Fragile Blossoms

by Dodie Hamilton

  Madame Leonora smiled. ‘I am sure Senor Roberts will stand fast. We must all stand fast. If among you there is one who would fail, it’s best they leave now. Once the circle is made we must try not to break it.’

  ‘Why, what will happen?’

  ‘Nothing if we remember our manners. One does not invite friends to the dinner table only to eject them mid meal. Once started a guest must be allowed to finish. Tonight let us extend the same courtesy to those we call to our table. Now with that in mind let us bend our heads awhile and invite the Lord God’s mercy and kindness upon all here tonight.’

  All was softly said but Luke remained sceptical. He didn’t like being referred to as senor. It smacked of Eve once again deriding his Italian connection.

  Eve and her obsessions! Three hours they’ve been at this place and Eve a fevered creature talking, talking and never saying anything. Now there’s this, sitting with strangers about to converse with ghosts.

  Candlelight flickered. Luke remained watchful. Eve asked him to accompany her here tonight, a rarity given that despite an avowed need of him they rarely attend public events together. In Italy where nobody knows or cares who is with whom he could accompany her anywhere, in England his role is more the servant passing Milady’s fan and opening doors. It’s about acceptability and the line society draws between amused tolerance and outright scorn. Milady observes the line. Even so she pressed him to come and because of the weather they took rooms at the Swan Hotel in Sudbury.

  She said it would be fun. A conversation overheard between her and Stefan Adelman’s housekeeper suggested otherwise.

  Sunday it happened. He was still abed. Last night Eve suffered a headache and was, she said, unable to breathe. Seven am, pale haunches gleaming in the early sun she dragged herself out of bed to her sitting room. Unshaven chin, eyes heavy from last night’s wine, he lay observing his reflection in the ceiling mirror until unable to bear it hauled away to the adjoining bathroom.

  That’s when he heard her.

  The name, Adelman, leapt out. Who can tell, so much in her head, such darkness, she may have meant Luke to hear. ‘Thank you for the letter,’ she was saying. ‘I was concerned for Doctor Adelman and his wife. A dreadful business locked away in an asylum. How on earth does she bear it?’

  Luke should’ve kept walking then he wouldn’t be here with this nonsense but a tone in her voice, mischief and Cambridge and Bakers End, kept him listening. It soon became clear she had written to Adelman’s housekeeper enquiring of Julianna. ‘So Mrs Dryden stays overnight? Many hearing of this would take it ill, wife incapacitated and him alone, but not you and I, Mrs Carstairs. We know that in times of need friends make the difference and that no harm is done whatever the situation. ....No of course not! No one else shall know. I promise you the moment I put down the phone I’ll destroy your letter.’

  Seeing him at the door she’d dropped the phone. He asked what she was doing. She said she was offering Stefan help and that Julianna’s name was mentioned. He didn’t believe her and said so. ‘I don’t know what you’re doing,’ he told her, ‘but if you’re considering mischief let me warn you, do anything to hurt her and the people she loves and you’ll not see me again.’

  Enraged she’d snapped her teeth. He’d waited for her to rush at him instead she tore the letter strip-by- strip and lifting her arms tossed the pieces into the air. ‘There,’ she’d said. ‘I kept my promise! Now it never was and never will be!’ Her robe had followed peach silk settling on the floor amid tattered threats. Luke’s resistance settled with it. Good sense and pride sank down on the lime-wood floor, good wood when stained and polished, malleable much like his will.

  Madame opened the séance with an explanation of the seating, the ying and yang, she called it, the fire and ice, and why chairs were so arranged.

  ‘Mrs Langtry being an artistic soul will sit south thus reflecting warmth. The Honourable Freddie occupies the West Door in place of the setting sun. Lady Carrington the East and rebirth and Senor Roberts is for the North Gate. The rest of the group are seated accordingly about these four main gateways.’

  There was some discussion about positions, Freddie acting the fool, saying, he wasn’t keen on this life so could he switch with his sister.

  Things settled down, a prayer was said and letters of the alphabet spread clockwise about the table and a glass tumbler upended in the middle.

  ‘A tooth mug and a child’s ABC?’ A man laughed. ‘I don’t know what I expected but this is not it.’

