Velvet

by Mary Hooper

  ‘Your mother loved roses,’ said Madame unexpectedly.

  ‘Did she?’ Velvet asked in surprise. ‘I hardly think of her in terms of loving flowers. We certainly never had any growing in the yard at home.’

  ‘She was just telling me how much she cares for them,’ Madame said. Velvet gave a little gasp and Madame looked at her fondly, as if through a mother’s eyes. ‘Especially roses that are scented and a vivid red, very much like the one you have your nose in now.’

  Velvet smiled, deeply touched by the thought that her mother could be watching over her.

  ‘She is very near to you,’ Madame went on softly. ‘The mother and child relationship is the closest there is, and cannot be severed by death. She cares for you still.’

  Velvet felt tears come into her eyes.

  ‘She is saying . . .’ Madame frowned a little. ‘Oh, she’s asking why you’ve changed your name. She says the name she gave you at birth was Kitty! Can that be true, or have we got a naughty spirit here making mischief?’

  Velvet looked at Madame, awestruck. Truly, she was the most brilliant medium in the world. She gathered herself and after a moment said, ‘It is true, yes. I wanted to make myself into another person, so I called myself Velvet when I began working at the laundry.’

  Madame laughed. ‘My spirits never let me down. I can find out all your secrets!’ she said. Then she frowned and added quickly, ‘No, sir, I cannot speak to you at the present time.’

  ‘Who’s that?’ Velvet asked.

  ‘How strange are the spirits on the Other Side! Your father is here – I believe he was attracted by the spirit of your mother. But your mother will not tolerate his presence and has disappeared.’ She raised her voice slightly. ‘I’m sorry, sir. Your attendance here is unwelcome at the moment. Please go back from whence you came.’

  Velvet clenched her hands within her lace gloves. Her father had come to make trouble, for sure – to try and incriminate her in his death.

  ‘Ah, he’s gone,’ Madame said after a moment. ‘But your mother has been frightened by him and won’t return. Another day, perhaps.’ She got up from the bench and opened her parasol. ‘Shall we walk to the rose arbour?’

  They did so, but the heavy scent of the massed roses there was too overwhelming for the delicate nose of Madame and she decided they should return to Darkling Villa.

  ‘I have a little favour to ask of you,’ she said as they turned for home.

  ‘Of course,’ Velvet said. ‘Anything.’

  ‘You may have heard me and George speaking about an engagement at the Egyptian Hall this Friday.’

  Velvet nodded.

  ‘You’ve attended one of my public sessions before.’

  ‘I have, before I came to work for you,’ Velvet said. ‘You gave me an invitation to Prince’s Hall at Christmas.’

  ‘Of course. Well, it’ll be an evening similar to that, with questions written and put into envelopes, and the spirits answering the queries through me.’ She paused. ‘I don’t particularly enjoy these entertainments, but we hold one or two a year, whenever we want to gain new clients. To put it in the vulgar manner it deserves,’ she added, ‘it’s to drum up numbers.’

  Velvet, very surprised, said, ‘But surely you already have more clients than you can handle?’

  ‘Not really. I have a great deal of commitments, you see; money that I have to set aside for my charities and foundations and committees, also the rental on our beautiful house is rather large.’ She smiled and nodded at a passing man who raised his hat to her. ‘There are so many mediums competing for business now that, rather sadly, it has become a race – a matter of always keeping ahead, of gaining clients before they can be taken by others.’

  ‘But what a shame that a gift like yours has to be treated in such a way.’

  ‘It is,’ Madame agreed. ‘But I’d like you to come along and watch us, Velvet.’

  ‘Of course, if you wish,’ Velvet said, rather pleased.

  ‘Sometimes the audience can be a bit slow, you see,’ Madame explained, ‘so it would be helpful if you could lead the applause or do a little cheering if I get something especially accurate.’

  Velvet smiled. ‘I’d be delighted.’

  On Friday, well before six o’clock, the audience for ‘The Spirits Speak’ began assembling at London’s famous Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly. Madame and George had left the house some time earlier in order that Madame should become familiar and easy with the atmosphere at the venue, but Velvet arrived in a hansom cab a fashionable five minutes late.

