by Tim Roux
“And now I would like to dance on my grave,” she declares and proceeds to do so with a burst of rock ‘n’ roll jiving before glaring defiantly up at us. “I bet nobody has ever done that at a funeral before. I feel well and truly buried now, thank you. Now heap the soil on, please, Paul. I want to get comfortable.”
“What’s happening?” whispers the Countess noting the shocked expressions on our faces.
“Alice has executed a rather energetic dance on her own grave,” the Earl explains.
“Oh my!” gasps the Countess, poised uncertainly between astonishment and delight. “Is that a local custom?”
“I doubt it,” the Earl replies. “It works best when you are as light as air.”
“And now what is happening?”
“Paul is going to close the grave.”
“I think there is something we should do before that. One minute, Paul,” and the Countess steps over to the pile of dirt, picking up a handful and sprinkling it over Alice. “Farewell, Dear. Good luck.” The Earl follows her lead. “Alice, My Darling.” I put down my spade.
“Oh in God’s name,” Alice complains, “enough formality.” I ignore her and continue to dust her body, then I pick up the spade again and start shovelling as the Earl and Countess watch respectfully. In fact, they wait it out until I have finished.
“Well done, Paul. Well done, Alice. That was a delightful ceremony. Now what happens?”
“I am hoping that I get to be spirited away,” Alice replies nervously, “but there is no sign of anything happening yet. I am not fading am I?”
“Not that I can see. Perhaps it takes a few minutes for heaven to get the message. In the meantime, come back to the house, Alice. We need to toast your restful future.”
“If you don’t mind, Milord, I think I’ll stay here, where they can find me.”
“I am sure that they will find you wherever you are, My Dear, but it is up to you. Paul?”
“I’ll stay here a moment or two, if I may, then I will join you.”
“Right you are, then.”
Alice and I watch them returning slowly to the house.
“What if I don’t go?” Alice’s voice is verging on panic.
“I am sure you will very soon,” I assure her.
“Perhaps you are keeping me here.”
“I could be.”
“I think it is time we said goodbye.”
“OK.” I spread my arms. “I will visit you often.”
“You had better, but only after I have gone.”
She reaches up and gives me a ghostly kiss on the lips whose outline I almost feel.
“Another lifetime, Paul, eh?”
“I hope so.”
“So do I. I love you. Best of luck. Now go!”
So I turn my back. The cigales are doing their own dance as I cross the garden, as are the frogs. It is a stunning last visit to the Château and I savour it by remaining outside for several minutes longer than necessary. Mme Paladin meets me in the hall. “Milord and Milady are in the summer room,” she informs me. “The Earl is very upset.”
Not that he appears that upset by the time I arrive, more challenged. “I have been thinking, Paul, how do I get to have a funeral like that?”
“Don’t go getting silly ideas, Constance. You will have hundreds, if not thousands, of stony-faced mourners and the full panoply of the church. Knowing you, you won’t want to hang around after that.”
“Good God, no, nor shall I.”
“Anyway, enough of such thoughts. You are a sprightly old man with years on you yet. Let’s not be maudlin. So you are back in Brussels soon are you, Paul?”
“Yes, in five days.”
“I should think that you will be glad to get back home, won’t you? I shall be. English gardens are so beautiful in the autumn, don’t you think?” When I do not answer, she adds “Of course, you couldn’t care a less. Young men never do, but it will creep up on you eventually. Constance hated the garden until he turned at least fifty. Now he is out there more often than I am, bringing me back news of the latest buddings and flowerings, aren’t you, Constance?”
“I can go for hours without seeing anyone other than a few ancestors whom I ignore.”
“I would have thought that they might prove rather interesting, Constance. You should try talking to them.”
“I doubt that anyone in my family has ever been interesting, and if I once start chatting to them I’ll never be able to stop them. No, I definitely prefer the peace and quiet.”
“Have it your own way. Will you stay for dinner, Paul – Alice’s wake?”
When I hesitate, the Earl insists. “Of course you must, Paul. We must see Alice out in some style, even if it is only the three of us.”
“Then, thank you,” I say, persuaded that it isn’t just a polite offer I am supposed to refuse.
I can’t get over how much talking the Earl is willing to do in a more intimate environment. He is actually a very gentle person. I like him a lot, and the Countess is nice too, so long as she likes you. I even end up accepting a bed for the night.
“You can have your old room next to the turret,” the Countess suggests with a hint of a smile.
The Earl and Countess decide it is time for bed. We say goodnight and they are on the point of leaving the room when they bump into Alice, so to speak, who is coming in from the hallway. She is looking despairing and heartbroken.
“Alice, My Dear,” fusses the Earl. “What on earth has happened to you?”
“It is what has not happened to me,” Alice replies. “I am still here. I will be here forever.”
“There, there,” the Earl consoles her, giving her a tender air-hug, “calm yourself down. Things always work out in the end. I am no good at this sort of thing, at least I have never tried my hand at it, but maybe Paul can help you. What is it best to do in this situation, Paul?”