  ‘Nor I,’ said Lillie Langtry. ‘I had in mind bells and priestly vestments.’

  ‘Or one of those Ouija Boards,’ said Freddie.

  Madame smiled. ‘Ouija Boards are unreliable. Available to anyone they are prey to all manner of waif and strays. A glass is steadier, place a finger on top and go where it takes you.’

  So they did as she bid. Everyone in place it wasn’t long before the glass began to tremble and to move in a lazy circle.

  Freddie was agitated. ‘Surely it’s us moving it?’

  ‘It is you and yet not.’ Madame sat with her hands in her lap. ‘Think of it as vital energy, an engine in need of cranking or a telephone in need of a line.’

  Freddie shrugged. ‘Alright I’ll crank and I’ll dial. Just make sure you have the right number when the phone is picked up.’

  After a slow start the tumbler began rushing about the table Evie calling out letters and a lady amanuensis copying them down. The first communication was for Mrs Langtry. It was regarding her house in Norfolk Street and a Cartier necklace previously thought stolen. The glass told her to telephone Dominique, her maid, and ‘look in the stuffed bear’s head and do it now without delay, the head sold and due to be shipped out the following day.’

  There followed a brief pause, the glass idling in the centre while a manservant made a call, Mrs Langtry, known for always being in debt, sitting on tenterhooks. The manservant returned to the table and whispered in Mrs Langtry’s ear, and she, red-cheeked and triumphant, said the necklace was found. The glass then picked up speed. It spelled out that it was ‘Kismet’s fault,’ a pet monkey that had once belonged to Mrs Langtry’s maid hid the necklace in the bear’s head.

  The tone of the evening set there was now much anticipation. A second message was for a nervous lady on Evie’s left. She was not worry about Dear George of the Sussex Regiment. He felt no pain when he passed at Khartoum; ‘he went to sleep and is now reunited with Barbara and Little Basil.’

  Similar messages followed and all accepted with joy and some with tears. The glass then screeched to a halt and was silent. Madame Leonora ordered the table to be cleared. The sitters were then asked to lay their hands palm down on the table and form a circle, little finger connected to little finger.

  That was half an hour ago, the candles burn lower, light recedes and Madame, chin on chest, appears to be asleep.

  Julia dared not move. Luke was on her immediate right his finger aligned with hers. Such a feeling, almost painful, the need to pull away was so strong her arms quivered. The seating plan is meant; it is Evie’s idea, the printed cards on the chairs in her familiar hand, Evie, who throughout earlier musical interludes never once glanced Julia’s way now fixed her with basilisk gaze.

  Minutes ticked by. People were nervous. They sat joined together like a row of shiny conkers on a string waiting the first blow. Outside the Blue Room the soiree continued, people talking and laughing. Then a piano began to play and Adelina Patti to sing. Words floated through the air mingling with incense and smoke from the candles. She sang an aria from Butterfly, Cho-Cho-San telling of the day Lieutenant Pinkerton will return to Japan.

  Julia listened and remembered her visit to the Opera House.

  ‘One fine day we’ll notice a thread of smoke arising on the sea in the far horizon, and then a ship appearing. The trim white vessel glides into the harbour...He is coming! I know. He wi
ll return!’

  Such exquisite tenderness she felt it deeply as did Luke Roberts. She knew this even though he didn’t so much as move a muscle, she felt empathy pulsating through his finger. It was all shadows, his face a pale blur, yet she knew when he smiled. His finger crept over hers holding and gently rocking. Happiness filled her heart. Then Madame Leonora began to speak, or someone spoke through her, a melodious voice instantly recognised as from a dream, and happiness died.

  ‘I’m afraid the Professor is busy. May I take a message?’

  ‘Oh!’ Julia’s first instinct was to fly but the finger binding hers stayed firm.

  It came again. ‘The Professor is busy. May I take a message?’

  Evie took charge. She must have seen the Medium at work before and knew what to do. ‘Thank you, Bright Spirit, for heeding our call,’ she said. ‘As yet we have no message for you. Do you have one for us?’

  There was a hushed pause, every heart beating madly. When the voice spoke again it was Luke who would bolt and Julia’s finger that held him steady.