  None of Madame’s regular clients were expected to attend something so populist, but nevertheless Velvet was in disguise. Her dark curls were hidden under a wig of curly fair hair and a headdress of ostrich feathers, and she wore a slightly outrageous gown of Madame’s – something she’d told Velvet was left over from her Russian inheritance – in flame-coloured silk, with heavy embroidery and a matching bolero.

  Arriving at Egyptian Hall, a remarkable building with columns and sphinxes and lavishly painted decor, Velvet took a seat towards the back and enjoyed looking at what the ladies were wearing, taking pleasure in the knowledge that soon she would be watching George on stage at his magnificent best. Things had been very congenial between them lately; there had been another kiss, many loving looks, and George was behaving in a very cool manner towards Sissy Lawson, at least whenever Velvet was near.

  When every seat in the hall had been taken and the audience hushed, George escorted Madame on to the stage. He explained that everyone was going to be given a chance to ask the spirits a question but that, sadly, Madame would not be able to address them all in the time given. People were asked, therefore, to take one of Madame’s cards at the door on their way out, and if their question had not been chosen, or they wanted further explanation of an answer given, to get in touch with her privately. Everyone who wanted to do so was then given a moment to write their question on the square of paper left under their seat and put it into an envelope collected by George.

  After ten or so minutes, a large basket of envelopes was presented to Madame. An envelope was selected by George and handed to her. Madame closed her eyes for a moment, holding the envelope close to her heart.

  ‘One of the fair sex has asked this question, a stylish lady,’ she said on opening her eyes. ‘She has asked me to verify the wishes of someone in spirit concerning a piece of jewellery.’

  There was a murmur from someone in the audience.

  ‘Who was it who spoke?’ Madame peered over the footlights, looking especially beautiful in a black evening gown embroidered all over with dangling crystals. ‘I’m afraid I can’t see you very well. Could the lights be dimmed a little?’

  After the lamps were turned down, Madame looked across the audience. ‘If I have summed up the question correctly, could the person who asked it stand up, please?’

  Velvet turned to look at the lady who stood up on the other side of the hall. ‘I think you’re holding my question, Madame Savoya,’ she said.

  She was a lady in her thirties, Velvet noted, attractive, with slightly prominent front teeth.

  ‘Can you just confirm that we do not know each other in any way, and that you have not asked a question of me before?’

  ‘I confirm it,’ the lady said clearly. ‘I do not know you, nor have I previously asked a question.’

  ‘Very well.’ Madame smiled. ‘You asked about a piece of jewellery?’

  ‘Yes, it’s –’

  ‘Please don’t help me,’ Madame said. ‘It’s glittering and it’s green. Is the jewel in question an emerald?’

  ‘Yes!’ she exclaimed, and Velvet and several other members of the audience gasped excitedly.

  ‘I think it may be a brooch. No, it’s a pendant on a gold chain!’

  ‘That’s quite right.’

  ‘And it belonged to a lady who is now on the Other Side. Your aunt?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Velvet started the smattering of appl
ause which ran across the theatre.

  ‘She passed over in the month of . . . February.’

  ‘She did.’

  ‘And her name began with a . . . “G”. Or perhaps an “O”. An unusual name . . . Ori—?’

  ‘Her name was Oriana,’ the woman said, smiling.

  Led by Velvet, everyone clapped enthusiastically. Velvet craned her neck around in order to see more of the woman who was speaking. Looking at her she frowned, puzzled. There was something vaguely familiar about her . . . something about the way she spoke.

  ‘I shall now concentrate on the question you’ve asked,’ Madame said. ‘Your aunt died and . . .’ She spoke into the ether. ‘Yes, I see. Thank you. Your aunt is here, and she’s telling me that she left her daughter most of her jewellery.’

  ‘That’s right, but she had always promised me the emerald pendant.’

  The lady who was speaking lisped slightly as she spoke, perhaps because of her prominent teeth, and it was this slight speech defect which nudged at Velvet’s memory. Where had she heard her before?

  ‘Your aunt says that she left a letter telling her daughter this.’ Madame paused and then delivered the final grand disclosure. ‘It’s hidden in her study, in a secret drawer!’