“Ask my mother.”
“Will she know what to do?”
“She will come and do it.”
“At this time of night?” queries the Countess.
“You don’t know my mother.”
“Well, I’ve met her but I certainly don’t know her – not at all from the sound of things. Does she do this type of thing often?”
“I’m not sure that she has ever done it before. I have – a few times – but I am having no effect on Alice. I am too ambivalent. Mum will be much more determined.”
“The phone is there if you need it,” the Countess suggests, pointing to an elegant side table propping up a tatty old phone. My mobile is in my pocket, turned off as usual, so I call Mum on the landline. I explain that Alice is standing here desperate to be released into the light, and His Lordship has asked whether she could help. In front of other people Mum and I keep up this pretence that I do not really see ghosts, only think that I do from time to time. It is a ruse Mum devised many years ago to protect me from being considered an out-and-out freak. Mum doesn’t hesitate. She will be across straightaway.
“Is it better if we stay around or should we leave you in peace?” the Countess inquires. “Maybe you would like some time together to prepare.”
“No, I am sure you can stay if you would like to,” I assure her, checking with Alice. Alice nods her assent but she may not have even understood the question.
Mum, Dad and Mike arrive together. The Earl opens the door to them. “Thank you so much for coming, Mrs. Lambert, and at such short notice. It is most kind of you. I am afraid we have a very distressed ghost on our hands. Paul thinks that you may be able to help her.”
“I have never done it before, but I will certainly try. Where is she?”
“Immediately in front of you, slightly to your left.”
“Hello, Alice,” Mum greets her. “I am Paul’s mother. I cannot see you or hear you but I will do everything I can for you. The archangels will help me.”
Alice is watching her with considerable distrust and cynicism but otherwise does not react at all.
I discretely raise my left eyebrow at Alice and walk towards the door into the hallway. Dad, Mike and the Countess follow. They cross the hallway into the library. I stay behind listening at the door.
“Alice, imagine a tiny bright light, the size of a pinprick.”
“Alice says she cannot see any such light,” translates the Earl.
“Then you need to concentrate until you do,” Mum insists. “You only need to see the very smallest of lights to start with. Anything will do. Think of a small star over there against the wall. Can you see it?”
“No,” replies the Earl.
“Alice,” Mum continues, “you must be prepared to leave us. Not seeing the light is a sign that you wish to stay. If you can see this tiny dot of light then you are transitioning. Everything depends on seeing that dot.”
The Earl says something I cannot hear.
“It doesn’t matter what colour, Alice. What is your favourite colour?”
“Green,” reports the Earl, “emerald green.”
“Imagine a small emerald. Can you see it? Can you really see it?”
Not yet, apparently. Mum pushes on in this vein for another twenty minutes relentlessly, persuading Alice that she will not leave before she has seen a tiny pinprick of green light.
The Earl mutters something else.
“Good, Alice. Concentrate on that light. Focus on it. Cut out everything else. Nothing else exists. Hold it steady. Welcome it. Invite it towards you. Is it bigger now?”
“Alice has lost it again,” the Earl relays to her. “She is sorry.”
“Then we must try again,” says Mum.
Mum works on Alice for four hours, during which time everyone goes to bed except for the Earl inside the room and me slumped against the door jam outside it. For Alice it must be like nurturing a candle in a strong wind. It is virtually impossible to light it at all, and absolutely impossible to keep it alight. Eventually Mum says, “We’ll try again in the morning, Alice”, which exasperates me. Are we going to be here forever?
I open the door. They are all surprised to see that I am still up. I advance on Alice and don’t stop. As I am walking through her I spit “Go!” fiercely. I can’t see her reaction as we are mixed up together, but the Earl exclaims “Where has she gone? Have you upset her?”
“I don’t know,” I reply. “I just got bored.”
“Have you released her?” Mum asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I honestly don’t know.”
* * *
And to this day I don’t know either. I have never seen her again, even though last year I regularly visited her grave, and this year I am staying at the Château itself with Sarah and Mike, and visit her every morning. Maybe she fled me; maybe she fled the world. I hope that she has found her peace and doesn’t bare a grudge against me for what I did. It is one of the only things I have ever done of which I feel ashamed, and maybe it is one of the kindest things I have ever done as well.
As the Earl put it: “Well, young man, whatever you have done, you have done it now.”
Chapter 13
“So Mum did it,” says Mike the next morning.
“We think so,” I confirm.
“Good old Mum. Alice never stood a chance. She took her time, though – resisted until the end, apparently.”
“I wouldn’t know. I fell asleep.”
Mike searches my face hard to judge whether he should believe me. I am not sure that he does.
“Job done, then.”
“Yes.”
“Can we go home now? I want to say goodbye to Chloe and I assume you want to do the same to Natalie.”
“Natalie and I have already said our goodbyes.”
“Constance is up in our suite if you want to say goodbye to him, Paul,” the Countess suggests.
“OK.”
