‘I … I was just wondering was there anyone else you needed a place for?’
‘Sarah will not be eating with us. I want you to feed her in the playroom. She can join us afterwards. I thought we had already discussed this.’
‘I did not mean the baby, ma’am.’
Mama looked as confused as I had and gazed at each chair in turn as she mentally placed a person in it. And, suddenly, I understood what Laura was hinting at.
Weesy.
Oh, how nice it would be to forget all about death and dying for just one little day. Surely, we could leave her out of this dinner. If Sarah was missing out on it, then why should Weesy be included?
‘Just set places for those I have mentioned, in that order, please! Now, I must be getting back to the kitchen.’
Mama had decided against including Weesy at the table. Thank goodness for that!
Our visitors arrived on the dot of three o’clock, as promised. I had been impatiently waiting to hear the sound of a carriage and horses pulling to a stop outside. William and I were wearing our best clothes and had been threatened with all manner of things if we smudged them in any way. So it was a long wait as I could do very little to pass the time; certainly I was not going to touch my paints or anything else to do with making art. At last, I thought, as I looked out of William’s bedroom window and saw Charlotte and everyone getting out, Aunt Connie, with Virgil the second in her arms, giving instructions to the driver for the return journey.
‘They are here!’ I yelled, as I pounded down the stairs, William behind me, both of us oblivious to Grandfather’s peace of mind.
‘My dears!’ said Aunt Harriet, appearing at the door of the sitting room. ‘Calm down. I thought we had been invaded by wild animals!’
Mama and Papa joined her, Mama fastening a welcoming smile on her face, while Papa looked vaguely curious as if in suspense about what was to happen next. I ran to the door and flung it open. ‘Hello, Cousin Charlotte!’
Laura rushed to take coats and hats as Mama, with Aunt Harriet’s help, shepherded us all into the parlour. We had a half-hour before dinner was to be served. In other words, there would be a half-hour of being required to be dutifully sociable with the entire family.
We all found a seat, Aunt Connie with Virgil the second sitting beside Papa as if staking her claim to him. Mama and Aunt Harriet hovered until we all sat down and then they took theirs. The adults led the conversation, which was mostly made up by general remarks on the weather and the cost of hiring a carriage.
Nobody mentioned Weesy, which was quite a feat considering that her death and funeral was the biggest and most recent thing that had happened to our family. Indeed, the longer we sat there, not mentioning her, the more it struck me that there was a false note in the atmosphere.
Aunt Connie suddenly rubbed her arms together. ‘My goodness, there is such a chill in the air.’
Seeing how the rest of us stared blankly, she shrugged. ‘Oh, it is just me then. Well, perhaps I should fetch my shawl.’
‘I can have Laura light the fire,’ offered Mama, looking flustered.
‘Oh, no, not on my account. Besides, this little man is keeping me warm. Well, Ann and William, what do you make of your new cousin? He is a bonny baby, is he not?’
William and I nodded and smiled, both of us wondering if we were expected to say something. Virgil the second, whose splotchy skin reminded me of Mrs Boxhall’s bread and butter pudding, belched and began to cry for no reason at all. Somehow ignoring the noise, Aunt Connie carried on talking, ‘He is remarkably intelligent and quite, quite sensitive, a true Coppin, of course.’
I felt that Aunt Harriet was trying to stifle a smile.
‘Ah, there’s the dinner bell!’ sang out Mama.
She probably did not mean to sound so relieved, though it must be said that we all stood up rather quickly, as if grateful to be saved by it. Virgil the second did not appreciate the bell nor the fact that we had all stood up. At least, I assume it was one of those things that made him sob louder and with more determination.
Papa and Aunt Connie led the way, the rest of us following behind. Poor Mama. She had meant to be first to the table so that she could direct everyone to their seats. Perhaps she should have discussed this with Papa because he did not waste any time in making towards his place at the head of the table, followed swiftly by Aunt Connie and Virgil the second, who immediately took the chair beside his. Mama, I am sure, would have preferred to take proper charge at this point. As it was, she had to be content with pointing out our places to the rest of us, while making fretful glances at the crying baby who had finally stopped thanks to Papa reaching for a slice of bread, tearing off the crust and giving it to him. ‘My little precious,’ muttered Aunt Connie.