  ‘Oh! That’s wonderful,’ said the lady as the applause rang out. ‘I shall tell my cousin, and I’m sure she won’t keep the emerald from me any longer.’

  Velvet suddenly realised where she’d seen the lady: she’d been at the evening of mediumship she had attended with Lizzie. She hadn’t asked a question about an emerald then, but about whether she would get married or not, and Madame had given her a very precise answer. How very curious, Velvet thought, still strongly clapping Madame.

  ‘Thank you very much,’ the woman said to Madame, whilst Velvet and the rest of the audience continued to applaud and murmur to each other how skilful Madame was. ‘I’m most grateful.’

  ‘I’m happy I was able to be of help,’ Madame said. When the audience grew quieter, she tore open the envelope and read out the woman’s question: ‘Did my aunt mean me to have her emerald pendant?’

  This received more clapping and an amount of cheering.

  The next question Madame answered was from a gentleman who didn’t know whether to propose to his young lady or not, and then came one from a woman who suspected that a member of her family was stealing from her. As the evening went on, Velvet continued to lead the approbation, but could not stop thinking about the first questioner. It was certainly very puzzling and very odd.

  It was some days before she plucked up the courage to ask George if it was just a coincidence that the same young woman had started the questions on two occasions.

  George hesitated for some time before he answered. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘probably just a coincidence.’

  ‘But wasn’t it strange that she didn’t admit to having asked a question before? Especially as Madame specifically asked her if she had.’

  ‘Oh well, perhaps she thought she would only be allowed to ask one thing.’

  ‘And how could it happen that she was the very first to be answered once more?’

  George shrugged. ‘Who knows, who knows,’ he said dismissively. ‘Madame will probably explain it to you some time.’

  Velvet, sure that there must be more to it than she’d been told, couldn’t bring herself to question George any further in case he became cross – and she certainly didn’t dare to ask Madame anything. Besides, it had already occurred to her that she might not want to find out the truth about Madame. She decided, therefore, that she must put the matter out of her mind.

  Madame Savoya’s Third Private Sitting with ‘Mrs Lilac’

  The usual greetings and salutations having been exchanged, Mrs Lilac sat down opposite Madame and permitted George to administer the rug.

  ‘How have you been faring, my dear Mrs Lilac?’ Madame asked.

  ‘I’ve been very well, considering,’ replied Mrs Lilac. ‘And I’m feeling somewhat easier in my mind since I’ve been able to speak to Mother through you.’ She looked around her a little fearfully, as if she thought that lady was lurking nearby, hidden somewhere. ‘It suits me to come here to speak to her rather than have you . . .’ she laughed nervously ‘. . . spirit her up at home, so to speak.’

  Madame nodded. ‘She was a strong woman, your mother. Nothing daunted her, did it? Not even death.’

  ‘Not even death,’ Mrs Lilac echoed. She lowered her voice. ‘I do adore her jewellery, but I’m only wearing a little cheap amethyst brooch today because wearing the larger stuff seems to really set her off.’

  ‘Ah, yes, the jewellery,’ Madame said, and a look flashed between her and George. ‘If you don’t mind, I won’t discuss your mother’s jewellery with you. I know she’s adamant that you shouldn’t keep it, but I’d rather not be involved in your decision either way.’

  ‘That’s really gracious of you,’ said Mrs Lilac. ‘It’s been a difficult task trying to make a decision about it. So very valuable, you see. I think – hope – that she’ll be happy with what I’ve decided.’

  Madame waited for Mrs Lilac to continue speaking and then, when she did not, closed her eyes briefly. ‘Do you wish me to go into trance now?’

  ‘Please do.’ Mrs Lilac’s expression was nervous, that of someone who was putting a brave face on things.

  Madame closed her eyes and seemed to speak to several people before getting through to Mrs Lilac’s mother. At one time she said, ‘I’m so sorry. You’re not the lady whose daughter I have here. Please allow her mother through . . .’

  Mrs Lilac swallowed. ‘I do hope she won’t be in a bad mood.’

  ‘If she is, you can rely on Madame to treat her with the utmost delicacy,’ George whispered.

  Another few moments went by and then a stern voice said, ‘Fuss and bother, fuss and bother! Is that you, Esther?’