  ‘Your mother saw in pounds and pence, it’s how she was bred. Your Papa saw sunshine and sin and that in his stead. Take of your mother’s kin but only as you need. The rest seek of your homeland, my son, and you’ll be content indeed.’

  ‘Dear God!’

  Luke was shaken to the core. The verse he knew so well had been changed, two words inserted and a message given so many years ago subtly altered.

  He struggled with it. He hadn’t bargained for this. He came this evening certain the séance would be some kind of fraud and though earlier messages had been met with joy he’d thought them prearranged. Now this, his world is turned upside down and any faith he had, or did not have, rearranged.

  He didn’t know what to think. The message was given when he was a lad. It was accompanied by a silver sixpence. No one knew of it then. He told no one, not his mother, nor Eve. No one! Only one person knew, Justine Newman, and if this is to be believed she is the angelic messenger.

  Julia gentled Luke’s finger. She had no idea what the message meant but knew it was for him and felt him tremble. Then Madame spoke again.

  ‘I’m afraid the Professor is busy. May I take a message?’

  Again Evie took up the lead. ‘Thank you, Bright Spirit. We have no message to give you as yet. Do you have another for a member of our party?’

  This time there was a longer silence and then the voice, the same musical voice, spoke. ‘.... ich muss gehen! Dieses Leben ist mir...!

  Freddie, hoarse and fearful, broke in. ‘What is it German now? Are we to have Chinese next and hear from Confucius next, or maybe Socrates, or even the Lord Jesus Christ! Should I call for a translator?’

  ‘Be quiet, Freddie!’ snapped Evie. ‘You must not interrupt. Please, Bright Spirit, continue.’ Again there was a pause and then the voice started up.

  Julia was waiting. She knew this message. She had heard it before. It was Karoline Adelman‘s plea for release. ‘Ich muss gehen. Dieses Leben ist mir und den Mieinen zu toten. Hilf mir, nehmen Sie diese Last von mir, und ich werde dich fur immer segnen...immer segnen.

  The voice trailed away. For a while all was silent. Then Evie spoke.

  ‘Well come on! This is meant for someone at this table. It needs answering!’

  ‘I think it may be for me,’ said Julia.

  ‘For you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘ And who is communicating?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t say.’

  ‘Why can’t you?’

  ‘It’s a private matter.’

  ‘And yet someone must respond! ’ said Lillie Langtry, greatly disturbed. ‘If my understanding of this is correct the communicator begs release from hell!’

  Evie leaned forward. ‘When did this soul pass over?’

  Julianna shook her head. ‘To my knowledge the person is still alive.’

  ‘Still alive!’

  There was a buzz about the table. With no notion of what to do Julia could only sit. This is Karoline’s pain. She can’t lay it open before strangers. Then she began to wonder if Karoline had died and Stefan alone and grieving.

  The voice spoke again pleading softly. ‘Julianna, wenden Sie sich bitte am Dienstag kommen! Kommen Sie, bringen Sie ihre Freundlich un Warme, und dann konnen wir uns endlisch verabschieden.’

  Again silence. Evie was furious. ‘Well?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I have no real idea what is being said.’

  ‘I think I know,’ said Lillie Langtry. ‘Born in Jersey I often visit Germany. You are being asked to visit, to go Tuesday to say goodbye.’

  ‘Goodbye?’

  ‘Yes and to bring kindness and warmth with you.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Langtry.’

  ‘Not at all. This is clearly an important issue and one I shall think much about. Perhaps one day you’ll let me know the outcome.’

  ‘If I can I surely will.’

  ‘Is that it?’ Eve glared. ‘Are we done? Can we move on now or is this a private séance, Julianna Dryden and the whole of the Spiritual Realm?’

  ‘I’m so sorry. I had no idea this would happen.’

  ‘Why would you?’ said Luke. ‘Can any sane person know what goes on with these things?’

  It was cold, the air and breath about the table white mist.

  Eyes glittering in the candlelight Madame Leonora sat upright.

  ‘Hush!’ hissed Evie. ‘Someone is coming.’

  A voice whispered like the soft susurration of waves on a shore. Slowly sound clarified to become a child singing.

  ‘Where oh where has my little dog gone,

  Oh where oh where can he be,

  with his ears cut short and his tail cut long,

  Oh where, Oh where is he?’