‘There you go, Virgil. Charlotte here, by Ann. Charles, would you sit there? Thank you, dear. Yes, William, you sit there, and Harriet here next to me.’
The table looked well, even if I say so myself. We had used the best napkins, folded into perfect triangles and the candles had been lit, all five of them, placed centre stage, in their silver holder. I felt a stab of pride at the cutlery that gleamed in the candlelight.
Both Laura and Mrs Boxall would serve us. In they came with the first course, a watery beef soup, not my favourite at all. This is the worst thing about Mama hosting dinners; I am expressly forbidden from questioning, or offering suggestions for, the menu.
‘I hope you like beef soup,’ I muttered to Charlotte.
She smiled at my glum expression. ‘Oh, I don’t mind it. We have it every Saturday at our house.’
I was about to say something else when Mama singled me out. ‘Now, everyone, before we begin, Ann will say “Grace”.’
I had had no inkling of this but to refuse was impossible. They all looked at me through the individual mists that were created by their boiling hot soups. There was nothing for it but to close my eyes, bow my head, and mumble, ‘For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen.’
‘Amen,’ said everyone, and we all opened our eyes, ready to tackle the soup.
‘Oh,’ said Mama. ‘The candles have gone out.’
And so they had, five creeping wisps of smoke in place of the five darting flames of orange that had been there moments before.
‘See,’ said Aunt Connie, ‘I did say there was a chill in the air.’
‘How peculiar!’ said Aunt Harriet, while Charles reached into his pockets, retrieving a box of matches.
‘Allow me!’ he announced to the room, before stretching across his father to strike one match that expertly lit all five candles once more.
‘Thank you, Charles,’ said Mama. ‘Perhaps there is a draught coming under the door.’
Nobody had anything to add to this, apart from William staring around as if he thought he might catch the draught in action. Silly boy!
‘So, William,’ began Uncle Virgil.
Typically, both my brother and father looked at him, William junior quickly realising that Virgil was addressing Papa.
‘Have you any trips planned? Heading off anywhere interesting?’
Papa glanced at Mama and chuckled, ‘No. Not yet. I thought I should concentrate on the paperwork for a while.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Virgil, as he skimmed the surface of his soup with his spoon. ‘Yes, indeed. Paperwork. There is never an end to it.’
‘Now, really,’ said Aunt Connie, ‘no business talk at the table. Surely you two can wait until after lunch.’
‘Yes, Mother,’ said Virgil, winking at me. ‘I forgot the rules. Please forgive me!’
They always behaved like this. My aunt would pretend to take umbrage at something Virgil said or did and he would pretend to behave like a naughty child. I think this is why Grandfather stayed in his room, while Mama always looked slightly baffled by their behaviour.
‘Ow!’ said William, my brother.
‘Whatever is the matter with you?’ asked Mama.
&nbs
p; ‘Is your soup still too hot?’ asked Aunt Harriet.
‘Em … yes,’ he replied.
‘Well, blow on it … quietly,’ said Mama, trying not to sound impatient.
‘Your hair is getting so long, Ann. It really suits you, you know, makes your face look smaller.’
‘Thank you, Aunt Connie.’
My tongue was stinging from the soup. I imagined dipping it into a blob of ice cream. Well, dessert was only two courses away.
‘Charlotte is doing very well on the piano.’
‘Mama, don’t!’ said Charlotte, squirming in her chair.
‘Oh, wonderful! I would love to hear you,’ said Aunt Harriet. ‘Would you play for us later?’
‘Of course she will,’ smiled my aunt. ‘She’d be delighted to.’
‘For Heaven’s sake,’ said Charlotte, making sure only I could hear her.
‘Ow!’ said William again, though not as loudly as the first time.
Mama gave him a stern look, while Aunt Harriet, who was sitting beside him, leant in to ask him what was wrong now.
‘Someone kicked me!’