I place one footstep into the upstairs corridor and I walk straight into the Marquis de Reynaud, who bows to me. “Good morning, Sir. I was hoping that I might speak with you.”
“I just came to say goodbye to His Lordship.”
The Marquis waves his hand. “If I may … ”
“Certainly,” I reply graciously.
“You released a tortured soul into the light this morning … ”
“We think we did … ”
“A very kind and generous action, Sir. However, we would like to emphasise the point to you that we as a family are not tortured souls …”
“If you say so … ”
“I do say so …”
“I am glad to hear it.”
“Nevertheless, my daughter Louise has decided that she is and has requested that I give my permission for her to be released into the light too … ”
“I see.”
“No, you do not see, Sir. Please do not presume upon my opinion. I withheld my permission. We are a family. We have no intention of losing one of our own. We are content here. It is peaceful, and the future elsewhere is uncertain. Therefore, it is our informed opinion that Louise should remain here. We fear that she may nonetheless choose to approach you directly and to ask you to help her find her own peace, in effect. She is a very wilful young lady … ”
“She is over two hundred years old.”
“And we are older and very much wiser. Nothing much of value has entered her girlish brain over the last two hundred years. She is still obsessed with fashions and young men yet, despite that, she wishes, at least at this moment, to leave us, her family, bereft. That is absolutely unacceptable. Do I make myself plain?”
“Yes, you have given your opinion very precisely.”
“It is not an opinion, young man, it is a command. If Louise were to address you in any way at all, I formally request that you bring her to me. I require that you do not act on her request or give any indication that you will.”
“She is not allowed to make her own decisions?”
“Within reason, but this is outside reason. Matters of life and death are not within her prerogative. She may consider that she would like to move on now, but tomorrow, when it is too late, she will regret her decision. We are as important to her as she is to us, whatever she may currently believe. If you help her achieve her aim you are as good as assisting the suicide of a young girl … ”
“A two hundred and something year old young girl.”
The atmosphere is churning turbulently. I am clearly riling the old marquis. He is about to throw an ectoplasmic fit. If he is not careful it will be him I will be releasing into the light. I have vowed, after all, to rid myself of all supernatural entities in my immediate vicinity.
I think he has noticed that he is not intimidating me. Air raid cancelled.
“You must understand my position as a father, M. Paul. Consider how your mother would respond if you wished to kill yourself and you approached an expert in euthanasia to help you. Would your mother not be distraught? Would she not do anything in her might, in her considerable might as I have perceived, to stop you? Well, I am in the same position. I will do anything I can to prevent you from committing such a diabolical crime.”
“OK, I won’t even talk to her.”
“You promise me that.”
“I promise you that.”
“Good, then I extend you my wishes for a good journey and a successful life. A bientôt, j’espère, Monsieur.” He bows again and I return the gesture.
As I walk off, the Marquis adds, “Now, if you should come across Monsigneur Jolimar and have a mind to tip him over the parapet into the next world, that would be another matter. Two hundred years of his sermons on the merits of natural and social justice and of our responsibility for our own executions have already sufficed to inform us of his opinion, I would suggest.”
“I’ll bear it in mind.”
“Pray do not inform my wife of this request. Unfortunately, she agrees
with him and values his erudition. Women do so like to torture themselves, do you not find, like our dear Louise?”
I smile without endorsing his prejudices.
The Earl is sitting surrounded by Sunday newspapers. “Guilt,” he explains. “I have trained myself over the years to read them all from cover to cover by the end of the week. It stops me from appearing to be a complete blithering idiot on social occasions. I don’t suppose that you bother.”
“No.”
“Don’t blame you. There is nothing in them worth knowing. It’s a matter of duty, that is all. So you are leaving us?”
“Yes.”
“And I hope that we will see you again next year.”
“Most likely.”
“You must call in to see us, you really must. And if you want to visit Alice’s grave, just help yourself. There is only old Toucas here when we are not here ourselves, so I will inform him of my decision and tip the wink to the gendarmerie as well so that you do not get yourselves arrested. You could even stay here, if you wanted a change of scenery. Mme. Paladin will not be available, so you will have to fend for yourselves, but M. Toucas will let you into the house. It is not a bad old place – tolerably comfortable. Not too big. If you wanted to bring a party of friends from Brussels then it might prove convenient.”
“That is a very kind offer, Your Lordship.”
“You have done us many great services, Paul.”
I think that he is almost tempted to kiss me, but of course he doesn’t. Instead, he shakes my hand warmly for longer than is his custom and turns away with a hint of regret.
I have just reached the main landing when I hear a voice whisper from one of the bedrooms “Monsieur, in here!”
I expect it to be Louise, the younger daughter of the Marquis, and sure enough it is. She is not looking bad on her two hundred years, and it is true that she holds herself like a young girl still. “I saw you conversing with Father.”
“Yes.”
“He was ordering you not to help me?”
“Yes.”
“He ordered you not to address me?”
“Yes.”
“So you have already broken one of his commands.”
“Yes.”