  One-by-one candles at the fireplace flickered and went out, the room in darkness but for a single candlestick in the centre of the table. A child sang, male or female no one knew. The song was accompanied by a swishing sound of Madame Leonora brushing her hand back and forth along the table.

  ‘What is that noise?’ asked Lillie Langtry.

  ‘It’s Madame’s arm!’

  ‘No! That’s only the movement! If you listen there’s a sound beyond it.’

  ‘I don’t want to listen,’ a woman protested. ‘I don’t like it whatever it is.

  ‘It sounds like a fan waving,’ said Evie.

  ‘No, that’s not it,’ said Luke, his finger tight about Julia’s.

  ‘What is it then?’ Julia whispered.

  ‘A dog’s tail wagging.’

  The song continued and indeed a sound similar to a dog wagging its tail. Then all sound ceased. No one spoke, no one dared. Julia knew the song. It was Susan’s song. She said her lover used to sing it to her and he would....!

  ‘Play the paper and comb,’ whispered Freddie.

  ‘Oh no!’ The words burst from Julia’s lips.

  Freddie nodded. ‘I’m afraid so. Jimmy Button, the Pater’s groom, showed me how. He could get a good tune out of it could Jimmy, a real Scotch jig.’

  ‘Be quiet, Freddie!’ Evie was on her feet. ‘We don’t want to hear this! This is hardly the time or place to talk of childish fancies.’

  ‘Yes it is, Evie,’ he said wearily. ‘What better time to talk of paper and comb and dogs without tails than in this darkness and with incense burning and Bella listening. I know about this. I can sing this song from start to finish. It’s as familiar to me as a lullaby. I hear it every night when lying down to sleep.’

  Julia closed her eyes. She knew now what Susan had known and had kept secret even to the grave. ‘Oh Freddie!’

  ‘I know, Ju-ju,’ Freddie sighed, ‘and I’m awful sorry. I should’ve told you.’

  A man coughed. ‘I don’t know what this is about and have
no wish to enquire. The whole thing is in the worst possible taste. We should break the circle.’

  ‘No!’ Freddie reared up in his seat his hands glued to the table. ‘I beg you! I have been waiting for this! Please stay! Madame Leonora!’ he cried. ‘Don’t let them break the circle! I need to speak to Bella. I need to know of my little boy! I need to know he and his mother are at peace!’

  Stones thrown against rock his cry rebounded about the room.

  Evie let her hands fall. ‘The circle is made,’ she said dully. ‘It is not our hands that link us together, it is our minds. The circle was made the moment we joined in prayer. It doesn’t matter now who stays or goes. As long as Leonora holds the trance the circle is confirmed.’

  ‘Well I’m not staying!’ A woman scrambled from the table. ‘I find this talk of dead children most distressing. Had I known it like this I’d never have sat. ’

  ‘Nor I,’ said a man. ‘I came here to learn of my dear wife not wallow in muck.’ He turned to Freddie. ‘If what I’m hearing is right, my summation of it, you are as you said, sir, a bounder. By all means wash your dirty linen in public but in your time and not mine!’

  One by one they left. Lillie Langtry gathered her shawl. ‘I too shall withdraw. This is an intimate affair. I am de trop. I wish you well to resolve it.’

  That left only five left at the table.

  ‘What now?’ said Luke.

  Evie shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘It seems to matter to your brother!’ Luke snapped.

  ‘And to Madame Leonora,’ said Evie. ‘She’ll not let go until all is resolved.’

  ‘Then let’s try and resolve it!’ said Luke. ‘I don’t know about this either. It’s seems a foul sort of business. I’d sooner walk out the door and never look back than stay but if this is about Susan Dudley dare we leave it?’

  ‘No,’ said Julia, ‘anymore than we dare leave Freddie.’

  Freddie’s heart was breaking. He wanted to run and keep running until he fell off the end of the world. Darkness and shadows on the wall and that same heartbreaking singing! He hears it every night no matter where he is, London or Rome it’s there and always the same song. ‘I don’t hear the dog,’ he whispered. ‘Usually it’s Bella singing. Oh, Ju-ju,’ ashen, his hand crept to hers. ‘You don’t think that’s my little boy singing? I mean not my son?’