Using a louder voice than normal, Mama turned to ask Charles how he was getting on at school, while Papa asked Aunt Connie about the new house that they had their eye on in Cork, making sure to include Uncle Virgil, who immediately launched into a lecture about the madness of property prices. At least, I think that was what he bellowing about. Charlotte was between me and William. She asked me a question but I was too busy watching Aunt Harriet quietly explain to William that nobody had kicked him. ‘You know how you love to swing out your legs under the table. I suspect you managed to kick yourself.’
William considered this and seemed to accept it as fact.
Charlotte was asking me a question. ‘Ann? Did you hear me? Have you read any good books lately?’
I only half heard her as something was bothering me but I had no time to think about it further. Mama rang her little bell to let Laura know that we had finished with the soup, ignoring the fact that William had hardly got halfway through his. No doubt she was regretting having him with us.
We all got caught up in the returning of the soup bowls to Laura’s large tray and then there was a short break before the bowls of vegetables and potatoes were carried through to us. Last to arrive was the goose which Papa would carve at the table.
We oohed at it, reminding me of Christmas when the turkey was always greeted by a brief round of applause, before being sliced up for our plates. There were sausages, too, along with thick slices of ham. Uncle Virgil rubbed his palms together. ‘What splendid sights and smells. Mrs Boxhall, as usual, you have outdone yourself.’
Mrs Boxhall, who was proudly presenting the goose, blushed and nodded her thanks whilst pointedly ignoring my mother’s smile, her peace-offering for all that ‘supervision’ earlier.
‘Stop it!’ said William.
I barely heard him in all the fuss about the goose and the handing around of plates. Whilst our guests were distracted, Mama made a face at Aunt Harriet, who asked William if he might prefer to be in the playroom with Sarah. He could leave the table right now, if he liked. He shook his head but looked thoroughly miserable. Aunt Harriet shrugged at Mama, who bit her lip but then busied herself in the sharing out of the sprouts and the boiled potatoes.
Meanwhile, Papa had produced two bottles of wine, one red and one white, from the side cabinet and was refilling the grown-ups’ glasses with their colour of preference. He stopped before Charles who looked at his parents, his eyebrows raised, his lips stretched in a mischievous grin.
‘He can have a small glass, then,’ said Aunt Connie to Papa, adding, ‘and just the one too, mind, so, Charles, make it last.’
‘Yes, dear,’ said Charles, mimicking his father, making us all laugh, except William who was struggling to keep up with all the chatter. A possible reason for his discomfort was stirring in the back of my mind.
Aunt Connie was staring at William. Determined to distract her, I loudly asked Charlotte, ‘Are you moving to a new house?’
She managed to nod before her mother answered my question. ‘Why, yes, just as soon as I find us a house big enough. Your Uncle Virgil is setting up his own practice and I expect I shall have to host a great many dinners for important clients.’
It impressed me how she made it sound that her hosting duties were just as important as whatever my uncle had to do. He was a lawyer and, according to Papa, had quite a fierce reputation, which surprised me. I liked my uncle but would not have considered him to be useful in an argument. He looked more like a jolly reverend, what with his little jokey asides and dramatic winking.
To my surprise, he suddenly asked Papa, ‘And what about those missing ships? Do you have anything to do with this infamous Franklin expedition?’
‘Fortunately not,’ replied Papa. ‘They are still searching for them, I believe.’
Charles joined in. ‘No sign of them yet, last I heard. The second-in-command Francis Crozier is from Banbridge. He is captain of Terror, whilst Sir John Franklin commands Erebus.’
Noticing my mother looking puzzled, he added, ‘They are the names of the two missing ships.’
‘Such depressing names!’ said Aunt Harriet, ‘Terror and Erebus – doesn’t that mean darkness or something to do with the underworld?’
Mama shuddered. ‘Is it any wonder that something untoward has happened to them?’
Aunt Connie nodded. ‘Lady Franklin must be beside herself. How awful to lose one’s husband to thin air. I expect she must feel dreadfully powerless, which is a woman’s usual lot, of course.’