  ‘It is, Mother,’ Mrs Lilac answered up quickly.

  ‘What do you want this time?’

  ‘Just to converse with you, Mother,’ Mrs Lilac quavered, ‘and to know that you’re quite well.’

  ‘There is no well-being over here. You’re either here, or you’re not. Well doesn’t come into it.’

  ‘I hope you’re content, then. And I want to tell you what I’ve decided to do about your jewellery.’

  There came a sniff. ‘I see you’re not wearing anything valuable today.’

  ‘No. I’ve taken to heart what you told me about its magnetism pulling me to the Other Side, and so I’ve stopped wearing it. It’s all in your big leather jewellery case at home.’

  ‘Good. I’m very glad to hear it.’

  ‘And I’ve made up my mind to do what you’ve asked me to do: I will give it all away. Apart from the sapphire necklace, that is. I’m rather fond of that.’

  ‘The sapphire necklace! Sapphires have the strongest magnetism of all. Utterly lethal, they are.’

  Mrs Lilac sighed. ‘Do you want me to give away everything, then? Every single piece of jewellery that you owned?’

  ‘Well, there’s not much point in half measures. As I’ve told you before, jewels mean nothing in the world over here. It’s the light from one’s soul that is important, not tricking yourself out in gee-gaws.’

  ‘Yes, Mother.’

  ‘So, are you donating my jewels to the spiritualist church?’

  ‘No. I’ve thought long and hard about it, Mother, and I want the money raised from their sale to go to Runnymede, the nursing home where you spent your last months.’

  There came a scream. ‘Not that place! Not that wicked prison you consigned me to. It’s a hellhole!’

  ‘Such language, Mother!’ said Mrs Lilac. ‘Runnymede is a perfectly pleasant place. They were very patient with you when you used to go wandering about, and didn’t even mind too much when you threw your meals across the room. They need the money to build a sun room and –’

  ‘Oh!’ The exclamation was from Madame and a pause followed. ‘I’m afrai
d your mother’s gone, Mrs Lilac,’ she said then. ‘She just disappeared.’

  ‘What?’

  Madame looked about her in a bemused manner. ‘Was there an exchange of ideas between you? She seemed most displeased.’

  ‘A slight disagreement, certainly,’ George said.

  Mrs Lilac sighed, looking defeated. ‘I suppose it was my fault, telling her I was giving all the proceeds from her jewellery to Runnymede.’ She looked from Madame to George imploringly. ‘I know she wanted the money to go to the church, but spiritualism is such a new thing for me, and Runnymede has been going for years and is badly in need of funding, so I thought that would be the sensible thing to do.’ Here she broke down and Madame handed her a lace-edged handkerchief. After a moment she said, ‘Can you get her back again, please?’

  Madame said, ‘I don’t know. I’m very tired now – your mother has such a strong character that it exhausts me when she comes through.’

  ‘But if Madame can get her back, what would you say?’ George asked. ‘How would you improve the situation?’

  ‘Oh, I’ll let her have her own way,’ Mrs Lilac said, a look of patient resignation on her face. ‘She was selfish all her life and seems likely to continue to be so after death. I don’t know why I thought things might change.’

  ‘So do you intend to follow your mother’s wishes and give the jewellery into the care of the church?’ Madame asked, choosing her words carefully.

  Mrs Lilac shrugged. ‘If I’m not able to wear the jewellery because of the magnetism then it doesn’t really matter what happens to it, and if that’s what she wants . . .’

  There was a pause. ‘Shall I advise you on how to proceed, in that case?’ Madame enquired.

  Mrs Lilac sighed and nodded, a defeated woman.

  ‘I’ll speak to your mother – I’ll do my absolute best to get through to her – and tell her of your change of heart, whilst George here helps you draw up a legal Deed of Transfer. You’ll then be able to pass all your mother’s wealth to the church, with me as a go-between.’

  ‘Very well,’ Mrs Lilac said. ‘And I suppose they may as well have the sapphires, too – and even this little amethyst.’ She unpinned the purple brooch, put it on the small table and gave a sigh. ‘Then do you think she’ll be pleased with what I’ve done?’