looked at one another, and despite the severity of the s
ituation, an expression of mischief lit their faces.

  ‘Once upon a time,’ began Toby, ‘strange tales were told about this theatre.’

  ‘I don’t quite…’

  ‘Once upon a time,’ said Frank, ‘a strange figure was seen around Platt’s Alley.’

  ‘A figure no one ever quite identified,’ put in Sonja.

  Flora and Hal stared at them. Then Flora said, ‘Dear God, you’re going to revive the ghost legend!’

  ‘Will any of that work?’ asked Flora as she and Hal entered their house sometime later.

  ‘It’s the kind of mad scheme that might. As for the ghost—well, as those three irresponsible creatures said, we only need to mention here and there that it’s been seen again. A couple of references in the Sailors’ Retreat and the Linkman. You could tell Minnie Bean—that ought to get the gossip going. And Rinaldi, of course. I’ll go to see him first thing in the morning, to explain what’s happened.’ He looked at her. ‘What did you think of Sonja Kaplen? ‘

  ‘As a future daughter-in-law, you mean?’

  ‘Ah, you saw that as well, did you?’

  ‘Oh yes. Her whole expression changes when she looks at him. As if a light were shining behind her eyes. What was that you said to her about the chains of the workers?’

  ‘Karl Marx,’ he said. ‘She recognized it at once, of course. That’s a highly intelligent girl. I foresee some interesting discussions ahead. I’ve often thought Marx had some very sound doctrines.’

  ‘Do you know,’ said Flora, ‘you’re a constant delight and surprise to me.’ She saw him smile, and said, ‘Hal, Sonja will be all right in that hotel, won’t she?’

  ‘Yes, of course. You saw for yourself when we went in with her. They gave her a very nice room.’

  ‘I always thought I should hate the girl Toby finally decided to marry,’ said Flora, ‘but now I’ve met her, I don’t. I like her very much indeed.’

  ‘She’s a bit of a firebrand,’ said Hal. ‘But I rather like that. You realize they may not get round to the actual ceremony? They may not even be able to—it could draw attention to Toby.’