The men listened to this politely, Uncle Virgil saying, ‘Oh, I don’t know about that. Lady Franklin sounds like the sort of wife a man needs if he goes and gets himself lost in the Arctic. She is putting the wind up the Admiralty and refuses to be ignored. In fact, I have heard that she sold up her house in order to move next door to their headquarters so that she can keep a closer eye on them, making sure that everything that can be done is being done. From what I can gather, she is none too popular with the old gentlemen.’
‘Oh, how romantic!’ I blurted out.
There was a pause before everyone started laughing, making me feel both embarrassed and doted upon. Uncle Virgil took up the subject once more. ‘It seems the good Lady Franklin is trying every avenue possible.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Papa.
‘Well, I hear that during the last year she has been visited by mediums claiming to have made contact with her husband.’
Typically, before anyone else could respond to this, William asked, ‘What’s a mee-dee-um?’
Mama looked at Papa, panic slapped across her face. Aunt Harriet opened her mouth to say something – anything – while Aunt Connie answered, ‘You are perhaps too young to understand, my dear.’
Of course, Uncle Virgil continued, regardless. ‘Well, young William, a medium is someone who believes that they can make contact with a person who has died.’
Unperturbed, William asked our uncle, ‘Do you mean that they talk to ghosts?’
Charles smiled. ‘You don’t believe in ghosts, now, do you, William?’
Glancing at Mama, William caught the warning in her eyes and mumbled, ‘Um … I don’t know!’
‘Oh, do leave him alone, Charles,’ said Charlotte.
‘As I was saying,’ said Virgil, ‘Lady Franklin has had several meetings with such persons.’
‘But how do you know all this?’ asked Papa. ‘I did not read about any of this in the newspapers.’
‘His sister, April – you met her at our wedding – is great friends with Lady Franklin’s niece, Sophie Cracroft,’ said Connie. She had a habit of answering questions that were meant for others.
‘I received a letter from her last week, describing Sophie and Lady Franklin’s visit to a certain Ellen Dawson and her ‘handler’. This gentleman, I forget his name, puts the girl Ellen into a sort of sleep, whereupon she is able to see t
hings. Apparently, not only did she locate a stolen brooch in a pawn shop, but she was able to name the culprit, a servant, who had taken it.’
‘So, now she is to find someone’s husband?’ asked Aunt Harriet, sounding fascinated.
‘Indeed,’ said Uncle Virgil, who was clearly enjoying telling his tale. ‘Ellen is too shy to deal directly with Lady Franklin and so sits in another room with Sophie, who asks the pertinent questions. So far, she claims to have seen the ships.’
‘Really?’ I asked.
‘Yes, she says they are stuck in the ice but that everyone on board has plenty of food to eat and they are in no immediate danger.’
‘Marvellous!’ said Aunt Harriet.
Uncle Virgil beamed at her, feeling complimented for his delivery. This was too much for my aunt who changed the subject, nodding to Papa, ‘Well, we had our own ghostly experience, years ago, do you remember?’ Turning back to us, she continued, ‘We were only children, no more than eight or nine years of age and had been sent to stay with our grandmother.’
Mama gently protested, ‘Maybe not in front of little ears?’
Aunt Connie dismissed her concern with a wave of her hand. ‘We were upstairs, getting ready for bed, when we suddenly heard what sounded like a party downstairs, with clinking glasses, laughter and even a piano. Well, I could not believe it and was determined to join in the fun. So, I quickly got dressed again and tried in vain to make you come too but you refused.’
Here, Papa shrugged and took a long sip of his wine. ‘Anyway,’ said Aunt Connie, ‘I headed downstairs, wondering why our grandmother had not mentioned that she was expecting guests. Just as I reached the door of the big hall, Grandmother appeared behind me, shouting, ‘Don’t open that door!’ But she was too late. I opened it and saw …’
‘What?’ I asked breathlessly. ‘What did you see?’
Aunt Connie opened her mouth to answer but was distracted by Charlotte demanding to know, ‘What is that infant laughing at?’
I was trying to hang onto the threads of my aunt’s story but they were fast disappearing as we were all obliged to gaze at Virgil the second who was giggling helplessly at the air in front of him, his arms outstretched.
Chasing Ghosts Page 11
